Date: Sun, 28 Nov 2004 18:58:49 -0800
From: Timothy Stillman <comewinter@earthlink.net>
Subject: Two boys in a sleeping bag

			Two boys in a sleeping bag

				    by

			     Timothy Stillman


The summer mid was burnished afternoon. The grass was emerald paint, deep
and lush. The boys were in the sleeping bag of gray. In the back yard. No
shadows. No hurts. The boys are 14 each. One, dark haired, is named Raven.
The other, golden blond haired, is named Sunlight.

The boys are sleeping. The bag is zipped over them. The sun waits. The boys
feign sleep. They feign love for each other. So Raven hopes. And in
feigning love, Raven hopes love comes to be, for he is mightily unsure of
it, as at the same time, he is as certain as a summer shower to be soon.

They are cuddled together. There are boy leaves on a July afternoon. They
lay facing each other. Raven's face is softly molded, Greek looking melded
with 20th century boy. His cheekbones are prominent. And his eyes are dark.
You could lose yourself in them. And Raven thought looking at Sunlight who
looked back at Raven, the merest grins on their faces, mischievous, do so,
lose yourself in them, loose yourself please.

For Sunlight, this is fun. For Raven, it is life. As one they turn on their
backs in the sleeping bag and begin the jack off. They do not look at each
other. Sunlight might see. And when Sunlight sees, it gives a definite
answer. Raven does not know what that answer will be, and does not want to
know. Ever. At least till an hour or so.

Raven is poem. Not by Poe. But by softer climes. By gentle hands. By
something ineffable that has created boy marble rich in texture, and
cuddlesome in the way some boys are who are not shy with it. Raven is shy
with it even so. Which makes him more daring.

Sunlight is more workaday. He with his long gold hair is intent on what he
is doing. As though he is machine, but boy still, boy who would be with
girl, but is with his best pal Raven instead, for there will be time for
girls later, for Sunlight. Raven strokes away, eyes closed. Long lashes.
Face that is a bit Mediterranean. Face that looks as though he has seen
older ports of long ago lands and far away. He has never been out of his
California town. Not once in his life. He will stay here.

Sunlight is sunbeam, and sunbeams never stay.

With a TA DA careless movement of his arm, as though he is threading a
sewing machine, or running a projector, blase'?, easy going, pulls the top
of the sleeping blanket off them and they lie there naked in the burnished
landscape. You can smell the soap of washed clothes hanging on lines in
other yards. You can hear the barking of the terrier in the pen behind
them.

The boys are hard. Sunlight is man round the edges, though still enough of
boy left. Raven is all into himself, as he pushes the top of the sleeping
bag further off. Sunlight spreads his legs out, as does Raven, though not
as much, and not looking at his friend whom he loves. If Raven told him he
loved him, Sunlight would dress and leave at a moment's notice. If Raven
made him mad, or started a fight, Sunlight would enter into it gladly. Such
is the nature of love. Such is the nature of going away and not remembering.

Too many memories. Too few. Before. And to come.

Their between the legs is spread. You can see the tiny bottoms of their
hips. Their penises are large and long. They are boy bridges. Each has a
neat crop of black pubic hair. Their balls are large, though Sunlight's are
larger. They are loose. In time, Raven will play with those balls, as
though on his sexual ball court with the empty eyes of the crowd cheering
him on. He must not evince sex. They are doing sex. But he must not evince.
Though his face is full. Though his lips are so perfectly formed and so
kissable.

They have magazines that seem to have prestoed out of the air. They are
looking at pictures. The pictures are insurance. The pictures are not the
shorter haired boy beside Sunlight. The pictures are of sex. And sex is for
Sunlight a pivotal device, and often his eyes and his head tilt to the
leftward lea a bit, as he strokes his sheathless cock, next to the sheathed
cock of Raven. Both cocks are lean and stream lined. The boys perspire. The
boys intent on photographs.

The boys intent on the summer flies that buzz round. The boys wave them
away. They are all arms and legs and torsos, these willow dream boys. They
are torsos without any hair on them. They are thin and Sunlight might grow
some muscles some day soon if he wanted to. He wants to be a man. Raven is
happy right here. Cut the world off, piece it together, stuck it around
back like this, and please, Scotch tape, thank you, this will do
nicely--and piece this moment of perfection here forever, for him to live
in always amen.

Sunlight is jacking away. He brushes his hair from his forehead with his
other hand, and looks at Raven. They smile again at each other, and
Sunlight rests his arm round Raven's shoulder, and Raven shouts inside
silent YESSSSs. But he makes himself more intent on looking at the photos.
Curious photos, yes. Who is looking at what? Who is pretending what is the
same? Or different than the photos? Like love, sex is a curious business,
and like love, Raven lands his leg against the leg of Sunlight. And
Sunlight is lying down still jacking, while Raven is sitting up now. His
boner stretches up far. His balls are neat packages.

You can smell the boys of them. You can smell the heat of the sun fried
day. You can smell their sweat. You can smell the sleeping bag, the pod out
of which these two peas have popped this day, and other days before, this
very wonderful summer, though who started, the increments, the need, the
passing passion, the needless want, neither remembers. It is happening.
That is enough.

Sunlight ducks the top of his head onto the neck of his friend. Friendly
like, as though sewing on a fraying button on a shirt. Raven ducks just
minutely away from his friend, who has a tan. Raven though a boy of the
sunlight too, is pallid. He looks sad. When he is at his happiest, he looks
sad. He is now at his happiest. The thoughts in him...the jokes he wants to
tell...the laughter. All this is silent, but the laughter. Laughing at
themselves. Raven often looking at his friend who now has that damn
magazine in front of his face. Giving Raven chance to examine closely his
buddy's body.

And then, because the future is yesterday, if they only knew it, they
stand, and Sunlight's dick is sticking straight out, and he half bends
over, walking round, proud of himself and what he calls his Little Slugger,
and they rotate themselves, and they position themselves, and Raven's butt
is so feminine as is much of his body, while Sunlight could dress and go be
the little league's star pitcher at any moment.

They stand in front of each other. They exhibit themselves. The magazines
lie on the grass. Forgotten? Themselves only? Raven wishes. Then Raven is
on his stomach on the grass which feels so hot to his body, and so sexy to
his nakedness, and Sunlight is now sitting on the sleeping bag again.
Applying KY Jelly to his erection. Which is quite wonderful. It burgeons
with seeds to spill. It towers with all the boy ness Raven could ever hope
to call his friend. As does Raven's. The sheath is half way down. The penis
is a song of striving. Calling to the sky. Breaking through the blue and
the black space beyond and fucking the world from the sheer childlike
worship of it all. Raven does need to be worshipped. And deserves it.

Sunlight continues to coat his hard on. Raven lies with his soft tender
butt right there in Sunlight's view. Sunlight is concerned with himself,
having never heard of Achilles. Raven however has, and wishes to be
Sunlight's. Sunlight is an acreage of boy and his entire body is sexual, as
is Raven's, and Raven can't quite believe it, without a word, only giggles
and sighs, is going to have his ass fucked by his best friend in the whole
world. Raven's hard on throbs. He rubs it on the grass. He looks at his
friend's dick so close, so ready to go in him, the most secret part of a
boy, and he cradles his head on his hands, his arms akimbo, readying
himself.

Sunlight sees only sunlight and that only dimly, as he goes about his work
of lubing himself up. The air is hot. There is no breeze. Trees do not
shade them in this part of the yard.; On his knees, does Sunlight walk the
few inches to his buddy's butt, as he begins to pit the tip of the column
of boy of sunlight into the entrance to the night of the boy of night
thoughts regardless of the brightness of the glare of day. And then, the
first touch. The first time. Raven thinking--I lose my cherry today and
YESSSSSSSS. And Sunlight puts his hands on his friends back and his
friend's hips and he tries it with the boy beneath laying prone, though he
can't get the angle right.

Still it is fun to rub there, to enter a tiny bit, to rub his penis between
his friend's legs, to get inside, yes, this will count at the beginning,
not there yet, but there again, in the hole, and Raven sighs, his whole
long body extends its pallidity and its gratefulness and his mouth opens
and he goes ooooooooo. And his eyes close. And his face is so delicately so
politely sweet. And Sunlight on his friend now. Laying on his friend.
Fucking? Pretend fucking? It does not matter. He rubs into, inside,
between, and Sunlight's larger hips move up and down, and he puts his hands
brown of the sun on either side of his fuck partner and he grins, does
Sunlight, in this pretend sex, giggling, smiling big now, pushing up and
down, imagining fucking a girl. Pretend, practice, for what is just the
opposite for Raven who can just for now feel his friend.

Feel Sunlight's boy summer body on top of his. Feel the whole of him. The
warm chest laying against his back, heating him. Feel the abdomen and the
crotch of his best friend in the whole world right there on his butt, and
feel his friend fucking away and not looking at him but into tomorrow
directly ahead, and Raven seeing tomorrow directly on top of him and never
wanting to leave, never wanting to move, wanting to get fucked like this
the rest of his days.

Raven would like to rub himself on the ground. But moving might make
Sunlight stop. Might give up the gig. And so Raven lies there, my ass is
yours Sunlight, when can I fuck your little hole too?, thinking nothing but
animal thoughts, there the emerald ground, the sky azure above and in his
friend's blue sharp crystal eyes. These boys who had gyrated with each
other, who had exhibited themselves to the world, these boys who played
with each other in the sleeping bag just moments before. Raven reaching out
to touch Sunlight's hard on, rubbing it with his hand, cupping it, giving
it to him, and Sunlight laughing and pushing away, then letting, then, as a
favor, touching Raven's dick, only a little, just a bit, a goddam favor.

As Raven had watched him, watched his friend as Raven stroked his column,
let me make him come, please, this time, let me. And now then this minute
Raven up on his knees. Sunlight pushing his piston rod into the hole of the
butt of the boy who would never forget, who would offer himself to his
friend no matter how hard the boy fucked him, knowing it would hurt like
anything, but willing to give him that, even that, yes, above all else. And
Sunlight's large, angled penis, not going in, curving out between the hips,
then to the crack, and trying again.

Hard boys. Too much like real for Sunlight, too much sunshine for his day,
and for Raven's too, and then back on the sleeping bag, on top of it, with
once more Sunlight stroking his hard on, the magazine to his eyes, on his
back, as Raven strokes himself, strokes himself with his whole hand, hard
and fast, and luxurious, the crown of creation is Raven's cock, the world
looking at it closely, the world seeing him stroke his foreskin and the
present sticking up from it, Raven partly on his side, leaning on his side,
looking at the magazines, studiously, quietly, and he gets closer to
coming, and it is as though a tough volcano has built up enough boy juice
to fill all the joy full mouths in the world, and his foreskin is pushed up
and down, to the tip of his hard on, then down again.

It is as though the foreskin is a fairy ring a little browner than the
magic inside it, and this is witchcraft practiced on moonlit heath in
countries far away, and nothing else happens in the world now, everyone
waits, oxygen stops, even, Mars slows down, the rotating gyroscope of time
ceases, breath held, get the cum shot, get the cum shot, and closer and
closer and then the boy shoots, white spunk, white cum, lots of it, thick,
as though it has come from a hidden even more perfect penis secreted
somehow invisible in the foreskin, and the boy looks as himself, crosses
his ankles like his friend next door who does not see any of this, just
stroking away at a mag.

And the cum flows, as from a central core of the earth, some of it drips to
his pubic hair. He does not look at Sunlight, for he might see the sunlight
in his hair and fall even deeper in love, though the real reason he does
not look at anything but his throbbing dick, is because he knows Sunlight
is not looking. And Raven lies back. Exhausted. Then he does this wondrous
funny thing. He gets a comb from somewhere and combs his hair, and then he
combs his pubic hair, with such sober intentness. Sitting up now. Looking.
Getting it just right. He is alone. From this point, though there will be
more of this throughout the summer and then never again with Sunlight, who
would burn in hell before admitting these things ever happened, Raven will
always be alone..

They had cuddled though, a little ago. This had been Sunlight's idea, he
had cuddled, pushed his body against Raven's, from the side, even though
the sleeping bag top was between them, and Raven had looked with longing,
and centuries, and the knowledge only Gilgamesh should have to live with,
and all intense with love and longing, and the need, and his olive
complexion it seemed now, bidding good bye, bidding love me and don't
forget me, ships sailing out and away and always away, and then Sunlight
holding him, as once Sunlight had caressed him, when Raven had been on his
knees, and tried to suck Sunlight's cock, assuming, did Raven, the perfect
cock sucking position, as though he had done this before.

Though he had not. He had reared up had Raven on his heels, had cupped
Sunlight's cock in his hands and had bent toward it in a perfect ready to
go if you are C.B. suckarama, but Sunlight had pushed him away, though he
had let Raven feel those beautiful sunny big balls of his, and now
remembering, clocking every second, Raven, proving he was not a Greek
cameo, started wiggling his crotch, making his big still hard did wave back
and forth, and he laughed such a mirthful laugh, and he watched with little
effort how his cock seemed alive and sentient all on its own, so he poked
old Sunny in the ribs, still at the magazine, what the hell were those
pictures anyway?, couldn't the idiot see who was right there next to him
for god's sake?, and Sunny looked for a moment, and then back to his mag
and his jacking.

Then because it was hot and because it was time to rest for Raven anyway,
he lay on his back on the sleeping bag, and he looked up at the sun, which
did not shine brighter, he thought, and would later read that in
Shakespeare, and think the old fart was a goddam thief, cause Raven thought
it first dammit. And he crossed his left leg over his right, and examined
his calf, and looked over at Sunlight stroking away, not really wanting to,
doing Raven another of those goddam favors. It was easing up. It was harder
to convince Sunshine. It was getting the two of them closer than they ever
were and further apart for each new intimacy, and Raven thought when I do
get to suck his cock finally or get him to fuck me for real even in his
mind, or when I get to fuck him, that will be the end of it. And that will
be the end of it. And that will be the end of it.....like echoes down a
long dark tunnel from so very very away and so heartbreakingly near at the
same time.

The dog in the kennel barked some throughout the afternoon. Birds sang. An
occasional car moved down the dead end street. The colors of summer were
not bold, more like faded Kodak film. Nostalgic. The something that says
remember me when it gets cold, you will have need of me then. Thus future
becomes past. And rue becomes love most lovingly.

Raven heard the sounds of the summer day again. His dick still hard. Ready
to go. If, well, I guess, you know, okay, nothin' else to do anyway, damn
these summer days take forever to go by.....And oddly enough Raven fell
asleep his body satisfied, his hole still remembering Sunlight's cock
digging in further than it really had and making sunlight shine darker than
ever before, even when you thought you were prepared for it, though no one
ever was. And Raven drifted into sleep, for a few moments or longer, and
woke with a start, and fast driving heart, for he had never fallen asleep
waiting for Sunlight to come, Sunlight who had made it very clear that he
had to come without Raven's help, and of course Raven agreeing, but Raven
had always watched and loved the watching, from a million miles away,
though he could see Sunlight's very pores, but this time he had fallen
asleep, and looked over and Sunlight who was asleep with his back to Raven.

And autumn was closer than July was distant. It made Raven want to cry. But
he could not. It made him want to wake up his friend and talk about it, if
even he could begin to think of the words that would fit it, but he did
not. Could not. And the dog barked. And Raven covered them both up in the
sleeping bag. Hot as hell in here.

But he planned never to let them out of it again. Not ever. Let the elf of
time try, you little mother bastard time, you, we will be young, we will be
in love, and no one can break us apart. He stuck out his chin, did Raven,
on him, on that patrician face, it looked ridiculous, but he did it anyway,
and he looked up at the sky, the sun over to the side, so as not to blind
himself, and he dreamed that he was Bobby Brady on "The Brady Bunch" for he
looked a lot like him he thought, only far more mature, and he hummed the
theme song and sent himself to sleep again for a little while.

And it could have all been a fever dream of that barking dog, that canine
Cricket on the Hearth, for after all, who is to say what thoughts are in
the mind of the person right next to you, and will you ever feel like an
idiot for figuring it out too late, or not figuring it out at all? And if
you do so, some late day, will you want if you are Sunlight to knock
Raven's block off for these deviant acts of long ago? Or if you are
Sunlight would you want to rush to him wherever it is and wherever it is
you and he and time and past and today are far too late?

For whatever reason, would Sunlight like to rush to him at all, some day up
ahead, or even remember Raven at all. Yes, Raven thought, remember, please
remember, but if you do, Sunlight, if you dare share in these memories for
a molten moment, for an angry moment, for a caring moment, for a sweet
moment, for an embarrassed moment, for a you really screwed up my love
moment, Raven thought, I will hunt you down like a dog and strangle the
life out of you.

Because I live you. That's why, Sunlight. I'm a dangerous character. Then
Raven bent over and stretched his long bony arms and lay them down beside
him, touching one arm and one side of themselves against the heat of the
sleeping bag and the heat of Sunlight....knowing... I can do this...I
can...I can walk away...watch me walking away...see me?...now?...now?...

You aren't looking fast enough. Now? Now? Look. I'll do it again. See?
Surprised you, didn't I ? Hell, you think you know everything, Sunny
Norquist.


    the end