Friday, February 5, 2010

Glorious Days of Summer

By the end of my senior year of high school I had expanded my search to find another gay kid like myself; I engaged in an aggressive advertising campaign, writing "Gay 17yo looking to meet similar 415-490-xxxx, Cameron" on every already graphitied bathroom wall I could find.

In mid-June I finally received a call. "Uh, hi." He sounded young and nervous. My heart pounded hard and lept to my throat as I realized that this could be THE call that I had been waiting for. "Is Cameron there?"

Now I was shaking. "This is Cameron."

"I, um, I saw your ad. Um...I saw your ad in the bathroom."

"Cool....what's your name?"


"Cool, I'm Cameron. I'm 17. How old are you?"

"I'm 17 too."

"Really?? Wow. Where do you go to school?"

"Kennedy. But I just moved here a few months ago."

And that's all it took before we were chatting away. After about 15 minutes we agreed that we wanted to meet as soon as possible. He didn't have access to a car but he said he would meet me outside of the apartment building where he lived. I knew his building well, it was the only high-rise in the city. I said I could be there in 30 minutes and he said that was cool.

When I hung up the phone I just sat and stared down at the floor. I was stunned. I was completely stunned. After all this time I was finally going to meet another kid like me?!!! FINALLY! And he sounded so cool.

As I turned into the parking lot of his building, every nerve-ending in my body tingled with nervous anticipation. I was excited. I was afraid. I was hopeful. I was afraid.

I looked around for a kid. Where is he?? He said he'd be waiting out front.

I waited in the car for a minute and a half, but I just couldn't sit any longer. I got out and started toward the building's glass-fronted main lobby. As I nearly reached the door I saw a young teen with strawberry blond hair wearing a pink polo, khaki shorts and a black pair of Vans move from inside the lobby toward the door I was now approaching. For a second I wondered if this boy was Brian because he didn't seem to be looking for anyone. Then, as he reached the door and opened it, he turned toward me, smiling, and said "Are you Cameron?"

Brian was CUTE. Clean cut and preppy, with a very slightly up-turned upper lip, a handsome, boyish face, and fashionable, spiky hair.

Our conversation in person picked up where he had left off on the phone. At first we wandered around the outside of his building but then we felt too conspicuous so Brian suggested that we go sit in the building's empty pool clubhouse.

The more Brian and I talked, the more I liked him. He told me that he had been raised in Oklahoma but had moved to California with his mom and step-dad a few months earlier. He said he was a virgin and had never been with another guy before. He wanted to know if I had gotten many calls from the bathroom thing and I told him the truth, that he was only the second call. I told him about my experience with Tex and he agreed that it was weird that such an old guy would call a 15 year old. Then, Brian confessed that he had actually been with one other guy before. He said that it was at a wedding in Oklahoma, the summer before. The guy was working there as a waiter and they kept looking at each other during the reception. So eventually Brian said hi to the guy and they started talking. Then they went and fooled around.

"I guess we've each had one experience each," I said.


With the possibility of sex now hanging heavily over us, the conversation awkwardly stopped. It was the first pause since we had met.

He looked at me, smiled, and shyly turned his head and looked down. I did the same back to him. Then we laughed. Then he stared intently into my eyes and I felt myself being pulled deep into their stunning blue beauty. My heart was pounding. The moment I had dream of, imagined and fantasized about for many years had arrived. I had found a boy I could love and who could love me. But I was so nervous and excited I didn't know what to do next. I couldn't make the move and touch him. A little saddened by my fear, I broke our dreamy gaze and instead stared down at my hand resting near his beautiful bare leg, yet not quite touching it.

"Hey... Look at me," he said quietly. I looked up.

"Give me your hand."

Brian held out his hand, palm up, toward me. I smiled big and gently placed my trembling hand into his.

As strange as it might seem, holding hands with Brian that time was the most memorable physical sensation I have ever experienced. It was like angels singing in Heaven, glorious fireworks, and pleasure so extreme that your eyes roll backwards, all at the same time. It was electric. It was erotic. It was liberating. It was the highest high I could ever have imagined.

Soon, our hands explored each other's. Then we moved to our arms, then our shoulders.

As we gently moved to our necks, we pulled in closer to each other. We stared deep into each others eyes, all the while grinning madly as our faces moved closer and closer together. Our lips touched and we passionately kissed. Softly at first, then more urgently.

It was magical, sitting in that pool house, making out with such a beautiful gay boy.

Best of all, he seemed to like me as much as I liked him.

I'm not sure for how long we made out. Fifteen or twenty minutes maybe. Then came a woman's voice, "Brian! .... Brian are you in there?"

Shocked, we instantly moved apart. Each of us quickly leaned back and pretended to be very casual as Brian's mother stood at the entrance to the pool house. She seemed to hesitate slightly when she saw someone was with her boy. Then she said, "Come on Brian, we've got go!" and walked back out of the pool house without ever looking directly at me.

We said our "see you laters" and I watched as Brian walked away from me. My god, he is a dream come true.


Brian and I met the following day. And the day after that. And the day after that. We talked on the phone several times each day and each time we told each other how fantastic it was to be with each other, to have dreamed the dream and to have it all come true.

The second day we met, Brian brought some blankets from his apartment and we camped out in the (mostly) unused staircase of his high-rise building. That was the first time we had sex.

The staircase had proved awkward so the next time we went up to the building's penthouse common room and messed around. After almost being caught there twice, on future days we started doing it on the couch in his family's apartment. Fortunately for us, we had no school but his parents had to work.

One of the most vivid memories I have of being with Brian is sitting on the couch, with the nearby sliding screen door to the patio wide open, allowing a warm breeze to filter throughout the entire apartment. The thin white draperies would periodically lift up, reach inside toward us, then fall back and stick to the screen.

Playing loudly on the radio was David Bowie's "Let's Dance." Brian was standing before me, dressed only in shorts, holding a hairbrush upside down and singing into it. As the song ended he pulled off his shorts so that he was naked, then laid next to me on the couch. He looked at me, grinning widely.

Then he wrapped his arms around his legs and pulled them both toward his chest, revealing his hairless taint. "I want you to fuck me."

I was both a little stunned and a little honored.

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