Date: Fri, 02 Feb 2007 21:13:01 +0000 From: Tim Stillman <novemberhourglass@yahoo.com> Subject: "It Was Summer, and We Were Young" It Was Summer, and We Were Young By Timothy Stillman (other of my stories are here in the extremely prolific authors section. my web site is novemberhourglass.tripod.com. any feed back on any of my stories is very much appreciated-thank you) The taste of Joel was lime green. The air conditioner was cool in my bedroom. The green drapes were closed over the picture window. Green sunlight, like sun filtered through a fish bowl, came into our private world. We lay in bed, naked. We touched. We kissed. It was summer and we were high schoolers this year. We believed in ourselves. We were proud of knowing each other. We had done a few things together sexually. But this was the first time we really were together, really were naked. He was lithe and small boned. He had a wonderful boner like made of concrete it was so hard. I held to it as one holds to love and knows one does not wish this late June afternoon to go any further in time. To hold us as he cradled me. As he put his head to my collarbone and whispered all the unkempt secrets he wished to tell me. As I kissed his forehead, cool and pale. As I kissed the top of his shoulder length gold spun hair. He said he loved me. Loved that I was taller than he was and stronger, and I felt the pulse of summer in his groin and in his thighs, as he told me he thought of me all the time, that he was constantly hard, thinking of me, and I told him the same. We lay on the quilt of bedspread I had lain under all the deep Falls and winters of my life. I had dreamed of Joel in winter dreams. But summer dreams were nice too. He was warm and pink and his hands traced summery veins in my chest and legs as he opened them with his dainty hand, as I felt the touch down deep of Joel. It was the first time there was an air conditioner in our house. So it was a novelty, not to perspire and be lethargic all summer long in it. This was a corridor. This was where winter winds blew for us privately. Where the air conditioner had harnessed winter and blew it on my true love's fine hair. As he leaned over me and put his lips and teeth to my left nipple and made it solid as a rock. As I felt him, his still hairless penis and groin and balls in my hands, as he pushed them into me. I rubbed him and moved my groin into being next to him. We were a melody. We were never the same again. We became--something other than we had ever been before we knew each other. I tasted his lime sherbet tongue and mouth. He said mine tasted like vanilla. We wanted to love each other with a love such as had never been before. People would say we were just kids, but it was not so; we became both younger and older when we were together. We were each ourselves and the other's philosophy, here in the goldfish bowl at the golden center of the heart's world, we became us, and that was a splendid thing indeed. I kissed his nipples and amazed at his body, the sleekness of it, the grace and symmetry of it, the possibility that I could actually know someone who looked this beautiful, whose waist flowed to his groin and whose sides flowed to his hips in such perfect demarcation, in such perfect poetic purpose without pausing even to think twice, his body had carpentered itself and done so without a hint of mistake or skin mesh that did not look right or ribs that weren't thoroughly delectable to the tongue and to the kiss of the lips surrounding that happy tongue, to a penis that was still small but erect bigger and hard and the little pellet balls that I put in my mouth, warm stokes of boyhood known as Joel, who would giggle when I did that, and who said once he wanted to always be a young boy, so I could always put his both balls in my mouth at the same time, and hold them close and tickle them with my tongue. The sounds of summer were out there. In the lawnmowers machines. In the voices of boy machines playing ball with each other. In the sound of people talking and radios on front porches playing, in the taste of lemonade on cool shady swings, in the cars that drifted lazily by as though without a purpose, and if you listened hard enough, or just simply could have been me and put your ear to Joel's chest where his heart was located, you could hear boys riding wild steed bicycles and the fluttering sound of baseball cards in their spokes. Down town, kids were looking at monster magazines in drug stores, or having a Cherry Coke, heavy on the syrup please, or taking in a double horror feature at the theatre, or being lonely at home and reading comic books or watching a Tarzan movie they've seen fifty times already, with nothing to do, with their hands empty, or a quick jack off in the bathroom that would make them feel lonelier than ever--and hands empty again. But Joel and I had each other in hand and the clocks were our cocks, and we began today to do the real things, not just touching through clothes or only partly naked, but now we were bare and exploring and I put my mouth first time to his bouncing penis and I took it to my tongue, and the thought exploded all through me, I'm touching the cock tip of Joel, I'm about to put his cock in my mouth, god, imagine, no, don't imagine, do. And I slipped this wonderful device of my love's into my mouth as Joel gasped and put his hands to my shoulders and pushed away at the next instant pushing me onto him and Joel tasted of boy and he tasted of the flesh of all things and all feelings and all friendships and all loves that do not betray, that do not lie, by commission or omission, he was free and we were each others' and that summer afternoon outside, with the kids getting ready their money for the ice cream truck coming soon, all of that, the treat of cold ice cream on a hot day, of knowing in the morning you could sleep as late as you wanted and watch TV all day if you pleased, of being assured of the fact that your penis is still growing and you will get taller, and you are still at the age where hopefully you've not found out that people, including yourself, cam break you apart and you can never be who you once were and wished you had paid attention at the time when you had that first and maybe last chance-- All of this was what Joel tasted like. All of this was what his throbbing penis with a vein pulsing hard in it on the left side of its mini-mushroom shaped head as I face fucked him and looked up to see Joel looking down at me and amazement in his eyes and the wide O of his mouth and he wanted me everywhere on him as he put his hands to my shoulders and said "I love you, Barry." And I was so incredibly turned on and Joel though not able to yet cum very much came some as he pounded into my mouth with his penis as I held his vibrating balls, and I took and took a bit of Joel, and it was the moment I became alive and indebted to another human being, an imprint on the world that said magic does happen and love and sex can be the same and you don't have to leave Saturday morning cartoons behind when you start having sex with your boyfriend. And Joel was that, as he strained all of him in me, as the air conditioner cooled the perspiration on our quivering bodies. We held then, for a time, in our green light gold fish bowl full of boy pleasures just beginning. And he was saying, let me do you, you'll love it, and I said, "I adore you, Joel. Never leave me." And he said, "never" and then a big wicked smile played on his choirboy face, as the bells of the ice cream truck came closer to our house. We stopped as he was beginning to lick me down my stomach. He looked up at me and I looked down at him. Without a word, remembering still who we were now, and who we had been yesterday, we hopped out of bed, scampered into our cut off jeans and T-Shirts, made sure we had change, and rushed out the bedroom, raced round that tricky curve to the dark hallway, then charged out of the front door and down the concrete gray steps to the ice cream truck where lots of other children were waiting impatiently, as we waited impatiently too, for it was summer and we were young.