I don't remember going to bed that night, but I do remember having an incredible number of seriously erotic dreams; and, when the sunshine through the window woke me Sunday morning, I was so wildly horny I almost couldn't stand it. I was lying naked on top of my sheet and reached down to wrap my right hand around my straining erection when something in the periphery of my vision scared the hell out of me and made me jump almost off the bed.
Davy was laying naked beside me, curled into the fetal position with his back to me, sound asleep.
How in the world had he ended up there? How did he get in last night? Why did he come in last night? Was I that high that I didn't notice? Or remember?
But, then, the biggest question popped into my head: did we do anything?
He looked so peaceful and beautiful lying there, his slender arms tucked up inside him, his long hair falling all over his shoulders and the sheet beneath. A nasty thought occurred to me as I gazed at his probably not-so-innocent beauty. I was so horny that I desperately wanted to touch him, to feel him, to make love to him. But, I loved him and he was twelve. I couldn't do it, no matter how many hormones were racing through my bloodstream at that moment. There was, however, something I was curious about, something I had to see.
I lay back down and gently pulled Davy's body to the right. In his sleep, he rolled onto his back, resting his head on my left arm and revealing his body to me.
His face had the most beautiful look of peace on it. Indeed, he seemed to have a sight smile that made me almost want to lean down and kiss it. I lovingly brushed the hair from his face and examined the object of my interest.
Davy was fiercely erect. His penis rather surprised me. I had never seen another's boy's penis when I was twelve. My only knowledge of them at that point had been limited to my own. Davy's was circumcised, which surprised me. I knew he was Jewish but, somehow, it just didn't seem to me that his parents were terribly devout or practicing. I just assumed that a radical hippy such as Donald Goldstein would eschew practicing any religious traditions. Apparently, I was wrong.
My second surprise was how wide it was. It was quite a fat little boner, not very long, perhaps three inches. But it was a stubby little hard-on, hairless, with two slightly-larger-than-marble-sized balls in a smooth tight sac.
This wasn't right. I was violating the poor boy's most sacred privacy. Of course, the fact that he was lying in MY bed, naked of his own volition, didn't occur to me at that moment. I was so wrapped up in my conservative Southern middle-class morality that all I could see was my own violation of the boy's rights.
But, just as I was about to awaken him and make him put his shorts back on, Davy made a "mumf" sound and squirmed around a bit. His erection jumped and his right hand moved to encircle it.
I heard a "mmm" emerge from within him as he began to slowly fondle himself. His fingers completely encircled his boner and he began to slowly twist his hand horizontally around it. His hips pushed upward once and then he spread his legs out, his right leg splaying across my left leg.
I was beside myself with horniness. I wanted, needed, to touch myself, to beat-off, to orgasm. But I was too fascinated by the scene playing out before me. Silently, I watched as Davy's hand ceased its twisting and began to move up and down his rigid little boner.
In just a moment, his breathing picked up and the strokes on his boyhood became more rapid and intense. I began to suspect he was no longer asleep, but I couldn't bring myself to stop him. I decided that if he was OK with this, then I would let him finish.
I looked up at his face and his eyes were, by now, indeed, open; as was his mouth. He was breathing quite heavily, as his hand began to work his little penis faster and faster. His face turned up to mine and the expression of need in his eyes was intense. I smiled down at him and leaned over. I kissed him gently on the forehead and began to stroke his shoulder with my left hand. He sighed and continued to work his penis.
His climax came much sooner and with far less warning than I expected or remembered from my own experience at the age of twelve. One moment he was wildly pumping on his erection; the next, he threw his head back, thrust his hips up, and writhed wildly as he cried, "Nnng, nnng, nnng."
And, just as quickly as it came, his orgasm ended. Davy collapsed, breathing heavily as he lay beside me, his eyes closed. I leaned over again and kissed his forehead a second time.
"Good morning, sunshine."
Davy opened his eyes and smiled up at me.
I smiled down at him and raised my right hand to rub my index finger down his nose.
"You know, it’s very strange. I smoked pot for the first time in my life last night and this morning, I awoke to find a naked twelve-year-old boy masturbating beside me. This is not what normally happens to me on Sunday morning."
Davy giggled. "You're funny when you’re mad."
"I'm not mad. I just want to know what the heck you're doing in my room and why you're naked."
Davy giggled again.
"I didn't want to sleep in my room. I like you." He paused, and then added, "I love you."
I brushed his hair away again and whispered, "I know. I love you, too. But, you can't just come in here and sleep with me. Especially naked. What would your parents say?"
"But, I always sleep naked. Who cares? Besides, they don't care. They like you. They think you're weird, but they like you."
I sighed. There was no way to win with this kid.
I sat up, pulled a pillow over to cover my raging hard-on, and pointed to the door.
"Get your shorts on and get your butt out of here."
"Why?" he asked in an almost whiny voice.
"Because I have to go to church and you're not supposed to be in here. Now git!"
I slapped him on his naked butt; it gave me a bit of a surge in my erection, I was ashamed to notice, and he hopped up off the bed.
"Why are you going to church?"
"Because that's what I do on Sundays. I don't suppose your parents ever take you to synagogue or Temple on Saturdays, do they?"
Davy shrugged. "Donald says that religion is the opal of the masses."
"Of course, he does. And it’s not 'opal,' its 'opiate.' And, Donald stole that from Lenin."
Davy grinned. "Donald steals everything from somebody."
"I guess he's more equal than others."
"Read Animal Farm."
"I tried to once. He wouldn't let me."
I had a couple of good comebacks for that one, but I decided to let it go.
"You! Out! I'll see you later and maybe we can go play Frisbee again!"
Davy smiled and walked over to me, naked but holding his shorts in his hand. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I kissed him back and then said, "Be sure to put those on before you leave!"
Davy smirked. "You're no fun. Like anyone would care."
After he left, I ran to the bathroom and whacked off really hard. I needed the release after I realized that Davy had probably contributed to my heightened state of arousal before I awoke! After a quick shower, I dressed in casual but nice clothes. I didn't have room in my suitcase for my blazer when I left home or I’d have worn that.
I set off to St. Andrew's Church, a small, old, Gothic-style Episcopal church I had noticed near campus when Davy and I were coming home Saturday.
The service was a lot less formal that I was accustomed to in the cathedral back home, but it was pleasant. And there was a really cute little acolyte serving that made me wish I was eleven again! But, I tried to put such impure thoughts behind me, at least until after Communion.
After having lunch at Deb's Diner on Main Street, I came home. I changed into my khaki shorts and the tie-dye again and was planning to take Ragtime down to the backyard for some quiet, pleasant afternoon reading when I noticed from my apartment Davy crawling out of his window. Something was wrong with the way he was doing it, however.
The boy was usually quite nimble in his maneuvering on the roof and trellis. But this afternoon, he seemed a little clumsy and unsure. He also walked a little slower than usual up the driveway. I was sitting on the edge of my bed as he came up to the door and opened it without asking.
"Hey, little guy," I said as he seemed to float in. Then it hit me and my heart stopped. Float. Oh, no.
Davy's eyes were red and his lids were half closed. He grinned at me.
"Wanna get toasted?"
He held out a rolled up marijuana cigarette.
"I rolled it myself, just like Donald does. It's a perfect joint."
I closed my eyes and said nothing.
"Stephen? Come on! Let's get high!"
I open my eyes and said softly and evenly, "Davy, I don't want to get high again. And, I certainly don't want to get high with you. I want you to leave and not come back until you come down. Do you understand?"
Davy looked at me with a dazed and confused expression on his face.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I don't want to get high with you. And, I don't want to have anything to do with you when you're high."
Even through the pot-induced fog on his face, Davy looked as if I had slapped him. It killed me, but I couldn't stand to see him so messed up.
"You got high last night!"
He had me there. "Yes, I did. And, it’s probably never going to happen again. It was a one-time thing, a celebration. But, Davy, you’re too young to be doing stuff like this. You're just a kid."
That was the wrong thing to say. Suddenly, a look of fierce anger came over his face.
"I'm not a kid!" he screamed at me. "I know what I'm doing. I'm old enough to think for myself. I thought you were different. But, you're just like everyone else. Fuck you!"
He spun around and stormed out the door. As he stomped down the stairs, I heard him yell again, "I'm not a kid!"
I was stunned. My sweet, quiet, thoughtful, observant little friend had turned into something vicious and hateful, something totally unlike what I had grown to know over the last few days.
I picked up my book and went outside. Sitting in the grass near Davy's rosebush, I tried to read, but I just couldn't concentrate. I couldn't get the image of my sweet Davy, standing before me stoned, out of my mind. My heart sank and I felt sick. And angry.
After awhile, Donald emerged from the back door and headed toward Alex's steps. He waived a greeting at me and I turned away. I could say nothing to him.
"Yo, Pizza Hut! Sup?"
I shook my head and looked at my book.
Donald sat down in the grass beside me. I slammed the book shut and glared at him.
"Listen, I know you're a liberal and you think anyone who disagrees with you is a fascist. But, it stinks that you let Davy do drugs! He's a sweet, innocent, beautiful boy and the LAST thing he needs is to be getting high! How can you let him do that? What in the heck is the matter with you? Don't you and Patience have ANY sense of responsibility?"
Donald seemed a bit surprised by my outburst.
"Whoa, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," he said defensively. "I admit we give him a lot of latitude on making his own decisions, but THAT'S not a choice for him. I've told him that's not something he can do 'till he's at least 16 or 17."
"Crap. He just came into my room as messed up as any one of us was last night and wanted me to smoke a... a... joint with him."
Donald raised an eyebrow, thought for a moment, looked at me again, and then smiled. He clasped me on the shoulder and said, softly, "I like you, Stephen. You're cool. You're a fascist. But, you're cool. You love Davy. I know that. Patience knows it, too."
I started to protest, but he raised a hand and smiled.
"Hey, it’s OK. Sex is something beautiful and we have no problem with you and Davy being lovers because you have his best interest at heart. You're not some horny fucker who just wants some tight young ass to get off in. You love him. You're decent. You just don't realize yet you love him."
I didn't know what to say. I just sat there.
"Patience and I know that Davy's probably gay. He's a very different kid and he doesn't have any friends and we saw his eyes that day we talked to you about running away and being gay. He's in love with you. He saw you get high last night and thought that you and he could share it. Let me guess. You passed out last night and didn't even know he was in there, right?"
"Look, Davy knows we don't approve. We don't have many ground rules for him. But, we have two very strict ones. No drugs and no sex unless we approve. You probably know we're free spirits when it comes to sex."
I shrugged. "I kind of got that impression from what Davy told me."
Donald smiled. "Hey, sex is beautiful. We share. We love each other, but we share. One night, some friends tried to include Davy and we said an absolute No. We are very protective of Davy because there are some things that a boy his age just doesn't have the experience to make decisions about. But, you love him and we think you're the right person for him to learn about them from."
I was embarrassed and I could feel my face burning.
"And get over that bullshit protestant morality. Now, as for drugs, he and I are going to have a little talk. You don't need to worry about that anymore."
I looked up. "Don't hurt him."
Donald smiled. "Don't worry." He patted me on the shoulder, got up, and walked up the stairs to Alex's apartment.
I didn't see Davy for the rest of the day. Or that night. I went for a lonely walk through town, and when I returned home just as the fireflies were coming out, I thought of going in and knocking on Davy's door. I didn't though. I figured he needed some time to work things out and see I really loved him.
Work on Monday was fairly uneventful. Nicki saw I was rather distracted and kept trying to either get me to talk or to get a rise out of my by teasing. Late in the afternoon, I heard his father tell him, "He's in love." For the rest of my shift, Nicki left me alone, but he did keep grinning at me.
Monday evening, I saw Davy sitting in the grass by his rosebush reading. I went down with Ragtime, but when he saw me, he scowled and stood up. Without a word, he walked deliberately over to the trellis and climbed up to his room.
Tuesday was a repeat of Monday; as was Wednesday. My heart was breaking Wednesday night. I wanted to cuddle with my little Davy so badly that I almost felt I could cry. After dark, I sat at my desk writing in my journal. At one point, I looked up and saw Davy standing in his window in his shorts watching me. His face seemed expressionless. My heart jumped and I made a tentative, fearful little wave to him. But his only response was to turn away. A moment later the light went out and the window plunged into darkness. I waited, hoping to see his shadow in the window, but there was nothing. Once again, I was alone.
I was so distracted at work Thursday that, after I burned my third large supreme pizza, Mr. Mancinelli took me aside. It was mid-afternoon.
"Stephen, my boy. I like you. You work hard. You're honest. You give me a good day's work for a good day's pay. But, today, you are no good to me."
I was mortified, but Mr. Mancinelli smiled at me.
"Don't worry. I'm not firing you. I know you are good. You just have a bad day. Take off early and enjoy your holiday. And get this girl off your mind or bring her to her senses! Eh?"
He slapped me playfully on the cheek and smiled.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Mancinelli. I really am. I promise, I'll get over this and Monday, I'll work my butt off for you."
"I know you will. Now get out!"
I took a sandwich home with me and luxuriated under a nice shower. I spent the rest of the afternoon lying on my hide-a-bed in just a pair of shorts, reading, dozing off, and listening to the classical station.
Early in the evening, I roused myself, put on my Devonshire lacrosse t-shirt and looked out the window. Once, again, Davy was sitting by his rosebush. I decided I couldn't take it anymore. I had to bring this to a head.
I walked deliberately down the stairs and across the grass to my sweet little boy. Davy looked up at me and started to get up. I roughly pushed him back down and said in a harsh voice, "Sit!"
Davy's face looked startled. He sat.
"Now, listen to me. I'm tired of this. I love you, Davy. Do you understand that? I love you. I know you're very intelligent. I know you're very independent. Those are two of the reasons I love you. But, you are twelve years old and you are too young to be doing drugs. Period. And the reason I'm saying that to you and the reason I sent you from my room Sunday and the reason I was so hurt—and yes, I was hurt—is that I LOVE YOU."
Davy just looked at me impassively, with no response.
"Davy, I had a boyfriend last winter. He was on the lacrosse team with me and on the chess team and in student council. We did everything together. But then, I realized all he wanted me for was to suck his dick. He started smoking pot and he changed. He wasn't my friend anymore. He was someone else. It bummed me out really badly. That's how my folks found out I was gay, because they were so worried about my depression that they read my journal.
"Davy. I love YOU and I don't want you to change because you're getting high. I want to watch you grow up. I want to watch you learn all those wonderful, beautiful things a young man learns as he becomes a man. I want to love you and cuddle you and walk with you and read with you and listen to beautiful music with you and watch sunsets with you and do whatever with you. With YOU. Not with some spaced-out zero. But, with YOU. Maybe once in awhile, when you're older, getting high might be OK. MIGHT be OK. But, you're too beautiful a young man to waste all your potential right now."
Davy remained impassive. My heart sank and I looked down at the grass.
"I give up."
Slowly, I stood. Davy stood as well and walked over to the trellis, climbed up, and disappeared into his room.
I couldn't return to my room, so I slowly, numbly walked down the driveway and to the sidewalk. I didn't know where I was going, but I just had to walk.
How could I have fallen in love so quickly and with someone so young? How could I feel such intense and profound pain at his behavior and his rejection? How could I have found such freedom and final acceptance from my father only to face such darkness and pain?
I found myself walking through the campus of Canterbury College. The sun was dropping low in the western sky and I decided to watch it set over the water of Lake Canterbury. Slowly, dejectedly, I walked through the freshman quadrangle and past the empty dormitories. The campus was deserted that evening and it made me feel even more alone than I might have.
Sitting on the grass on the shore of the lake, I watched the sun approach the horizon. A few clouds had moved across the western sky and those closest to the sun had turned a brilliant fiery orange. Above, the clouds faded into a soft salmon color and then to a peaceful purple. The beauty made my heart ache for I had no one with whom to share it.
And, then, I did.
Davy stood to my left, perhaps ten feet away, the same impassive look on his face. I said nothing. And then, he stepped forward slowly until he was in front of me. I was sitting cross-legged in the grass. Davy walked in front of me, turned his back to me, and then sat down in my lap, between my legs. He leaned back against me and looked out at the setting sun. Slowly, I wrapped my arms around him, enveloping him in my love.
Suddenly, the colors seemed more intense, more brilliant; the fragrance of the honeysuckle behind us more sweet, the undulating chirping of the cicadas more lyrical.
I held my Davy and loved him.
As the darkness settled over the lake and the trees and bandstand and the field, we continued to sit in silent communion with each other and with the world around us. I closed my eyes and leaned my head down to lay my right cheek against the top of Davy's head. His hands were holding my own, which were clasped together as my arms had enveloped him, and he squeezed to silently let me know he loved me.
When, finally, I opened my eyes, the silvery glow of the half-moon cast a pale shine upon us as hundreds of fireflies danced around us in their own ritual of love and mating. Davy looked up at me. I smiled at him and lowered my face until my lips touched his. Softly, gently, I kissed my love on his sweet mouth, tenderly moving my lips against his.
Davy shifted in my lap so that he was sideways to me and could wrap his arms around me. I caressed his bare shoulders, lovingly held his face, kissed his soft lips. I could feel the breath through his nose against my upper lip becoming stronger and more ragged.
We fell to the ground and I rolled over on top of my sweet boy. His arms were still around my shoulders as I looked down on him. His eyes glowed in the moonlight and the enigmatic smile on my strange, wise boy told me more than words could. It spoke of love, of joy, of need, and fulfillment. With my left arm wrapped around him, my right hand began to caress his torso, softly exploring his tummy, his chest, his nipples, as I continued to make love to his lips. I felt a jerk in his body and heard a soft moan as my right thumb made contact with the stiff nubbin of his left nipple. I continued to rub and twirl around it and soon his entire body was writhing and twisting beneath me, his breathing becoming ragged, his moans more insistent, more needful, more pleading.
My hand slowly moved down his body to his hips. His lose blue shorts were tented quite visibly in the front as I felt his hip. Slowly, my hand moved over to his right thigh, just barely avoiding the throbbing rise in the fabric.
The inside of his thigh was so smooth, his skin so warm and silky. I just loved it and caressed it, causing him the squirm and thrust his hips up as I continued to kiss and love his mouth. Davy had begun to make little mewling sounds as I loved him, his arms holding me tighter.
As I caressed the inside if his thigh, my hand began slowly to move upward and inside his shorts. He moaned a little louder and spread his legs out more as his squirming became more insistent. The tips of my fingers came to that area where his thigh met the base of his penis and balls. I could feel the hardness of his rigid erection as I caressed my fingertips across the smooth, hairless skin. His moaning was almost continuous now and his squirming seemed almost to be pleading for what I knew he wanted. But, I would wait. I loved Davy and I wanted him to know how wonderful, how beautiful it was when two people who love each other wanted to make the object of their love feel good, special, treasured.
My fingertips moved lower and beneath his smooth, tight, hairless balls. He cried out as they ran across the tiny vertical ridge running from his ball sac to his butt. I caressed the swollen area and felt, rather than heard him groan. His breaths were uneven, chaotic as the new intense sensations exploded through his small body.
"Please, please..." he whispered into my mouth as I kissed his lips. My mouth made love to his face, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids. I pushed his thick long hair away from his ears with my nose and my tongue plunged into his ear, licking the lobe and pushing into the canal. He almost screamed and twisted away as the feelings became too intense. My hungry tongue licked down his neck and began to lake love to his throat. I kissed and licked his throat as Davy's head fell back, giving me complete access to love him, to hold him, to devour him.
By now, my thumb and fingers were caressing his balls.
"Nnnng, nnnngh, uhhhh, uhhhh," he groaned as I relentlessly squeezed and loved his tight little testicles. I pulled them apart and let them fold back tightly together as my fingers moved from the ridge below his balls to the rigid base of his penis and back again.
"Please," he begged me.
"I love you, Davy," I whispered.
"I love you, Stephen!" he cried. And I moved my hand up to envelope his little erection. He screamed as I pumped and twisted my hand, marveling at the softness, the hardness, the warmth of his penis.
And, then, his body stiffened and jerked and he was crying and quaking. The spasms seemed to explode. And then, as quickly as it started, his orgasm ended and Davy collapsed beneath me.
I brought my dry hand up from his still rigid penis and caressed his face. Tears had formed in his eyes. I kissed him again and whispered, “I love you, Davy."
As his breathing slowly returned to something approaching normal, Davy gazed up at me through the tears in his eyes and whispered, "I love you, Stephen. I want to grow up with you. I want you be with me when I become a man. I want you to love me. Always. Please."
"I will, Davy. And, nothing will ever change that. I love you, Davy and I always will."
And as the moon and the stars danced their celestial ballet above us, we held and loved each other in the grass all night, the first night of forever.