Date: Sat, 9 Jul 2005 19:29:52 -0700 From: Kevin Harness <kevroc54321@tns.net> Subject: The Love Of My Life 1 The Love of My Life Chapter 1 - Boylover's Dream This story contains descriptions of gay people in real life situations, both of legal age and below 18. These people engage in consensual sex in this story, however your government, local laws, statutes, etc may not allow you to read this story. You are not supposed to be reading this story if you are not 18 years of age. I write this story, as I have all my stories, for true boylovers and the boys that love to be loved by them, everywhere, anywhere. Additionally, this story really happened to me and the character James was a real, live person. Other characters in the story may have their name changed. This will be a hard story to tell, but I'll do my best. Those of you that have read a few of my other stories (Hands On My Heart, Save The Boy, A Boy To Remember, The Education of Joshua) know that these aren't your regular "fuck stories". That being said, read on.... ================================================================== I cannot actually remember a time, as far back as I'm able, when I wasn't a boylover. On a continuous basis I kept having boy friends who were a few years younger than I was, and that I actually liked. We always seemed to make a treehouse or fort so that we'd have a private place to go, and would get together and tell stories, look at pictures of of models in various magazines, etc. When I was crossing over into puberty (I started cumming at 11) I began to realize that I had sexual preferences, if you will, that couldn't be aired, talked about, or revealed. At age 10 thru 13 I lived next to a dream-boy who was about 2 years younger than I was. He had sandy-brown hair and the most adorable brown eyes of any boy I'd ever seen. We never really "did" anything as he was far too shy, and his parent watched us like a hawk. But he had a cute smile and gave into curiosity here and there, with us discussing the undeniably usual array of early teen boy subjects - dicks, sex, sperm, girls, jacking off, all the above all over again. Even in high school where I had sort of a regular suck/fuck buddy who let me do it to him a few times a week, I couldn't help myself. I always seemed to think of my cute neighbor boy when I was doing stuff with the other guy. I know, I know, but he was SO cute! After quite a few years of denial, and of working through my wilder times and maturing up to holding a good job for several years, I came to realize that all my little boy friends were more than just little friends for me. I actually cared about them, thought about them, and found myself trying to mentor them in a small sort of way. The point being that sure, I was v-e-r-y sexually attracted to cute, younger boys, but the attraction seemed to run deeper than seeing their penis or wanting to have sex with them. I came to care for them as long as our time together lasted, tried to do nice things for them, found that I was intensely interested in their well-being and liked to listen to them tell me about how life was when they were younger. Truth be told, it was not all about the idea that I might get to have sex with them. Of course, if it did work out that way and if it was v-e-r-y ok with them, well ok, that was fine. But I didn't latch onto my young friends with the goal of "fucking them". While the term wasn't developed until a bit later, it surely seem to fit: boylover. A lot of things came and went; a few almost-serious loves, a handful or so of chance encounters, but nothing of what I was really looking for: a boy to love, be loved by, and stay with until the very end of one or the other of us. So, in 1997 I was at my favorite sandwich shop having a very delicious sliced pepperoni and jack cheese on whole wheat sandwich with chips and a Dr. Pepper. I'd just sat down and was taking a bite when I noticed this extremely good looking boy about 4 tables away, sort of half-facing in my direction. I always notice blondes. It's been a very consistent favorite of mine, although not a prerequisite for thinking a guy is cute. Nevertheless, this boy was gorgeous. Really gorgeous. His hair was what would probably have been referred to as a 'regular boys haircut' grown out quite a bit nearly to the point of being 'shaggy', but somehow still well-kept. He seemed to be in his mid-teens-to-late teens and of medium build. Whenever he'd take a bite out of his sandwich, he'd sort of flip his hair out of the way of his forehead so he'd get a clear view of it I guess, although it didn't look like his hair was in the way of his vision. His face was perfect. Not too angular, not too round, but a nice combination of good facial angles along with smooth skin. Overall, a little tanned, with that kind of blonde hair that has several progressively lighter tones, like after being in the sun for a summer. If he'd been a little more tanned, I'd have said he was a surfer boy, one of those that you see on the beach and just can't take your eyes off? Yeah. That was this guy. I realized I was staring about 1 second too long as he looked up to see me looking at him with my sandwich motionless in my hand. He simply took a bite and continued eating, seeming to not care that I'd probably drooled on the table. Obviously I'd have to be a bit more careful and try to use that sneaky ole gay 'quick look' we all try to perfect, to see the other guy before they see us and do a quick enough assessment to see if they are as good-looking as we thought they were when we first looked. As I did my best 'out of the corner of my eye' trick, I caught him looking at me! Oh! My! God! He was looking at ME. Ok, I tried to do a mental figure-out of when would be the best time to try and look, based on all the gay-knowledge that I had. I was having a lot of trouble here! 'Now!' I fairly much shouted to myself in my head. I looked while eating a bite of my sandwich, staring quickly over the sandwich in his direction. This particular move must've been published somewhere, because he was doing the exact same thing. We both looked at each other directly for a split second over the top of our respective sandwich-shop delights. (((Sigh))) By now I was concluding that this whole effort was probably futile, as I was obviously botching the whole observation mission horribly. I decided to just look directly at him. If he looked at me, I would just smile back and nod or wave or some inert gesture to prove I wasn't specifically trying to eye him. Like THAT wasn't already obvious by this point. Oh well. I looked up, and he was already pretty much just looking at me. My first exact thought was to do one of those "ulp's" that the Sylvester the cat does in the cartoon just before the big bulldog punches him. The time that I froze and didn't move, I am sure, wasn't any longer than a mere second in real time. In my head, though, it seemed like an entire episode of Star Wars went by. I think I may'be smiled or nodded back simply out of sheer programmed response. I'm not entirely sure, actually. He smiled and sorta laughed to himself, and then.... ....he gave me a head-motion for me to come over to his table. HE! SMILED! AT ME! It is amazing how fast you can process information, while moving in a seemingly regular manner as sort of an aircover, and yet be spinning in circles from what you saw at the same time. I remember nodding back in agreement to the invitation, and gathering up my sandwich and drink and walking over to his table. Mentally I was doing backflips and smiling bigger than the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland. He smiled! And OH MY GOD what a smile! He had dimples! He looked down as though he was actually a bit shy, and he kept looking down up until I arrived at his table. Looking up at me with the greenest eyes, I swear to you, that I could have ever in my wildest dreams imagine that anyone on Earth could have, he simply said "Hi." I know for sure that I actually hesitated for a brief second when he smiled at me, because the smile, the face, the hair, and the eyes burned themselves into my memory forever. He wasn't just good-looking. He was remarkable. And he was blushing. W-A-Y cute! I sat down and he introduced himself as James, and we talked about San Diego and how we'd both come to live there. After we'd talked for several minutes, I commented that I ate at this sandwich shop quite a bit, but had never seen him here. He smiled and said, "I dunno. I've eaten here a few times, but.....today I just felt like I should come here to eat," and he looked up at me and smiled again. Just in case you haven't gotten the magnitude of this situation, please let me depart from the story for a second to explain. Bear with me. This is the type of a boy that you see or one of your friends introduces you to or who is a younger brother of a friend. He has every good gene the family had to offer. He is so beautiful and you like him SO immediately that you'd nearly give your left nut just to have him look or smile at you. Much less have him PAY ATTENTION to you and talk to you and even invite you over to his table. We talked for probably the better part of an hour, and he freely laughed and made facial gestures as though I'd known him for years and we'd been long-time friends. He was so very easy to be around. And that little flip he did with his hair just sent me to the next universe. What I found in very short order was that he was not 'all about himself', at all. He didn't care for casual relationships. He wanted real friends who gave a damn, who were intelligent enough to have varied conversations, and who didn't defer to his viewpoint in order to get on his good side or get him in bed or make sure he liked them. In retrospect, each time he spoke, he seemed to mentally dismantle one more barrier or concern that I might've had that he would just go away and I'd never see him again. It came time to get along, and I said something along the lines of, "Hey, it's been great talking with you. Um, do want to hang some time?" (I'm sure it wasn't quite that coherent or well-spoken.) We both stood up from the table. He smiled and nodded his head, bobbing his blonde hair in rhythm with my heart and looked directly at me, eye-to-eye. "Yeah, that'd be really cool. Why don't ya pick out a movie and give me a call on my cell on Friday. We'll have a cold drink and watch a movie, listen to music, and shoot the shit." I smiled back at him saying, "Way cool." "Cool," he said back, still smiling. Then he stepped in and gave me a hug. E-v-e-r-y bit of internal wiring I had short-circuited, went up in smoke, and left me there in a hug for what had to be longer than the social situation warrented. I could feel his strength and his softness at the same time, and his cheek against my neck. I don't think the phrase 'I was in shock' remotely covers it. You've probably had a really, really nice thing happen to you and you almost want to pinch yourself to be sure you actually got OUT of bed that morning. Hundreds of flitting little thoughts absolutely raced through my head as though every nerve center was alive with the news: it wasn't a dream, this guy is to-die-for-cute, is hugging me, and wants to see me again in a few days. James stepped back and said, "See ya, Kev," smiled and slowly made his way away from our table. "See ya," I managed back as he was leaving, and he turned and smiled at me once more, then turned back with a hair flip and continued walking away. That smile. Those eyes. That hair. THAT BOY!!! As you can imagine, despite the wonderfulness of my job and the fact that I did pretty well at it seemed to have no bearing on this week whatsoever. I was SO blown away. Almost involuntarily various parts of our short time together played themselves through, and I watched in my mind as though I was in a movie theater. All week long. I couldn't even bring myself to think that he might like me. That was too far advanced of a concept for all the blown circuitry and wiring that had fried the day we'd met. It was a mind-boggling experience that a boy this beautiful, this congenial, and this cool would have a long conversation with me and then invite me over. It wasn't like I wasn't (at least in my own mind) reasonably decent looking. I kept myself in good shape with constant martial arts workouts and occasional weight training, and at this point had my hair lightened and spikied, too. (No, that's not a typo. I know what spiked hair is. I like to call it "spikied".) Still, I was in a combination of awe and excitement, along with that special quality that a boylover feels toward a boy he's just met and already likes a lot. Friday couldn't come soon enough.