| I don't know what attracts me to a guy and it sometimes makes me a little crazy when I begin to drool over a guy and can't figure out why. I can be standing in a sea of beautiful men, blondes, brunettes, coal black hair, it really doesn't matter much. Some guy will cross my line of sight and suddenly my mind switches into attack mode. And all too often, the target isn't that great looking. Although, I am attracted most to blondes and least to red-heads (I'm a red-head so I don't know what that says about my own self-esteem). I'm not into muscled types, they appear unnatural and unapproachable. It's the moderately slim, well built swimmer type that usually trips my first response: an uncontrollable gasp, a tightening of my stomach and a quick reply from muscles around the area of my crotch in concert with a sudden weakness in the muscles that support my frame. My legs weakened, I reach for a table for support or for a chair. Skinny types are a turnoff and if there's no one else around I rather envision them with a little more muscle, they definitely must have reasonable pecs or forget it. I'm not into boys and I don't understand the attention paid by some to the so-called 'bubble' butts. It's a tight little ass that makes me crazy. Why? Maybe it's because a tight little ass differentiates them from the wide ends carried by so many women; ya know, the ones, almost immediately after they get married, whose butts blossom out and develop bulges and pits in the most unfortunate places. Most important though, guys have to look clean, like they shower often and care enough for their teeth that they're white and in tact. Teeth don't have to be perfect, but I think they reflect the attention paid by the owner to those parts of the body that are mostly hidden but the most desirable. More recently I've discovered something in the faces of all the guys I find myself drooling over. It's their mouth, rather, the shape of their mouth. The lower lip is slightly puffed and gently curved but the upper lip is moderately thin and shaped like a archers bow. I've heard it compared to Cupid's bow. Well, Cupid's bow or not, a mouth like that really turns me on. I can imagine my tongue tracing that curve over and over again while my hands slide down his back and over those smooth, warm, undulating butt cheeks. Oooo! I've got to get off this subject. Hmmmmmm.... short, tall, hell, I don't care, a reasonable body, pecs, tight ass, blond hair, especially long blond hair, clean and healthy looking and that delicious mouth, these are the ingredients that, in one package, make me gasp and shakes me to the core of my being; as though somewhere within that being, an explosive electrical discharge takes place and the rest of the world vanishes for a few moments leaving only the beauty of my apparition swimming lazily in my brain. Some call a guy with these attributes, eye-candy. I agree completely. Candy tickles the taste buds, indulges the senses, elicits a pleasurable response and is all to soon gone. Candy doesn't feed the soul, not for long anyway. And all to often my apparition dissolves in disappointment when it opens it's mouth, utters it's first word, laughs it's first laugh. It dissolves like a cube of sugar in hot coffee. This is the easy part of 'sorting' guys out. There's got to be something between those beautiful ears otherwise, the treasure lying beneath those jeans is just eye-candy without substance, an apparition, a being without substance. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with eye-candy and I search out candy shops when ever I can to satisfy my desire. But, most of this candy is strictly visual stimulation, soul food and not someone I'd take home...we'll I wouldn't let them stay....for more than a couple of hours.....maybe a night......or two. To many of the men that I've found compelling fail to meet the eye-candy test. They may embrace a few of the attributes, but some with whom I've been smitten have been older than me, weigh more than me, or have lost their youth-like beauty. So what is this special quality that transcends the eye-candy test? What is it that makes me stretch my neck to keep them in view, that unconsciously guides my steps so that I end up in the same places that they are in. Well, this is one of the many things that I'm trying to understand about myself. God! I was recently attending an all gay men's weekend gathering, three days of stolen heaven. There were plenty of gorgeous guys, cute little cuddlies who's appearance jerked at my involuntary response center. I studied each one of them. They were all beautiful and some even remained so after they opened their mouths. And then one appeared, that shook my foundations. I'd seen him before, several times and looking at him now, I realized that he was showing a little more age than first perceived, so it wasn't his boyish charm. Not that he didn't have a great body. It was okay, but his appearance didn't shake foundations or rattle my bars. Not at first, anyway. He was, I'd guess in his late twenties, maybe the early thirties. Short blond hair (I like the hair long). Not ideally built, but pretty nice to look at and he was certainly old enough to have a great chest. Hmmmmm? This time he was in a dress, on stage and lip-synching to one of the popular singing divas. Guys in drag have never been appealing to me and some of them are scary as hell. I wouldn't be found dead in women's clothing. It's not that I find it disgusting, but that I've always enjoyed being a man and have never been able to connect with the enjoyment some guys get by 'dressing-up' in women's trappings and parading around in front of other guys. This guy however, was gorgeous. He didn't appear feminine to me, in spite of the dress which outlined the details of his masculine body. As he swayed to the music, his body projected power and determination and energy and youth. It was wonderful. He was wonderful and I found myself captured, unaware that I wasn't able to move. I don't remember, but it's likely my jaw was ajar and my hand surly covered it so as not to reveal any drips of unconscious saliva. I say I don't remember, but after all this time, his vision is clear in my head and the thought of him elicits this same unconscious response. He was beautiful at a distance and even though, close up I could see that time had played the features of his face, it didn't matter. God! What was he all about? What am I all about? I haven't even talked with him. But, the energy and excitement and power which was him was apparently all that my subconscious required. I still can't imagine having sex with him, but I can imagine holding him, talking with him, kissing his face, his lips, his chest, looking into his compelling eyes....kissing his eye lids and running my fingers through his hair, my hands over his back and the cheeks of his ass. Now, here I am, trying to get to sleep with a new vision saturating my mind. I can't believe that I'm taken by a damned kid. I don't know if I'm going nuts, but I'm sure that my unfathomable obsession with this boy is going to sink my ship. Oooh! ....tomorrow..... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My eyes are open, I can see the pattern on the fabric of the mattress above my head. But my head isn't working yet. I'm just lying here thinking about the boy and the dream that I just woke up from. Ya know man, you're heading for a lot of pain if you don't get your act together... Oh fuck it, just fuck it.... do you have to spoil everything that's beautiful in my life. Just shut the fuck up and let me dream a little longer. Hmm... It's quite bright in here, how late is it. I roll over on my side trying to block out the light. My second pillow is there and I pull it against my stomach to soften the pain from the loneliness I'm feeling. The boy is still in my thoughts and I pull the pillow even tighter into me and bring up my knees to touch the bottom of the pillow. My face sinks into it and I take a deep breath. My god, I can still smell him. Shit! I throw the covers off and rotate to a full sitting position in one move. "What's the matter Chris?" says a voice from the little kitchen in the front of the trailer. "Ah...Wha.. Huh? You still here John? "Well, yeah... last time I looked" John chided. "You stayin' in bed all day?" "No! I'm up now, how late is it anyway" "bout five after nine" came his reply. "Who were you talkin' too?" he chuckled I get up and walk about five feet through the doorway of the tiny trailer and find myself looking at John sitting there eating cereal and munching on a slice of toast, the smell of the toast still lingering in the air. "God that's what I smelled" I thought. "Morning John". "Hey Chris, thought you were going to sleep till noon" John was chuckling and looking at my belly which hung slightly over my jockeys. "You're getting a littl' out of shape there ol' man, Hehehe" "Hey, enough. I'm in no mood for an attack on my persona. What the fuck's happenin' " I asked, knowing full well the answer but just filling the silence with chatter so that I didn't have to think and destroy the image of the boy still clear in my head. "Well it is Saturday morning and I'm thinking of going up to the lake with Gil and takin the boat out for a little fishing. Thought I'd spend the day and I've got enough beer to keep me happy til around 5.... If you come along, you'll have to get your own beer". John was smiling broadly thinking he'd made a pretty good editorial statement about my recent mooching. "Nah! Not today John. Slept shity last night and think I'll just stick around here and try to get a little more shut-eye. Besides, I still have a lot of catch-up reading to do and I want to get a little more written on my latest story. That ought to keep me busy till dinner... That's when your coming back right?" "Yep, and don't expect any fish either. Today I'm fishing with sinkers for bait. Don't want to have to break my 'concentration' pullin in some stinkin fish". John was done with his breakfast and was leaning back stretched out against the couch.. If he'd lifted his feet he would have slid out into the middle of the kitchen floor. "Just waitin for that lazy ol' butt head Gil to show up so we can get goin" he whined. Just then a toot broke into the conversation and John jumped up almost knocking over my freshly poured cup of coffee. "Oops, Sorry man, almost made a mess. Hey, I noticed that there was still some bacon and a couple of eggs left in the fridge, if your hungry. Might as well finish em off so they don't get tossed out when we leave tomorrow night". John scooted past me on his way to the door, picked up his ratty ol' fishing hat and left the trailer with a bang as the door slammed shut. "Gil... I thought you forgot about me this morning" I heard John say as he hurried over the waiting car. I could hear Gil say something but couldn't make it out over the noise of John and the drone of the car's engine. All became silent as they pulled out and headed down the road. Now only a few birds and the slow drip of the faucet seemed to break the morning silence. The smell of my coffee drew my attention back to the table. I checked the coffee pot again and found that I'd have to make more. The bacon sounded good and maybe I'd fix some up later. I was sitting by the curtained window next to the table sipping my coffee and enjoying the peacefulness of the almost abandoned camp ground when a soft rhythmic sound began to invade my tranquillity. At first I wasn't even aware that it was a sound but soon I became obvious that it wasn't a sound of nature and I opened the curtain cautiously to secretly peek outside. There he was. Sitting just outside of the screened enclosure on the north side of the trailer. A knife in his right hand, he was displaying his skill at what I remember we called mumbly-peg many years ago. God he was quite good. The knife slid over the back of his hand and smooth as silk into his right palm and down into the ground. He picked it up and repeated the task over and over again. Amazing, the kid's pretty good. As if hypnotized by his deft handling of the camping knife, I almost forgot about last nights encounter. Over and over he thrust the knife into the ground and I watched. I watched the rhythmic movement of his hands, his arms and shoulders, as he sat there on the ground. Oh, man! This kid was beautiful. Even in a sitting position, there was no sign of a fatty bulge over the waste band of his cutoffs. What a picture. Suddenly I realized that he was watching me too. At first just peripherally and then his head began to lift up as he watched not only the knife plunging into the ground but me peering through the slight crack between the curtain and the window. I pushed the curtain aside and rolled up the trailer window.. to let in a little fresh air, I later told him. No, I wasn't really spying. The boy stood up and ducked a little so that he could see the window through the screen of the outside enclosure. "G'morning" he said in a soft slow, almost rehearsed musical tone. "Hi, eh.. G'morning" I called back, light and cheerfully. "Looks like a great day ahead, huh?" "Sure does, and what do you plan to be doing on such a great day?" he asked "Ya coming out soon?" My heart was almost in my mouth and I found it difficult to speak, what with the excitement boiling over inside of me. "G-got, eh", I stammered" I've got some things to do in here first, breakfast would be nice and then I want to do a little more work on my novel" "Wow, a novel.. You some kinda writer" he hollered. "Hey, eh... Jeez I don't even know your name... eh, if you step onto the porch, you won't have to holler and wake up the whole campground" "Hehe, whole campground is already awake" he laughed as he stepped up onto the porch and stopping just below the kitchen window. His smile was amazing as it uncovered a perfect set of snow white teeth, every one perfectly formed and straight as a die. " oh, it's Michael. My name? You asked" "Hi Michael, I'm Chris" "Yeah, I know", he giggled, "I've already asked about you, Chris Goddard, around 30, six feet or so, drives a dodge pickup, 97 I think, liked pretty well by everybody and no girl friends. At least you never bring em here, they say. Work somewhere in the city. Must be a pretty important job. You look pretty well off even if you do live in this dumpy ol' trailer" "Hey, no cracks about my trailer. And where are you gettin all this information about me" I asked. "Oh, I checked around. I always check around and talk to ever-body. Amazun what you can learn through jus askin" "What's that, a West Virginia hillbilly accent I'm listening to?" I asked with a chuckle. The boy grew about two inches, standing straight now "No! Eh, well, I'm not, but there's plenty of them in this campground. Haven't you noticed?" "Nope! Don't pay much attention to things like that" I replied. "Had your breakfast?". What the hell did I just do? Of course you've just opened the door for him to come inside when you know that you won't be able to control your self, especially after last night. Now what, you fool? "Yeah, had some around four hours ago, About time for lunch isn't it?" he asked. "I looked up at the clock" well it's about 11:30... what time do you eat lunch? |
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| Chapter 2 - No Return |