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  • Josh

    • It was his eyes, I think, that first drew my attention just as they did all those years ago. Josh was just a little kid back then; an ordinary little kid; a kid in my primary school class. His eyes were large and deep brown. He had long lashes. I remember thinking that they looked like girl's eyes. So beautiful. His face was round, and his hair was dark brown, with little lights of blond streaking through it. Natural. No boy tinted his hair back in those days. In every other way, he was a little boy, and I was his teacher.

    Josh was not a particularly good student, average, not slow in any way. He was popular with his classmates: a boy's boy, full of energy, a good athlete, a fun guy to be with. The girls liked him, too. At that age, the girls are interested in boys but the boys are still not interested back. He was so handsome. No wonder the girls took an interest in him. He wasn't interested though. He tolerated the attention the girls gave him, even smiled a bit when he saw me watching him as they made a fuss about him, but he was happier being with the boys.

    He passed into my life and would have passed right out again as they all do in primary school but for one thing: He loved music. You see, I played guitar and could sing a bit, so I used to take my guitar to school and we would have sing-a-longs. Sometimes I would play instrumentals for the class and they would do free movement exercises. I didn't notice at first, but he was more interested in watching me play than in bouncing and gyrating around like the others. When I finally did notice him watching me, I could see in his eyes a longing, which I took to be a longing to learn to play. One day he asked if I would teach him, and I said yes. That was the start of a six-year relationship that brought us quite close together.

    Josh was a fast learner. He had good hands and an excellent sense of rhythm, so he caught on quickly. Long before that first year was over, he played as his classmates sang in a school concert. The next year, when school began again and he had moved on to a higher grade, he arrived at my classroom door to ask when lessons would start. "Tuesday," I said, "Same as last year, but you'll have to come to my place for your lessons this year. Check with your parents first to see if that's okay." I never even gave it a second thought, nor did his parents.

    So Tuesdays it was for five more years. He came to my apartment after school as regular as clockwork, and seldom missed a lesson. We were comfortable together, and he would tell me things. I often teased him about girlfriends, but he would get a sad look in his eye and say, no girl friends.

    He soon developed into a good singer, better once his voice changed to a rich baritone. By then, he was the lead in a little high school rock band that played most Friday and Saturday nights. He was tall now, nearly six feet, with broad shoulders, and a muscular frame. He coloured his hair, in layers, you know what I mean, blond on top, dark underneath. He really looked sexy, and I told him he was a lady-killer.

    Still, he had no girlfriends, or at least that's what he told me, and I never questioned him further, fearing my own sexual interest in him that was growing year by year.

    He still came to me for lessons, because rock was only one facet of his musical interest. He loved classical guitar and his parents spent a small fortune on a very good instrument when he was about sixteen. He had an electric guitar for the band, but kept up his classical training too. He started taking piano lessons as well, perhaps when he was about twelve or so - to learn more theory, he said.

    I was pleased when he tried out for and got a part in the high school's production of a Gilbert and Sullivan musical. I went to opening night as his guest and he just about blew me away! It wasn't just his singing, which was very good, but his acting - he looked so comfortable up there on the stage. I didn't realize till then what a talent he had.

    Josh moved on immediately after that, however. He just stopped coming to his lessons one day, and I was busy with other things. When I saw him this evening in the hotel bar, and was taken aback by those beautiful brown eyes that stared holes through me when I looked up and saw him, I didn't really recognize him. He was now in his early twenties - a man, and I had only known him as a boy.

    "Mr. Charmichael?" he asked as he crossed the room and stood in front of me. I looked at his handsome face and tried to put a name to it. It took only a few moments before all the memories came flooding back.

    "Josh?" I questioned. "Is it really you?"

    "Jeez, Mr. C.," he said, reverting to the pet name he had for me. "It's great to see you! How long has it been? Six years? Seven?"

    "Surely not seven!" I said. "But perhaps six. Can you sit for a while? What have you been doing with yourself?"

    In part, I knew the answer to the question. I had seen his name in the newspapers and was so proud when his band won the first of several music awards. I remember how much I was touched when he mentioned my name as he accepted the award. He already had two or was it three CDs? He sent me a signed copy of the first one, but not the others. Busy touring, I think. Besides, when you're young, you don't really want to be bothered with your old teachers. The world is yours now. They are a part of your past. His band often appeared on television on one of those rock music channels but I didn't watch that channel much so I usually heard about it after the fact. I did see it one evening though, and the band was good. No denying that.

    Josh sat next to me and waved a hand at the waiter. "Two more of whatever he's having," he said.

    "Scotch," I said, and the waiter went away. Moments later, drinks in front of us, Josh proceeded to tell me about his rise in the music business.

    "And I owe it all to you," he said. "You inspired me, way back in grade school. Do you remember that?"

    Remember it? I remembered vividly his growth as a musician, and his growth as a young man. Did I love him then? As a father would love his son, I think, though I never married or had children so I'm just guessing. How could I ever forget?

    Two or three drinks later, he looked at his watch. "Mr. C., I have to go to a party, but I don't want to stay long. Are you staying in this hotel? Can I come by your room in an hour or so? I have something I need to tell you. Something about me, and about the old days."

    Intrigued, I couldn't say no, even if I wanted to.

    "Room 314," I said, and Josh stood to leave. He reached over and took my hand and shook it. I felt a shudder go through my body and perhaps held it longer than I should have. Josh just smiled. When I let go, he said, "See you later then," and turned to leave.

    It was more than two hours before I heard the knock at my door. I had showered and dressed again. I didn't want to appear in a robe, nor did I want to appear in pajamas. Getting dressed again seemed the right thing to do. I walked across the room to open the door, and found myself trembling again. I also felt a stirring in my cock and balls, but immediately tried to put that out of my mind. All these years I had known Josh, never once did I ever say or do anything that might indicate to him that I was gay. I didn't intend for him to find out now.

    "Hi, Mr. C.," he said as I opened the door. "I was afraid I was too late and that you would have gone to bed." He looked at my clothes and smiled, as if realizing the reason I was wearing them.

    "I must admit, I was thinking about going to bed," I said as I showed him into the room. "I wasn't sure that you would actually come." Did my voice quiver as I said that? Did he notice? I moved to the wet bar and asked, "Care for a drink?"

    "Scotch, if you're having one," Josh said. He sat on the chair on the other side of the bed. When I turned back with the drinks, he was sitting there, his long legs spread apart, and I couldn't help but look at his crotch, though only for an instant. When I looked up, I saw that his eyes had taken in the furtive glance, and he was smiling. I'm sure I was blushing as I passed him his drink and sat on the corner of the bed with mine in my hand. He drank first, and I followed suit.

    "Mind if I get comfortable?" he asked. Before I could respond, he had taken off his tie and was undoing the top button of his shirt. His jacket, which he had been carrying over his arm as he entered the room, was tossed across the table.

    "What ever turns you on," I said. Realizing what I said, I blushed again.

    "Actually," he said, continuing to unbutton his shirt well below the acceptable social limit, "that's why I've come back tonight, Mr. C.. You see, you turn me on." I sat there in stunned silence. "Does that shock you, Mr. C.?" he asked.

    I couldn't respond. Yes, this young Adonis, whom I had known since he was a boy, had truly shocked me. In my wildest dreams, and I had had many dreams about him over the years, I had never imagined the scene that was unfolding at that moment.

    I stared at his now-bare chest. His nipples were still covered by the shirt that was pulled slightly out of his waistband and pulled to each side, but his clear, bronzed skin and firm muscles were fully exposed to my hungry eyes. I looked up and he was smiling again, his brown eyes glowing in the soft lamplight.

    "You see," he said, "I always knew you were gay. Everyone knew, even my parents. But you never bothered anyone, so no one said anything about it, and my parents let me keep going to you for my lessons. I don't know what I would have done if they had said no. I've loved you as long as I can remember. You were so good to me when I was little, and then, when I was older, and knew that I loved you, you were a steady rock for me. I knew that if I said anything, touched you, kissed you, you would have to tell me that I couldn't come to your place any more. You were my teacher. You would never have had let me make love to you. So I never said a word, and you didn't know. When it got to be too difficult, I stopped coming. Did you ever wonder why?"

    I couldn't move. He had taken me completely by surprise. Josh stood up and pulled his shirt the rest of the way out of his belt. He was only inches away from me, the heat from his body, the smell of his body, enwrapping me with his essence. I was weak. I couldn't move. Josh took my drink glass from my hand and placed it on the table. He took my hand and drew it up to press against his chest.

    He moved closer, only an inch or so, but enough that I had to lean back. His rather large package, its size barely disguised by his tight jeans, was at eye level, and I was still fighting with myself over what to do. Lust and years of loving him made me want to reach out and draw him to me, to hug him, to hold him, to feel his skin against my face. Part of me, the teacher part, could not allow that to happen. Josh could see the struggle that raged inside me.

    He took the matter out of my hands by pulling my head closer to him until my cheek brushed against and then pressed into his stomach. All resistance ended at that moment. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him to me. My lips began their exploration of his stomach that would eventually lead me up his chest to his neck and lips. As I struggled to stand, he helped me, and as I kissed him on the lips, he reached down and pressed his hand into my crotch.

    "Oh, Josh," I moaned, as my lips moved from his to the side of his face. "Why?"

    "Mr. C., let's leave that till after we've made love," he said. "I've wanted you for a long time, and I want you more than ever now. Just let whatever happens happen."

    I gave in completely. Josh reached his hands between us and began to unbutton my shirt. I thrilled at the feeling of his hot skin pressing against mine, and he kissed my neck, then my chest, nibbling at the thick mat of hair that grew there and he moved first to one nipple, then the other. He pushed me gently back onto the bed and lay on top of me, his crotch pressing into mine, his hardness against mine, his heat mingling with mine. I stroked his hair as he moved ever lower, tickling my belly button with his tongue and pulling gently at my course, curly, pubic hair that rose above the waistband of my trousers with his teeth.

    Then he reached his hands down, undid my belt buckle, and slowly pulled down the zipper. He reached inside to find my rock hard cock throbbing there, trapped inside my white jockey briefs, straining to be set free. He reached inside my briefs, took my cock in his hand, and began to massage it, squeezing just enough to send spasms of excitement coursing through my body, but not enough to make me cum.

    Josh rose up and finished undoing his own pants, allowing them to drop to the floor. I stared at his strong, young body, at the bulge that pressed out from his briefs, and the short, curly hair that showed above the waistband and down his legs. Then he was laying on me again, and that most precious object of lust disappeared before I could fully take in its size and bulk. But with more of his skin exposed, and pressing against mine, I reached inside his briefs to find that treasure for myself. It was all I could have wished for and more. Uncut, like me, I felt the moist head poking through the open foreskin and wanted it on my tongue. I rolled him over so that my body was on top of his and I began to take control, sliding down his body and pulling his briefs down as I went until his cock was there, waiting for my lips, my mouth, my tongue. I could wait no more. I took him in and tasted his manness and it was good.

    Josh lay back and relaxed and let me do what I wanted. I gave him head like I had never given anyone before, with a greater sense of urgency that must have been the result of years of having loved him without really knowing it. As I sucked greedily at his cock, he reached down and pulled my head up and away. He kissed me on the lips, then said, "Not yet. I want you, too."

    He climbed out from under me, shed the rest of his clothing in one fluid motion, and drew off my socks and underwear as well. Then he lay down again, his head at my cock and mine at his. He licked at mine tenderly, taking the pearly white drops of precum onto his tongue and savoring the taste. When he finally took me into his mouth, I turned my attention back to satisfying his cock even as he was bringing me to the very heights of sexual pleasure. It did not take me long to reach the zenith of my pleasure and seconds after I began to shoot white, hot cum into his throat, Josh exploded in my mouth too. Spurt after spurt, and I swallowed them all. I sucked him dry, as he did me, and then we lay back, letting each other's flagging cocks slip out of our mouths as they softened. Josh turned his body, crawled up the bed, and took me in his arms. He held me there, his face pressed against my chest, his hair in my nostrils, and we rested.

    Later, Josh pulled himself up on his elbow and looked down at me. He smiled and said, "I've waited a long time for this."

    "I never knew," I said.

    "No, I couldn't tell you. I wanted to reach out and touch you, to tell you I loved you, but I knew I couldn't. Not till I was a man. I used to go home and jerk off after our guitar lessons."

    "Why did you leave me? You said you would tell me."

    Josh thought for a moment. Then he answered.

    "I betrayed my love for you, that year I was in high school. You remember the play? The Gilbert and Sullivan? You came opening night? Well, another boy entered my life that night. A boy my own age. I had known for a while that I was gay. He was too. We found each other. He's with me still."

    Josh waited a moment to see if I would say anything. Hearing only my breathing, he continued.

    "Opening Night was when it happened. We were both back stage, awaiting our cues for an entrance in the second act. We were standing close together in the wings, I was in front. He leaned into me, to look over my shoulder, I thought, but then I felt his stiffness pressing against my backside. He leaned into me and told me then that he wanted me. He reached around and felt my cock, and he knew by its hardness that I wanted him too. Before we could say or do anything, we had to make our entrance, and the show went on. After the cast party, we walked home together, as far as the park anyway, and it was there that we had sex. He was my first. He is my lover today. He knows I've always loved you. I told him, and he understands. He knows I'm here tonight, and I have his blessing."

    I lay there, quietly. This young man loved me, and I loved him, but he belonged to another and we both knew it. For tonight, however, he was mine. I reached my head up and kissed him, and we started again. This time, the urgency was gone, and we took our time. We explored each other's bodies, his young and firm, my older and slightly sagging. It was a gentle wooing.

    We had the night and each other and many years of love unfulfilled to catch up on. Tomorrow would take care of itself.


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