It was the end of fifth period drama class. It was my last class of the day with the seniors. They were a talented group, but not an easy group to handle. When they were on, they were wonderful and the experience was literally exhilarating, but, when they were off...well, let's just say that exhilaration was not what I experienced. Artie was the last of the class to leave. Usually, when he held back like that, there was a reason for it... he needed to talk.

"So, Artie, how's it going?"

"Okay, Mr. Anderson."

"I mean really, Artie, how is it going?"

"I'm doing all right. Some days are harder than others."

"When's the talk?"

"Talk?"

"With your mother."

"Mr. Anderson...."

"Artie. It can't get better until you talk to your mother."

"But it can get worse, Mr. Anderson. It can get a lot worse."

"Trust me, Artie."

"I do, Mr. Anderson. You're about the only person I trust in the whole world, but I can't do it yet. I just can't."

And then he was gone, off down the hall. Artie was a great kid. That sounded strange as it reverberated around my mind. He was only about six years younger than I was. It was amazing how quickly I had become "Mr. Anderson" and had begun to think of them as "my kids". It was ridiculous, I guess, but that's the way it was. I was doing my student teaching at Woodworth High School, a little high school not far from the college. I say "little", but it was larger than the high school I went to. There were about 500 students and I liked every one of them. Well, maybe not every one, but I liked most of them, and they seemed to like me. It was our last year of college, and somewhere in there I had become active in the college theatre program and then had decided to teach it. And suddenly, I, who had had absolutely no direction in my life was hell-bent on being a drama teacher. Now, here I was at Woodworth, Mr. William Anderson. I liked that.

Back to Artie. Artie was gay. I had had to make my decision very quickly about how to handle my sexuality in this high school setting. I don't mean like, "To fuck or not to fuck". That was not even close to being the question. I know I had been a promiscuous young lad, and, well, I was still a promiscuous young lad, but I had the utmost respect and concern for young gay kids and what they had to go through. Even I had some morals, and one of my main ones, maybe my only one now that I think about it, was hands off any young kids. I meant that. I was going into teaching for all the right reasons. That didn't mean that I couldn't appreciate beauty where I found it, however, and Artie was beautiful. He was blonde, blue eyes, small build, full lips, high cheek bones, and, okay, a beautiful little ass. Like I said, I wouldn't touch one, but I sure could look, okay?

Artie wasn't really a stereotypical gay kid, but my gaydar (We didn't call it that back then.), picked him up very quickly. It was probably because he was nice and kind and talented as hell. In acting class one day he did the death scene from ROMEO AND JULIET, and he had the whole class in tears...me too. This kid was a natural and could really go places...if he accepted who he was. He didn't like himself very much. Too many people had said all the wrong things about being gay where he could hear them. You could see the hurt behind his eyes. His sensitivity may have come in part from that pain, I think. He had the talent to back it up, of course, but it didn't hurt any that he had such deep empathy for the plight of his characters. He could project Romeo's pain because he felt so much pain of his own. So, you can see I had no choice. I adopted him...covertly.

It was that sexuality thing I guess. I was gay. That made me a member of an exclusive group of people...people I liked...people who had it tough...people who I would help if I thought they needed help. And, if that meant I might jeopardize my job some day, then I would have to deal with that. That was the way I felt. I was always angry about how society treated us. I guess I still am. I would help this kid, even if he didn't want my help. So one day as Artie was leaving class:

"Artie, could you stay after class a minute?"

"Sure, Mr. Anderson."

"Artie, is there anything you would like to talk to me about?"

"Talk to you about?"

"Anything that's troubling you? You seem somehow sad to me, Artie. You're a great kid, a very talented kid, and if there's something I can do to help, I'd like to."

"I'm not sad, Mr. Anderson, but thanks for asking."

Being subtle was getting us nowhere. Okay, good-bye career. Adios!

"Artie, you always look like you're ready to cry. I think maybe I can help."

"No one can help, Mr. Anderson. No one can understand."

"I think I could, Artie."

For the first time, Artie looked into my eyes. The sadness there was almost unbearable. Tears started to run down his cheeks, and then mine. For a time, we just stood, looking at one another and silently crying. Then I reached out and pulled him close to me, and the dam burst. Years and years of shut up pain came rushing forth as Artie cried on my shoulder. I don't know how long we stood there with Artie sobbing, but eventually his crying ended. Again he looked into my eyes.

"I want to help, Artie. I'll be here if you ever decide to let me."

Artie just turned and walked out of the room.

The talk was not to come for several days. To the casual observer, it would have appeared that nothing had happened between Artie and me, but things were different. Artie knew that I knew, and that seemed to give him some sort of relief. In some way the pressure of living with the secret had been relieved. It was less painful to look into his eyes. There was a bond between us now. It was unspoken, but it was there. Artie knew he had an ally, and we both knew that neither one of us had anything to worry about. Artie's secret was safe with me, and mine was safe with him. We eventually had our talk. It was just as I thought it would be. Artie was gay and had known it for several years. He had a relationship with a boy from a high school nearby whom he had met at church camp. Everyone assumed they were "just friends". They spent a lot of time together, being "just friends". Artie said he was in love with him. We talked openly about my relationship with Tommy. I left out the part about my being "just friends" with Tim and Herbie and Moose and Randy and Ben and Tony. I didn't think he was quite ready for that yet. We ended the conversation with my encouraging him to come out to his mother and brother (His father was dead.). He said he would try, but he had never followed through. I knew that, until he did, his life would be ruled by "the secret". I wondered what the world would be like if all the straight kids had to come out to their parents?

"Mom, Dad, I'm straight."

"Oh, no, not that. You're not straight! No straight child is going to live under my roof. Get out! Get out now. And never bring your girl friend around here. I never want to see her...or you again, for that matter."

It would never happen, but maybe in a parallel universe.... Well, it seemed only fair.

"Bill, could I see you for a moment?"

It was Maye Gladden, my cooperating teacher. She was about 50 and had had a wonderful career here at Woodworth. Her program was known statewide for its quality. Everyone had told me how lucky I was to get to work with her, and I had to agree. She had treated me more like a son than a student teacher, and I respected her more than I could say.

"What's going on with you and Artie Wilson?"

"What do you mean, Maye?"

"Don't play games with me, Bill. You've been spending enough time with him for some of the other students to start to notice. Now what's going on?"

"Artie needed some help, and I'm trying to help him."

"That's all it is?"

"That's all it is."

"Stop it."

"What?"

"Stop trying to help him. It's going to hurt both of you."

"What do you mean?"

"People are going to start to suspect that you're both gay, Bill. Some kids already think that Artie is, and it's only a matter of time before they put two and two together and come up with you and Artie as bed partners."

"You know I'm gay, Maye?"

"Come on, Bill. I've been in the theatre all my life. You think I don't know a gay man when I meet one? I've known since your first interview with me."

"And you took me anyway?"

"You think that makes any difference to me? There wouldn't be any theatre at all without gay men. I learned very quickly when I was young that straight or gay didn't make much difference when you had a job to get done, and that the gay guys sure could decorate a set."

"Maye...."

"Okay, okay, I'm just kidding. But, really, Bill, I admire what you're trying to do for Artie, but you just can't sacrifice yourself to do it. If you stay in this business, your life is going to be filled with Arties and with the heartache of watching them try to make their way in the world. You can't take each one on as a project. There are too many of them for one of you, and you'll lose your career, and then who'll they have? You can help them, Bill. You just can't be so obvious about it. They'll know who you are, and you'll help them more than you'll ever know just by being you and by being successful. They'll see that who you are and what you've done is a possibility. You're going to be a wonderful drama teacher, Bill, and I don't want to see you stopped before you've started."

Maye was right, of course, but it hurt to admit that. I would figure out how to do what I wanted to do and not lose my job doing it. Later in my career it would be much easier as the views of society began a slow change, but for now, I had to be very careful. Artie was a different story, however. I had gone too far with him now to turn back.

"Mr. Anderson?"

It was a carbon copy of Artie, only taller and older, but just as cute...really cute. I guess I should say Artie was the carbon copy, since this was obviously the first.

"You're Dave, aren't you? Call me Bill, please."

"No, I don't think so, Mr. Anderson. I'm here to give you an ultimatum."

"Will you step into my room please, Mr. Wilson. It is Mr. Wilson, isn't it?"

"Yes."

He was angry and I didn't want anyone to hear our conversation. We sat down on two of the students' chairs.

"Now, tell me, what can I do for you?"

"You can stay away from my little brother, that's what you can do for me."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play innocent with me. You know exactly what I mean. You're filling him full of ideas about being gay, and about telling his mother."

"So, he's talked to you?"

"He confides in me sometimes. Not about this until just yesterday. I had to almost pull it out of him. I've taken care of him since Dad died. We have more than just a brotherly relationship."

"I know. He loves and respects you very much."

"So, you stay away from him. I know you're trying to help him, but telling him he's gay is not the way to do it."

"I didn't tell him he was gay. He told me. With his eyes. With his tears. He's gay, Dave, and you have to let him be who he is. Otherwise you'll literally kill him."

"He's not gay, and even if he is, he can't ever BE gay. You can't live your life that way."

"I do."

"Oh, I get it. You're after the young kids. That's disgusting. You oughta be...."

"That's not true, Dave, and you know it. You know I'm no danger to Artie or any other student."

"Okay. You're right. I do know that. I'm sorry. Artie has told me about your conversations, and I know you have his best interests at heart. It's just that he can't do that to himself or to Mom or to...."

"You? He can't do that to you? He doesn't know about you, does he, Dave?"

"What do you mean?"

"That you're gay, too."

"Fuck you."

"You are, aren't you, Dave?"

"Just stay away from Artie, Mr. Anderson. We were doing just fine before you got here. This has been a warning visit. It's the only one you're going to get."

He was gone and he was gay. Artie's problem was bigger than I thought...and so was mine. How would I handle this one? I couldn't be the one to tell Artie about his big brother, but how could I not tell Artie about his big brother? Maye was right. I was in way over my head on this one.

"What was wrong with Dave Wilson? He almost knocked me down in the hall just now, and his face was so red, I thought he was going to explode?"

"He came to tell me to stay away from Artie."

"And you're going to, aren't you Bill?"

"Maye, what am I supposed to do now? I can't abandon Artie. He trusts me. He needs me."

"You want my advice, Bill?"

"Does it matter? You're going to give it to me whether I want or not, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"Then, yes, please, Maye, may I have some advice?"

"Call Artie in tomorrow. You can meet in my office if you like. That way it will be nice and official and no one will be able to accuse you of anything, because I'll be right outside the door in my room doing some busy work. You can have the door closed so Artie won't think that his secret is out. Tell him that you haven't changed the way you feel about him. Tell him that you think he is still a wonderful, talented kid with a great future, but that you have to back off. Tell him you want nothing more than to help him with his problem, but that you've been threatened and that you could lose your job. You don't have to tell him who threatened you. That way he won't feel like you betrayed him or that you don't care about him. Artie's a bright kid. He'll understand."

"I'm still deserting him."

"You're surviving, Bill. You've got to do this for yourself and for Artie. If his brother follows through with his threat, and by the look on his face, if he doesn't have a stroke, he's going to, your career will be ruined and everyone in the school will know Artie's sexual orientation...and yours. You have no choice."

So, the next day, during my prep, I called Artie into Maye's office.

"Artie, we have to talk."

"No we don't, Mr. Anderson. I know what you're going to say and I don't blame you. You're pissed off because I told my brother that we talked."

"You know, Artie, I hadn't even thought about being angry. I wanted you to come out to your family, didn't I? I guess you did. It's worse than that though, Artie, and I feel very guilty about this. I've got to back off a bit. We can't talk privately any more. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Mr. Anderson. Dave told me what he said to you, so I don't live there anymore."

"You what?"

"I left home. I'm staying at Daniel's until I can figure out what to do."

"You've got to go back."

"No. You can't believe the things he said to me...and that I said back to him. He called me 'a little faggot', and Mom heard him. You should have seen the look on her face. I can't ever go back there."

"Shit. I'm sorry, Artie."

"It's not your fault that my brother's an asshole."

"It's my fault that you're in this mess. If I had just stayed out of it...."

"I'd be dead now."

"What?"

"I was going to kill myself the day you stopped me and talked to me. But I figured, that if a guy like you could be gay and be like you are, then I could make it too. So I didn't."

"And now?"

"I still feel that way. I don't know what I'm going to do, but I know I'm not going to kill myself. If I have to, I'll drop out of school and get a job. I'm eighteen now. My birthday was the end of last month. I can do what I want to."

"There's got to be a better solution than that, Artie. Are you sure you can't go home?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay. Go back to class. Try not to worry. I got you into this and I'm going to do my best to get you out of it."

"Thanks, Mr. Anderson."

"Don't thank me yet, Artie. But I hope you'll be able to thank me soon."

Artie looked around to make sure no one was watching, gave me a great big hug, and then ran out of the office. That hug said it all, and, of course, in good old Willie fashion, tears rolled down my face. I don't know when I'd felt so bad or so responsible for someone else's troubles. I had really botched this one, and I would have to un-botch it as soon as I could. I had to take a chance. I would go to Artie's. What was the worst thing that could happen...Artie could be homeless.

"Don't do it, Bill."

Maye caught me wiping my eyes.

"I've got to, Maye."

"I know you do. That's why I love you, kid. You're all heart and no brains. If you get through this one, I've got to change that ratio for you, so you can survive awhile longer."

"Wish me luck, Maye."

"I wish you more than luck, Bill. I wish you divine intervention. You're going to need it."

Artie lived on a farm about ten miles from the school. It was a nice farm with a big old Iowa farm house, a red barn and a white fence. It looked like it had been painted there by Norman Rockwell. It hadn't been a real farm for quite some time. Artie's dad had been a lawyer and had liked the wide open spaces. Living in town was not an option for him. They had a couple of cows, a horse, and some chickens and that was about it. I approached with caution and knocked lightly on the door. It was opened by an attractive lady in her late forties. She wasn't a knock-out or anything, but it was easy to see where Artie and Dave had gotten their good looks.

"You're Mr. Anderson, aren't you?"

"Yes, and are you Mrs. Wilson?"

"Call me Bess."

"Okay, Bess, and you can call me Bill."

"Come in, Bill. Sit down."

We sat on the sofa.

"I appreciate what you've tried to do for Artie."

"He told you?"

"No, actually, he didn't. Dave told me. He's awfully upset, you know."

"And you're not?"

"No, Bill, I'm not. In fact, I'm grateful to you. I knew Artie was gay before he did. I just didn't know how to approach the subject. I was great with the birds and the bees and all of that stuff, but talking to him about homosexuality and the fact that he might be...well, I just didn't know how. So I just never did. So here we are. He thinks I don't know. I don't know how to tell him that I know, and Dave is so frustrated by the whole thing he just doesn't know what to do. He loves Artie, you know, and feels way too responsible for him. I suppose at some point I should have just sat us all down and said, 'So, Artie, you're homosexual. Don't worry, we'll deal with it.' Then we could have all gone on with our lives and not gotten into this mess."

"I don't think it would have been quite that easy."

"No, I don't either, but it would have been better than Artie staying at Danny's and Dave being too upset to even talk about it. The worst part of this is that Dave's gay too and can't admit it to himself."

"You know that, too?"

"Do you have a mother, Mr. Anderson?"

"Yes."

"Have you told her you're gay?"

"Yes."

"Did it shock her?"

"Yes."

"No it didn't. She knew. If she acted shocked, it was just that...an act. We know. We feel it. Some of us choose not to acknowledge it, but we know."

"And do you care?"

"Of course, I care! I want his life to be easy. I want him to be happy. I want me to be happy. I want little grand children running around the farm when I'm old and gray. Does it change the way I feel about them? Absolutely not. They're my boys. That's the bottom line."

"Are you religious, Bess?"

"Do I believe in God? Yes. Do I believe that homosexuals are evil and are going to hell? No. What are we going to do now, Bill?"

"We?"

"You're going to help, aren't you? You're not going to leave me here all alone to put this back together again are you? You wouldn't desert a lady in her hour of need."

"Well, when you put it that way...."

"I repeat...what are we going to do?"

"Is Dave upstairs?"

"Yes."

"I think I'll start by talking to him."

"You'll need a whip and a chair."

"What do you mean?"

"When Dave gets really upset, he goes up to his room and drinks. He doesn't think I know that either. Just be careful. Dave is a wonderful man, but, when he drinks, he has a terrible temper."

"I've seen the temper when he's not drinking. I can't wait to see it when he is."

"It's the last room at the end of the hall. Please be careful, Bill."

I climbed the steep stairway. There was a long hallway. I headed for the door at the far end. I knocked.

"Who's there?"

"It's Bill Anderson, Dave, can I come in?"

"Shit! What are you doing here?"

"I just want to talk to you about Artie."

"I don't want to talk about Artie."

"Okay, then, let's talk about you."

"I don't want to talk about me either."

"Well, how about your mom? We could talk about her."

A few footsteps and the door opened. Dave was standing there. He had called in sick and was still in his pajamas. They were light blue, and, somehow, the fact that he hadn't combed his hair or shaved made him look very vulnerable...and sexy as hell. It would be hard to keep my mind on the business at hand.

"Can I come in?"

"I opened the door, didn't I? You know this is all your fault."

If he had a terrible temper, the alcohol had numbed it considerably. I was grateful.

"My fault? How can you say that? I'll take some of the blame, but not all of it. I think we can all share a bit of the blame for this mess."

"Yeah, but you're the one who caused it to blow up."

"Okay, I'll give you that, but it would have blown up on its own eventually."

"I guess you're right."

"Bill...."

"Yeah, Dave?"

"I'm gay."

"I know that, Dave."

"I didn't."

"Yes, you did, Dave. You knew. You just didn't want to face it."

"I don't want to be gay, Bill."

"It's not so bad, Dave. Every date is "Dutch treat" and you get to meet nice guys like me."

"I like to look at guys, Bill."

"Yes, Dave, that's a big part of being gay. You like boys instead of girls. It's amazing how that works, really."

"They turn me on, Bill."

"I think you're starting to get the picture now, Dave."

"You turn me on, Bill."

"Uh, perhaps we should talk about something else now, Dave. I don't think we should be headed in the direction we're headed in right now."

"You have a really sexy ass, Bill. You're eyes are beautiful, too."

"This has gone far enough. I'll just wait downstairs with your mother while you get dressed."

"Want to see my dick, Bill?"

"No, Dave, I do not want to see your dick."

"It's really nice. I'll show it to you, if you want to see it."

"No, Dave. I'm going to leave now. I'll see you in just a few minutes."

"Here it is, Bill. It's great big, and, look, it's hard."

And it was great big. And it was hard, and I was a complete idiot. I knew that. I knew what I was going to do and I knew that I shouldn't do it. And I knew that we were both going to enjoy the hell out of it. We had both wanted each other since our meeting. Something had passed between us. Nothing was said, but I had felt it, and now I knew that he had too. I got up and I closed the bedroom door. Then I walked slowly across the room and started to unbutton his pajama top.

"You gonna fuck me, Bill?"

"Something like that, Dave."

"I'm a virgin."

"I'll be gentle, Dave."

"I want you to fuck me, Bill."

"I know you do, Dave."

"Fuck me quick, Bill. My dick really hurts. It's so hard now."

He was naked now. He was absolutely beautiful. He had a perfect body. Obviously he worked out a lot. He had very large nipples, hardly any hair on his chest at all, and the nicest little nest of the blondest hair at the base of one of the biggest purple dicks I had ever seen. That pole was as hard as a rock. I had no choice. I had to suck it. I was pretty sure it would be his first gay sex. I would make it memorable if at all possible. I sucked that beautiful hard penis slowly into my mouth.

"Oh, shit, Bill, that feels so fucking good. You're sucking my dick. You're a guy, and you're sucking my dick. Suck it harder, Bill. That feels so fucking good."

I deep throated Dave and played with his great big balls. He squirmed only once, and then, without warning, shot one of the biggest loads of all time right down the back of my throat. What a surprise that was. I was barely able to avoid choking to death, and by pure determination was able to take all he had to offer and continue to suck while he came and came and came. Such moaning and groaning you have never heard in your life.

"Oh, shit, Bill. You know what?"

"What, Dave?"

"I'm glad I'm gay. No girl could ever suck a dick like that. That was really good. You want to do it again? I could come again...right now. Please suck me again, Bill."

"Not right now, Dave. You need to get a shower and get dressed. We need to all go find Artie and make sure he knows we all love him. I'll wait for you downstairs."

"Will you suck me again later?"

"Absolutely. We'll do lots of things later. But right now, we have to find Artie. I'll have a nice big cup of coffee waiting for you downstairs, so hurry."

I kissed him lightly on the cheek and went downstairs to wait with Bess.

"You have any coffee, Bess. Dave is going to need some."

"Yes. In the kitchen. I'll get it."

She left and soon returned with a huge mug of steaming hot coffee.

"I take it he was drunk?"

"Not quite, but he had been drinking."

"And mad?"

"No. I was surprised at that. Something seems to have changed about Dave. I think he'll be very helpful in turning this thing around."

"I hope so. Artie thinks so much of him...and of you. I just hope he's still at Daniel's."

Dave came down. What a gorgeous hunk he was. He inhaled the mug of coffee and out we went to find Artie. We decided for obvious reasons that I should drive. Daniel's house was about twenty minutes from Artie's and we said very little on the way there. I guess we all had a lot on our minds. I could feel Dave's gaze periodically in my direction and knew that with her acute eye, Bess would already be putting two and two together where we were concerned. When we pulled up in front of Daniel's house, Daniel was sitting on the front steps. Daniel was Artie's complete opposite. He was dark and mysterious looking with a huge pair of almost black eyes. He had full, pouty lips, and when he smiled, his smile seemed to brighten the world. No wonder Artie was in love with him. He walked over to the car.

"If you're here to talk Artie into coming home, then you can just leave now. It's not going to happen. He's gay, and we're in love and he can stay here as long as he wants to. My parents are okay with that."

"Daniel, we just want to talk to Artie. We're here to make everything all right if we can. Will you and Artie just talk to us please?"

"I don't know, Mrs. Wilson. He's pretty upset. I'll go ask him. Please stay here."

"Wait a minute, Daniel. Bill, please go with him. He'll listen to you and you can tell him everything that's happened this morning."

Needless to say, I would not tell Artie everything that had happened this morning. But I would tell him that it was safe to come home now. Daniel looked at me strangely as I walked around the car to join him.

"You're Mr. Anderson, aren't you?"

"Yes."

And he grabbed me and hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. Nothing else was said. It didn't have to be. At that moment, Artie appeared in the doorway. He saw me and then looked towards the car. His eyes met his mother's and she couldn't help herself. She got out of the car and opened her arms and he ran to her. They hugged and they cried, and Daniel and I hugged and we cried. Then Dave got slowly out of the car. The brothers looked at each other tentatively, and then, without warning, Dave grabbed Artie and pulled him into a giant bear hug and held him tight. Then we all cried again. All that crying felt so good, and we were all so happy that splitting up this little gang right then and there was impossible. Daniel ran in the house to tell his parents that he would be gone for awhile and we all went out to IHOP to celebrate. I know IHOP does not sound like a great place to celebrate anything, but all of that crying makes you really hungry and pancakes sounded really great, and they have a lot of strong coffee there, which Dave still needed.

It was late on a Friday afternoon when I stopped again at the big white farmhouse. I had on my best "bib and tucker", and at my side on the front seat of the car was a yellow rose boutonniere. I stopped the car, got out, and walked briskly up the front stairs to the large porch, across the porch to the door and rang the bell. Bess Wilson opened the door. She looked much more relaxed than she had looked the first time I had seen her in this doorway, and she had a welcoming smile on her face. She invited me in. The occasion had the air of a senior prom or of a coming out party, for, indeed that's exactly what it was. It was David's coming out party. I was taking David for a two hour drive to a nice little gay club that I knew. It was to be his first gay date. Of course, Tommy had been all for it, and had helped me plan the evening so it would be just right.

When David came downstairs, I was stunned. He was beautiful. I had seen him only in jeans and an old shirt, wrinkled pajamas, and, well, nothing. He looked good in all of that, but nothing compared to the way he looked in his light blue blazer, dark blue trousers, and blue tie that matched his eyes perfectly. Put that together with a killer smile, and it was a good thing that I was so in love with Tommy or I might have been quite swept off my feet. I greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and pinned the boutonniere on his lapel. When we turned around, Bess, Artie and Daniel were all there smiling at us. Daniel had a camera and snapped our picture. Then Bess, much to David's chagrin, demanded that there be a family picture and then one of the four of us together. Finally, we were allowed to be on our way. As we drove down the long driveway, I looked in the rear-view mirror to see Bess, Artie and Daniel waving wildly, and I laughed out loud.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Oh, nothing, really. I'm just happy."

The dancing at the club was perfect. It was not wild and crazy. This was a very refined place. The gay couples here were older and out for a nice, quiet evening. Their crazy dancing and drinking days were long over. It was the atmosphere that I thought would be best for David's introduction to gay culture. Later, Tommy and I would introduce him to some wilder stuff, but I didn't want to scare him right away. Dinner was great. It took David a little while to get used to dancing with another man and having another man lead, but he gradually settled in, and by the end of the evening, he was dancing very well, with his head laid gently on my shoulder.

We were not expected home that night. We had rented a suite at a very nice hotel. The romantic in me would have it no other way. I had champagne on ice in the trunk of the car and had told David to pack a new pair of sexy pajamas and to be prepared to wear them for five, maybe six, minutes. The room was beautiful, and we disrobed slowly, admiring each other as we did so. The quick blow job in David's room had been only that, and I had remained fully clothed, so I knew he would be anxious to see what I might have in store for him on his first night of gay sex. He seemed pleased.

We took a slow, romantic shower together, washing those parts of each other that feel so good to wash and then disappearing into separate rooms to redress for the night. When we met again in the main room of the suite for champagne, David was still a vision of beauty and had followed through with his "little boy blue" theme. His pajamas were nearly see-through, but left just enough to the imagination to make them sexy as hell. They were silk, and just the head of his soft dick could be seen pushing out against the fabric. We kissed again softly and sat down with our champagne. We had both bought into the first night fantasy, and so, this would be a wonderful evening of tender and loving sex. I loved hard and torrid love-making, but I think the tender kind was my favorite.

After we finished our drinks, I led David into the bedroom, where I had turned down the sheets and lit several candles. His eyes widened as he began to realize that this would be the night that he would lose his virginity. In the candle light, he was almost too beautiful to touch. I was afraid his image would be whisked away in a wisp of smoke. I placed him tenderly by the bed and began to slowly remove his pajamas. The silk was tented now and I reached down to give his dick a tender squeeze. He sighed and kissed me gently on the lips. I pulled the drawstring and his pajama bottoms fell to the floor. David was indeed ready to taste the joys of male sex. He then undressed me slowly, but I could tell it was difficult for him to maintain such a slow pace. Pre-cum had appeared at the end of his rather impressive dick.

When we were both naked and had kissed for several minutes with just our lips and nothing else touching, I gently lowered David to the bed. I then climbed in beside him and placed my body next to his, making sure that we made contact from head to toe. Again he sighed and again we kissed, only this time there was an urgency in our kissing that had been missing before. David turned and began rubbing slowly against my warm skin. I could feel the sweet wetness of his pre-cum against my body.

"What do you want to do, David?"

"I want to stay just like this all night."

"Don't you want to have sex?"

"I don't have to. I could lay like this in your arms forever."

"That's sweet, David, but I think that about two o'clock your dick would explode."

"Maybe you're right. I'll put myself completely in your hands, Bill. I know I'll enjoy anything you want us to do."

"David, I think since we are in bed together and, since I will shortly be taking your sweet virginity that you should call me Willie now."

"Willie?"

"Yes, Willie."

"I like that. You're a perfect Willie."

"I'll take that in the spirit in which I hope it was given."

He laughed softly. God, this guy turned me on. He was perfect. I would find the perfect match for this gem. Someone I knew deserved this wonderful body and this soft soul. But now I must be about the business at hand. The sex tonight must be perfect for him. It had to be just right.

I started by kissing his ears. I would not touch his dick until he was in such sweet agony that he could stand holding back no longer. Then I kissed and teased his neck, working my way down to his ample nipples. I could tell that he had never had his nipples sucked and it drove him crazy. He asked if he could hold my dick and balls while I did this, and I said that my body was his and he could hold or rub anything he could reach. He cupped me gently and sighed every time I bit or nuzzled a nipple. Then I moved to his lips and we kissed passionately for about five minutes. He could not get enough of sucking my tongue or of rubbing my genitals. I was afraid he would come just from the kissing and the rubbing, but he held back even though I know it must have been excruciating for him.

Back to the nipples I went for a short suck before I slipped quickly down to his navel, where I played with my tongue in and out and all around, still squeezing his nipples with my hands.

"My god, Willie, hurry up. I can't last much longer. You're killing me here."

I could tell it was time for the first orgasm of the evening. There would be many more for David tonight, but I had to relieve some pressure for him. The shower, the champagne, the foreplay had all been too much. Slowly I moved, kissed down to the base of his penis and nuzzled all around it. He began to squirm uncontrollably as I licked slowly up the underside of his dick.

"Oh, god, Willie, please hurry." As I reached the perfectly formed mushroom top, I licked once around its beautiful purplish presence and then, without warning, plunged down completely to the bottom.

"Oh god, Willie, hold me. I'm coming. Oh, god, Willie, I love you. Hold me, Willie, please!" And he shot and he shot and he shot and he shot. It was one of the most amazing orgasms I had ever been a part of. When he had finally stopped coming, he did not move, and his dick stayed hard in my mouth. He seemed unable to move a muscle. His body was still tense. Gradually, as his dick softened, so did the muscles of his body and he collapsed almost in slow motion onto the bed. I checked his heart to make sure he was still alive. He was. His heart was beating at an amazing rate. He was smiling serenely, and I kissed him again sweetly on those beautiful lips.

"Willie?"

"Yes, David."

"I think I might be gay."

"I think so too, David."

"Can we do that again now?"

"Don't you want to try something else?"

"Will it feel as good as that did?"

"Better."

"Then, no."

"No?"

"I want to live until morning."

"You'll live."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Did you come, Willie?"

"No, David. I didn't need to come. I enjoyed your orgasm more than you'll ever know. This is your night. I'll come eventually."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"I really want you to come, Willie."

"I promise I'll come, David."

"Good. I really want to see you come, Willie. I want to see it come out of you. I want to taste it and feel it. I want to help you come."

"We'll do it all, David."

"But right now can we rest just a little bit?"

"We'll rest as long as you want to, David."

"Good."

"Willie?"

"Yes, David?"

"I don't think I want to rest. I think I'm ready to do it again right now."

"Okay, David."

It was a wonderful night. We did everything that David wanted to do, and several things he had no idea that he wanted to do. David's last orgasm came at sunrise. We called the desk and reserved the room for another night. Check out was at eleven. There was no way that could happen.