Oh great, another moment of Preston. Such an ass. Thought he was the big dick on campus. Probably a frustrated punk with a two inch pecker.

I smiled at that thought. I mean a real smile, for all to see. Well, a smirk...an evil smirk, as I imagined this husky teen male naked with a two inch boner.

Now, for whatever reason, Preston was feeling unusually froggy today. When he saw my smirk he actually reached out and grabbed my arm and forced me to stop.

Fortunately for Preston, the day had been pretty good, without much in the way of verbal abuse, so I didn't automatically turn and send him into the wall. I simply froze and looked down at the hand on my arm.

Oh, I'm sorry. I'm moving a bit fast for you. That's right, we've never met. My apologies, I should have introduced myself.

Hi, I'm Wayne. I'm sixteen and a sophomore in high school in Fairbanks, Alaska. I'm six feet tall, weight one hundred and seventy-five pounds and have bright red hair that falls to my shoulders. I'm lean, but I'm in very good shape due to my karate and weight work. Most people figure that because I'm gay that I'm a skinny little wimp under my clothes.

Oops, sorry, did I shock you? I didn't mean to. It's just that since I openly admitted my sexuality six months ago I've become rather casual about referring to it. I really didn't mean to offend you. It's just a part of who I am and I'm really comfortable with that.

I've often wondered why I'm so comfortable with it, though. I mean it is nineteen seventy-one, for crying out loud. No one talks about gay things.

I suppose my third degree black belt has something to do with it. I mean, I'm not overly concerned about physical dangers. Unless they came at me with a dozen guys, it was very unlikely that they would have much success. Add to this that one of my father's army friends had been teaching me special forces hand to hand combat...well, I was pretty sure that I'd be able to handle the bullies.

That army friend of my dad's was something else. He hadn't started teaching the hand to hand until after it'd come out that I was gay. We'd run across each other in town and he'd offered to buy me a soda at the Woolworth snack bar. Well, he'd always been nice to me, so I'd accepted. He sat us down at one of the few booths, well away from the few customers.

I had looked directly into his eyes trying to gauge where this was going. Was he going to make a scene? I must have looked concerned because he slowly moved his hand across the table and gently touched my arm with just his fingertips.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't the best way to begin," he said. "I'm not here to make any trouble for you, Wayne. I'm not offended by your choice of companions."

Well now, that got my attention. This was definitely an atypical response. Here was an army Special Forces master sergeant telling me he wasn't offended by my being gay. I mean, I'd always thought of him as the very essence of masculinity.

"Actually, I've been hoping to catch you away from home so's we could talk." He actually smiled at me. A tender, understanding smile. "I've known a few other gay men before, and I know the hassles that come with the territory." He paused and took a sip of his drink. "I know you're pretty good with the martial arts stuff."

"It's helped," I responded. "Since everyone knows about my black belt, not many are willing to chance it." I'd given a few public demonstrations over the past year as part of a campaign to advertise the dojo I attended.

He smiled. "I can imagine. But I've learned through all my training that it never hurts to know several fighting styles."

Well, the short of it is, he offered to teach me some of his hand to hand stuff, to augment my karate. The training had been intense. Two weeks that summer, out in the wilderness, just him and me. He'd been brutal. But when the two weeks ended, he'd apologized for being so hard on me.

"I only know one way to teach this shit, Wayne. You know, the old drill sergeant way." And if the apology hadn't been a big enough shock, he stepped up and hugged me...tight. "God, Wayne, I'm proud of you. I've never had a student who got this shit as quickly as you have. I thought I'd be lucky to get half of this into your head, and you managed the entire course in two weeks."

"I'm quite serious, Wayne. You just absorbed the entire curriculum of special forces hand to hand in two weeks. If you weren't openly gay, I'd be recruiting you for army duty. But they haven't figured out that gay men can fight, too."

After that, he'd invited me to his barracks once a week to work out with his squad, who'd been enthusiast supporters of my training.

Oh, uh, sorry. I got off on a tangent again. It just starts jumping around in my head and I have to get it out. I'm told that's a typical response from someone with my IQ. You know, genius. Top three percentile. So, where was I? Oh yes, Preston.

Preston had never gotten physical with me before, so I was really surprised that he was doing it now. I simply looked at the offending hand for several seconds.

Now usually, there was lots of noise during class change. But suddenly, the entire hall was silent. I could see out of the corner of my eye that everyone had stopped dead and was watching us. You could have heard a pin drop.

I slowly raised my eyes and looked into his grinning face. The look in my eyes must have been frightening, because I heard a gasp from nearby as the other students recognized the danger in my cold gaze.

"You will remove your hand immediately or you won't be able to jack off for a month." I spoke very slowly, enunciating each and every word very carefully, just loud enough to be heard several feet away.

His grin vanished instantly as he recognized his danger and he snatched his hand back as if I'd set it on fire.

I simply smiled at him. "So nice we could have this little chat." Then I turned and headed for my last class of the day, the stunned students melting out of my way.

I smiled all the way to class. God that had felt so good. I'd managed to embarrass him right there in front of the entire hall and his three side kicks and I hadn't had to lift a single finger. Sensei would have been proud.

I stepped into my final class for the week. Gods, science. The one class where I couldn't seem to get perfect grades. It really frustrated me. Especially since I sat next to the only other genius I knew. Regi. He seemed to get it. He always managed to out score me. Not by much, but just enough so that his GPA was one tenth of a percentile higher than mine, making us the two top students in school.

Oh well, I didn't really mind. I actually liked Regi, short for Reginald. I sympathized with him, actually. He didn't have the gay tag that I did, but he was shunned because of his size, and because he was smart. Too smart, many thought.

I drifted through class in a fog. It was hard to concentrate because I'd read the material and new it backwards and forwards. That's the advantage of having a photographic memory. Of course, Regi just sat next to me and smirked the entire period, as if he had some secret.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye and wished, not for the first time, that he'd respond to my friendly overtures. I would have loved to talk with someone that could talk in words of more than two syllables. Not that he was unfriendly. He was quite engaging when in class. But away from the classroom he tended to hold people at arm's length, never being rude, but never allowing himself to get emotionally close to you.

He was cute...sort of. Regi stood only five feet tall, with curly brown hair. He would have been adorable, I thought many times, if he just hadn't constantly dressed like an old college professor. You know, corduroy pants, pull over sweater with just the lapels of his shirt sticking out the top, and the worst set of horn rim glasses.

The bell rang, signaling the end of another week of school. Regi and I tended to take our time at the end of the day, both of us letting the stampede dwindle before venturing into the hall.

"How do you manage to pay attention, Regi? I know you have the same photographic memory I do."

He smiled. "I work math problems in my head. I pay just enough attention so that I can answer questions if Mr. Phelps asks me, but otherwise I'm engaged elsewhere."

And that was the totality of our conversation. We gathered our books and headed out in different directions; him toward the exit, while I headed for my locker to get my jacket and books.

As I slowly walked toward the parking lot, I contemplated what I could do this weekend to avoid being home much. The atmosphere was tense at home all the time. My father just could not come to terms with my sexual preferences. Mother didn't seem to have a problem, but my father was always very hostile. Usually, it was a silent hostility, and it never was physically abusive. But I could never walk through the house without him staring daggers at me.

Oh, Christ, what was that? A large group of students assembled very near my car. It had the look of a fight. Oh well, they were far enough away from my car that I should be able to leave without any problems. And I was going to do just that until I heard a voice that sent chills up my spine.

I dropped my books on the hood of my car and pushed my way through the crowd. There was Regi, muddy, without his glasses, being held upright by two of Preston's cronies. His lip was bleeding and Preston was pulling back to hit him again.

I saw all of this in an instant. The next moment I was standing between Regi and Preston.

My mind and body were instantly on autopilot. I moved, swung, punched and danced. Within moments I stood unchallenged. The only sounds were the groans of Preston's three side kicks and Preston's own, more vocal, screams. It seems I'd managed to break his arm. What a shame.

I watched the crowd to see if anyone else was going to be foolish, but all I saw were shocked looks and more than just a bit of fear. This was the first time I'd ever had to defend myself in public and apparently I'd made an impression.

Deciding that they were going to be sensible, I turned to find Regi kneeling in the mud, crying. It was spring of the year and that meant melting snow and mud. He was a mess. I knelt beside him, heedless of the mud and gently touched his shoulder. His response was instantaneous as he spun to defend himself. It was clumsy and totally ineffective, but he tried. I grabbed his wrists.

Although he didn't have his glasses, we were close enough that he could focus and recognize me. The moment his mind registered that I was not one of the bullies, his head began to swivel trying to locate them before they could come at him again.

I knew he was near sighted, so he probably couldn't actually see them clearly, he did notice quite quickly that his antagonizers were indisposed at the moment.

I stood, forcing him to stand with me, and led him towards my car. He tried once to head towards the buses, but I held him back.

"Not today, Reginald. I'm going to take you home. You don't need to be anywhere near these fuckers."

Although I was trying to remain calm, I was still pretty agitated and it must have come out in my voice because Regi looked at me strangely and simply allowed me to take charge. I settled him into the passenger side of the bench seat and closed the door. When I turned, I found two of the students standing hesitantly at the front of my car, one with Regi's muddied glasses in her hand and the other with Regi's equally muddy books in his.

I stopped and took a deep breath to calm myself. "If you'd put the books on the floor in the back seat, I'd appreciate it," I said to the boy. I simply held out my hand to the girl and she deposited his glasses into it. "Thank you," I said. Then I gathered my books from the hood as the two of them hurried away, not wanting to depend on my continued calm. I set my books on the back seat, closed the door, ran around, got behind the wheel and got us out of there as fast as my car could go.

I had no idea where he lived, but I just got out of there. When I glanced over to try and get directions I saw Regi crying. Great, wracking sobs.

Well, that was something I was familiar with. I'd engaged in a few of those types of cries myself. It never helped, really. In fact, the only time I'd gotten any comfort for it was, oddly enough, from the Special Forces squad.

I'd arrived for one of my Saturday practices after a particularly trying week of abuse at school. The guys were their typical cheerful selves as they attempted to include me in their camaraderie. Like I said, it'd been a tough week at school and it suddenly just came crashing in on me and I broke down right there in the middle of the barracks. I was so ashamed to be crying in front of these manly men that I turned and tried to run from there. But someone jumped in front of me and wrapped his arms around me and wouldn't let me go. He held me tight until I stopped struggling to get free.

I spent the next half hour just letting it all out as I was gently passed from man to man as they each took a turn at holding and comforting me. God it felt so damn good to be able to cry in someone's arms, to feel their genuine concern for me.

When I finally calmed down, I looked up to find myself in the master sergeant's arms. I opened my mouth to apologize, but he'd placed a hand over my mouth.

"Shhhh," he said, gently. My mind quickly rebooted and I was able to register my surroundings. The first thing I saw, and it floored me completely, was that there was evidence that the master sergeant had been crying. And as I looked around at the rest of the squad, ten men in all, it was obvious that they'd been crying as well.

"Because," said the master sergeant. "You don't deserve to be treated like a bug, Wayne. We all know you for who you really are, not just your homosexuality. You are a fine young man. These men respect you for your honesty, your determination and your compassion. In fact, every one of them has told me that they wished you could be one of us in fact, instead of just a weekend comrade."

I'd looked at each of them and saw them nod and smile tentatively at me. That had been a moment of real comfort and a sense of truly belonging to something outside of my sexual preferences.

I'd smiled back. "God, I must look like hell. Anybody got a hankie I could borrow?"

So here I was, this hurt, frightened boy beside me and I suddenly understood completely how those men had felt that day. I quickly found a spot where I could pull off the road, behind an abandoned warehouse, put the car in park and scooted over to the center of the seat. I reached over and picked Regi up and set him in my lap and wrapped my arms around him.

He tensed up at first, but quickly gave in and simply let it out. He wrapped his arms about my neck and bawled. I simply held him close and rubbed his back. I didn't say a word or make a sound. I simply held him and rocked back and forth a bit. And I silently wept...for him.

I now knew how those men had felt so many months ago. I was humbled. I was also strangely comforted. It wasn't often that I could express my compassion and love to another person, let alone another male. After all, my sexual partners had all been older and I was always on the receiving end of the compassion.

What amazed me the most was that I felt absolutely no sexual arousal by this act. I held a male body in my arms and yet I was completely limp. It was staggering, really.

Regi cried for ten minutes before his well finally ran dry and he began to calm down. It took several more minutes before he was able to stop the tears and really register our positions. When he did, his simple response was to squeeze me tight.

I never even considered what I was doing. I simply reached up and pulled his head back so that I could look into his eyes, and then I gently kissed his forehead. "You're welcome. But that's what real friends do. They help each other in times of need."

What I saw when I looked back down at him froze my mind. There was a spark of something there in his eyes that reached in and tugged at my heart and soul. And then it was gone. Had I really seen it or had it been my imagination?

"Well," I said, finally. "I said I'd take you home, Reginald, but I have absolutely no idea where you live."

He giggled. Yes, he giggled. And it was the most charming sound I'd ever heard. It echoed there in my mind like a tiny bell that resonated right down to my bones.

He slipped off my lap and I scooted back behind the wheel and headed out of town.

"I didn't know there were any houses out that way. I thought that was all just woods."

"No, we have a few acres back off the highway. But it's hidden by the trees. You have to know it's there, you can't see anything from the highway."

"You'll see. Unless you'd rather just drop me off at the turn. I can walk from there."

"Oh yeh, like that's going to happen. You spark my curiosity and expect me to drive away without discovering your secret?"

We made the turn and drove down a narrow two lane paved road that snaked back and forth. I'd gone about a mile with nothing to show for it but more trees.

Oh he was enjoying this. But then, so was I. This was the most open and friendly that Regi had ever been with me. He seemed relaxed, I mean truly relaxed.

The forest was still so thick that I couldn't see anything beyond the sides of the road. And then it happened. I made the final turn and slammed on the brakes. What opened up to me was a vast area, at least several acres, of well manicured lawn, in the center of which stood Tara.

Well, perhaps not Tara. It really didn't look like a southern estate. But it was a three story stone edifice with six soaring columns with Greek capitals that stood the entire three stories. It might have been marble, it shown so white and bright.

I turned so slowly that it felt like something out of the movies. You know, that slow motion turn of shock or denial?

"You mean you really didn't know that my parents were rich?" It was clear that he was totally shocked by this revelation.

I then turned back to the front. "Reginald, it's beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking."

I looked over at him. "Would I!" I breathed, afraid that if I spoke too loudly this vision would vanish in a puff of ether.

"Carter will meet us at the front. He's our chauffeur. Just leave your car running, he'll take it around to the garage."

He reached over and gently shook my arm, which snapped me out of my stunned state. "Wayne, I believe the accelerator is that right hand pedal." Then he giggled.

Now most guys would have been offended by the little boy giggle. I, however, found it to be quite charming. Every time he did it I became more and more confused by how it seemed to vibrate inside me.

I turned back toward the front and finally pressed the accelerator, moving us forward slowly so that I could soak in this approach, as if I were watching a movie screen version of a slow approach to some fantasy mansion.

A man came out of the front doors and slowly walked down the steps and awaited us. A woman also exited, but waited at the top of the stairs.

Since the windows of my car were not tinted, it was easy for them to see the condition Regi was in and Carter nearly had the passenger door opened before I'd come to a stop. The woman raced back into the building.

Regi laughed softly. "Probably. But I'm fine, really." They looked at each other for a moment. "Uh, Carter? Could I get out, please?"

I stepped out of the car and simply stood there taking in the close up view of the building. It was just as white up close as it had appeared from the distance. The columns were fluted from the base to the capitals. The building, if not marble, certainly looked close enough to me. Of course, what did I know of marble?

Regi got my attention by tapping on the top of my car and motioned me around to stand beside him as people began rushing out of the building to stand at the top of the stairs. Only two people descended, and these were obviously Regi's parents, because they both had his stature and were dressed as I'd always imagined rich folks would dress. They weren't 'dressed up', but they were certainly 'well dressed'. She was in a fine looking, yet simple gown, and he was wearing obviously tailored slacks and shirt of very fine materials.

The babble was very distracting. It continued for several minutes until Regi brought a halt to it by raising his hand.

"Thank you," he continued calmly. "Who could hear?" He chuckled. "Now, I know I look horrid, but I'm really quite fine. Four boys decided they would beat me up after school."

"No, no. Please, everyone." He grabbed my arm and we took a step closer to his parents. "Everyone, this is Wayne, my friend. He single handedly beat up all four bullies until they couldn't stand. Then he insisted that he bring me home so that I wouldn't have to be subjected to any more abuse."

Regi's father instantly stepped forward and grabbed my hand and shook it. "Thank you very much, Wayne. You have my undying gratitude." He then motioned for his wife to step up beside him. "I am Arthur Finger and this is my wife Penelope. Obviously, we're Regi's parents."

I shook mister Finger's hand and lifted missus Finger's hands and gently kissed the back of one. "It is my pleasure to meet you both," I said.

She actually blushed. "Why I do declare, Mr. Butler." The statement was pure Scarlet O'Hare.

I chuckled. "It's not Tara, but it's close enough for me. I suppose I got carried away."

She gently laid a finger over my lips. "Please, Wayne, it was absolutely charming. And truly unexpected. One doesn't expect such gallantry from today's teens." She then turned to the waiting crowd. "Marcia, would you please see that Wayne's clothes are cleaned while he showers?"

Another finger on my lips. "Please, Wayne. It's the least we can do after you helped our son."

I wonder why she got such a startled look. But it quickly passed and was replaced by a radiant smile. "Of course he can stay. You will stay for supper, won't you, Wayne?" It almost seemed as if she were begging me to stay. I wondered why.

"It would be my privilege to stay. But only if it's not inconvenient. It seems a bit late to be changing supper arrangements."

"Oh, you are a sweet boy." She then turned back to the crowd. "Francios, would one more for supper be an inconvenience?"

"Not at all Lady Penelope. There's plenty of the Wellington. Although," he chuckled, "Mister Regi may have to forgo a fourth helping tonight."

Everyone laughed. This was obviously a standing joke. Regi simply blushed. "Well, if I must." Then he turned to me. "You're going to love supper, Wayne. Francios' beef wellington is to die for."

That little exchange made it obvious to me that these people were more than just employees. There seemed to be a bit more familiarity than you would expect from employees to their employers.

Missus Finger looped her arm in mine and led me toward the steps as everyone else returned to interrupted tasks. Mister Finger walked on my other side with Regi beyond him, beaming.

"First of all, Wayne, I'm am Penny. Second of all, if I want to treat my hero as lord of the manor, well, that's my right."

"Thank you, missus Finger. But I am certainly not going to be calling my friend's parents by their given names. That would be rude and totally inappropriate according to the manners I've been taught."

That startled both of Regi's parents for some reason. "You continue to surprise and impress me, Wayne," said mister Finger.

We reached the top of the steps and the portico and still had to walk fifteen feet to enter through the wide double doors...into heaven.

If the outside wasn't marble, the inside certainly was. The floor was a pale blue with dark blue marbling and the walls were white with black marbling.

I was surprised out of my trance by a light kiss on my cheek. Missus Finger smiled sweetly up at me. "Thank you, Wayne." And then the moment passed. "Now you boys go on up and shower while Marcia works her magic on your clothes. We'll see you at supper."

Me, all I could do was act like the stunned deer in the headlights of an automobile. The staircase was a marvel of woodworking and marble. It rose majestically from the floor to the second floor landing, at least twelve feet above me, then turned back on itself to provide access to the third floor, another twelve feet above that. There were all the things you expect in the foyer of such a mansion. Vases and urns, both large and small. Small alcoves displaying statuettes. A potted plant occasionally. And, of course, there were a few paintings.

A squeaking sound to my left and behind me brought me out of my reverie. It was an older man, well dressed, pushing a cart full of cleaning supplies. It was then that I realized that Regi and I were leaving a trail of flaking, dried mud in our wake. I blushed.

"Yes, Parker, I'm fine. I'm sure there's a fat lip under all this grime somewhere, but I'll live. It would have been a lot worse if it hadn't been for Wayne."

"Not to worry, Mister Wayne," said Parker, recognizing my embarrassment. "It's really a small mess and easily dealt with."

"Please, Mister Wayne, I am Parker. And I don't want you to fret about this any further. It's a small matter."

Regi grabbed my hand and we ran up the stairs. "The second floor is mine. Mother and father have the third floor."

We slowed to a walk at the top of the stairs and Regi led me right, down a hall to a set of double doors directly ahead. When he opened the doors and entered, I nearly fainted. The room was magnificent. And it wasn't just the enormity of it; you could almost have fit my parents' entire home inside this one room; easily thirty by thirty foot square. It was the sense you got from the room. It felt alive, somehow.

To the left, as you entered, was the bed. Well, bed was just too tame a word to describe it. It was huge! I'd never seen its like before. And it was a four poster bed. The posts were massive! Each of them was at least six inches in diameter. Turned posts, fluted from top to bottom with...were those pineapples? The headboard was carved with tropical island motifs of palm fronds and tropical birds. The bed sat in the exact center of the area that had been cordoned off for it. On two sides were the natural walls of the room. The other two 'walls, were actually five, four foot tall pedestals, atop which sat urns of obviously tropical origins. The entire bed enclosure was probably fifteen feet to a side.

Next to this was another set of pedestals that delineated a study and reading area, housing book shelves and desk against one wall and two overstuffed chairs in the center. The rest of the room was obviously for entertaining. Two sitting areas; one for television viewing and the other for listening to music.

That shocked me out of my absorption. When I looked over at Regi he was standing there in his briefs.

I couldn't respond. I simply began removing my clothes. Hell, I must have looked like some automaton. And it wasn't the room that caused this. It was Regi!

I'd never seen him in anything but full dress. I'd always imagined him to be a frail waif beneath his clothes. But here stood...a god! Five foot of pure Adonis! His arms looked powerful, yet not over-muscled. His chest contained a powerful set of pecs that were perfectly proportioned to his small frame, yet looked firm. His stomach rippled with a set of six packs that would have made the girls swoon and the athletes at school green with envy. His legs had just enough definition to ensure that you knew these legs were powerful in their own right.

I had managed to undress down to my briefs without even realizing I'd done it. What can I say, I was looking at a creature of absolute perfection and beauty. And yes, you can well imagine that my gaze became riveted on his crotch. But mainly because the package hidden there beneath that thin layer of cotton material was...was...incredible. If I wasn't drooling, it was only because my mouth had gone completely dry.

Well, that was enough to get my brain matter reengaged. "Gods, Reginald, I'm sorry."

He turned directly facing me and put his fists on his hips. "Why do you keep calling me by my full name?"

It wasn't something I was really conscious that I was doing. But when he asked, I knew precisely why. "Because everyone at school calls you Regi, and I don't want to be like anyone else."

And there it was again; that sudden sparkle in his eyes. They softened, but with an intensity I'd never witnessed before. And those eyes! Gods above, why had I never noticed them before? They were intensely blue, as if they were sapphires that had been imbedded in his skull, with candles lit behind them.

He pondered my statement for moment. "Could you call me Reg, instead? I only get called Reginald when I've disappointed my parents in some way."

I felt like I'd been granted an audience with the queen. But why? What in the hell was the matter with me?! And with that, my wits finally reasserted themselves.

"You're definitely gay. Now come on, let's hit the shower." But instead of heading for the door into the hall, he made his way toward the far corner of the room to a closed door. All I could do was dutifully follow behind him. Not that this helped my state of mind any. After all, I was following the most perfectly sculpted set of buns I'd ever seen.

When I crossed the threshold, I entered nirvana. The bathroom I entered was like something out of Architectural Digest, or Better Homes and Gardens for the rich and famous. Fortunately for me, there was a stool just inside the door that I could collapse onto.

Reg fussed with the shower controls for a couple of moments before turning and finally saw my awe.

"Oh God, Wayne. I'm sorry. I never meant to embarrass you." That brought me out of my reverie, and I instantly saw the tears begin to form in his eyes. "Wayne, I can't help who I am. Please, Wayne, does it really matter?" And two tears trickled down his face.

My response to his tears was instantaneous, automatic and totally devoid of any reasoning. Because if I'd thought before I acted, I'd never have done it. I ran to him and wrapped him in my arms.

"Oh, Reg, I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean to scare you." And then I realized what I'd done. I was standing in this nearly divine location with my arms wrapped around a nearly naked school mate. And the worst part is that I finally registered that I had a raging hard on. That was what Reg had meant by 'confirms it'.

Before I could even think of disengaging, Reg wrapped his arms around my waist and squeezed with inhuman intensity. He didn't quite squeeze the breath out of me, but it was a very near thing. "Please don't leave...please stay," he choked. And then he began to cry. Not the wracking sobs he'd had in the car, but still intense. Here was a very frightened boy. I wasn't exactly sure why he was so frightened.

I reached up and pushed his head back so that he was forced to look me in the eyes. "Shhh, Reg." I kissed his forehead. "Stop crying, please." I kissed it again. "What are you afraid of, Reg?" Another kiss. "I'm not going to hurt you. Now please, quiet down and tell me what's wrong." One final kiss.

He took a couple of deep breaths and forced himself to calm down. And then he looked straight into my eyes with those sapphire furnaces of his. "You kissed me."

I got no further, because he reached up so fast that I couldn't even believe he'd moved and he pulled my head down and planted his lips fully and purposely on mine. At the same time he pushed his crotch into my thigh, and I felt his once huge cock had become enormous. It was hard as a nail and hot as hell against my leg. But I noticed this only incidentally because I was engulfed in the most glorious ecstasy. The passion in this small, powerful god was overwhelming.

I loved kissing other guys. It was just as sexual an experience as any of the other forms of sexual expression. Having my lips and tongue engaged with a male partner was, for me, the ultimate form of expressing my love and adoration.

But here, at this moment, with this god, it was as if I'd never kissed before. This kiss was like electricity coursing from my mouth to my toes. Every pore of me tingled. Every cell expanded to encompass the universe. And yet every atom of me was focused on one thing and one thing only...this glorious, passionate god. We were like two suns colliding; first contracting to a pin point of gravity and then exploding to ravage space, light years in every direction. Nothing could contain us. Nor did we wish to be contained.

But I had to breathe. I'd forgotten how to breathe. I pulled away, panting, tears coursing down my face. Tears I hadn't even known I was shedding. Tears of joy. Joy?! Hell, this feeling went so far beyond joy that there just was no word in any language to encompass it. What the HELL was happening to me?!

I rested my head on his shoulder as he rested against my chest, both of us panting deeply, trying to replenish the nearly exhausted oxygen in our bodies. It took several minutes before either of us could say or do anything.

Reg whispered something that I hadn't been able to hear, so I finally lifted my head and pulled his head from my chest and looked down at him. "What?"

"I think I'm gay," he whispered again. He was smiling contentedly as he said it, though. There was no fear in the statement, no self condemnation.

I simply smiled compassionately down at him. This sounded so much like something I'd said to Mr. Andrews three years earlier.

"Let me guess. You think about guys all the time. You walk through your day at school with a perpetual erection because of the all the hot guys around you. You imagine that a guy is touching you when you jack off at night."

His eyes got bigger and bigger with each statement, obviously surprised that I understood.

"Been there, done that, Reg. It wasn't until I met Phillip that I was able to find satisfaction, and finally, understanding of all those feelings."

It was then, and only then, that I finally comprehended Mr. Andrews. A small part of me had always questioned his motivations behind helping me explore this concept of male love. But now I understood. Here was this emotionally frail male human in my arms desperately pleading with me to mentor him, just as I'd begged Phillip. The difference being that I did not have to wrestle with my conscience because of the age of my student.

I reached up and ever so gently caressed his face. "I will, but only if you are absolutely certain that this is what you want."

His answer was to look down at my crotch. I watched as he slowly lowered his hand toward my throbbing, dripping tool. Gods, his hand was shaking! But he never hesitated. It seemed as though he wanted to etch the moment indelibly in his mind. He wanted to experience every nuance, every sensation. And when he got there, he ever so gently pressed against my covered eight inch cannon and then simply held it.

Thank goodness he didn't move immediately. Because if he had I would not have been able to contain myself. As it was, I had those few moments to become accustomed to his touch, so that when he did stroke me, I was able to simply enjoy the sensation.

He only stroked me a couple of times, simply experimenting with the concept. Then he looked up at me.

I placed a hand on either side of his face and gently brushed my lips on his. "Not until you tell me what you want me to do and how you'd like me to do it."

"Let me finish, please. This is important." He nodded. "This is not going to be a game, Reg. This is not going to be about me. I am not going to impose my will on you. I am not going to dictate how your first time will progress. There is one person, and one person only that will be in control here. That person will be you."

"You've had fantasies and dreams about what your first time would be like. I am going to do my very best to make each and every one of your fantasies come to life for you. But only you can lead me where you want to go. Only you can open your mind to me so that I can follow you. You will set the limits, not me. If we try something that you decide you really don't like, I might suggest a different course, but I will never decide for you."

"And finally, no matter what we do or don't do, I will only be satisfied if you feel fulfilled at the end of it. I don't ever want you to do something to or for me that you are doing only because you think I want you to." I caressed his face. "Now, do you think you can proceed under those conditions?"

His answer was to simply take my hand and pull me into the huge shower. Gods, we could have an orgy with six people, that shower was so big. He pointed to the shampoo and soap in the corner. "Wash me?"

I placed him under the stream and began to simply wet his hair thoroughly, working gently to rinse as much of the dried mud from his soft tresses. When I'd done what I could with water alone, I reached over and squirted a large dollop into my hand. I worked both hands together for just a moment and then gently ran my fingers through his hair to distribute the shampoo as evenly as I could. Then I began to massage his scalp and hair, doing my best to saturate each and every strand, reach each and every inch of scalp. It wasn't long before he was moaning with deep satisfaction.

I pulled him toward me and gently pressed his face into my chest. I needed him to feel safe and secure as he relaxed into his first scalp massage. I knew from my own experience that it would be easy for him to relax to the point of collapse. I wanted him within easy reach so that I could catch him if necessary. Besides, feeling his breath against my chest was really hot. I'd also be able to gauge the level of his satisfaction by his breathing pattern.

I gently scrubbed, then I'd run my fingers from his forehead to the back of his neck, pushing the excess lather and dirt from his hair. I had to lather him twice before I was sure that his hair was completely clean. What surprised me so much was the length of his hair. His hair was so naturally curly that it never appeared long. But once wet, it was nearly as long as my own. It was truly a sensual experience, though not a sexual one. I knew this because I realized as I rinsed him for the last time that I was very nearly completely soft, and when I glanced down, I could tell that he was too. Wow, this was likely to be an amazing experience, regardless of where he took me.

Before I could grab the soap, Reg stood and he turned me around so that we'd exchanged positions. He took the shampoo bottle down and squirted a dollop in his hand and then put the bottle back. As he was rubbing his hands together, he looked up at me, and he giggled.

I knelt in front of him. "May I put my hands on your waist? I tend to go weak in the knees when I'm massaged, even when I'm on my knees."

That set him off again. Then he touched my head with his hands and I melted. I was putty in his hands. He could have asked for anything at that moment and I would have granted it without hesitation. His touch was so gentle and went far beyond any description I'd ever heard for sensual. For someone who'd never done any of this before, he was astonishingly capable. His instincts were perfect. He knew before I did, where I itched, when he was on the verge of staying in one place too long, when I needed him to simply run his fingers through my hair.

He didn't have to, because my hair wasn't nearly as dirty as his had been, but he still washed it completely, twice. Then he pulled my shoulders so that I'd stand. He leaned forward and gently kissed me. It wasn't a quick little peck, nor was it a prolonged kiss of passion. What it was, was a kiss of gratitude and desire. He then placed the soap on a rope in my hands and stood there with his arms slightly away from his body, inviting me to explore.

I placed the soap into his hands. "Wash your face first. I don't want to take a chance of getting soap in your eyes and ruining this moment."

We couldn't seem to speak above a whisper, as if any loud noise would break the spell we were in.

And then he washed his face. And even in that he did it in such a way that it turned into an erotic dance before my hungry eyes.

It only took him a few moments to complete the task and then he handed me the soap and I was finally able to explore him. And explore I did. I started at his shoulders and arms, caressing him, feeling his oh so soft skin. Feeling the strength in the muscles beneath that most sensual of coverings. Gods, where had he gotten this body? There wasn't an ounce of muscle that shouldn't have been there. I'd always hated the muscled male body, but this body was precisely the correct proportion of muscle to youth.

I reached behind me and took the detachable spray and carefully rinsed his arms and shoulders. Then I lathered up again and began to caress his chest and stomach, carefully avoiding his now straining crotch. He moaned and groaned throughout it all, especially when I gently tweaked both of his nipples simultaneously. In fact he gasped when I did that, and then leaned in for more. But I denied him that pleasure, knowing full well that he would lose his fragile control, and I didn't want him to cum yet. I wanted his first release to be spectacular.

I rinsed him and then gently turned him to face the wall to his left. "Put your hands up and lean against the wall."

I lathered up and washed every inch of his smooth, delicate back. There'd been a small patch of hair in the middle of his chest, but his back was baby smooth. Again there was the delicate definition of musculature that belied his delicate frame. Another rinse.

I knelt down and began to wash his legs. First his left. He lifted his foot so that I could include it in the mix. I'd been afraid to touch him there, knowing that some people were very ticklish there. But that was not a problem for him, thank goodness. I was able to wash it completely, even between the small, child like toes. Then I forced his foot back onto the floor and worked my way up his delicately haired leg, stopping just short of his cheek and balls. I rinsed that leg and he reached down with one hand and pulled down one side of his briefs.

Taking that as a sign, I reach up and slipped a finger in each side, just under the elastic waist band and pulled them ever so slowly down his legs. I could feel his cock release from his fabric prison and heard it slap against his stomach.

I washed he right leg just as I'd done with the left. And then it was the moment of truth. Would he allow me to touch his glorious orbs. My answer came immediately, without my having to ask, because he bent down slightly, pushing his ass closer to me.

The moment my soapy hands touched those magnificent cheeks, he groaned and pushed back into my hands.

"Ohhhhhhh...." His cheeks were actually quivering in my hands. "Oh, god, yes!" He pushed further from the wall and spread his legs, opening the canal that allowed access to that most private of spots. "Wash it all, Wayne." The longing in his voice left no doubt of his sincerity, of his longing.

I placed one finger at the very apex of his crack and slowly lowered it through that channel, passing ever so gently over that rosebud and continued under until I reached the base of his balls. Then I reversed coarse. I did this three times before he stood up, closing that marvelous arena.

"I don't want to cum yet," he said. Then he did it. He turned around and leaned back against the wall.

"Oh...my...god," I breathed. "It's magnificent, Reg." And it was. Nine full inches of throbbing, dripping, uncircumcised manhood. It didn't veer left or right. It didn't dip. It didn't arch upwards. It was arrow straight and pulsed to the rapid beating of his heart. I could have sat and worshipped that phallus for an eternity.

I was so grateful for that. There is nothing I loved more than watching my partner cum the first time I made love to him. And that is precisely what I was doing here. I was making love to this marvelous boy-man-god. Everyone else to this point had been sexual partners. This was my first experience at making love to another man. And it was at that moment that this revelation drew all my focus onto my confused feelings. That was what'd had me confused, why I couldn't understand the intensity of my emotions. I was loving this man, not having sex with him. I loved this beautiful, sensual creature. Not because of his body or his cock. I loved him.

My hands shook as I reached up and gently cupped his balls in my left hand and nervously wrapped my hand around his throbbing manhood. I knew it wouldn't take long to bring him to the cusp. This was his first, and I'd done my best to excite him to the brink without stepping over the edge. My hand closed and he stiffened like someone had stuck a rod up his ass.

I stroked him twice. I thought he was cumming, he was leaking so much, so fast. "Errrrrrgggggggggg!" His back arched.

I stroked him a third time and it happened. His hands and arms slapped against the wall, his head arched back, forcing the rest of his body further from the wall. "Ffffffffuuuuuuuuuccccccccckkkkkkkkk!"

His first volley slammed me between the eyes so hard that I flinched back. His second volley landed in my open mouth and I was graced with my first taste of the essence of Reg. His third volley landed on my throat. Eight pounding pulses of cum, each landing a little lower than the previous one. Hot, thick, ribbons of man juice slowly flowed down my body. He was vocal throughout the entire orgasm.

With his final shot, his mouth slammed shut and he collapsed. But I'd been expecting it. He was the only person I'd met who orgasmed like I did. Phillip had told me that he'd never witnessed such an all encompassing orgasm before. He said my body had been so rigid that he could have parked a mack truck on my chest and I'd have been able to support it. I now knew what he meant.

I caught him about his ass and slowly let him slip through my arms until he was on his knees, leaning limp against my body. I reached down with one hand and slowly milked his still pulsing cock. I wanted another taste of him and I was going to milk him completely dry. He quivered with each stroke. But it finally became too tender and he pulled back out of my hand. When I lifted my hand I found that it was filled to overflowing with his dregs.

"Ever tasted yourself, Reg?" I asked. He shook his head. "Want to try some before I finish this off?"

He lifted his head and I saw his wide, disbelieving eyes. I simply lifted my hand and sucked a large quantity into my mouth and closed my eyes in bliss and swallowed slowly so that there was no mistaking my actions. "Mmmmmmmm," I groaned in appreciation. Just a tinge of salty, otherwise smooth and sweet, unlike any other cum I'd tasted.

I felt his tongue lap at my palm and I slowly opened my eyes and watched as he closed his eyes and savored his own seed for the first time. "Mmmmmmmm," he moaned.

I gently caressed his face with one hand. "That, my sweet, is the very essence of the man I love."

His eyes flew open and locked onto mine. "I don't want to scare you, Reg, but I do love you. I tingle every time I look into those sapphire novas of yours. When you giggle, I feel it at the very core of my being. When you touch me, it's like electricity. When you kiss me, it's like the universe exploding into existence." Another gentle caress. "I've never felt like this for any other person in my life."

He nodded and began to gently weep. "Gods, Wayne, your eyes are like emerald fires that can see into my soul. I've never seen such green eyes. Every time you speak, I can feel it vibrate in my chest. And then you look at me and I melt. I can't resist loving you. Every time you touch me I quiver inside."

Then we shared one of those rare, magnificent, movie kisses. We stared into each others' eyes as we approached, stopping several times, anticipating the result, then finally out mouths met and we closed our eyes, no longer needing to see the others' passion. It was there in our lips, our tongues, our hands, our bodies.

He gently placed his hands on my chest and pushed me onto my back. I worked my legs out from their kneeling position so that I was stretched out to my full six feet, the water swirling around me. I don't know how long my eight, uncircumcised inches had been hard, but I knew I was not going to last long.

I expected him to simply jack me off, but I got the surprise of my life when he leaned forward and gently wrapped his lips around my throbbing glans, gently pulling my foreskin fully back so that he could minister to my over sensitive head.

I hadn't been exaggerating at how close I was because he was only able to bob one time, taking about half of me into his mouth, before I exploded.

And just as he had, my body stiffened, my back arched, my hands slammed against the floor and I groaned, loud and long.

Reg took the first volley into his mouth and then leaned back and watched the next seven pulses fly three feet into the air and land with a splash onto my chest and stomach, slowly jacking me the entire time. When I collapsed, he leaned forward and sucked my cock into his mouth and drank the remainder of my juice as he slowly milked me dry.

When I couldn't take any more, he leaned back as I continued to gasp for air. He placed his hand gently on my stomach and began swirling and mixing our juices together. Then he leaned forward and laid himself on my stomach and laid his head on my chest.

"I should be scared by these feelings," he began. I listened intently and silently. "I've never felt this strongly about anything or anyone. I should feel embarrassed to be telling another boy that I love him. But I'm not. I love you, Wayne." He paused, but I knew he wasn't done. "I was scared to death. I just knew that my first sexual experience would hurt. I knew that the person would force me to do things I wasn't ready for. But you..." he croaked slightly, "...you made it so easy. You made it so special. You didn't use your experience to trick me into something. You promised to let me lead and then you let me lead. You were so sensitive to my desires that I only had to give you gentle signals. You read them perfectly. You never let your passion overwhelm your promise." He looked up into my eyes. "I've never, ever, cum like that."

I marveled at our ability to communicate so clearly. In spite of our age, because of our superior intelligence, we were able to communicate exactly what we felt. There was none of the tongue tied hesitation of youth.

"I love you too, Reg. I love you because you are sensitive, you're passionate, and you are my equal. I've never had such an intense orgasm either. I've had two hands full of lovers in the past two years. But all of them have been adults."

"Yep. But I've never experienced anything like we've just shared. You say that this has been special for you. Well, it's been just as special for me. I've never been intimate with someone my own age. To have it happen with someone as intelligent and as passionate as I am is just mind boggling to me. If the world were to end this moment, I know that I would die complete and happy."

"Uh huh. But I can honestly say that the reality is so much more than those paltry dreams." I then glanced at the clock and noticed that we'd been in there for nearly an hour. "I think we better finish up or we're going to turn into prunes."

I didn't really expect it, but Reg insisted on washing me just as I'd washed him. It was glorious. When he'd finished, we exited and dried each other, both of us giggling the whole time. As we exited the room, Reg stopped briefly and grabbed two hand towels from the linen closet. He pushed me toward the music area and the love seat, then went and turned on the cassette. The classical music that filled the room was some of the most romantic, and it totally fit our mood. He then stepped over and draped one of the towels over my groin, then sat and did the same to himself.

We sat there silently, simply enjoying each others' presence, all the time our hands caressed the others' genitals softly, not trying to arouse, just expressing our love tactilely. It was easily the most romantic thing I'd ever done. I don't know how long we sat there drifting between the worlds of wide awake and fast asleep. But there was finally a soft tap at the door. We reluctantly removed our hands.

Marcia entered with our cleaned garments and placed them on the table near the door. "We took the liberty of repairing the one hole we found in your trousers, Mister Wayne."

"Thank you, Marcia." I actually blushed. I could tell by the heat in my face. "I'd get up and thank you properly, but I'm not precisely dressed for it."

She smiled and laughed. "So I see. Not to worry, and you're welcome. Now, Francios asked me to tell you that supper will be served in about half an hour." Then she exited, closing the door behind her.

Reg and I jumped up and began to dress. "Mother and father usually sit in the parlor just before supper. Want to join them?"

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Discovering Reg

Chapter 1

By Wayne Telfer