By the time Willy, Priscilla, and I were thirteen and in seventh grade, I knew I had more than a crush on Willy; I was in love. Of course, I knew little about love. Oh, I had loved my parents, and I did love my uncles, but my feelings for Willy were very different from those loves. I knew that whenever Willy was near me, even in class, my heart seemed to beat faster and so loud I was afraid others might hear.
Although my uncles clearly loved each other, sometimes really loudly, I knew nothing about loving boys or girls. Willy and I had learned to ignore their nightly sounds. Until that year I had assumed that I would eventually fall in love with a girl, but now I wasn’t so sure.
I knew terms like homosexual, queer, faggot, fairy, pansy, but I had no idea if they applied to me and even less idea if they applied to Willy. And I feared that he might fall in love with Priscilla, but I never saw any sign that that was the case.
We never talked about love, although we occasionally talked about sex. More than talking about it though was our frequent practice of it. We both thoroughly enjoyed it and did it as often as possible, usually two or three times when we were together.
At school, boys occasionally talked about blowjobs, but we had never done it or talked about it. I wondered if having someone’s willy in my mouth would be disgusting or could transmit diseases, so I seldom thought about it. But one night, as Willy and I lay on my bed stroking each other, Willy began kissing and licking my chest. I immediately started to grow hard. When he got to my nipples, he sucked them and rubbed his tongue gently on them. That was new for us. I had never realized that nipples were so sensitive or that stimulating them could feel so good. I moaned and hugged him tightly.
When I released my hug, he continued to kiss and lick down my chest and stomach, taking time to explore my navel. I moaned again. From there he worked his way down to my groin, licking the area where my legs met my torso, then the area between my balls and my ass.
He gently took my balls in his hand, rolling them a bit before he took the entire sac in his mouth. The warmth of his mouth on that sensitive part of my body was exciting, erotic.
He held my willy for a few moments before he put his mouth on it, sliding his lips gently up and down.
By then I think I was harder than I had ever been, and I felt the tingling pressure in my willy becoming almost unbearable.
“I’m gonna cum, Willy,” I cried frantically.
His response was to slide his mouth once again down until I felt the tip of my willy hit the back of his throat.
The delicious pressure continued to grow until I arched up and experienced the most intense climax I’d ever had. I shot several times, feeling the warm fluid entering his mouth as I cried out nnnnggghhhh, nnnnggghhhh, and bright lights flashed in my eyes.
As the moment and the tension passed and the lights subsided, I relaxed my arched back onto the bed and lay, panting, my breathing and heart slowly calming.
“Oh, wow!” I exclaimed. “That was so amazing. You have to let me do it for you.”
He withdrew his mouth and rolled onto his back. I soon had him so excited he said he was afraid he was going to shoot too soon, so I slowed down, worked his willy and balls with my mouth and tongue, and gradually brought him to a throbbing climax as he shot into my mouth.
Lying back and recovering, he asked if I’d ever tasted cum before.
“Never,” I said. “At first I thought it would be gross, but it was quite wonderful.”
He nodded in agreement.
We lay gently touching each other for some time before we began to grow hard again. We took more time for our second round, enjoying bringing each other slowly to intense climaxes.
By the time we finished, we were both exhausted. Lying in each other’s arms, we slept until the sun pouring in my window woke us.
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One night in the fall of that year, Paul said to me, “I think we need to talk.”
Oh no, I thought, have I done something wrong?
We sat in the kitchen while Darrell worked on the computer in their bedroom.
“Davey,” Paul began, “I’m concerned about how intense your feelings toward Willy seem to be.”
I began to panic. Was he going to say that we couldn’t see each other again or that Willy couldn’t stay overnight anymore?
When I didn’t say anything, he asked, “How do you feel about Willy? Is he a friend or is he more than a friend?”
What could I say? I never lied to my uncles, so my answer had to be honest.
“He’s more than a friend.”
Paul nodded. “Do you love him?”
“I. . . I. . . I think I may be in love with him,” I stammered.
“Is Willy in love with you?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “We’ve never talked about it.”
“Okay. My concern is not that you may love him, my concern is that such loves seldom last, and when they end that, hurts both boys. I simply don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I don’t think Willy would ever hurt me,” I said, “and I certainly wouldn’t ever hurt him.”
“I’m sure neither of you would do that intentionally, but it can happen. I know from bitter experience.”
I was silent, wondering what experience he was talking about.
“I guess I’d better explain,” he said. “When I was in high school, I was deeply in love with a boy who was a year older than me. We were very close. We dated, we had sex, we loved each other. Until a new girl came to the school and he fell for her, hard. That was the end of our love. I was so hurt I never looked at or considered loving another person for years, until Darrell came along and suddenly I was smitten again.
“So,” he asked, “what happens if one of you falls for someone else, a girl for instance?”
“I’m not interested in girls,” I replied.
“I know you’re not now, but it’s entirely possible that one or both of you could become interested in the next two or three years.”
“So what should I do?” I asked, “Or what should we do?”
“Well, you probably need to talk about this with each other. First, he needs to know how you feel about him, and you need to know how he feels.”
“Okay. I’ll try,” I said, “and I’m sorry you got hurt. I never knew that.”
“I know,” he said, “because I’ve never told anybody but Darrell until now.”
“I’ll try to talk with him after school tomorrow. Can you maybe pick me up at his house later?”
Paul agreed.
When I saw Willy the next day at school, I said, “Willy, we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Us.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No. It’s nothing like that. It’s just that Paul suggested we needed to talk.”
He looked puzzled. “O. . . kay.”
“Can we meet in the park after school?” I asked.
He agreed and we parted until lunch time.
In the park we sat on a bench where we were partly hidden from view.
“So, what’s up?” he asked.
“Well, Paul and I had a little talk last night. He asked me how I felt about you.”
“And?”
“And. . . and I told him I loved you,” I blurted out.
He got a big grin on his face.
“What?” I asked.
“You saved me from having to say it.”
“Say what?”
“That I loved you. I’ve known for at least two years, and I’ve been wanting to say it, but I was afraid that maybe you’d be upset if I did. I was worried that you didn’t feel the same way and that you thought it was just sex.”
I hugged him, tight. “We are such idiots,” I said. “We’ve both wanted to say it but were afraid the other one would be upset.”
“So, what else did Paul say?”
“He was afraid that one of us would eventually find someone else, a girl perhaps, maybe Priscilla, and that would hurt the other one.”
“Girl?” he asked. “I have no interest in girls. What about you?”
“Me either, but he thought that it might happen when we were a little older and that someone would be hurt.”
He thought a minute before saying, “Okay, we’ve got to learn the lesson here. We’ve got to learn to be really honest with each other and keep each other safe.”
I had been looking at him during the entire discussion. God, I thought, he is so beautiful, and I love him so much.
I had an idea. “How do you feel about kissing?” I asked.
“I’ve been wanting to do it for a long time.” He pulled me to him, and his mouth found mine. His lips were soft, a little damp, and very exciting.
I pressed harder into him. Before long I felt his tongue on my lips. I opened my mouth a little and his tongue entered. As his tongue explored inside me, I shivered, not because I was cold but because I was thrilled.
We simultaneously stood, and soon we were totally entwined, kissing, touching, and grinding together. We had become totally oblivious to the park.
A voice nearby said, “Hey, faggots, that’s disgusting.”
We pulled apart and turned toward the sound.
A teen perhaps two years older than we were and much bigger was standing there holding a large, mixed-breed dog on a leash. The teen approached and, as the dog got closer, it bared its teeth.
“Can you think of any reason why I shouldn’t set Bruno on you?” he asked.
“We weren’t doing anything wrong,” protested Willy.
“That’s a matter of opinion, and right now, my opinion counts a lot more than that of two faggots.”
We were silent.
“I’ll tell you what. If one of you gives me a blowjob, I’ll let you go.”
“Does that mean that you’re a faggot too?” I asked.
He took a step towards me and said, “Bruno, don’t let him move.”
Bruno eyed me and growled.
Willy sighed and said, “I’ll do it.”
“Oh, so you’re the smart one. Come here.”
“No, Willy,” I said, but he walked towards the older boy, eying Bruno, who continued to growl.
“Kneel down,” the dog owner said.
Willy knelt.
The teen unzipped his pants and pulled out his huge boner. “Now, suck it,” he said.
I was crying and I’m pretty sure Willy was too.
He took the boner in his hand and then stuck it in his mouth.
“Ah,” moaned the older boy.
Then Willy bit down hard on the boner. The teen screamed as Willy jumped up yelling, “C’mon!” and began running.
“You little bastard,” shouted the boy, and he turned Bruno loose. The dog took off after Willy, while I grabbed both our bookbags and ran after him. When I got to Willy, the dog had knocked him down and was going for his throat. I swung the bags with all my strength and hit Bruno on the head. He yelped and turned towards me.
I swung my bag again, tossing Willy’s to him. Soon the two of us were beating on the dog. We even got in a kick or two. Bruno yelped again and fled to his owner, while Willy and I ran out of the park.
We didn’t slow down until we got to Willy’s front door. Hastily, he pulled out his key and unlocked the door as we both tumbled inside.
My heart was pounding, and I was sure his was as well.
We flopped on the living room couch, panting.
“Are you hurt?” I asked.
“Thanks to you, no,” he replied.
I called Paul to come and pick me up. When his truck pulled up in front of the house, Willy and I stood on the front steps and kissed each other so long that Paul tapped the horn.
Although our mouths were still joined, we began giggling. We broke the kiss and walked down to the truck holding hands and still laughing. I suppose the giggling was a combination of the nervous tension we had experienced and the situation.
As Paul headed the truck home, he asked, “How did it go? You two certainly looked like it went well.”
I told him about our discussion and that it turned out that we loved each other. And I told him that we promised to be more open and honest with each other.
Paul smiled and nodded.
Then I told him about the attack in the park.
When I finished, he said, “I don’t suppose you know his name.”
“No.”
“Well,” he said, “unfortunately there is still a lot of prejudice around. If one of you had been a girl, there probably wouldn’t have been a problem. I’m sorry to say that you both need to be really careful about showing your affection in public.”
I nodded, sadly agreeing with that second lesson I’d learned that day.
“Do you know if Willy’s bite drew blood?”
“No, but I hope it did!”
“Do his parents know what happened?”
I grew cold. “I don’t think so,” I said. “Please don’t tell them!”
“The thing is he needs some blood tests to find out if he got infected with anything.”
So, even though I begged him not to, he called Willy’s parents and told them what happened. I was very worried that they might not let him come to the cabin anymore.