Band Practice
By It's Only Me from Across the Sea
The story is copyright 1999 by "It's Only Me from Across the Sea". If you copy the story, please leave the credits, and the web address of http://iomfats.org present, and also the email address of its_onlyme@iomfats.org. I'd love to receive feedback.
I hadn't been there long when he walked in, carrying his instrument case. I truly had never felt anything quite so weird in my life. I was getting my stuff ready. Music on the stand, instrument in tune, you know, all that stuff, waiting for the tutor to arrive to take the practice when this vision walked in, unconscious of anything at all, and sat down in the brass section, at the first trumpet's desk.
And I felt weird. I couldn't quite see him without turning my head a little towards him, but I knew he was there. I was new to the band. I hoped I was good enough for it. I'd auditioned for a place and had won it fair and square, and I wanted to make a good impression, but I found I just had to look at him again.
He was about my age, I thought, maybe a little older, with a round face, and elfin cut light brown hair. A sweet face, a cute face. Jeez, I had never studied a boy's face before, but his was really lovely. Light eyes, matching his hair. Slightly rosy cheeks, and a nose in complete proportion. Can a boy be beautiful? And why was I noticing? And why couldn't I take my eyes off him?
And he was slim, and about my height. Well, I thought he was, but I'd been sitting down when he arrived. And he caught my eye. "Hi, who are you?" He was asking me who I was. And I was sitting there with my mouth hanging open, looking at him.
"I'm the new clarinet"
"Er, yes, 'new clarinet', but what's your name?"
"Oh, sorry. Graham. My name's Graham."
"I'm Josh." And he smiled at me. And his face lit up, and I felt even weirder. "Been in a band before?"
"Well, one or two. This one's a bit more advanced than the one I was in where we lived before, though," I told him.
"You'll be OK, I should think. We have a good laugh as well. Don't look so serious!" And he laughed. A light golden laugh.
"You've been in the band a while, then?" I just had to talk to him. I had no idea why. It was just compelling to talk to him, to be able to look at him.
"Man and boy!" He was laughing as he said it.
"You're teasing me!"
"Well, a little, " he admitted. " And why not? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't tease you?"
I wasn't sure what was going on. My head was in a whirl, and I was feeling breathless. I thought I was going to faint. But I don't faint. But I was rescued. The bandmaster called us all to attention. Us all? I hadn't even noticed anyone else come into the room. And he started us all on the rehearsal. Fun stuff, The Radetsky March, all good, pulsing, driving stuff, and then some Big Band style music. And I could keep up, and play it. Though most of it was sight reading.
I'd like to say that I'd recovered completely during the rehearsal, but I kept wanting to turn to see if Josh was real. If he was still there. Between pieces, of course. And, when I did, I saw him looking straight into my eyes, almost like looking into a rifle barrel. And I looked away the instant our gaze met and locked. I felt as though there was some kind of laser guidance between our eyes. Stupid, stupid feeling.
We had a break, about halfway. When you're playing a wind instrument you need a drink. I didn't look for him. I made a supreme effort and didn't. I wanted to... But I didn't.
"How are you getting on?" It came from just behind me, and it made me tingle.
"Not bad. Not too difficult, but not too easy, either. I like it, I think." And I turned. Of course it was Josh. I'd known it was Josh even before he spoke. Well, almost.
"Do you want to hang out after?" he asked. "If you aren't going home straight away, that is?"
"Er, well I was going to phone my Dad and get him to pick me up." I was in two minds. I had this crazy feeling around him which almost hurt, but I wanted to be around him, too. "I guess I can call and get him to come later?"
"That'd be good. I could run you home myself, if you like?"
"You have a car?"
"Not much of one. Just an old, beat-up mini."
Now I was really surprised. I had him figured for sixteen or so, like me. Maybe a little younger. And you don't get to have a driving licence until you are seventeen. "I wish I were old enough!" It just crept out. Heck, he was going to think I was just a kid. You don't get too many friendships at our age with a year between. Well, more than a year. When I said 'sixteen', I really meant almost sixteen. Well, nearly almost sixteen, anyway.
"No sweat," he answered. "If we find a quiet spot, maybe you can have a go."
That did it. Dad had lent me his batphone so that I could tell him when I'd be ready to leave. "OK, I said. That would be really cool." And I dialled home and told them I had a lift, but would be a little late. We had the usual questions, and stuff, but I must have got the answers right, because Mum said I could stay out 'with my new friends', as she put it. And, do you know, I didn't even take offence at being patronised?
Before we could carry on, we were called back for the second half of the rehearsal, and an announcement that we were going to be taking a note home to ask our parents for permission to go on a summer tour. Sounded interesting, especially since it was a six-day tour of parts of Northern Europe. And I'd never been away from home before, and we always took our holidays in England because we take our dogs with us, so it was all exciting and new. The rest of the practice went by quickly enough. I got lost in the music. I just adore music, and the feeling you get when it all comes together as a large band. There were about 60 kids in the band, boys and girls, from all the local schools.
When it finished, and I'd finished pulling the clarinets through, and packing them up, Josh came and found me. Well, it's easier to pack up one trumpet than two clarinets. You get done faster. And you don't pull a trumpet through, just drain it, though I'd never taken much notice. "You all set?" he asked.
"Sure. Where are we going?"
"Feel like a bag of chips?" he asked
"Yeah. I'm starving. Which is the best chippy round here, we're kind of new?"
"Marshalls, in the High Street. Come on, let's go!" And he was leading the way to his car.
Beat up old mini, indeed. It was new enough, and a Cooper! Dark green, with white stripes. "This is cool! It's yours?"
"Yeah. I'm proud of it." And he was laughing that golden laugh again. "Hop in."
So we locked the instruments in the boot, and got in. I love minis. You're so close to what's going on. We zoomed down the high street, stereo going, and grabbed a couple of bags of chips. I was starving, but I hate fish, so I had a saveloy with mine! Mmm Salt and vinegar and chips! Mmm. And Josh drove us back along the high street, and up onto the Downs.
There's a kind of inner road inside the racecourse, running inside Tattenham corner, and it leads up to a car park or sorts. Rough cinders, and a large expanse of them. And from there, at night, you can see the lights of London. We got out of the car, and finished the chips, sitting on a sort of raised earth bank between the car park and the grass. Josh was pointing out landmarks to me.
But I wasn't really listening. Not properly. I was going through things in my mind. Worrying, wondering why it felt so good to be with him. Different, kind of. I mean I'd got loads of mates, but I'd never felt this oddness before. This almost vibrating feeling. This tightness in my chest, yet such bliss. "... is Canary Wharf"
"Sorry?" He'd startled me. I wasn't really listening, but he'd jolted me back to reality.
"You were miles away."
"Er... I guess I was."
"Was I being tedious?" His face fell. "Sometimes people say I talk too much..."
"No, I was just dreaming. Just miles away. Didn't mean to be rude."
"Where were you?" He was looking at me, his eyes looking straight into mine, locking in like lasers again. And he was smiling slightly, his face lighting up in the dusk. "Somewhere nice, I hope?"
"I think so, yes. I'm just not sure where it was..." I couldn't break the eye lock. I didn't want to break it. I was lost, lost in his eyes. Falling into them, into those two pools of light brown, just falling. And I felt a brush on my arm, and just the lightest touch on my lips, and he pulled away.
And looked at me, still locked.
"You're shocked?" He asked.
I couldn't speak. I was shocked
"Graham?"
Still couldn't speak. Shocked?
"Graham? I've upset you?"
Still couldn't speak. No. Surprised by it. By the feelings I'd never felt before. By being kissed. Had I been kissed?
"Please say something. Or hit me. Or anything...."
"Josh?" I was speaking again. My voice worked. I could talk.
"I, er, I don't, er - "
"Did you kiss me?"
I could feel him blushing. He was still that close, still locked on with our eyes.
"I, er, yes - "
"Oh."
"Oh?"
"Oh." He kissed me. He did kiss me. He kissed me. "Er, but, er I'm, er you're, we're..."
"Boys?"
"Yes, er, boys."
"And I've upset you, then?" He was still smiling at me. Not confident, but sort of wistful
"Well, no, but, er..."
"May I kiss you again?"
"I'm not sure. Er no. Yes. No. I don't know! I've never been kissed before. Not that way."
"I've never kissed anyone before. Not that way, either."
"Then?"
"I just had to. You are so beautiful, and I felt, hoped..."
"I'm not." I was feeling really weird. Wanting to grab hold of him, not wanting to touch him, wanting to kiss him back, hoping he would kiss me again, hoping he wouldn't, wishing I was dreaming, not understanding the feelings running through me. "Beautiful, I mean. But I'm scared."
"Of me?"
"Of me, I think." I was trembling. "I feel kind of strange..."
"I do, too. Graham, Have I made a mistake?"
"I don't know. I need to think..."
And he still hadn't taken his eyes away from mine. And I was still falling. Right into those eyes. "Josh?"
"Yes?"
"I don't want this to sound stupid?"
"Doesn't matter if it does. Not to me."
"Are you gay?"
"I don't know."
"If I kiss you back, am I gay?"
"I don't know, Graham."
"So..."
"So what's going on?"
"Uhh, I guess. Yes, what's happening?"
And he kissed me. Properly. With his lips full on mine. Searching out my mouth with his tongue, holding me in his arms, out in the growing darkness on the Downs, overlooking the lights of London, with his hands on my back, and his mouth on mine, and my brain in a whirl. And I kissed him back. Frightened, yet comforted by him. He was my height, I noticed, kind of inconsequentially as we stood, kissing.
A stupid tune came from my pocket. "Damn. Dad! On the batphone!" And it was. When I answered it he wanted to know, in a kind of controlled way, where I was and who was bringing me home, and when I would be back, With the implication of being grounded if I was later than 10 minutes!
"Josh, I have to be at home..."
"I know. It is kind of late." And he got into the car and started the engine. "Get in!"
We didn't speak at all on the way home. Except for me to give him directions, that is. As he pulled up outside the house, he touched my arm. "I don't want to go." He said. "I know I have to go, but I don't want to go. I don't even know how to get in touch."
I scribbled down my phone number. "Josh, thank you."
"For the lift?"
"I don't know what for, but thank you..." I got out of the car, and then Josh had to get out to unlock the boot for my clarinets, and then as he got back in, as he shut the door, just before the clunk, I heard his voice
"I love you, Graham." And he slammed it into gear, dropped the clutch, and drove off with wheelspin before I could say anything at all.
Open mouthed and staring after him? You bet!
But what did I feel? And I walked up the drive to the front door, and let myself in.
Yeah, I got the lecture, you know the one. Driven home by a maniac, out too late, how do we know we can trust you, trust your friends, privilege to go out when you're still only fifteen [good grief!], may not let you go next time. But I knew how to deal with that. You don't have the same parents for fifteen years without learning how to deal with it.
I apologised a lot, told them that it was Josh who had driven me home, and that we'd gone up onto the Downs to look at the London lights, and had bought chips in town, and apologised again. Told them that I'd forgotten I had Dad's mobile, he just hates the word 'batphone'! That I would have called to let them know where I was if I'd remembered, but I wasn't used to having it, so I didn't remember it. And was dead careful not to mention going again to the band, because I knew that if I did they might not let me go to it.
And when we'd got over the telling off, which wasn't too bad, we got on to the 'How was the band?' bit, and I told them all about it, what we'd played, and about the summer trip, and gave them the note that I hadn't even read which gave, apparently, all the details except the cost. Which gave them something else to ponder. I guess they've always supported me, but I wondered how we were going to be able to afford it. And I couldn't work out whether I wanted to go, didn't want to go, or just needed to go. All of which made me so tired that I headed for a bath, and for bed.
I'd like to say that everything sorted itself out in the night, and that I woke in the morning knowing for certain what I was going to do, what I wanted to do. Knowing for certain what I felt about Josh, about his kiss, well about both his kisses. And that he'd told me I was beautiful. It did, in a way, but it didn't as well. Yeah. It made as much sense to me at the time, too.
And he didn't phone. No phone call, nothing. And my brain was working overtime. I couldn't see his face, but I could feel his eyes looking into my soul. I could feel his sweet, warm breath on my face, and the merest touch of his lips on mine. I could feel the urgency and passion in his full blooded kiss, and I could feel me return it. But I couldn't understand it.
I hadn't ever thought about girls. That didn't mean I wasn't going to think about them, I guess, but I'd been too busy. I wasn't over-academic, so I had to work hard at school, and I had a lot of music practice to do as well. It didn't leave much time for a social life, plus we hadn't moved here until re3cently, and all the friends I had were back 200 miles away in Manchester. It was a normal school, you know, boys and girls, mixed. But all the girls in my year were chasing boys three years older, Even older than Josh. And girls of twelve weren't exactly mature! So I didn't get much real chance. Hadn't thought about boys, either.
Well, we checked each other out in the showers. I doubt there's a boy who doesn't, even if he doesn't admit it. But there hadn't been any attraction. It was just comparison. You know, 'is mine normal?' that kind of stuff. It was, er is, by the way! Normal, I mean.
And I had never, ever felt that weird sensation before. That almost vibration, just caused by someone else being near. And I didn't even know who he was, what he was, where he lived, even how old he was. I just knew that he looked divine, and played the trumpet so sweetly that it melted me inside. But what did I feel?
I couldn't ask anyone. Can you imagine the conversation? 'Mum, I had my first kiss last night.'
'That's nice dear'
'Mum!'
'Sorry, dear, what did you say?'
'I was kissed last night.'
'That's nice. A girlfriend. Who is she.'
'It isn't a girlfriend, Mum. It was Josh. And he left me feeling all squirmy inside.'
'Josh who drove you home last night?'
'Yes Mum.'
'Josh is a funny name for a girl, dear, but I suppose anything goes nowadays.'
'Josh is a boy, Mum.'
'Scream!!!!!'
Yeah, exactly. So that was out of the question. And I'm not queer. I don't think I'm anything, really. I guess sex and stuff hasn't meant too much to me. Well not yet, anyway. I mean I hardly ever wank or anything. Don't have wet dreams, just haven't bothered. I mean the mechanical bits work OK, but I just don't get the fun. Not by myself, at least. And I've never messed about with the other boys. I suppose I am, was, am kind of waiting for something, someone.
So I had one hell of a week. I tried to put it 'away', but couldn't. Because I could feel him, there, in front of me, holding me, there on the Downs in the dusk, just the two of us, almost the last people left in the world. And it felt good.
One thing I did was get permission to be out late before the next band practice. I had no idea if Josh would be there, and was a bit upset that he hadn't phoned, but I wanted to make sure I wouldn't get into trouble with my parents. It wasn't a problem. And Dad dropped me off, and lent me his batphone again, telling me just to phone and let them know where I'd be going and when I'd be back. Pretty fair, really.
I was there much too early. I had set up my music stand and everything, and was keeping myself to myself, looking at the door, waiting for Josh to appear. Hoping he was going to appear, when I saw him. Finally. Just before we were all called to attention. I didn't even have the chance to say anything to him. But I did catch his eye in a gap between pieces. And couldn't work out what his eyes were telling me.
In the interval I went and found him.
"Josh?"
He turned, and looked at me. Oh, those eyes. But sad looking. "Josh, what's the matter?"
"Nothing..."
"I've seen nothing before. This doesn't look the same." Did I say that? Wow!
"Well. I..."
"Didn't phone."
"No. Because I, oh shit, I don't want, er can't er, but, oh, I... As I drove off - "
"You said 'I love you, Graham'"
"Yes." He looked so scared. Not half as scared as I felt. If this feeling was love, then I loved him too. Heck, if it was only needing to be with him and touch him, then it still felt good! "You heard me, then. I half hoped you hadn't."
"I half hoped I hadn't, too, but I'm kind of... happy, I think, that I did."
"You're not mad at me?"
"For not phoning, I'm mad as hell. For the other? I've no idea. I need to talk to you. Tonight. Afterwards."
"Well, OK."
"Josh, stop looking so scared. It's OK, I think."
"I wanted to phone." He said. "I dialled your number about 50 times. And almost phoned. But then I stopped before I hit the last digit." He looked shy, somehow. Beautiful eyes, soft hair, and shy. "I drove past your house each night. Just slowly. In case you were there."
"Idiot!"
"Yeah. Look let's talk afterwards. I've got the car with me."
"K."
The second half dragged. On top of wanting it to be over and to get to talk to Josh in private, the music was dull stuff. And we couldn't get it right. Just couldn't. So it dragged. It was the trombones who were the real problem. They could play the notes OK, but they played them too late and too loud, each time.
When we got out, there was a light drizzle falling.
Almost without talking, Josh and I went to his car, put the instruments in the boot and got in. "Hungry?" he asked.
"Not really." I sounded awkward. "Sorry, If you are - "
"No, me neither." And he started the car, and drove slowly along the road leading up to the Downs, windscreen wipers on intermittent to keep the screen clear. "Graham, I meant it."
"When you drove off last week?"
"Yes."
"How do you know?"
"No idea. I just know is all. I'm nervous, now. Of you. Of what you will say. Of what you think of me."
"I'm here, in the car with you," I reminded him. "I don't have to be here. I think I want to be here."
"Think?"
"Well, I've never, er, I, er, I've... Josh, I don't know anything. But I need to be here. Will that do for now?"
We'd got all the way to the same carpark, just inside the racecourse railings. Funny to think they run probably the most famous horse race in the world here. My mind was on trivia. A sort of defence, I suppose, though I didn't feel I needed a defence. Not with Josh. Not from Josh.
"If you kiss me again, it'll do," he said. But you can't in a mini. Not easily, anyway.
Even so, I turned to him, and nearly impaled myself on the gear lever and the handbrake, and met his eyes, so sad today. "Josh, if this is love, then I think I love you, too." And I kissed his lips, softly, then harder, and forced my tongue into his mouth as though I needed to drink him, to lap him like a cat.
"Ow!!" Josh squealed. "Ow! I hate gear levers. Let's get out?"
"It's raining."
"Yeah. Let's get wet? Please?"
It wasn't cold, just wet. We got out. He even remembered to lock the car. I'd even remembered to phone home earlier. And we stared to walk, along the deserted tarmac road, to the gap in the railings leading to the back of the Downs, to the training gallops. And we were holding hands.
"Graham, I'm older than you."
"I'm nearly sixteen."
"What I mean is, am I being fair to you?"
"I - "
"Shh, let me finish. I didn't phone because I was scared I was seducing you. I want to seduce you, but I didn't want to harm you, to put you in a position where you'd hate me. I looked into your eyes last week, and I thought I saw... Well, I think I saw, well saw you. And I think you saw me. But I'm nearly eighteen. And it's wrong, unless you're sure, Graham, unless you're sure. But I fell in something with you almost as soon as I saw you. I couldn't take my eyes off you. I still can't. And I never want to do anything to make you hate me. I couldn't bear that. So I want you to be sure you want to be with me. Because I want to get to know you, who you are, how you feel. Because I think I want to spend my life with you. Oh shit. Now I'll have frightened you away." And he tried to turn away from me. But I had hold of both his hands, because somewhere in that speech we'd stopped walking, and he couldn't turn.
"Josh, it's my turn."
"You're still here?"
"My turn, and your turn to be quiet. Look, I don't know what I feel. No shh! I don't know what I feel. I haven't had feelings like these before. I know you're beautiful. I can't take my eyes off you either. I know you're older than me, and I know I want to be with you, be approved of by you, be held by you more than anything in the world. If this is love, Josh, then I think I love you. But I want to know you, too. And, I think I want to be seduced, because I don't know what to do, and I feel scared, and I feel excited, and I just want to hold on to you, and never let you go. As for spending my life with you, I have no idea. Not until I know who you are, who I am. I'm not queer, Josh. But I don't know what I am, who I am. And I want you to touch me. Anywhere. Everywhere!"
"Oh Graham..." And he was in my arms, or I was in his. I thought he was crying, or it might have been the rain on his cheeks, but his face was wet as he buried his cheek in mine, and I'm sure I felt him sob. Except I wasn't sure who was crying, because I was certainly in tears. Only I was happy and crying, not sad. "I never thought this would happen, Graham. Never thought it would happen, could happen. Never dreamed I would find someone like you, never dreamed I would find you, find you."
Can you snuggle together in the rain? No idea, but we snuggled together, and we got gradually wetter and wetter. It wasn't a time when you need words. Nor actions. It was a time to be together; to learn about each other; to grow tired together; to feel alive together. When we'd snuggled, we walked, there in the darkness, alongside the gallops, across the back of the Downs. And we did talk. About our hopes and fears, our ambitions, our homes, our parents. And we told each other about our feelings. And as we walked, we held hands. And sometimes we stopped to kiss and hold each other. And sometimes we just walked in silence. And as we walked, the clouds parted, the rain stopped, and the stars came out to play. And the crescent new moon.
"Graham the time!" Josh suddenly grabbed my arm. "Look at the time. It's nearly midnight! Your parents?"
"Happen to be at friends until midnight."
"And it's ten to midnight now. I have to get you home. I daren't get you into trouble."
"I think I'd like you to get me into trouble," I said, dreamily.
"Isn't quite what I meant, idiot," Josh, my Josh, laughed at me. "I have to get you home. Hell. Where's the car?"
"About two miles away. We'll not make it for midnight."
"Have you got the mobile?"
"Yes?"
"I can solve this. If you want me to?" He smiled at me, even in the scant moonlight I could see his eyes sparkle.
"Tell me?"
"If you want to, only if you want to, you can come to sleep at my place. I have two beds in my room, but..."
"But?"
"But I'm scared of having asked you, in case - "
"In case of what?"
"I love you, Graham. I'm not sure I want to sleep in different beds. I'm not sure I want to sleep all that much if I'm in the same room as you. And it's in case I upset you, spoil things."
"I trust you, Josh. I trust you. I don't know quite what I want, but I trust you. And I want you, too." And I got out Dad's batphone, and dialled home. It rang, and was answered on the fifth ring. "Answerphone," I told him, and then waited for the beep. "Mum, it's Graham. I hoped you would be back, I tried to call so that I could ask you. Josh has invited me to stay the night. Since there's no school tomorrow, I guessed you wouldn't mind. I don't have his number, but I'll leave the mobile switched on if there's a problem. Love you!" And hung up. "OK, Josh, that should do it."
He kissed me on the cheek. "Are you always so confident?"
"I'm pretty terrified right now. I'm just scared of - "
"Of me?"
"Of me. Come on, let's get to the car. I'm all wet!"
"Me too. Race you?" So we ran. It wasn't two miles. Or of it was it felt like a quarter of that. And we reached the car in almost no time, out of breath, splashing through puddles, being kids!
I hardly noticed the ride to his house, but I noticed the gates, the drive, and the large, imposing house. "No, not that way." I was heading for the front door. "Since Gran died I moved into the annexe. It's all mine. Private. And separate from the main house. This way." And he led me to a door in what looked like a garage block. It was awesome.
He shut the door softly behind us. "Are you still cold," he asked. He looked so nervous.
"Just wet."
"I, er, I think we should get these soggy things off," he said, "but, er, that's the worst chat-up line I've ever heard."
"I don't mind," I was smiling at him, but still scared. I found I was hellishly excited, but still scared. "I need to get out of them, but I need to get them dry, too." Ever practical, I thought.
"If I get you a bathrobe, would that do the trick? I mean would it help? I mean, Oh Graham, I want to undress you, but properly, nicely, slowly, not wetly."
"Bathrobe. Yes, er, please?"
"Hanging on the bathroom door, inside it. You go in and change into it. Put your clothes over the towel rail to dry. Take all the time you need. I've a dressing gown in my room. I'll do the same. I feel so nervous..."
Wet clothes, soaking wet clothes, do not come off easily. It was a struggle to get my trousers off, a struggle to get anything off. So much of a struggle that my body forgot to be excited. Well, for a while, at least. And I did it. Finally I was naked except for a sumptuous, white, fluffy, soft, all enveloping, towelling bathrobe. Gorgeously soft.
So I came out of the bathroom, and looked about me. Soft music; classical; not sure what. And on the sofa, Josh, in a red, traditional dressing gown, with one of those blue and white twisted cord ties holding it together.
"I've never done anything like this before," he whispered to me. "Never." He paused. "Graham, there's always time to say 'no', if you want to, when you want to."
"I don't think I want to say no." I was certain, inside, but still scared. "I trust you, Josh."
"Come and kiss me. Properly." And I did.
His hair was still wet, though he'd towelled it dry, and I ran my hands through it. He put his arms around me, and just brushed his lips against mine, and nibbled my ear. It felt as though a thousand ants were crawling up my spine, yet I didn't want him to stop. I melted into his arms, into his lips, and felt myself floating as he kissed me, nibbled me. "Are you OK?" he murmured.
"Wonderful, don't stop. Wonderful!"
And he tugged gently at the robe's tie, and opened it, lifting it back and over my shoulders onto the floor. "You're beautiful. Just beautiful."
And I did the same for him. And there, straining to reach the ceiling was his wonderful, hard cock, pulsing with his heartbeat. "I never knew they could be beautiful," I murmured. "I never knew." Instinctively I reached out to touch it, looking not at his manhood, but at his eyes, at the love that flowed from them into mine, and felt him tense as my fingers just made contact with the shaft, felt him pull back and thrust forward at the same time.
"No-one has ever touched me there before, Graham, no-one. It's for you, if you want it."
"Help me? I don't know what to do."
"I don't mind what you do, just as long as you want to do it," he said into my ear, pulling me close, grinding our two cocks together. "Just do whatever feels right, and I'll do the same for you." His back was so smooth, so firm, and his chest just showing wisps of hair, leading down to a perfect dark triangle and a wonderful, almost sun-tanned, hugely shiny erection. I took the tip in my hand, and gradually, watching both it and his eyes in turn, eased the skin back over the head. He took a sharp breath, and shuddered. And I felt his hand on mine, doing the same, and I was shuddering, too. I didn't want the moment to end, not at all, not ever, and I moved my hand up and down, slowly, the faster as he did the same. The I heard him again. "Wait."
"Wait?"
"I want this to last, and I have an idea, too. Come to bed." He took me by the hand, and led me to his room. Same music, but I didn't need music, and soft lights again. "I want you in my mouth." And he laid me down, and took my cock into his mouth, moving his lips and tongue on the head, and his hand on the shaft. It felt so hot, and wet, and good. And I wanted to give it back to him, too. It didn't even strike me, all fifteen years of me, as odd.
"I want yours too. At the same time."
"Mumph?"
"Don't (gasp) talk with your mouth (gasp) full!" (gasp), I gasped. "I want yours, too."
As we wriggled round, I saw the tip of his beautiful cock come into view. It was so big, so beautiful, and glistening at the tip, where his foreskin had closed back over the head. I touched the tip with my lips, and tasted salt, and sticky, slippery, bitter-sweet precum. With my lips I eased the skin back, and then we matched each other, kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke, caress for caress. And as his hand, his free hand, slipped between my legs and just skimmed my hole with the tip of his finger, I flinched, and almost drove through the back of his throat, half choking him. But he kept me in his mouth, and kept teasing my hole. And it felt so good that I surrendered to the feelings, and did the same to him. And just when I felt it couldn't get any more intense, he pressed his finger constantly, firmly against me, and slipped inside me with it. It felt hot, yet good. And I came almost at once, arching my back, pushing towards him, filling his mouth with my cum, pulsing at him so hard, so hard, and I was rewarded almost instantly with the feeling of his cock almost swelling, thrusting and bursting into my mouth, onto the back of my throat. More than I ever expected, odd tasting, yet wonderful because it was Josh. Because it was Josh. And I was his, then. From that moment, I was his, if not from when we met.
We stayed like that, growing limp together, recovering. Until he turned around, and kissed me, full on the mouth, our juices mingling. Our sweat mingling, and our scents mingling. I'd never felt so complete before. Never.
"Graham?"
"I love you, Josh."
"Graham, I'm so completely in love with you I don't know how to tell you."
"I love you, Josh."
"I love you, Graham."
And we slept, all crumpled together, smelling of sweat, and sex and love.
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