Date: Sun, 2 Jan 2000 17:53:12 EST
From: Frodo46888@aol.com
Subject: Willie

Willie
by Frodo46888@aol.com

Chapter 1  I Arrive

For thirteen years I had lived a most restrictive existence.  My father ruled
with the proverbial iron hand and my mother was constantly submitting herself
to God's will.  I had attended a small church school rather than be exposed
to the "sinfulness" of the public schools, and I had no close friends.
Between my father's rules and warnings and those of the Bible, my life was
incredibly limited.

Perhaps it was wrong to think that God caused the accident to free me, but
that's the way I felt at the time.  I was sad to know that my parents were
dead.  They did care about me in their way.  I was frightened to think of the
abrupt changes in my life that would result.  But I was free!  I knew that
something good would come of all this.

I went to live with my grandmother in her Vermont farmhouse.  It was a
typical nineteenth-century dwelling, with an old-fashioned parlor, a small
dining room in which no one had dined for many years, a large farm kitchen
with cast-iron cookstove, an ell containing a summer kitchen and a woodshed,
and rambling out to the large barn housing a few pigs and sheep and a milk
cow.  Grandmother's bedroom and the little bathroom were off the dining room.
 My assigned room was just above the kitchen, with two dormer windows facing
east and west and a narrow back stairway into the kitchen.

And there was Willie.  Willie was the "hired man" who looked after the
animals, mowed the hayfields, cut cordwood, and attempted to maintain the
buildings.  His room was above the summer kitchen with its own stairway
access.  Willie entered the main house only to eat his meals in the kitchen,
as there was a small shower and sink in a cubicle at the foot of his stairs
and his other needs were done in the privy off the woodshed.  He appeared
when I arrived to help me lug my things up to my room.

He was probably in his thirties, fairly short but with the muscular build of
someone who has done heavy physical labor all his life.  Grandmother warned
me that I was never, ever, to go into his room, nor was I to get too friendly
with him.  He drank beer at night, and drinking was a sin.  But then
Grandmother went on to tell me that she couldn't stay on the farm without
him.  His parents had once lived nearby, and when Grandfather was alive they
had taken him in when he left school at 14 and his parents moved away.  He
spent his time doing the farm chores, watching his little TV, and drinking
beer.  He was not allowed to drink during the day, but at night and on Sunday
afternoon he was on his own time.  He had a rusty pickup that he drove to
town once a week, but otherwise he had no life outside the farm.  I thought
this was sad.

It was June, too late to enroll in school, and I had lots of time to explore
the area.  There was a lovely brook with a waterfall across the road, a stand
of huge pines that made me feel like I was in a cathedral, and a spring that
bubbled up from a tiny rock cavern and trickled down a long slope, landscaped
by Nature with trilliums, jack-in-the-pulpits, and many varieties of moss.
And there were deer and rabbits and woodchucks and foxes.  I saw the tracks
of moose and heard the gabble of wild turkeys.  After so long in suburbia,
this was heaven!

Grandmother would not have approved of the time I spent watching and working
with Willie.  He had marvelous, with pale blue eyes that gazed out from his
chronically-unshaven face, and on warm days he worked without a shirt.  His
muscular chest was matted with dark hair, as were his corded forearms.  His
worn jeans bulged at the crotch, making me secretly excited.  I loved looking
at him, and I always offered to help him in his work in the hopes that he
might brush against me.  He was not one for conversation, though he would
often point out a plant or a rock formation or an animal track to me.  The
month of June flew by joyfully.


Chapter 2  The Hayloft

It was a rainy, mild Sunday just after noontime and I had nothing to do.
Grandmother and I had been to church, and her Sunday dinner was always served
at 3:00, so I had time to kill.  Willie was nowhere in evidence, so I went
out to the barn to look at the piglets.  Then I heard a rustle in the hay
overhead and stepped back to look up.  There lay Willie, sprawled in the hay
with a sixpack beside him.

"C'mon up, boy," he called.  "There's room for two of us."

I was up the ladder to the loft in an instant.

"Can't let you have one of these." he said, pointing to the beer.  "Besides,
there's barely enough for me."

He finished guzzling from a can, crushed it in his powerful hand, and placed
it by two others similarly flattened.  I sat down several feet from him,
admiring his strong body covered by a dingy t-shirt and worn jeans.

"Whaddaya smell?" he asked.

"Hay," I replied.

"There's lots more smells than that," he responded.  "Cow shit, sheep shit
and pig shit, them's all different," he said.  "There's the gas from the
tractor and them bags of fertilizer what got wet and never dried out proper.
There's lotsa different smells, boy.  And I ain't showered yet.  Maybe you
can smell me."

He crossed his legs and seemed to stretch a bit.  I marveled at the fact that
this intellectually-limited man seemed so observant.

"And the sounds," he went on.  "Besides the animals there's the barn
swallows.  And hear that squeaking?  Them's bats.  We got a shitload of them
up in the rafters."

Willie paused and pressed his crotch.  "Christ on a crutch!  I gotta take a
wicked piss.  You ever hold your piss, boy?"  The pale blue eyes in his
bristled face looked at me, expecting an answer.

To be honest, there had been times when I deliberately waited before
relieving myself.  It seemed a "naughty" thing to do, and being naughty
sometimes felt good.  But I shook my head.

"You oughtta try it.  Makes you feel horny.  You know what horny is?"  He
pressed his crotch again, and I was now experiencing horny.  I had never
watched a man holding his pee like this.  I nodded, and Willie smiled.
"You're old enough to get boners.  You cum yet?"

I knew what he meant, and having made my pajamas wet and sticky too many
times lately, I nodded again.

Before Willie had a chance to continue this line of questioning, he jumped up
holding his crotch and waded through the hay to a small window at the rear of
the barn exclaiming, "Can't hold it, boy.  Gotta piss now!"

He pushed open the window, and though his back was to me I could see he was
peeing out the window.  He seemed to pee for a long time.

Closing the window and returning to his place near me, he said, "Lotta fun
seeing how long you can hold your piss.  I coulda held it longer but I might
start playin' with my prick and that ain't proper with you here."

I grew very red at the mental image of Willie with his penis out, playing
with it.  All those warnings from my father flooded back, but right now I
really wanted to be playing with mine.  And deep in my subconscious, I guess
I really wanted to be playing with his.

"Sometime you have to piss, you come out and visit Willie.  Seein' someone
like you what has to piss really turns me on.  Usually I has to do it to
myself.  I won't touch you or nothin'.  Just watch."

I wasn't repulsed by the idea, and I thought that doing what he wanted
might bring me closer to this magnetically sexual figure.  It was, at least,
something to consider.

"And if you do, maybe I can do something for you," he went on, giving me a
lewd grin.  "I seen the way you watch me."

And with those enigmatic comments, he picked up his empties and remaining
beer and went down the ladder.  By the time I reached the barn floor he had
left.


Chapter 3  I Have to Pee

After considerable thought as I lay in bed Sunday night, I made a decision.
Monday afternoon, right after lunch, I told Grandmother that I was going to
follow the spring down through the woods in back of the barn, and I set out
to locate Willie.  I hadn't peed since I got up, and after three glasses of
water with my lunch I really had to go.  I found Willie working on the old
tractor in the shed attached to the barn.  After watching him for several
wordless minutes I hesitantly said, "I have to go to the bathroom."

And I really did.  I was shifting from foot to foot, feeling the awful
pressure inside me.  Willie looked up and grinned.  He put down his tools and
strode over to me.  "Ya gotta widdle bad?" he inquired.

I nodded, then put my hand to my crotch to reinforce the silent statement.

"I been holding for a bit, but I can wait a while," he said.  "But from the
looks of your pee-dance, you'll be pissing yaself pretty soon."

Perhaps it was my imagination, but the mound in his jeans seemed to grow
visibly.  He wiped his hands with a rag and sat in the tractor's shadow.  He
pointed to the shapes of clouds in the sky, but as he was describing what he
saw he was looking at my hand that was now gripping my penis firmly.  I had
never purposely held it this long, and I was now afraid I would wet myself.

"I have to go now.  I can't wait," I told him.

"You can always wait a little longer," he said assuringly, then he got up and
motioned me to follow him toward the edge of the field.

I was very nervous and excited, and that seemed to interfere with my control.
Before we got to the first trees, I stopped and announced, "I think I'm
going to wet my pants."

Willie smiled broadly and told me that I would either have to hold it longer
or I had to pee right in front of him.  I had never exposed my penis to
anyone except the doctor, but this man's attraction had so hypnotized me that
I slowly pulled down my zipper and pulled it out.  It was already spurting as
it sprang free.  Willie watched with great attention.

"That's a fine looking prick ya got there," he commented.  "Uncut, like mine.
 Good size to it for someone your age.  Hey, you sure did have to piss!"

Finally I was done, and I began to redden as I zipped my fly.   But then
Willie said, "Now you get to see a man's prick.  I gotta piss pretty bad
myself.  Been holdin' on to it since lunch just hopin' for something like
this."

He unzipped his jeans and seemed to have some difficulty with the narrow
opening.  "You got me hard, and now my prick ain't cooperatin'"

I could see the outline down one leg.  He finally unsnapped his waistband and
dropped his pants, displaying discolored briefs and an impressive sized penis
thrust through one leghole.  He pulled it free and proceeded to gush onto the
grass.  I was enthralled.  I had never seen another penis before.  To me it
looked impossibly huge, but I had none but my own to compare it to.

When he was done he pulled up his jeans and said, "We're square.  I saw you
and you saw me.  I expect we can do it again."

As we were returning to the tractor shed he said, "I don't think you'll tell
your grandma.  She wouldn't understand.  This is man stuff."

I nodded in agreement.  I looked forward to other revelations.


Chapter 4  The Jackoff

When I went to bed, all I could think about that vision of Willie's penis.
Sometime during the night I had another wet dream and my pajamas were wet and
sticky in the morning.  Fortunately I was in the habit of putting my own thing
s in the washing machine, so Grandmother never saw.

On Tuesday I spent much of the day helping to weed the garden, so I didn't
see much of Willie except at lunch and supper.  But Wednesday afternoon was
his time to drive into town, so I begged Grandmother to let me go with him.
He was stone sober and he promised to watch out for me, so she finally
relented.

Willie was freshly showered and clad in t-shirt and jeans without holes, his
idea of being dressed up.  "Town" was ten miles away, and had one small mall
and a scattering of other stores.  Willie's first stop was to buy a case of
beer, then we wandered through a large hardware store and stopped at a video
arcade.  It was here that I told him that I had to go to the bathroom.  He
became immediately more animated and his crotch swelled.  He said that I
shouldn't wet myself in public, so after a short while we climbed back into
his battered pickup.  By this time I was holding on to my penis, which
excited Willie all the more.  I was bursting to go by the time we got back to
the farm.

Grandma was watching TV, so I hollered to her that we were back and ran
upstairs to put on some old shorts.  By the time I joined Willie in the barn,
I couldn't wait another minute.  I was jumping up and down, squeezing myself,
while Willie insisted that I should hold it longer.  The pee suddenly spurted
from between my fingers, and Willie's eyes grew large watching the stain
spread and the pee splash to the barn floor.

When it was done, I noticed that Willie was rubbing the bulge in his jeans.
Then he said that he couldn't wait, and I realized that he wasn't referring
to peeing.  He went into the grain room and plopped down on a pile of bags.
Opening his jeans hastily, he freed his throbbing penis and grasped it,
sliding his large hand up and down the shaft.  The swollen, purpling head was
far out of the foreskin.  I watched in silent fascination, my own organ
straining my briefs.

The stroking continued for just a minute or two, then Willie let out a moan
and a gasp, and a series of white blobs shot out onto the floor.  He lay
there panting for a moment, his penis just starting to soften and droop.

"I don't usually shoot that quick," he commented as he stood and fastened his
jeans, "but you really got me hot."

Not knowing what to say, I fled the barn and slipped up the back stairs to
change into my dry jeans.  But after supper I told Grandmother that I was
going to read in my room, then grabbed a handful of tissues and went up to
stretch out on my bed.  My penis lept into rigidity the moment I pictured
Willie in my mind, and I rubbed it the way I had seen him do, fondling the
head from time to time.  It was ecstasy.  The excitement grew, and suddenly
there was an awesome explosion in my groin.  I barely got the tissues in
place before the white globs convulsed me.  It took several minutes for me to
get my breath and my composure back.

Perhaps now I would be going to Hell, but I'd do so with a smile.


Chapter Five  I Touch

From that day forward, I would fantasize about Willie's fascinating penis
each time I caressed my own to orgasm.  I didn't see a whole lot of Willie
until the following Sunday.

It was a hot, sultry day, and after church I wandered into the shade of the
barn for relief from the heat.  There I found Willie, sprawled on the grain
bags well on his way through a six-pack.  His hairy chest beckoned me, and I
sat beside him and commented about the heat.

Noting my stare, he remarked, "Ya like the hair?  Give it a rub if you want."

Tentatively, I reached out and ran my fingertips across the furry muscle.  It
gave me a tingle that was almost electric.  I brushed my hand along his
powerful shoulder and gently felt his great bicep.  Then I backtracked and
slid my palm across his flat stomach, savoring the trail of hair that led to
his belt and beyond.

"Why stop there?" he asked with a grin.  I looked at the worn area just to
the right of his frayed fly which was gently mounded from the shaft beneath
the fabric.  I couldn't resist and I placed my hand there, feeling an instant
swelling.  Within seconds it grew to a hard bulge, and I could sense the
growing hardness in my own crotch.

"I gotta piss bad," he said.  "You'd better give it a squeeze so your hand
won't get wet."

I pushed on the firm rod, and it seemed to grow even more.  This was such a
new experience, and my heart pounded from the excitement.

"Keep pushing on it," Willie insisted.  "I got three beers and five hours
worth of piss tryin' to get out."

Touching his hardness gave me such a thrill that suddenly my groin tensed and
a wetness spat into my briefs.  Willie understood my reaction.

"Ya cum in your pants already?  Ya need to learn how to hold it off.  Maybe I
can teach ya," was his response.

I pulled  my hand away and he got up.  Pacing back and forth in the tiny
grain room, he was clutching his bulge.

"I really gotta take a wicked piss," he said.  "Been holdin' it too long
already."

My own erection still ached for further release as I watched him walking
about squeezing himself.  Then he paused in midstep as a dark stain spread
down his leg.

"Guess I waited too long," he remarked.  "I pissed myself."

He went over to a corner and pulled another pair of worn jeans from behind
the grain bags.  Turning his back to me, he pulled off his wet pants and
briefs.  I stared at his muscled buttocks as he put on the dry jeans without
underwear.  When he turned around, his still-hard shaft was straining the
denim of one leg.

"I got laundry to do," he said.  "I'll deal with the hardon later."

I crept upstairs to my room and changed out of my sticky clothes.  My
erection was still insistent, but I pulled my briefs up firmly to contain it.
 This had been a most satisfying day, I thought, as I enjoyed my Sunday
dinner.


Chapter Six  A Wild Evening

Willie had managed to look respectable by combing his hair and donning a
moderately clean t-shirt as we sat at the kitchen table enjoying
Grandmother's roast chicken.  I imagined that he was still not wearing
underwear, and fantasized about the feel of rough denim against the sensitive
skin of his large package.  Then Grandmother asked if he had cleaned the
chicken coup as she had requested.

"I think he was on his way to do it," I said, "but I wanted him to show me
how the hydraulic lift on the tractor worked.  It's my fault if he didn't
clean the coop."

Grandmother glared at me, and then told Willie that he was to clean the coop
tomorrow morning, first thing.  He nodded in agreement as he gnawed on his
drumstick.  Then he gave me a wink.

Later on, he saw me in the barn.  He came over to me and wrapped his arms
around me in a big bear hug.

"Thanks for saving my ass," he said.

I was instantly hard, and by reflex I put my arms around his broad back.  "Us
guys have to stick together," I responded.

No one had ever hugged me like this before.  I didn't want to let go, but
Willie grabbed my shoulders and held me at arm's length.  "You're not a bad
kid, you know?" he said.

That night I jacked off to the memory of Willie's touch.

The following Monday, Grandmother arrived home from a doctor's visit and
called me into the parlor.  She explained that she would be going into the
hospital overnight later in the week, and that she trusted me to keep Willie
sober and to maintain her standards.  I agreed that I would.

On Thursday, Willie was allowed to drive her (a rare event) to the hospital.
At noon I made BLTs with our fresh garden tomatoes and lettuce, and there was
enough beef stew in the fridge for at least two suppers.  I told Willie that
he had to promise not to drink until after his work was done, and he nodded
in assent, but with a wink.  I suspected that he had had a couple of beers
before arriving in the kitchen for our evening meal.

While he was helping me with the dishes he announced, "I gotta take a piss,
but I'll save it for some fun later."

I grew red from this thought, and redder still when Willie suggested that I
come up with him to his room.  But the attraction was too strong to ignore,
and a half-hour later I followed him up the narrow stairs despite
Grandmother's warning.

Willie's room was a jumble of rickety furniture, engine parts and old
magazines.  In one corner was a rusted refrigerator, which I was sure was
full of beer.  There were three large windows, all open to receive the warm
summer breeze.

"Christ on a crutch, do I have to take a piss!" Willie exclaimed as he
pressed his crotch and paced the floor.  "I been holdin' it since before
supper, and that's beer piss!"

Then he opened the refrigerator, grabbed a can of beer from the many within,
and guzzled it thirstily.  He sat on the edge of the bed, while I settled in
an old overstuffed chair.

"You like it when I'm holdin' my piss?" he asked bluntly.

I nodded without speaking.  I guess my excitement was obvious.

"I'm pretty good at holdin' piss," he continued.  "Sometimes I set here at
night drinkin' and I hold it and hold it until my prick starts squirtin' even
when I beat on it."

The mental image that this created made me intensely hard.

"And then," he went on, "I piss in the bottle."  He gestured toward a plastic
milk jug beside the bed.  "And then I'm so horny I have to jack off."

Now that I was familiar with jacking off, I grew even more excited.

Willie got up and paced again, pressing his crotch.  "Jeez, do I have to take
a wicked piss.  I can't hold it."

He jumped up and down, squeezing himself, and then he grabbed the milk jug,
He pulled down his zipper and pulled out his half-hard penis.  He gushed
endlessly into the jug, and when he was finished he left his penis hanging
out of his fly.  He flopped down on the bed and pointed at his crotch.

"You wanna play with it?" he asked.

I had never touched another man's penis before, and I was fascinated.
Hesitantly, I sat on the edge of the bed and reached toward it.  I ran one
finger along the shaft and it instantly began to swell.  With the lightest
touch it grew thick and stiff, and stood straight out from Willie's fly.

"I ain't queer or nothin', but you make my back shiver," Willie said.  He
finished off his beer and crushed the can in his hand, dumping it on the
floor.

I grasped the throbbing flesh gently with my fingertips and moved it this way
and that.  When I pushed it against the denim, it sprang back.  When I
tentatively squeezed the swollen head, the firm-foam-rubber feeling hardened
and it became more darkly red.  Willie moaned, then looked up and asked me
for another beer.

After retrieving a can from the fridge, I grabbed his penis firmly in my hand
and pushed and pulled and cranked it about.  Willie moaned again.

"Take it easy," he said.  I don't wanna cum yet."

I carefully stuffed it into his jeans and admired the bulge it created.  I
slid it into different positions inside the fabric to achieve the most lewd
effect.  I pulled it out again, and it seemed even more rigid.  Stickiness
was oozing from the tip.

After another minute or two of manipulation Willie grabbed my forearm and
gasped, "Wait!"  But seconds later he groaned, "Too late.  I'm cummin'!"

Gobs of white shot up into the air and landed on his jeans and my wrist while
Willie gripped the bedclothes.  Five or six times it spat out, then more
seeped out onto my hand.  Finally the show was over, and Willie lay inert,
panting as if from great exertion.

"Christ on a crutch!" he finally exclaimed.  "I ain't cum that hard in my
life.  You sure know how to jack a man off."

When his breathing returned to normal, Willie sat on the edge of his bed,
wiping his penis, his jeans, and then my hand with tissues.  The contact made
me tingle, and when he noticed the bulge in my own pants he commented, "Looks
like you gotta do it to yourself now.  I ain't touchin' you myself.  I ain't
goin' to jail for the rest of my life."

A few minutes later I was in my own room, and it took only a few rubs for me
to duplicate Willie's performance, if a bit less in intensity and amount.  I
suspect that we both slept well that night.


Chapter Seven  A Loss

The next morning both of us worked furiously around the house and barn to put
everything in good order before Grandmother returned.  By the time we climbed
into the freshly-washed black Dodge to head for the hospital, the place was
cleaner than it had been in some time.  When Grandmother saw it, she was
pleased.

"I guess you boys took good care of things while I was gone," was her comment.

Willie and I winked at each other.

Despite our "bonding" experience, Willie seemed a bit formal and distant for
the next few days.  Finally, when we were alone in the barn, I confronted him
with this fact.

"It just ain't proper for a man to have a boy play with his pecker," was the
explanation.  "It was great fun, but we have to wait until you're growed up
before we do it again."

Disappointment is far too mild to express what I felt at that moment.  Willie
saw my reaction, so he continued, "But we can hold it and piss together all
we want."

To illustrate his remark he unzipped his fly and proceeded to spray pee all
over the place.  I could not help but laugh at his antics.

Summer melted into fall, and on a number of occasions Willie and I held our
pee and did our pee-dances and relieved ourselves in novel ways and places.
My own self-consciousness dissolved and I could now display my modest but
growing penis in front of him.

School occupied much of my time through the winter, and I grew to accept a
more reserved relationship with Willie.  Our pee-play became a special treat
rather than a routine, and though I tingled every time we had physical
contact, I knew that laws and morality discouraged anything closer.  Willie
was no rocket scientist, but I learned to see him as more than muscle and
penis.  He had a unique rapport with animals, and he was kind to Grandmother.
Despite his limitations, he was a good man.

During the next year Willie took Grandmother to the hospital several more
times, but there were no more orgies while she was away.  Each month she
looked older and more frail, and she welcomed the help that Willie and I gave
her around the house.  She went to bed earlier and earlier, and got up later
and later.  Willie and I began preparing all the meals, and Grandmother
accepted his presence in her part of the house gracefully.  I had just turned
fifteen when a woman from the Visiting Nurse Association began arriving every
morning to get Grandmother up and later to put her to bed.

I had just started my junior year in high school when I heard a thump
downstairs late one evening.  Racing to Grandmother's room, I found her on
the floor beside her bed.  She called my name weakly and held out her hand.
I raced to the kitchen, opened the door to the summer kitchen and hollered
for Willie.  Clad only in his skivvies and none too sober, he followed me to
Grandmother's room.  He called for the ambulance, then went over and lifted
her gently into her bed.  Cradling her in his strong arms, he comforted her
while I stood there feeling very helpless.  She told Willie to look out for
me and keep me safe, to always be the special friend she knew he was.  And
then she died.  Willie and I wept uncontrollably.

The next week was a blur.  There was a poorly-attended funeral and a burial
in the tiny cemetery not far from the house.  There was a meeting with the
lawyer, who explained that all of Grandmother's assets were to be placed in a
trust for my benefit.  The farm would be sold.  Willie would stay until the
animals were disposed of, and I would become a Ward of the State and placed
in a foster home.

On our last night together, Willie led me up to his room.  It had been
carefully cleaned, with sun-fresh sheets on the bed.  Willie had just
showered and shaved, and was clad only in a towel.  He tenderly unbuttoned my
shirt and pulled off my jeans, then put his great arm around me and drew me
into the bed.  He held me tenderly, and though at first we were both
enormously erect, there were no overt sex acts.  We simply needed to be as
close as we could, to confirm our commitment to each other.  We both
ejaculated more than once in the bed that night, and we laughed and wept as
we showered together the next morning.

My foster family was within the same school district.  They were an older
couple, very kind and understanding.  At first, Willie stopped to see me
every Sunday, but after a month the farm was sold and he had to find a job
and new lodgings.  He signed on with a construction company that appreciated
his physical strength, and he got a room in a boarding house about an hour's
drive away.

One November Sunday, he told me that he was going away for a while.  I was
not to worry and I would always be in his thoughts, but I would not see him
for some time.  It was a sad Christmas without him.

I got several crudely-written notes from Willie in the following year.  They
told me little except that he was ok.  There was no return address.  And then
the notes stopped.  At my high school graduation I searched the crowd for
him, but he was not there.


Chapter Eight  I Come of Age

I met with the lawyer right after my eighteenth birthday.  He informed me
that part of my substantial trust would be released to me, that there was
more than enough to finance my college education, and that the balance would
come to me when I was 21.  I was now a legal adult and no longer a Ward of
the State.  I spent the next two weeks trying to locate Willie.

I found him in a homeless shelter in Burlington.  He had been arrested in a
drunken brawl and convicted of assault with a two year term in State prison.
Since his release he had drifted from job to job, drinking constantly and
becoming unemployable.  He lay there on a cot, his long hair and unshaven
face bringing tears to my eyes.  When he saw me he held out his arms like a
helpless child.

I located a two-bedroom apartment not far from the college the very next day
despite the cost, and the afternoon was spent with Willie buying him new
clothes.  After a visit to the barbershop he looked much like the man that I
remembered and loved.  That night we lay together in an iron embrace, afraid
to let go.

I cut my classes again the next day, needing to have long talks with my best
friend.  He told me that I should look for a relationship with guys my own
age.  Besides, he said, he wasn't gay.  By this time he was trembling with
alcohol withdrawal, and despite the pain he insisted that he would never
touch a drop again.  I believed him.

During the next week we had several "hold-it" sessions, but the ravages of
alcohol had affected Willie's urinary tract, and he peed his pants almost
unknowingly a number of times.  His ability to have erections was also
affected.  I insisted that he see a doctor, but he refused.

A week later, Willie vanished, and I never saw him again.  In the time that
followed I became involved with a fine fellow with whom I now live, but
wherever I go, I look in alleys and on streetcorners for Willie.  He's out
there somewhere, I know.  I will always love him and I'm certain he loves me
more than he would ever admit.  He left out of love to set me free, and I
will never forget him.