Date: Sat, 18 Apr 2009 21:26:42 -0700 (PDT)
From: Joshua Grayson <j.grayson@rocketmail.com>
Subject: Lovestruck - Part 1

Use common sense. If you're under 18 or if you're somewhere where this is
not allowed, then leave. This story contains underage boys who may engage
in sexual activity. If this offends you, you ought not to be here.  Leave.
You know the drill. You get the picture. This is my very first submission
ever and one of my first erotic stories. Email me with thoughts!
j.grayson@rocketmail.com Sincerely, Joshua Grayson.


Lovestruck

Part 1

"I saw an angel.
Of that I'm sure."
-James Blunt

	It was a Friday afternoon when, by chance, I first laid eyes upon
the most marvelous boy I would ever know.
	I was seventeen years old and I should have been at school that
day. My mother always left for work before time for me to drive to school.
She had tried to wake me, I had assured her I was awake, then I had fallen
back to sleep for hours.
	I finally awoke a little after noon. Why was I at home? Shoot! I
had overslept. I knew my mother and sister were both gone, but my mom's
friend would be downstairs. She was staying with us for the weekend, so she
and my mother could have a joint garage sale.
	I went downstairs and walked into the open garage, which was
decorated with tables filled with different items of varying worth, all of
it for sale.
	Her friend, Reba, looked at me, "Well, finally some help! I was
wondering when you'd be awake."
	I laughed, "I'm sorry. I would have been down HERE sooner, if I'd
been conscious of the fact that I was up THERE."
	"It's fine," she laughed, "pull up a chair."
	I did so, somewhat reluctantly. I didn't know Reba well, and even
if I had, how much good conversation could I enjoy with a gabby old woman?
	Time passed slowly. I would play BrickBreaker on my phone as often
as I could without seeming rude. Customers came and went, all commenting on
how beautiful a day it was. It was indeed. The sun shone brightly down, in
such a way that I was enjoying watching it from inside the shaded
garage. The grass was in need of being cut, but it made it look more like a
field, blowing in the breezes of spring.
	None of the customers particularly stood out to me. They were just
shoppers out looking to buy things we didn't want and that they probably
didn't need.
	Then, in the utter stagnation of the repetitive day, something
caught my interest. Pulling into my driveway were a boy and his father. I
had never seen either of them before.
	They both got out of their vehicle and upon first sight I
immediately felt a strong attraction to this young stranger. I believe it
would be appropriate to say his presence, his being, had "struck" me. It
was lust at first sight, no doubt, but I almost want to say it was love. I
felt a sexual longing for this boy, but also something deeper.
	He was probably between the ages of twelve and fourteen. He had a
dark brown hair, cut somewhat short in a style that looked like it was
meant to be a bit longer. It was almost a skater haircut, but a bit too
short. His face was perfect, with almost impossibly beautiful
dimensions. His skin color was a bit tan, but not too dark. He looked
radiant.
	There was something about him, something in his demeanor and his
attitude, which seemed to shine the fact that he was a gentle soul. He
walked into the garage and his dad looked around. I realized that I hadn't
taken my eyes off of him since he had stepped out of the car. I looked
away.
	I knew that my eyes and my facial features were probably betraying
me. I had always had a particular look upon my face whenever I wanted
something to an extraordinary degree. It screamed of longing, lust, and
desire. It was a look that said, "I can't believe anything like this
exists. It's amazing. It's perfect. I must have it."
	He hadn't yet said a single word and I could barely stop myself
from exploding as I desired to hear his voice. He simply stood there, with
his hip projected to the right, just a little. Not so much that it looked
odd, but just a slight quirk in the way he stood. It made him look more
feminine.
	He looked around and saw a small painting sitting there. It was one
of an owl painted onto a black cloth. The owl looked very beautiful, but
something about the colors had made me suspect that a girl would buy it. He
picked it up with a smile and brought it to his dad.
	"I like this," he said, sweetly, innocently, in a way that meant,
"Can I have it?"
	His dad said, "It's neat."
	I was staring again. I knew it. He looked up at me, caught my eye.
	I smiled at him. What was I doing?! Surely my smile was suggestive
in itself. I had never been so out of control of my emotions before. My
smile was not just in my lips, but in my eyes. It was a smile that you do
not give a stranger. It was a smile that lovers give to one another when
they are finished making love.
	I felt so ashamed, so embarrassed. However, this all took place in
a split second, because immediately, he smiled back at me. His smile was
slightly more innocent. It lacked a good deal of the sexual message that
mine had carried, but it was not lacking in love.
	His smile was perfect. Utterly perfect. In his smile, on his face,
I saw beauty embodied. The sunlight on the grass, the waters of the ocean,
and the wonders of the stars, all paled in comparison to this one miniscule
little boy smiling back at me.
	It had seemed like hours since I first caught his eye, smiled at
him, and watched him smile back at me with the intensity of a thousand
suns. However it seemed, it had only been a few seconds. His dad seemed not
to notice our almost intimate exchange.
	He said, "Would you like to have it?"
	The boy nodded, "I want to put it in my room." He looked back down
at it. He really saw beauty there. He really appreciated the beauty that he
saw. I had seen beauty in it, but not recognized it the way he did. He
loved this rather imperfect, cheaply made painting of a colorful owl on
black felt. He thought it was beautiful.
	His dad looked toward Reba and myself. I was still staring at the
boy. I wondered if his dad could read me. I prayed that he could not.
	As he exchanged money with Reba, she mentioned she was from out of
town. He acknowledge this and said, to my unbelieving ears, "We live in
this neighborhood, just a street over."
	My heart literally fluttered. I felt it; it worried me for a
moment, and then subsided. This angel...this epitome of radiant
beauty...this embodiment of pure gentleness and innocence...lived just one
street over. In a flurry of confusion worse than I had already been
experiencing, I felt my mind scramble. I was lost. No train of thought
tracked through my mind. I was floating. I was feeling...ethereal. I was
nothing but pure emotion. Joy, hope, optimism, love, passion, lust, and
more, all together at once.
	I have no idea how long this lasted, but I remember my first
conscious thought when I came down, "Oh my God, I hope no one is looking at
me, I must look lovestruck."
	And lovestruck I was.
	They finished their conversation, got into their automobile, and
drove away. I sat there...completely motionless. I was still experiencing
the aftereffect of my high of love. I knew however that I had to make
myself seem bored again, so Reba wouldn't suspect my secret.
	I thought my brush with this angel was a singular event. Though he
lived just down the road, though I was already fantasizing about what COULD
happen, I had a good feeling I'd never even see him again.
	I went inside later and I wrote an eroticized version of our
encounter. In it, he had come back an hour later and we had snuck off
together and talked, and done other more exciting things. I uploaded it to
my favorite erotic literature site and went on. I had experienced a moment
with the most beautiful boy on earth and it was done with. I thought that
by writing my fantasies out and sharing them online, I could move on. I
tried strongly to forget.
 	Imagine my surprise when I was out checking the mail a week later
and he stepped out from behind a tree.
	"Hey there, kid. What're you doing here?" I said, trying to act
natural.
	"Just out for a walk," he said. "It's one of my hobbies. Is writing
one of yours?"
	My heart went from zero to eighty in a second.

	To be continued...

To Readers: I hope you've enjoyed it so far. To those who were expecting
and waiting on a quick sex scene, I apologize. While there is definitely
quite a bit of that in store for the next nstallments, I wanted to express
the background of their first meeting and the deep emotional bond
there. Email me and let me know your thoughts or suggestions for the future
of these two kids and what you thought of this first installment. Thanks
for reading! I hope to hear from you.

Email: j.grayson@rocketmail.com