Boy Midflight Read Online Free PDF Page B

ending.
     
     
    “OOOOOH… YEAH, watch the teeth!”
    I looked up at the pained face of Des. He was instructing me in my first gay experience. I was sixteen. He was the first person I ever spoke those dreaded words to and someone who I happened to have had a crush on for nearly four years. Sitting on a bench in a park at like two in the morning, we shared life, fears, and first love.
    “Umm… Des… I uh… I don’t know but I… I think I’m gay.”
    “Me too” was his reply.
    Holy Shit! The guy I’ve been secretly dating in my mind for four years is like me! I had a million and one questions, and he provided a lot of answers and support. Soon we were seeing a lot more of each other, going for long drives in his Blazer, talking the night away.
    One night I climbed the fire escape three floors up and into the bathroom window of his apartment. Des greeted me with a hug, and I stumbled over hellos that a few weeks ago would not have held this nervous tension. I drank him in. A tight green T-shirt with his high school emblem emblazoned over his right chest muscle. It fit so nice and taut over his arms and chest, draped over the top of some worn jeans. He wore his standard hiking boots. Des cocked his head and smiled with the corner of his mouth. A lock of blond wavy hair fell onto his forehead, which he brushed away with a momentary annoyance. He pulled me toward the couch and put a movie in. I don’t remember what it was or anything about it, but in typical Des fashion he was informing me of its significance, this producer’s role, what that actor went on to do. It was all very brotherly. What was not fraternal was the way he held me as I sat between his straddled legs. His hands were soon moving up my shirt, sending flashes of light across my eyes. His ramblings about the neglected movie turned to erotic whispers as he kissed my ears.
    I couldn’t handle it any longer; I needed to have his mouth on mine. With my head tilted over my shoulder I devoured his spirit, his essence with my mouth. As long as we were locked together like this, I gained all the sustenance I longed for. Oh! So many days and nights spent imagining this. He ravished me with kisses and massaged my chest with his left hand, then with his right, grasped my thigh. I drew my hands around and placed them on his thighs, mimicking his gesture. I could feel the power of his muscles through the denim.
    We moved to Des’s bedroom, and I scarcely ripped my mouth from his as I undressed and helped him out of his clothes. I stood as Adam, he with his shirt off, and I grasped his package through the faded jeans as we kissed. The feeling of my skin against his was almost unbearable. The smell of his cologne mixed with the salt and sweat was dizzying me. I dropped to my knees in praise to begin my worship. I unzipped and let the altar cloth fall to the floor. The god was waiting to be appeased. Which brings us full circle to me on my knees using my tongue to full advantage and trying desperately not to “beaver up this wood” too much.
    Des was truly amazing to me. Without a doubt he was my most conscientious lover to date. He got me books on the gay experience, was a great listener and lover, and answered all my questions. He was devoted and infinitely patient with me.
    After a couple months, I dumped him over the phone. I needed to “see the world,” experience more. So like a bratty child, I foolishly spurned one of my greatest lovers, friends, and teachers. Although geographically far from each other now, we still talk on the phone and swap memories. He is an affair to remember. He was and is a friend for life and sex played between us wonderfully. So in the instance of Des, sex between friends worked fine.
    Is there an answer here? I suppose sex with friends can be okay but each individual circumstance is unique. I’m kidding us all! That didn’t answer anything! I guess I can give up any dream of having a Dear Ashley column.

IV
     
     
    SIX A.M.,