*Gay Sex: Older & Young men*

It was career education week and all the high school seniors would spend a day in the career fair held at the convention center in downtown Spokane. You should know that there aren’t many blacks in Spokane to begin with - which is unfortunate - but that’s changing everyday. Weary Californians and sun-starved Seattle residents are flocking here. It’s it a good city, with a growing black community. There are mountains, rivers, lakes, canyons and even a natural rushing falls right in downtown. The school I attended was a small mostly African-American private high school. We had very limited contact with public school students. There were real good-looking guys in my class and some juniors were hot too, but none seemed to be interested in other guys. Dante and Rob are good examples. They were so hot. Dante was around 5′10″ swimmers build and had a smooth copper complexion and big dreamy brown eyes. Rob was a very light-skinned black guy with big-curl chestnut colored hair and had hazel-green eyes. I often dreamed about getting them naked in bed or doing nasty things in secret places right at school anything to get in their clothes, especially their pants.

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I’ll never forget him, he was about 5′8 and around 135lbs, and was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. His name was also Jeremy, Jeremy Tinkey to be exact, and he was about the hottest kid I had have ever seen in my life. He moved to my school midway through my sophomore year and I immediately knew that I had to get to know him. I found out that he was a year younger than me, so at the time he was only 15 years old. I was 16 and had just recently got my license.

I almost wet myself when I found out that he was in my gym class. I kept trying to figure out a way to talk to him. I was finally able to talk to him when we became friends with one of my close friends. Once I got to know more about him I found him even more attractive than before. He was so forward about everything, nothing seemed to embarrass him or make him nervous. Everything about him was beautiful. The way he talked, the way he smelled, the look of his slightly curly black hair, the boyish young look of his face, and his body, especially that ass of his. It was sooooo perfect.

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He claimed he was straight. And he also looked to be “all boy.” He played the part, too, getting a spot on the varsity football team as a kicker. So why the hell would this cute freshman, Johnny Atwater, insist on rubbing legs with me?

It started three weeks ago when our semester ended in our block-schedule format school. This means our four classes would change. I used to have English 1, Guitar, Geometry, and Drama, but would now have Debate, Guitar, Geography, and Biology. And on the very first day in 4th Block, Biology, the one of the cutest boys I’ve come across since leaving Rivers Middle School the previous year sat next to me. By choice, I might add, since Mrs. Harris allowed us to choose our own seats with the stipulation that she’ll change them as seen fit.

Johnny was about 5′8″ and weighed approximately 190 pounds, since he worked out a lot to be on the football team. He had dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes, and nicely tanned skin. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of tan line he might be hiding under his pants. I dreamed I’d find out one day, but I doubted I ever would.

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First I’ll give you some background.

I had a friend in my class who lived down the street from me. His name was Shawn. We were 14 and Shawn had a 12-year-old brother named Mike.

Shawn and I had jerked off together about 20 times by this time and jerked each other off a few of those times. Mike and I had jerked each other off a few times also.

In fact my father caught Shawn and I jerking off once, down at the quarry.

It was just two big holes where they dug out shale that filled with water from the rain. The water was always muddy and we rarely went swimming there, but there was a nice grassy area under a big tree that was shady and cool. Shawn and I were just lying in the shade jerking off. My Dad never said anything. I guess he figured “boys will be boys”.

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“I’m glad there’s only a month left!” he said. Kyle Dobson and I were sitting in a relatively empty fast food restaurant. The school cafeteria was always noisy and engulfed in a strange smell, so we preferred to eat elsewhere. Just one month of school remained before summer jobs and university would claim our lives, and we were both looking forward to turning a page and finding independence.

“I know! So Kyle, we’re still going to York together right?” A week earlier I had been thrilled to learn that we had both been accepted. It meant that our friendship would not cease just because of the end of high school.

“No! I can’t believe this completely slipped my mind, I got accepted to U-Penn today!” I felt goose bumps on my arms, and I quickly slipped them under the table so he would not see the hair standing on end.

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Kenny hummed softly to himself as he glanced around the darkened playground.

It was late–too late, really, to be walking through the asphalt basketball court alone. But the swim-meet has lasted longer than he’d expected, and by the time he’d gotten out of the showers, dried, and dressed, there was no one left to hitch a ride with.

So here he was, taking a shortcut through the deserted playground, listening intently to every noise.

It wasn’t that the court was all that dangerous in itself–no pushers selling smack or anything like that. It was something else that troubled the boy. The thing that kept him away from this section of his neighborhood during daylight hours.

The thing called Jake.

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If I sit back for just a moment, I can remember our meeting as vividly now as when we first met. Sometimes, if you’re lucky — and the stars are all just right — you run across a special person like him. One of those ’special entities’ who leave themselves in your memory like footprints in snow, frozen tracks that never go away. I had just started working at this fast food spot in the local mall. Enough of a job to give me some spending money while I studied at the University, but not so much that it would take away from classes. The best part was the view, now that was spectacular! I saw some of the most beautiful pieces-of-ass the world has ever known. They would parade past me there in the food court day in and day out, hour after hour. My daily promenade of promiscuous hard-on’s.

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We grew up together. We went to elementary school together. We were always friends, and we both loved to run.

We lived, running. We played on the run, whether it was kicking cans or tossing a ball, we ran everywhere. And we ran well.

By the time we were in Junior High, we were THE track stars. When we started high school, Coach told me I ran like a black boy. (In college, I heard that a lot.)

Aaron actually was a black boy. Real black. He had dark skin and eyes. The whites of his eyes were very white and his teeth were very white. His nose was broad, and his lips were full. He was tall and slender with long limbs and no body fat. His skin was hairless and shimmered when he sweat. He had a high, narrow, muscled butt like blacks sometimes get. Aaron was gloriously, beautifully black in a small South Texas town, where his was the only black family.

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Mind racing. Blood pumping. A high I can’t explain in words except with “what a rush!” “Here Larry have a hit.”

Larry Carpenter was now in a situation that he had prayed he would never be in. Standing before him is the man of his dreams never mind that the dream is only an eighteen-year-old dream. Carl Raines, an every -day- Joe, who wore tight Levi’s and tight shirts and loved to race down the highway in his camero with his long black hair flying behind him in the wind. Yes, the very answer to Larry’s dreams but apparently he loved something else more than Larry, marijuana did.

Larry and Carl could be seen all over Taylorsville riding in his black camero the envy of both girls and boys alike. Every thing that they’ve experienced together was an enormous turn on for both boys feeding off one another’s love and lust for life. Larry had been there for Carl when his mother died last September of Cancer. Carl had taken it hard and couldn’t bear to see the Cancer drain his mother like some mythical vampire that never seemed to get its fill. Like a shinning armor coming out of some forgotten Arthurian legend was Larry.

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Brad and I didn’t really even know each other until we were in about 10th grade in high school. We both hung around different people. At some point one of my friends became friends with Brad so we ended up hanging out every so often. Eventually Brad and I became very close friends, and after several months you couldn’t separate us. We were always at each others’ house or on the phone with each other, yet we never got sick of each other. Brad’s family was very well off, they owned condos at the beach and many vehicles, including some classic Mustangs that I really liked a lot. My family wasn’t exactly poor or anything, we were middle class, nice house, 2 cars, the average. Brad and I had so much in common, it was uncanny. We would sit on the telephone at night for hours just talking about everything. I found it humorous when we picked up this little habit of saying “I love you” before we hung up. It became a game, we would each try to be the last one to say it before hanging up, I usually let him win.

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