Centennial Park

by FreeThinker

Chapter Five

            Daddy was right. It was raining Wednesday morning. After breakfast, Brian went to the den to watch Captain Kangaroo while I went back up to my room to finish reading Fire From Heaven. As I sat down at my desk, I watched sheets of rain sweep across the park. Suddenly, I felt trapped. I wanted to go outside. I wanted to walk in the park. I wanted to ride my bike. I wanted to go to Leonardo's.

            I wanted to talk with Stephen. Maybe it was time to discuss this with someone. Maybe Daddy was right. Maybe this is something that everyone goes through. It could just be a phase and then I'll be normal again. It would be so cool if I could be a dad and have a family, too; if I could be married in St. Andrew's and my kids could be baptised there and confirmed there. Four generations at the same church!

            It was a couple of hours before the rain let up and by then, I had come to the murder of King Phillip and the ascension of Alexander to the throne; the end of the book. Now I was even more confused. What Alexander and Hephaistion had seemed so wonderful, two boys in love who believed in honor. How cool. Yet...

            I looked out the window and at the end of the rain. Quickly, I jumped up, slipped on my sneakers and ran downstairs with my book.

            "Mother," I called out in the foyer, "I'm running over to Leonardo's!"

            I was out the front door and off the front porch before she could object.

            The summer rain had keep it unseasonably cool for the last day of June. I ran through puddles on the sidewalk, splashing and enjoying my freedom, freedom from the confines of the house and freedom from the confines of my self-doubt and shame. I tore along the south side of the park until I came to College and then ran past the church until I came to the row of shops. People were just starting to emerge from the doors so I slowed down until I came to Leonardo's.

            As I opened the door, Stephen and Jack were standing behind the counter, next to the hi-fi as the announcer on the radio said, "We will have more details as they become available." It then cut back into some classical piece I didn't recognize.

            "Hi," I said with a smile as I approached the counter. Stephen and Jack turned around.

            "Man, that's really something," Jack said, shaking his head. Stephen just frowned.

            "What happened?" I asked.

            "Those Russian cosmonauts in that Soyuz died this morning when they were landing," Jack answered.

            "Oh, wow. How did it happen?"

            "They don't know. They think it might have been an air leak during re-entry but they don't know for certain, yet."

            It looked like Stephen was whispering a prayer for a moment and then he looked at me and smiled softly.

            "So, Chris, how are you doing?"

            I shrugged my shoulders and replied, "OK."

            "Are you sure? Is there anything you might want to talk about?"

            Oh, man! I knew it. Alex told them.

            "Hey!" Stephen said raising his hands in surrender as he saw the anger on my face. "I'm a good guy! Don't shoot!"

            "Alex told you!"

            Stephen looked at me with confusion and then at Jack, who just shrugged.

            "Told me what?"

            And, then I felt like a serious moron.

            "Oh, uh, well, um.... nothing. Never mind."

            Stephen raised his eyebrow, something he did so much that I was surprised those muscles weren't more developed.

            "So, you've met Alex Partridge, I take it."

            My face was, yet again, burning fiercely. Jiminy Crickets, I was such a goof.

            "Yeah, but I don't want to talk about it."

            Jack stepped away and said to Stephen, "I'll go empty those boxes in the back."

            Stephen smiled at him and then looked back at me.

            "So," he said heartily, pointing at the book in my hands, "I see you're bringing Fire From Heaven back. You've finished it already?"

            I looked down at the floor and nodded as I placed it on the counter.

            "Thanks for letting me borrow it."

            Suddenly, the enthusiasm I had felt earlier had dissolved. Now, all I wanted to do was leave, to escape. But, to where?

            "So, did you enjoy it?"

            Oh, no. The same interrogation again! I swallowed, knowing there was no way out of this and I might as well do it.

            "Stephen, um, I know why wanted me to read it."

            He smiled and replied, "And, why is that?"

            I looked around with paranoia. Stephen signaled for me to follow him.

            In the back of the store was another sitting area with two leather chairs with a table and an old brass lamp. Jack was in the corner removing old books from a cardboard box.

            "Jack, could you do me a favor and watch the front for a bit?"

            His friend nodded with an understanding smile and strolled up to the counter, leaving Stephen and me alone. He pointed to one of the chairs and I nervously sat. He took the other one.

            "So, talk to me," he said gently. I swallowed.

            "Stephen, are you gay?"

            Stephen paused and then said, "Yes, I am."

            "Is Jack your boyfriend?"

            Stephen looked down with another smile and replied, "I suppose you could say that. Yes, Jack and I are boyfriends."

            I thought about that for a moment and then swallowed again. I didn't know how to ask this next question, but I just forged ahead.

            "Do you, um, like wanna do it with me?"

            I couldn't look up. I was clutching my hands. Stephen coughed.

            "Um, is that why you think I wanted you to read that book?"

            I was dying there and my face felt like it would burst into flame.

            "Oh, Christopher. I am sorry, but, no. Not that I wouldn't be tempted if I were a few years younger! You are quite a looker, young man!"

            I looked up in astonishment and embarrassment.

            "You really are quite handsome. But, I have someone in my life and I love him."

            I quickly averted my eyes again.

            "I feel so stupid."

            Stephen squeezed my arm.

            "Don't. I should have maybe talked to you before I gave you the book. Look, the reason I wanted you to read it is that when I was twelve and realized I was gay, it was horrible and I wanted to kill myself. And, then I met Roger in seventh grade and we became friends and, well, boyfriends. But, we never had anyone we could tell. This was in 1960. And, so, over the last few months I've been watching you change from that happy and confident boy to a very quiet and introverted young man. And, I knew why."

            "You mean, you can tell?" I asked in horror.

            "Oh, I don't think anyone else knows. I just know what to look for. And, I knew it was eating you up inside."

            Slowly, I nodded.

            "So," I asked softly, "how did you figure out that you were, you know, this way?"

            "Well, I guess when I got hard looking at Boy in those Tarzan movies every Saturday afternoon on Channel 12."

            We both grinned.

            "Yeah, I guess he's kinda cute."

            Oh, my God! I had just told another person, another guy, that I thought a guy was cute! I had actually said it!

            "Is that why you went to San Francisco?"

            Stephen nodded.

            "That and I didn't want to go to Vietnam. So I got a deferment and went to San Francisco State. And, that's when I realized that life is too damn short to be concerned with what people think and trying to live your life to please others."

            I paused and digested this before asking, "But, isn't it a sin? Isn't it sick and wrong?"

            "What makes you think that?"

            "Well, everyone says it is!"

            "Whose everyone?"

            I was getting confused.

            "Well, you know. Everyone. And, like, the Bible."

            Stephen nodded.

            "And, what about the ancient Greeks? It was quite acceptable in Greece and much of the ancient world."

            "Well, maybe that was before the Bible was written and before they heard about God."

            "Every society has its own standards and norms. Every civilization has its beliefs and principles. Ours are shaped by the Judeo-Christian tradition which teaches that homosexuality is wrong. But, times change and the Old Testament also says a lot of things are wrong that we don't accept as wrong today. And, in the New Testament, Paul says some things which we don't accept today. People are always picking and choosing which parts of the Bible to believe and which not. Do you think God doesn't love you? Of course, he does. Being gay isn't some sickness or evil. Did you know that in the Middle Ages, people thought being left-handed was a sign of being possessed or being evil? That's why we use the Latin word for 'left,' sinister, to mean something evil or dangerous. You have red hair and freckles. Can you change that?"

            I shook my head.

            "Your voice is changing. Can you stop that?"

            Once again, I shook my head.

            "You feel an attraction to other boys," he said softly. "Can you change that?"

            Tears were forming in my eyes.

            "I'll bet that you have prayed to God about this, haven't you? You've begged God to change you, haven't you? I know I did. And, has he?"

            Slowly I shook my head.

            Stephen stood up and held his hand out to me. I stood and he pulled me to him and hugged me. We stood there for perhaps a minute until we moved apart.

            "You're a good kid, Chris. There's absolutely nothing wrong with you. You lead a good life. You're a good person. And, so is Alex."

            I looked up at Stephen and saw his smile.

            "Did he say anything to you?"

            Stephen shrugged.

            "We were chatting yesterday and he mentioned that he thought you're cute. He likes you a lot because you seem intelligent to him. He seems to be a pretty perceptive person who can make quick judgments. I think, he would be a good friend. And, he needs one here in Clarkesville. Can you imagine what it must be like to move to little place like Clarkesville from New York?"

            I nodded.

            "Um, he really said he thought I was cute?"

            Stephen grinned.

            The bell on the front door tinkled and he said, "Well, gotta get back to work."

            "Stephen?"

            He stopped by the shelf next to us and looked at me.

            "Thank you."

            Stephen winked and walked on to the front.

            I sat down in the chair again to digest everything that Stephen had just said. There was nothing wrong with being gay! God still loved me. Of course, a lot of people still thought it was wrong, but at least I didn't have to feel guilty about it. And, not only that, but Alex liked me. Well, actually, I already knew that; but Stephen just confirmed it. With the most incredible sigh of relief, I stood up and walked toward the front of the store.

            There was an elderly lady looking at a really old Bible Stephen had on display at the front as I approached. He was describing it when the front door opened again. A huge man, tall and broad, in a very black suit, entered. His hair was coal black, his heavy eyebrows were black and made his eyes look black, as well. His nose was huge and red and his hands seemed gigantic and held a stack of yellow paper. He closed the door and stood motionless in the center of the front, only looking around at everything, as if examining the store and remembering every detail. He really looked scary.

            Jack was standing behind the counter and watched uncertainly. He was about to say something, but then quickly looked at Stephen, who turned and asked, "May I help you?"

            Suddenly the dark face burst into warmth.His mouth became a huge smile and his eyes seemed to laugh as he looked at Stephen and announced in a booming voice, "Hello, my friends. My name is Webster Hardesty and I'm the pastor of the new Spread the Word Tabernacle. And, this Sunday, the Fourth of July, I am holding a good old-fashioned rousing patriotic revival down at the park across from my new church and I was wondering if you would be so kind as to allow me to put this flyer in your window to let everyone know!"

            In the sudden silence, we all seemed speechless. Stephen turned to Jack and they seemed to speak silently to each other. When the silence became awkward, Stephen looked back at the Reverend Hardesty and said, "I'm sorry, but I don't think we accommodate you."

            The pastor face looked crestfallen.

            "Why ever not? Oh, and..." he reached out to shake Stephen's hand. "I forgot my manners. What was your name again, son?"

            Stephen looked less than enthusiastic about the handshake, but he put his hand out and replied, "Stephen."

            "Good, good. So, Steve, why in the world would I not be able to put one of my humble flyers in your window? We're gonna have a wonderful, wholesome, God-praising time."

            "Um, well, we don't normal advertise things like that here."

            Once again, the Reverend Hardesty's face looked shocked.

            "But, Steve, my friend. Just look!" And, he pointed toward two flyers in the window already.

            "Well," Stephen replied, "the first is for the Clarkesville Community Theater's production of A Midsummer Night's Dream next month and the other is for the Clarkesville College Summer Movie series. Those aren't really religious events. We try to stay neutral here when it comes to religion."

            "Neutral, Steve? Do you think the Lord is neutral? Don't you know the joy of the Lord, Steve?"

            "It's Stephen and, yes, I am quite familiar with the Lord. He and I talk on a daily basis and I serve him as an acolyte at St. Andrew's, down the street, here."

            The pastor raised an eyebrow, (what was it with raised eyebrows, all of a sudden?), and stepped back a bit.

            "Episcopalian, I take it? Well, don't worry. Even the Lord sat with publicans and sinners."

            I almost burst out in laughter at Pastor Hardesty using the same quote Father Partridge had on Sunday. I moved behind a shelf and held my hand over my mouth.

            "You are all welcome at our Fourth of July Revival, even if I can't put my flyer in your window."

            He turned around as I peeked out from behind the shelf and opened the door.

            "I will pray for you Steve," he boomed as he walked out and to the left.

            When he left, Stephen sighed and looked at each of us.

            "Well, that was interesting."

            "That was scary," Jack replied.

            "It certainly was," the lady added.

            She picked up the Bible and paid Jack as Stephen wrapped it. When she was gone, I looked at Stephen and said, "That's the guy Daddy said came down to the courthouse and wanted to know everyone they had convicted in town for like alcohol and drugs and sex. He wants to clean up the town"

            "You can't be serious?" Stephen said with outrage. "He didn't give him the names did he?"

            "He told him he didn't need any help cleaning up the town and then told him to check with the County Clerk if there were any public records he might have."

            Stephen and Jack looked at each other.

            "That man is dangerous," they both said together.

ooo

            The clouds didn't look very threatening as I jaywalked across College Avenue and into Centennial Park. It was still grey, but the clouds were keeping the temperature down to a pretty nice level. In fact, the damp breeze on my legs was almost cool.

            I was walking across the center of the park, toward the bandstand when I looked to my left. On the patio at the rec center, under the awning, Jason and Matt were sitting at two different picnic tables with two chess sets. It looked like they were just playing with themselves instead of each other. I thought that was strange and, so, I turned toward them.

            I was halfway there when, suddenly, Alex emerged from the restroom. Still wearing a psychedelic t-shirt and cut-offs, his long hair flowing in the slight breeze, he walked over to Matt, looked at the chess board, moved a piece, and then walked over to Jason. As he finished moving a piece on Jason's board, he was turning to walk back over to Matt's when he looked up and saw me. He froze for just a second, and then proceeded onward.

            Slowly, uncertainly,  I approached. Jason looked up from his board and smiled.

            "Hey, Chris. Man, you should try playing with Alex. He is good."

            Inside, I was saying, Yeah, I know, but on the outside, I replied, "So he's playing both of you at the same time?"

            "Yeah," said Matt still concentrating on his game. "And, he's beatin' both of us, too!"

            I thought of a couple of jokes that could be made from these comments, but merely said, "Humm."

            Apparently, the same jokes had crossed Alex's mind because I could see those pale eyes dart down from my face to Matt's board as he suppressed a smile. He moved a knight and then said, "Checkmate in three moves."

            "What?" Matt declared with asperity.

            "Sorry," he said with an embarrassed look on his face. He walked over to the other board and when Jason moved, Alex almost immediately moved his rook and, once again, said, "Checkmate in three moves."

            Jason chuckled and said, "Man, you are good."

            Alex smiled deprecatingly. Matt sighed and began putting his pieces away.

            "I'm sorry, Matt," Alex said. "I didn't think I should let you win."

            "Nah, that's OK. I just never played anyone who was better'n me."

            Jason looked up with mock offense as he folded his board.

            "Hey! What am I, chopped liver?"

            Matt grinned for the first time since I had arrived.

            "No, you're baloney."

            "Ehhhhhh!" Jason jumped Matt and gave him a noogy on his skull. Alex looked on with what might have been a combination of both condescension and envy. I grinned.

            As the two friends untangled themselves, Matt stood up and said, "Speaking of baloney, I gotta get home for lunch. See ya, Alex. See ya, Chris. See ya Baloney."

            In moments, Alex and I were alone on the patio. I sat down on the bench Jason had abandoned and looked down at my hands.

            "Um, like, uh, Alex, uh, well, how ya doin'?"

            "Um, like, uh, well, fine."

            I looked up and saw a sarcastic grin on Alex's face, which then faded a bit.

            "So, how are you doing now?"

            "I'm fine."

            There was a pause before Alex sat down across from me.

            "Look, Chris, I'm really sorry if I, uh, well, you know..."

            "Hey, its OK. I kinda like freaked out and, well, I just talked to Stephen and, well, he made me feel a lot better about it."

            "Really? He's pretty cool."

            "Yeah."

            We were silent for another moment until I saw Alex look toward his house. I turned and saw his Dad pull into the driveway in a beat-up old Ford Fairlane.

            "Listen, you want to come over for lunch?"

            I looked back at Alex and saw such a look of earnestness on his face, so different from the casual cockiness I had seen before. A few strands of hair fell across his face again and his pale eyes seemed to beg me.

            "Please?"

            I smiled.

            When we entered the screen door to the foyer, we met Alex's father just coming out of the study.

            "Hey!" he declared, heartily. "Its The Man, Jr.!"

            "Huh?" I said, not getting it. Alex cracked up.

            "You know!" he said between chuckles. "The Man! The Authority, The Establishment, The Fuzz, The Oppressor of the Masses. The Man!"

            Alex was pushing me toward the kitchen.

            "Hey! My dad doesn't oppress anyone!"

            Donald chuckled again and winked at me.

            "Hey, for what its worth, your Dad's alright. I've seen worse!"

            Alex's mother called my mother who, after what appeared to be some protest, agreed that I could eat lunch with the Partridges, which turned out to fairly pretty good. We had reuben sandwiches, the first time I had ever eaten sauerkraut in a sandwich.

            While we were eating, Emily was looking through the TV Guide when she asked, "Donnie, don't we know someone named John Kerry?"

            "Yeah," Donald replied, swallowing. "That rick kid who got all those medals in Vietnam and then joined Vietnam Vets against the War. We met him over at the Goldbergs'."

            "Oh, that's right. I remember."

            "Why?"

            "Well, he's going to be on Dick Cavett tonight."

            "Ah, well, we'll have to watch."

            Alex seemed to roll his eyes a bit and got up from the table. I was a bit surprised that he didn't ask permission, but then this Partridge family was a bit different. I felt uncomfortable standing without permission, but I followed him to the sink with my plate.

            "Oh," said Donald, "I met the scariest fascist in the world this morning. And, for this town, that's saying something."

            We were all ears, though I had a pretty good idea of who he was talking about.

            "I was coming out of the court house. I went to see the Public Defender about working with their office when I ran into some kind of Elmer Gantry who wants us to come to his old-fashioned Fourth of July revival Sunday! I almost laughed in his face. You would not believe it, the perfect stereotype of the southern snake-oil salesman."

            "He just moved here," I said. I related Daddy's story from the other day and then my experience at Leonardo's.

            "Your friend's right," Donald said. "He is dangerous."

            "Come on," said Alex. "Let's go up to my room."

            He gave me a completely innocent smile and suddenly, the old familiar feeling returned. He turned and walked out of the kitchen. I thanked Emily for the lunch and followed.

            Once again, I got to look at those beautiful slim legs and that cute butt as Alex ran up the stairs in front of me. A strange sense of excitement was coming over me, physical as well as emotional. Of course, I was getting hard, but there was a sense of amazement and anticipation. Alex hadn't said anything, but I knew, I knew we were going to do it.

            As we reached the second floor and walked down the hall to the stairs leading to the third floor, Alex looked at me and said softly, "I'm so sick of all this protest shit."

            I wasn't surprised by his use of profanity. He was from New York, so I expected it. But, it was his sentiment about protesting that surprised me.

            "What?"

            As he started climbing again and my eyes locked on his butt again, he said, "Ever since we moved back to New York in '65, all Dad's ever done is protest and fight and yell and scream."

            We reached the third floor and as he started toward his room, he looked at me and grinned.

            "You know, this may be the first Fourth of July I don't have to spend in jail since '67."

            My eyes grew wide.

            "Calm down," he said. "Dad likes to get arrested for trespassing and shit like that. He says it sends a message. I think it just makes money for the government from all the fines."

            "You got arrested?"

            Alex went over to his giant wicker chair and turned it around to face the room. He plopped down in it and spread his legs out.

            "Nah, its just that I have to sit in the waiting room with Mom until he gets processed and released. Although, when we went to the May Day marches in DC last month, this one pig was hitting Dad with his stick and I called him a 'Fascist fucker,' and I thought he was gonna arrest me."

            I stared at Alex in amazement, my eyes huge with shock.

            "Jiminy. I spent May Day taking May Baskets to old ladies."

            Alex giggled. His voice cracked a little as he did and that made me giggle. When mine cracked, we both giggled and then completely broke up as both our voices kept breaking.

            When he regained control, I sat down on the floor at Alex's feet, still gazing at those nearly hairless legs. They were so beautiful. Up close, I could see they were slender, but his calves and thighs looked solid, as if he exercised them. His sandal-clad feet were so pretty, his long toes almost looked delicate. Slowly, my gaze moved upward until I saw him looking at me with that Mona-smile again.

            Embarrassed, I asked, "So, if you don't like protesting, how come you go?"

            Alex sighed.

            "Well, its hard to say 'no' to Donald Partridge and I do hate the war. My cousin Jeremy was killed at Khe San last year and my Uncle Martin was shot down over the Gulf of Tonkin in '67. He's either dead or a prisoner. Dad's like the black sheep of the family and I know the war is wrong, but I get so tired of all the fighting and speeches and protests and the police hating us and... I just want some peace. You know?"

            "Wow. I didn't know it was that bad. I mean, I've seen your Dad on TV and I know how much everyone around here hates him."

            Alex looked at me with concern.

            "Do they really?"

            "Well, I mean, they don't hate him. But, nobody likes Jane Fonda or Joan Baez or your Dad. I mean, people pretty much want the war to be over now and I hear a lot of people say they don't think Nixon really wants to end the war, but they don't like the protests."

            I was sitting next to Alex's hifi. He climbed down from the chair and sat cross-legged next to me. He pulled out an album from the shelf below. It was called Pearl and had a hippy-looking woman on the front. He took the record out of the jacket and placed it on the turntable and set the needle on a song in the middle.

            "Janis," he said. "Listen."

            He sat back and closed his eyes. His fair fell over his face again and all I wanted to do was put my arms around him.

            The song was "Me and Bobby McGee." It was a cool song, but Alex really seemed to love it. He scooted over next to me and we leaned back against his bed.

            With tears in his eyes, he looked at me and said, "She died of a drug overdose."

            "I know."

            "I hate booze and drugs. Dad gets so worked up when he drinks and he just hates the fascists. But, he's such a gentle and nice guy when he doesn't drink. When I'd leave home to go to school, I'd walk past people passed out on the sidewalk from drugs or booze. Whenever a bunch of people from Columbia would come over to talk about the war or organizing, they talked a lot about organizing, they'd always smoke so much pot. I just hate it all. Listen to this. She's so good. She has so much talent. And she died of a heroin overdose."

            He looked off toward the window, lost in thought. I didn't know what to say.

            When the song ended, he let it move on to the next one. He looked at me and almost whispered, "When Dad told us we were moving to Clarkesville for a year or two, I thought I was going to die. I mean, everything in the world is in New York. You can't even begin to guess. Man, I've seen things that would make your head explode. But, part of me was happy. This is probably the most boring town in America and, you know what? I'm glad."

            I was stunned. I would never have guessed.

            "And, when I made you so upset the other night, I could have shot myself because you are a really cool guy. I mean, you so different from all my friends back in the City. I mean, you're real and you don't know about all the shit in the world and... you're not like the hick I thought everyone here would be. You're smart and you know music and you read and you like to hang out at Leonardo's. And, Leonardo's is cool. And, um, I think you're cute."

            I could say nothing for a moment, and then I looked at him. He was watching me with those pale eyes and his hair falling over his face. He seemed so scared, like he didn't get honest like that very often and it scared him.

            "Alex, when Father Partridge told me you were moving here and thought I should like try to be your friend, I thought you would probably be some weird mixed up goofy guy. But, you're not. You are so cool. I'm mean, you're smart. You can play chess with two different guys and win, you can play Beethoven on the piano. You know so much."

            Alex jumped up, all of a sudden, and went over to his desk. He picked up the spiral sketch book and return to sit at my side. He opened it up.

            The first drawing was of a mother holding her baby while she sat on a park bench. It was good. It was real good.

            "I drew that last fall in Central Park. Here."

            He turned the page. It was of a couple of college-age kids, laying in the grass, the girl laying down and the boy leaning over her.

            "You're an artist, too. Is there anything you can't do?"

            "I can't play football and I can't fuck girls."

            We both giggled. Alex took the sketch book and set it aside. We looked at each other.

            "Alex, you are so cool. You are so beautiful. Wow, I've never said that to another guy before, but you look so cool. I love your hair and I love your eyes. And I love your long arms and your long legs and..."

            He leaned over brought his face to mine, his lips just an inch from mine.

            "I love your red hair and your haircut and your freckles and your blue eyes."

            I was hard, so very hard. And, I was trembling. Our conversation has diverted me from my sexual feelings earlier. Now, it all hit me, coming back all at once. It was like a truck had hit me. In one second, I was suddenly just overwhelmed with this feeling of... I didn't have words to describe it. I wanted Alex. I wanted to be Alex.

            Our lips met and he kissed me. His lips pressed softly against mine and then opened lightly, pulling at my lower lip, puckering slightly, rubbing against mine. I could feel the jagged breath from his nose above my upper lip. I closed my eyes.

            I was kissing another boy. I was kissing Alex Partridge. I had died and gone to heaven.

            Alex shifted and, as he continued to kiss me, in fact, pressing his lips harder against mine, put his right arm around me and raised his left hand to my cheek, holding my face. He pulled me close, holding me tight, his hair falling across my face, tickling my neck. I put my arms around his slim torso and held him as tightly as he held me.

            It was perfect. There was no other way to describe it. It just seemed perfect that Alex and I should be holding, hugging each other.

            Our breathing became heavier when Alex's lips opened again slightly, and I felt the tip of his tongue on my lower lip. It pressed forward and pushed slowly between my lips until it had entered my mouth. It stopped on my two front teeth. He left it there, letting me get used to the feel of his tongue between my lips. It was so strange. His tongue felt like another living being, yet it seemed so much him. I felt as if I could shoot in my shorts again at the slightest touch. His tongue pressed forward again, slowly, so slowly. I groaned.

            I moved my tongue forward until the tip was touching the tip of his. Alex moaned into my mouth. We pressed out tongues together and then mine slid underneath his. the soft smooth flesh under his tongue seemed to move and flow around my own tongue. His seemed to take control of mine as it slid back and forth, the rough texture rubbing against mine. I could taste Alex's saliva. I was tasting Alex. It was like he was sharing himself with me. It was like he was becoming part of me.

            We were holding each other tighter now, both groaning as our tongues pushed and probed. I kept thinking to myself, I'm French kissing a boy! A boy! I'm French kissing Alex Partridge!

            I raised my right hand from his back and held his face. His skin was so smooth and soft. I ran my fingers through his hair. It was so silky.

            He pulled back, his lips parted, his eyes so... so piercing, I guess, a look on his face like he wanted to eat me up. He grinned.

            "You wanna have some fun?"

            I swallowed and smiled. I could barely find the breath to reply, "Yeah."

            Alex's grin grew wide and he jumped up. I watched as he ran to the door and closed it.

            "What about your parents?"

            He was still grinning as he ran back. He stood in front of me, his hard-on quite visible pointing long and straight to the left in his shorts. It seemed to pulse against the faded denim of his cut-offs.

            "Don't worry. They never come up here and they wouldn't care anyway. Now, stand up."

            I was trembling as I stood up. I felt my hard-on press against my Bermuda shorts as my hands trembled at my side. Alex also seemed on the verge of trembling, himself. He gave me such a beautiful smile and then leaned forward and kissed me on the lips.

            "You're so cool, Chris. I'm gonna make you feel so good!"

            He kicked off his sandals and whipped off his t-shirt off. It feel to the floor beside his feet. I lifted each foot and removed my sneakers and socks and then, barefoot, pulled my sport shirt over my head.

            Alex's hair fell down his neck and almost to his bare shoulders. I could see a hint of his ribs and his nipples were brown and hard, stiff little pin-pricks. I could see his excited breathing with each rise and fall of his chest. His cute belly-button was neither an innie nor an outie. My eyes swept over him and his smile made me want to run over to him and kiss him everywhere.

            "Are you ready?" he whispered. Nervously, I nodded.

            Slowly, his hands went to the snap on his shorts and opened it. I copied his actions. His fingers slowly moved his zipper down. I followed suit. And, then, my heart stopped. He wasn't wearing underwear!

            As his shorts opened, I saw the bare skin of his abdomen and then a hint of his black pubic hair. When the zipper was down all the way, he removed his hands and just stood there with the flaps open. The base of his penis was pointing to the left. The little bit of black hair above it seemed silky.

            Alex hooked his thumbs under his shorts and paused.

            "Come on, you have to do it, too," he said softly.

            I took a deep breath and looked uncertainly at him.

            "Its OK," he said reassuringly. "You can do it."

            I swallowed and hooked my thumbs inside my shorts and my underwear. Alex grinned and said, "On three."

            I nodded.

            "One... two... three."

            We both pushed our shorts down. They both fell to our feet. Alex stepped out of his and kicked them aside. I was frozen.

            Alex's penis was so beautiful. It was like a work of art. It was long, maybe six inches, and slender, just like the rest of him. It started at the little tuft of black hair and the straight shaft pointed slightly upward. It was perfectly white and...

            He was uncircumcised! I had seen a couple of boys in the shower in gym with foreskins, but they weren't hard and their penises basically looked like little nubs with some skin at the tip. Alex's penis was quite different. I could clearly see the little cone shaped head inside the skin and the tip of it sticking out of the hole at the end. It was absolutely perfect, a penis the way God created it.

            "Wow," said Alex.

            It took me a second before I realized he was talking about mine. I looked up at him and his eyes were glued to mine.

            "Your cock is hot," he whispered.

            "Really?" I answered stupidly.

            He stepped forward.

            "It so wide and hard and... just so hot."

            He reached his right hand out and stopped just millimeters from my penis. He looked up me as if for permission. I barely nodded.

            As his fingers wrapped around my hard-on, I cried out.

            He just held me in his hand, not moving it, not squeezing; just holding it. I looked down at his hand holding my hard-on. Slowly his thumb moved up the top side of my penis and into the reddish-blond hair at the base. Slowly, he rubbed it back and forth through the strands. I heard his exhale.

            I looked up at him. His face had such an earnest look, his lips parted, his eyes almost pleading.

            "Feel me," he whispered.

            Slowly I moved my own right hand forward and gently grasped his penis. I couldn't breath. I was holding another boy's penis, Alex's penis. It was so warm, almost hot, with a strange softness and hardness. Following Alex's example, I moved my thumb along the top and into the silky hair. Oh, it was so silky. He moaned.

            Slowly, Alex moved his hand back toward the back. Lightning. Without thinking I pushed my hips forward.

            "Do it to me," he whispered.

            I moved my hand back, pulling his foreskin back until I heard, "Uh, stop!"

            "What?" I asked, afraid I had hurt him.

            He let go of my penis.

            "Um, you can't like pull it all the way back because its, you know, kinda tight."

            "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't know. I've never... "

            Alex grinned at me. He leaned forward and kissed me on this lips and then said, "I know."

            Suddenly, he jumped on the bed, his long beautiful hair falling about his head. He got on his knees and then spread them, sitting back on the balls of feet.

            "Come on," he said with a cute, nasty grin.

            I climbed onto his bed and spread my knees out just as Alex had. They were touching his. Alex leaned back and his hard dick pointed straight upward. He gave me another nasty grin.

            "You've never done this before, have you?"

            I could barely shake my head 'no,' I was trembling so.

            "Well, do whatever you want."

            I looked uncertainly at him, but Alex was smiling so broadly that I knew he was serious. He knew I had never done anything before and he was going to let me do whatever I wanted.

            "Wha.. what would... you like me to do?"

            Alex was still smiling.

            "Whatever makes you feel good."

            I couldn't believe Alex was being so cool. He was letting me doing anything I wanted. All the times I had done it in bed or in the shower or behind the garage, (oops, did I say that?), and all the fantasies that I had done it to flew through my mind. But, I dismissed them all. I reached forward and felt his dick with my right hand and his almost hairless balls with my left. I was like a crazy person feeling, rubbing, squeezing. Alex was moaning and thrusting his hips upward and back and forth.

            "Ah, oh, uh," he cried.

            Looking at him open his mouth, the way he looked out of his half-opened eyes as I worked his dick and balls, watching the way his hair fell around his head, it was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.

            "Come here," I said. I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to love Alex Partridge.

            I lay down and the look Alex gave me almost looked grateful. He laid down next to me and with no words spoken, we wrapped our arms around each other. We kissed, our tongues plunging into each other's mouths. We writhed against each other, our hard-ons pressing and rubbing against our tummies. We clung to each other, our arms and legs twisting and pulling our naked young bodies together. We moaned and cried, our young voices breaking and singing of our joy and love for each other.

            I have little memory of the rest, except that we twisted and writhed and thrust against each other and all I knew was that I loved Alex and I wanted him to feel good and I wanted to feel good and that I had never felt like this in all my life. We were crying and moaning and groaning and rubbing and, then, he almost screamed and pushed hard against me, so hard, and I felt his warm sweet sperm all over my stomach. And, then, I lost it. Alex's sperm was all over my dick and my stomach. Alex's. Alex's. Alex's.

            When I finally came down, I was gasping with Alex's face just inches from mine. His eyes looked into mine. I couldn't look away. He was gasping as hard as I was.

            "Are you OK?" he asked fearfully.

            "Oh, yeah. Oh, Alex. Oh, yeah."

            He gave me such a smile of beauty and joy and love.

            He leaned down and kissed me and we began to make love again.

            Yes, I was in love with Alex Partridge.