“I know the time will surely come
When you’ll be in my life, my life always
Yellow is the color of sunrays”
Keep on Moving’
Soul II Soul
From the Album Club Classics Vol. One
First Contact
Oliver James Redmond was six years old and in his mind no longer a child. He climbed out of mom’s Grand Prix after struggling to open the coupe’s large door. Backpack sitting on the ground, he used both hands to close the door after telling his mom goodbye. As he picked up the backpack and slung it over his right shoulder, he watched the black car pull away and a truck pull up in its place. When the Grand Prix turned out of sight, he turned toward the school’s entry.
Falling in with the other children, Oliver headed toward the two sets of double doors where one teacher stood watch while another called out to everyone to hurry inside for the bell was soon to ring to start the school day. The first school day for Oliver, a first grader at Evans Elementary School.
He wanted to be like his older brother, Ash, all grown up and ready to enter his classroom where he would be with his friends and maybe even make new friends. Ash was in the fifth grade and had ridden the bus that morning so he could hang out with his friends on the way to school. For Oliver, it was all new. He had attended kindergarten at a small private school up in Monroe, and a couple weeks prior there had been a pre-school meeting to show him where his class would be and let his mom meet with his teacher, Ms. Bosman.
Moving down the wide corridor, Oliver felt small, for most were taller, older, and they moved past him in a hurry. He kept close to the wall, moving slowly taking everything in. The way the others were in groups talking and laughing and jesting with each other. He came upon Rachel and Ryan, his closest friends from his neighborhood, Ryan next door and Rachel in the house that backed up to Ryan’s house. They came together and moved as a group, all three nervous despite earlier protestations they would not be so.
“Our room is up here somewhere,” said Rachel.
“It’s the door past that fire extinguisher,” said Oliver, pointing down the corridor toward the second door on the right.
Oliver found himself sitting in the row along the wall with windows that overlooked the playground, about halfway back from the front. The teacher had them in alphabetical order, which put Rachel at the front on the second row and Ryan four seats behind her. Oliver looked around the room as the teacher stood at the door talking to another teacher. The boys and girls that would make up his class. There were a few that were African American, a few that looked Latino, or maybe they were part of the Native American tribe that lived to their south. He noticed the hair colors: various shades of brown, a few with hair that looked black but none as dark as his own, one red head, and a few with blonde hair.
Of the blondes, one stood out for the purity of its yellow color. Vivid, almost glowing, a color like his grandmother’s sunflowers. And it was a boy who was not talking to anyone or looking around the room with curiosity. He sat staring straight ahead, and Oliver wondered if he was nervous. He saw how the boy held his hands together in his lap. Then he noticed there was no backpack, no pencils or notebooks on his desk. Then he noticed the clothes. They looked dirty, worn and frayed. The shirt’s collar as crooked and he could see the left knee of the jeans was torn revealing the white skin within.
The door closed and Oliver looked up to see the teacher come into the room calling for silence. She wrote her name on the dry erase board, then looked around the room. Stepping behind a desk, she leaned down to a notebook that lay open.
“I’m going to call role, so when I call out your name, just say ‘here’.” She looked up and smiled and Oliver felt himself relax a little. It was a question he knew the answer to, one he could make a reply. He knew his name, and he watched the others call out here as she called their names, waiting for his chance to say ‘here’. But what he really wanted was the blonde headed boy’s name.
“Benjamin Lee Baskin,” said Ms. Bosman.
“Here,” the blonde boy replied, his voice so low Oliver barely heard it.
As games of kick ball or lines formed for the slides or swings, Oliver kept looking over to the far side of the playground where Benjamin sat alone. He didn’t understand why Benjamin couldn’t join the others. Play kick ball or get in line for the slide. He wanted to go to him and tell him to join in.
He pictured the boy, the impoverished appearance, and he didn’t understand why Benjamin’s parents didn’t buy him new clothes for the school year, get him a nice haircut, or some new sneakers. Is this what it meant to be really poor? His own parents made comments about being poor, that they had to ‘pinch their pennies’ as his grandmother would say. But he had new clothes from the Wal-Mart and understood they were not the nicest clothes and thought Benjamin’s parents should have been able to do the same.
Sitting at the top of the slide about to go down, Oliver looked over at Benjamin again and he saw three of his classmates, Mark, James, and one he couldn’t remember his name, stand in front of Benjamin. He saw the three boys laugh, then one roughly pushed Benjamin, and Oliver knew they were being mean toward him. It wasn’t right, three against one, and he set off down the slide determined to run over and stop the three boys. He comes to the end of the slide, feet hitting the ground, and takes off running across the playground. As he circled around the swings, he saw Ms. Bosman rushing over to the boys. He stopped and watched her get on to the three boys, then say something to Benjamin, seeing him nod his head.
Over the following weeks, Oliver saw others treat Benjamin cruelly. He approached him, tried to befriend him, but Benjamin just looked at him suspiciously. He saw it, how the eyes looked up and down him, and he wondered what Benjamin saw that made him rebuff him so brusquely. He wasn’t like the others. He intended no harm. But Benjamin didn’t see it.
Over the next three years, Oliver would learn a lesson more clearly than any his teachers could teach. He’d learn some people were so poor they didn’t have new clothes, or birthday parties, or came back after Christmas holidays showing off some gift received or bragged about one at home, like a new bicycle, a laptop computer, or some highly desired toy. They had to wear old clothes, didn’t get haircuts at the barbershop, and worst of all, were treated differently.
He is scared to invite Benjamin to his own parties for he heard how the adults talked about Hannah Baskin, Benjamin’s mother, and some of the other poor people in the community, Mr. and Mrs. Bailey the worst, using words to describe others his parents forbade him and his brother from using. He knew his mother wished the Baileys would not cross the street to come to their home, but she let them in whenever they caught her coming in from a trip into town. Oliver felt like his mom and dad would never be so cruel, but he wasn’t sure, and he didn’t want to do anything to make them upset or not let him have his party.
A Connection
“Okay class, we’re going to do something different today,” said Mr. Ryland, setting two boxes on his desk. “I want everyone to partner with someone, then one of you comes up and takes five leaves from this box, and from this box, take two skulls. You will look up each one to identify it, then one of you will draw them and the other will write a paragraph on each one describing them.
Oliver looked around at his classmates, now in fifth grade, seeing how they paired up. Ryan and Rachel had paired up since they sat close together, leaving him to find someone else. It wasn’t surprising to him to see most paired up with their best friend. Besides Rachel and Ryan, he had other friends in the class, but knew he wasn’t really close to any of them and saw them pair up leaving him without a partner. He felt hurt by it, but knew he wasn’t as outgoing as the others. His mom said he was just shy, and at times like this, he wished he wasn’t so shy.
Looking toward the front of the room, he saw Benjamin sitting in his usual place at the front of the room not even trying to find a partner. Oliver knew no one wanted to pair with him, and he hated to see him being ostracized by his classmates. He climbed to his feet, seeing others turn and watch him as he made his way to the front of the room and cross over toward Benjamin. Even Mr. Ryland watched him, giving him a smile and nod.
Oliver came up to the front of Benjamin’s desk and waited for him to look up and acknowledge him. Slowly, so painfully slow, Benjamin looked up surprised to see him standing there.
“Hey, you want to partner with me?” said Oliver.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Oliver looked over to see the desk in the next row had been vacated by James, and he slid it over close to Benjamin’s desk then realized he needed his book and notebook.
“I’ll be right back; I forgot my stuff. Why don’t you go up and get the leaves and skulls.”
“Okay,” Benjamin replies in a low unsure voice.
Oliver spread out the leaves, setting the skulls aside. He had agreed to write the description and Benjamin would draw them. He didn’t know if he could write anything decent about them but he knew his drawing skills were not good.
“This is a maple leaf, and his is a holly, and this is an oak—”
“No, that is not right,” said Benjamin, sounding unsure but appeared otherwise.
“Are you sure?”
“It’s a hawthorn. We have a tree behind the house.”
Oliver looked in their textbook and saw the image of a hawthorn leaf knowing Benjamin was right.
“Nice catch; it’s a hawthorn,” said Oliver making note of the name. He glanced over and saw Benjamin smile, something he had never seen before. “This is a magnolia, but what is this one?”
“I think it is an elm,” said Benjamin.
“I think it is a birch.”
“They do look similar.”
Oliver looked up and saw Mr. Ryland watching them with a smile.
“We’re not sure about this one,” said Oliver to Mr. Ryland.
“Look at it closely and make your best guess. I just want you to do your best and see how difficult it can be to identify them.”
“Which one do you think?” said Oliver, looking at Benjamin.
“Elm.”
“Okay, elm it is. Go ahead and draw them and I’ll write up a description of the trees and their leaves.”
Oliver had a paragraph on the maple, holly, and magnolia, and was about to do the hawthorn, when he looked over and saw the drawings by Benjamin. He was shocked. They were so detailed, so perfectly rendered, even shadowed beneath them to make them look three dimensional.
“Wow, you can draw,” said Oliver.
Benjamin shrugged his shoulders, but as he leaned down to draw the lines in the elm leaf, he smiled again.
Oliver set the two skulls down in front of them. They were small and one looked unbelievably fragile, except for the long fangs.
“I think this is a snake, but I’m not sure about this one.”
“Squirrel.”
“Squirrel? Are you sure. Look at these teeth.”
“They eat nuts and, I’m sure.”
Oliver wondered if Benjamin hunted squirrels. He had never hunted, so had never cleaned a squirrel or any other animal.
“And that is a rattlesnake skull.”
It was said confidently, and Oliver realized Benjamin probably was exposed to the animals more so than he.
“Okay, I’ll write up a description and you draw them up,” said Oliver.
Oliver stood next to Benjamin, reading his descriptions while Benjamin held up his drawings. They were the last to present, and he glanced up to see their classmates staring at Benjamin’s drawings, some with surprise and some with what looked like jealously. He flipped to his last page and read his description of squirrels and rattlesnakes. Once finished, Benjamin lowered his sketches, and they looked over at Mr. Ryland to see how he responded to their presentation.
“Very good boys, and you picked all the right species, for that leaf was elm, not birch. And Benjamin, those are very good drawings.”
The bell rung ending the school day.
Oliver made more of an effort to get to know Benjamin. At first Benjamin was standoffish. But Oliver persisted, ignoring the comments by his classmates, even those he considered friends. He sat with Benjamin at lunch, and on days he brought his lunch, his mom let him bring two apples or oranges, or two slices of pie, to share with him. He found out Benjamin did know the skulls from having hunted the animals for food, and when pressed about the drawing skill, Benjamin just said he liked to draw when he had paper to do so.
After a teacher conference, Oliver’s mom and dad called him to the kitchen. He wondered what he had done wrong. His grades were good, and as far as he knew, had not broken any rules.
“What’s wrong?” said Oliver, wondering how he was in trouble.
“Nothing’s wrong, Oliver,” said his mom. “We want to just let you know how proud of you we are. Mr. Ryland said you have befriended the Baskin boy.”
“Ben,” Oliver replied, how Benjamin preferred to be referred to.
“Ben comes from a tough situation, and he shouldn’t be mistreated at school. It’s not his fault.”
“That he is really poor?”
“That’s right,” said his dad.
“His dad left them, and his mom works at the convenience store outside of town,” said Oliver.
“And it has made Ben’s life difficult. Your birthday is coming up. Are you going to invite him to your party?”
“He can’t afford to buy a gift,” Oliver replied. He wanted to invite Ben, more than any of the others, but it seemed wrong to expect him to bring a gift when he obviously does without.
“So, what should we do?” said his mom.
“Just have a cookout and we can do my birthday later.”
“No gifts? Are you okay with that?” said his dad.
“Yes, sir.”
Oliver sat in the passenger seat with gifts lying on his lap. He looked at the overgrown ditches along the narrow dirt lane as his mom drove them to Benjamin’s house. It was Ben’s birthday, but there would be no party. Ben’s mom was working, and he was home alone.
He thought about his party the month before, how there had been times he wished Ben had been the only one he invited. The others still ostracized him despite his efforts to include him, and by the afternoon’s end, Ben and he just played horseshoes alone while the others sat around the fire. How could they be so cruel when it wasn’t his fault, he was poor. It wasn’t like any of others were rich, most were like his own family where both parents worked, their vehicles were bought used, and they ate at home most often, eating out at restaurants too expensive.
The house came into view. The porch roof sagged, and sections of the railings were missing. The windows had sheets hanging over them instead of curtains, and the paint on the walls was peeling off. The yard needed mowing and a limb lay in the side yard. The only thing out of place was a row of sunflowers growing along the side of the yard, only a few feet high and not yet blooming.
“It’s worse than I thought,” said his mom as she pulled up to the front.
“Please don’t say anything,” said Oliver.
“OH, son, I won’t say anything to hurt his feelings.”
As Oliver and his mom climbed out of her Explorer, the front door opened, and Ben came out. He wore baggy gym shorts and a tattered T-shirt. Oliver came around the front of the SUV holding out the gifts.
“What is this?” asked Ben.
“It’s your birthday, and I knew your mom had to work,” said Oliver.
Oliver looked around as his mom came from the back of the SUV carrying a cake with twelve candles circling around a Happy Birthday topper.
“And we brought a cake too!” exclaimed Oliver.
Ben looked surprised, then sad, then he smiled as Oliver climbed the porch steps.
“Can we stay out here on the porch?” said Ben.
“Of course,” said Oliver’s mom. “I brought everything we’ll need. Paper plates, forks, and there are even drinks in a cooler.”
Ben and Oliver sat on the edge of the porch, feet resting on a step. Oliver’s mom set the cake on the porch and went back for the bag of plates and utensils. There were three gifts, each neatly wrapped with bows that Ben carefully removed. He eased the tape loose and removed the wrapping paper without tearing it, and Oliver’s mom turned to look away.
The first gift, the largest, was two drawing pads and two smaller sketch books. Ben’s eyes widened in surprise as he flipped through the blank white sheets.
“Thanks,” Ben uttered as he set them down on the porch and took the next one from Oliver. Once opened, Ben saw it was sketching pencils, color pencils, a sharpener, a fabric roll to put the pencils inside, and white erasures. “Wow,” Ben uttered, then he looked at Oliver smiling. Setting the gift box down, Ben shocked Oliver by hugging him, the first intimate contact between the two boys. “Thanks Oliver,” said Ben, then he pulled back and looked at Oliver’s mom. “Thanks, Mrs. Redmond.”
“You’re welcome. Now open the last one.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Ben as he picked up the last box. He eased the bow off the top and gently removed the gift wrap, then slid the box lid up. Oliver heard him gasp, then look down as he fingered the new shirt laying on top.
“There’s a couple of them and some pants below. Go on, look below that one,” said Oliver.
“Oliver, let him take his time,” said his mom.
Ben lifted the blue plaid shirt from the box and saw one in green plaid below it. Then he saw the jeans, two pair and he saw they were the right size. “How did you know what size to get?”
“Mom called your mom,” said Oliver.
Ben lifted the jeans out to hold them up and saw socks and underwear beneath them. He stared at the brand-new clothes that still had some tags on them. Something he had never had before, and he smiled at Oliver, for otherwise he would cry.
Heartbreak
Oliver sat in the passenger seat reliving the phone call. Over and over, he replayed Ben’s voice coming over the phone. The usual greeting but with a tone vastly different. Then a silence, one far too long, and Oliver knew something was wrong. What is it? he had asked. Ben then told him they were packing up to move, his mom had gotten a job in Biloxi, Mississippi.
It might as well have been on the other side of the world, for Oliver knew they would not be seeing each other again.
His father drove quickly, splashing through the mudholes, as he sat silent not wanting to believe it. When they got there, surely Ben would come rushing out, laughing, telling him it was a joke. Swinging around the last curve of the long drive, he saw a small moving van backed up to the front porch with a few boxes sitting to the side and a mattress leaning against the wall. He sucked in a breath and held it. In the side yard, dead sunflowers leaned in various directions, Ben leaving them alone until the birds and animals got all the seeds from the dried back flowers. Oliver pictured himself running along the row with bright yellow sunflowers turned to the sun and in front of him, so much faster, ran Ben with his blonde hair that was just as vividly yellow.
They were in the seventh grade, and everything had seemed to be going so well. A few others had come to accept Ben as part of the group over the last two years. They gathered at Oliver’s home to study, play games, or have cookouts supervised by his parents. Christmas was a little over a month away, and Oliver had already gotten Ben’s gift, which was still in the bottom of his closet. He wished he had brought it with him.
As soon as the pickup came to a stop, Oliver was pushing the door open and unbuckling his seatbelt. He rushed up to the porch, climbing up on it. Ben came out with a box and froze when he saw Oliver standing on the porch. Ben’s mom came out with a box, and she moved past Ben into the truck.
“I’m sorry Ben, but we have to get the truck loaded today and be on our way.”
“You’re leaving today?” said Oliver.
“Yes. Mom needs to get the truck turned back in tomorrow morning to avoid additional charges,” said Ben.
“It’s just the two of you?” said Oliver’s dad.
“Yes, sir.”
“Come on Oliver, we need to help them.”
As his dad moved past him, Oliver stood frozen in place for a moment, just staring at his best friend. Ben was his best friend, and that became so obvious to him now that Ben was about to move away.
“Oliver,” said Ben. “Oliver, it’s okay. It’s for the best, for mom got a decent job with one of the casinos.”
“I know,” said Oliver, but he didn’t know. He was twelve years old, and his best friend was leaving. He felt breathless.
“Mom said I can write you once we get settled in a place.”
“Where are you staying,” said Oliver’s dad coming out with two dining table chairs, having overheard the two boys.
“A hotel until I find something to rent,” said Ben’s mom coming out with two more dining chairs.
Oliver and his dad helped them get the van loaded up and doors secured. His dad slipped a few bills to Ben’s mom, telling her it wasn’t much but maybe it’ll help. With the house locked up and Ben’s mom behind the wheel, engine idling, Ben came to Oliver and hugged him, a tight embrace, tighter than any before, and Oliver felt tears trickle down his cheeks. He pushed Ben to step back.
“Write when you get a place,” said Oliver.
“I will.”
Seniors
Oliver pulled into the parking lot in his old Civic. It had been a birthday present the past spring. He parked next to Lisa and Ricky, climbed out with is backpack and headed toward the buildings of Monroe High School. It was the start of his senior year, and he was excited at the prospect of finally finishing school. As he passed the music building, he glanced at his reflection wondering who the person looking back was. For four years he had struggled with himself, with feelings he didn’t know whether to control, bury deep inside, or daringly reveal to his classmates, knowing the latter would probably get him ostracized. Ostracized the way Ben had once been ostracized back at Evans Elementary School
Benjamin.
He still thought about him, despite the way they lost touch, neither being good at keeping up correspondence, and Ben not having a cellphone. By the end of seventh grade, the letters had stopped, and Oliver spent the summer feeling guilty about it, wondering if Ben felt guilty too. He thought of the boy he still considered a friend, despite no communication in over four years.
But would Ben still be his friend, if he knew. It was a question Oliver puzzled over, an internal test where he played out the various ways Ben could respond to him admitting to being gay. Ben being supportive, giving him one of those tight embraces and telling him everything would be okay. Ben stepping back, telling him no, that it couldn’t be true. Ben walking off, no longer wanting anything to do with him. Ben coming close, so close the face would fill his vision telling him he was gay too. The last was such a stupid fantasy, it made him burn with embarrassment to consider it.
Glancing again in the wall of windows, he saw the teenager that was seventeen, almost a man. He was five foot ten, a respectable build from baseball and riding his bicycle, and had let his black hair grow out over the summer finding it got wavy with length. He pushed it out of his face and looked at his reflection, brown eyes looking into brown eyes, thinking of the charade he was playing in the school. A gay male pretending to be straight. He had even gone out with Emily last spring a couple of times, until she thankfully called it off, saying she didn’t think his heart was in it.
He wanted to tell her the truth. His heart was elsewhere.
He entered the double doors and proceeded down the corridor to Ms. Douglas’ history classroom and his homeroom. He slipped down the second aisle and went halfway back and took a seat, greeting his classmates already seated and those coming in behind him. As the bell rang to start a new school year, Ms. Douglas came in with her satchel, placed it on her desk where she pulled out the notebook to call roll.
“Okay, class, let’s get through the roll and we can get started with class.”
A few moans and comments and everyone leaned back in their chairs waiting for their names to be called. Halfway through the rollcall, the door opened, and Vice Principal Harris came in followed by a guy with strikingly blonde hair, short on the sides but long on top, enough to hang over the eyes. The guy was tall, three or four inches taller than Vice Principal Harris and despite the loose T-shirt, it was obvious the upper body was well developed. Even the biceps stretched the sleeves tight.
Oliver noticed every physical attribute, then he looked at the face again as the Vice Principal was about to introduce the guy to the class.
“Ben?”
“Hey, Oliver.” It was said in a soft tone with a smile. “I hoped I’d see you this morning.”
“When…when did you get here?”
“Last night, so I didn’t have an opportunity to let you know. I tried to write last month when mom decided to move back but my letter came back undeliverable.”
“We moved…into Monroe.”
“That explains it.”
“Okay, boys, you can catch up later. Young man, what is your full name?” said Ms. Douglas.
“Benjamin Baskin. Benjamin Lee Baskin.”
“Okay, Benjamin, take a seat.”
Ben strolled down the aisle next to Oliver, taking the desk next to him. They grinned at each other. Ben leaned over the aisle.
“Do you have plans after school?”
“No.”
“Let’s get together.”
Driving out of the school parking lot, Oliver kept looking over at Ben. The seat was pushed all the way back for the long legs. There was the hand pushing blonde hair out of the face. There was the way the T-shirt fit the upper body and the how the jeans bulged so seductively, it was difficult to keep his eyes on the road.
“I should just drive south on 31?” said Oliver.
“Yep, down to 41 and turn right.”
“What got your mom to move back?”
“A job at the community college. Some admin position, but the pay is okay, and it got us out of Biloxi.”
“What’s wrong with Biloxi?”
“Crowded with tourists and there is that weather event in the fall called hurricane.”
“Oh yeah, it went just to our north and dumped a shit load of rain on us.”
“I’m not sure about my last year of high school up here but…it’s good to see you.”
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t keep up the letters.”
“Same here, but we were just kids.”
“Yeah.” Oliver drove up to the intersection and swung right onto 41. “Did you play any sports back in Biloxi?”
“Baseball and basketball. They tried to get me out for the football team, but I wasn’t going to go out there and get my brain knocked out. Why?”
“It’s just…” Oliver wondered how to say it. Ben, you’re hot would admit too much. He glanced over again and saw Ben waiting for him to finish. “It’s just, look at you. You obviously work out and…how tall are you?”
Ben chuckled, then fell back in his seat. “Crazy right, that the poor little boy would grow up to become…me.” He looked up to see the road Oliver needed to turn on. “I’m six foot four; that’s the road. Turn left.”
“Oh, okay,” Oliver replied, turning on the narrow two-lane highway. It had been recently paved and remarked, for the yellow line was bright against the dark grey asphalt. He eased along the road, passing a ranch house, two mobile homes, a barn with a fence around it keeping a few cows contained.
“The next drive on the left,” said Ben.
As he pulled to the drive, Oliver saw it was a prefab house with light grey siding and darker grey shutters. A small porch was on the front shading the front door and one large window. A red Ford truck sat in the drive.
“Mom is still home. She doesn’t start until next Monday,” said Ben. “Will you come in; she’d love to see you.”
“Sure.”
For the first few days, Oliver felt like he was in some alternate universe. Ben was back, but a different Ben. Not the introverted boy who endured so much bullying and ostracizing. But a different Ben, one that was tall and muscular and…hot as fuck. All his previous fantasies of what his life could be like if Ben had not moved away suddenly paled with the fantasies he now imagined. No longer were they naïve, quaint in their imaginings of the two of them kissing and holding hands and sharing lunch in the cafeteria. Now his fantasies were sexual in tone, lurid, with him touching Ben in the crotch or cupping the ass as Ben moved over him. Even their kissing was more physical, passionate, and he jacked off night after night to the image of him lying on his back beneath Ben with legs wrapped around the narrow waist.
It embarrassed him to think of it during the day.
As hard as he tried to be the friend Ben remembered from their youth, he couldn’t open up like before, not with his desire for more than friendship. He stayed guarded, struggled to keep his eyes off Ben’s body, something damn near impossible when Ben would remove his shirt once at his home and the two of them holed up in Ben’s bedroom playing video games. And there were times he showed up at Ben’s to find him in the shower, only to come out in nothing but a towel. Then right in front of him, drop the towel from the waist and toss it on the bed. The round ass burned forever in his memory. And a glimpse of the cock swinging into view. Ben had pulled on the tightest white boxer briefs, and once pulled in place, it made him look sexier in a way, with the tease of the cock bulge. And the ass, so impossibly curved and firm.
At school, Oliver felt so jealous at times, the way girls that once wouldn’t give Ben the time of day, or worse, made fun of him for being poor, were now throwing themselves shamelessly at him. And the guys that once bullied Ben were now talking about basketball or next season’s baseball, anticipating Ben’s joining the teams. Oliver wanted Ben to turn them down, every one of them. He wanted Ben to himself, as insane as that jealous thought was. He was on the baseball team, and they would be teammates, but in the locker room others would get to see that body.
But what hurt the most was the idea of Ben being just another straight boy in the school, leaving him alone as the only gay boy. He could see it, how sooner or later, Ben would be going out with one of the girls. There was just too much flirting for him to continue to ignore them. He knew the idea that a certain percentage of guys were gay, and if it were accurate, then he couldn’t be the only one. But it was a small-town school, and it seemed like gay guys should be in cities, urban areas that were progressive and tolerant. He had spent the last two years trying to make one of his classmates gay, and time and time again, it appeared to be just wishful thinking on his part. He had even watched the guys a year ahead and a year behind him. And there were a few he imagined coming out, admitting being gay too, none more so than Tyler that was a year behind him and on the baseball team. Dark brown hair and smooth skin with hardly a blemish, and in the locker room after practice or a game, he had seen him naked. A nice ass and cock that hung heavy over its sac. It was why he was always last out of the locker room, waiting until the guys in the showers were done or almost done, so he wouldn’t be tempted to stare at their naked bodies. But Tyler was too talkative, too friendly in his banter and time and time again, he fucked around too long and would be entering the shower right in front of or just behind him.
At Ben’s house, the way Ben paraded around shirtless or thought nothing of changing in front of him, that temptation was almost unbearable. But he stayed in Ben’s room, took every opportunity to see him changing clothes. Every opportunity to see that naked ass and just a glimpse of cock.
As it was on the last Friday night of April. It was getting late, almost ten, and they had been to the high school baseball game playing their roles on their team as they lost to their rivals from Atmore. Ben had showered when they got to his place, because someone spilled a coke down his back at the drive-in after the game. Ben’s mom was out on a date, gone to Mobile for dinner and a movie, not expected to be back until very late. It left the two of them alone, the first time during the night. It was too perfect. Just the two of them and his parents knowing he might stay overnight.
Oliver felt anxious, excited, and trapped. He lay across the foot of Ben’s bed looking at his cellphone wondering if Ben really wanted to play video games this late at night. But he knew he would do anything to spend time with him. Rolling to his back, he looked at the poster over the bed. There was a late evening sky with scattered clouds in blue and purple and pink. The horizon was a black silhouette of trees, and in the foreground, sunflowers, all turned to a sun soon to dip over the horizon. Ben had called them little suns back in elementary school. Oliver thought of the yellow petals circling the dark center and how the petals reminded him of the blonde hair.
The shower turned off and Oliver knew Ben would soon be back in the room. He left with no change of clothes, so once again, Ben would dress in front of him. He tried to focus on his cellphone, but he kept looking at the door watching for it to swing open. He rolled up into a sitting position and leaned back against the headboard. He could glance over his cellphone at the door with just a shift of the eyes.
The door swung open, and Ben came in toweling his hair completely naked. Not even a towel around the waist. Oliver looked up and stared at the body. He couldn’t pull them away. The muscular chest with nice pecs. One arm raised working the towel over the top of head and the bicep flexing with the movement. And at the crotch, a flaccid cock that looked partially aroused. It hung heavy, about four inches long over the loose nut sac. Above it a small fan of blonde pubic hair then the flat abdomen, and looking upward over the chest, the neck, until he was looking into the face.
Ben came to the foot of the bed, tossed the towel over his desk chair, and stared back.
“What?” asked Oliver, hearing how the pitch of his voice was all wrong.
“Do you like me?”
“What? Of course…w-w-we’re friends.”
“I don’t mean like that. I see how you look at me and I wondered if there was a…”
The silence as the unfinished sentence hung in the air between them, Oliver found himself surveying the body again, unable to refrain. He looked down the chest, the stomach, the cock, wanting to touch it. To feel it in his hand, or his mouth, or…
“You wondered what?” said Oliver, finally breaking the silence.
“I know it can be scary as fuck, especially around here, but…if you liked me as more than friends, I would like that.”
“You would?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you gay?”
“Yes. Are you?”
“I think so; no, yes, yes, I’m gay too.”
Oliver saw the smile and smiled back feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest.
“Have you ever messed around with a guy?” said Oliver, not sure if he wanted Ben experienced or not.
“Just some kissing and touching before the guy freaked out about it. Have you?”
“No, of course not.”
Oliver chuckled, walked to the nightstand turning on the lamp. He went back to the door, closing it and shutting off the overhead light. “Is this, okay?”
“Yes.”
Ben crossed the room until standing by the bed, naked, skin appearing to glow in the warm light of the lamp. Oliver was about to reach out and touch him when Ben eased down on the bed. Right next to him, the long muscular body stretched out. An arm brushed against arm; a foot rubbed down a leg.
Ben placed a hand on Oliver’s chest then leaned over until their lips touched. Oliver closed his eyes focusing on the feel of lips against his own and the hand that was moving over his chest. Their kiss became more passionate, physical, as Oliver slid his hand over against the bare stomach. He rubbed it with the back of his hand, feeling the firm smooth flesh. The hand on his chest went near his neck and worked its way down, and he realized it was unbuttoning his shirt. The shirt slipped open, and the hand touched his bare chest as he daringly rubbed his hand downward until he felt pubic hair, then the cock. Ben moaned into his mouth, then began to kiss along his jaw and down his neck, at times nipping the flesh.
“I’ve thought of this so often it drove me crazy,” whispered Ben in Oliver’s ear, so close the lips grazed it.
“I did too,” Oliver confessed. It felt good to confess it. How he imagined sex with Ben, thought of it so much he too had felt driven mad with his desire. The hand moved over his stomach, rubbed along the top of his jeans, and he turned his own hand and took Ben’s cock, feeling the thickness of it. The hand slipped into his jeans, worked beneath the boxers, and down until touching him, bare fingers grazing his bare cock. Another’s touch. He moaned and pushed upward to increase the pleasure of the touch.
Fingers worked along his cock as it grew erect, straining to stretch out in the confines of his jeans. Oliver wanted out of them, wanted to be naked. He wanted Ben to be able to touch him everywhere. When the hand slipped out of his jeans breaking the contact, he almost cried out no.
“Oliver, get your clothes off.”
Oliver opened his eyes and saw Ben sitting up next to him. He sat up, undid his jeans, and worked everything down his legs and off. Ben took the jeans and boxers and tossed them to the floor. When he turned back to Oliver, he put a hand on the chest again pushing Oliver to lay back as he moved over him. A leg between Oliver’s leg, stomach against stomach, chest against chest…lips against lips.
A hand rubbed over his cock. Fingers manipulated his nuts at times tugging them tight in their sac. Then the fingers worked down between the legs and touched him, rubbed over his tight opening until he was spreading his legs.
Oliver shuddered when a finger penetrated him. He moaned with the feel of it boring into his depths, twisting and turning, stretching him open. Two fingers penetrated him, then three, and he shivered with the stretch of his opening.
“Ben…fuck.” Oliver kissed the long neck, nipped at the skin below the right ear, then tugged on the lobe. He felt hot exhales against his own neck, then soft utterances.
“Oliver…can I…will you let me?”
“Yes.”
Oliver looked up at Ben holding his legs against the bare chest. A move closer and he felt cock touch him, rub over his loosened opening, then slowly, painfully, pleasurably, penetrate him.
Ben’s cock was thick, long, at least eight or nine inches long, and Oliver wondered ever so briefly if he could take it. He lay back clutching the bed as Ben pushed deeper and deeper. He felt the fullness of the penetration, how Ben’s cock seemed to reach impossibly deep within. Ben began to move inside him. A tug outward, a push inward, over and over, slowly, letting him feel every inch moving through his opening until he was gasping for breath. Then Ben increased his pace, moved faster and faster, until it was a man’s fuck. Physical; such an exertion it made Ben gasp for breath. Hips smacked his ass. Cock bore into his depths.
Ben moved over him, pushing his legs apart, and he wrapped them around the narrow waist feeling how the body moved over him. The undulating ass that pumped cock into his depths and the undulating stomach that pumped hot exhales against his neck. Fingers laced with his own and held him down as lips moved up his neck, along the jaw, until touching his own. He opened them to the tongue, letting it move inside him, like the cock moved inside him.
Oliver felt his own cock, pinned between them, rubbed to the point he wanted to come.
Ben hugged him, sat up rolling to sit on the bed, bringing him over and in the lap, cock still buried in his ass. He moved on it, up and down while his own cock dragged slickly over the stomach.
“Oliver…don’t stop.”
Oliver hugged the sweaty body holding him, penetrating him, making him so aroused he wanted to come. He kept moving on Ben’s cock, working his ass up and down its length while his own grew so erect it pointed up as it slid over the slick skin. Up and down with a steady pace. Up and down until he needed to come.
Oliver pushed back and rested on his hands, torso stretched out, and ass seated on Ben’s cock. He stared at Ben, looked into those vividly blue eyes and worked his ass up and down. Faster and faster until he was gasping for breath and sweat beaded up on his skin. And he didn’t slow, kept up his pace. He took his own cock in hand and stroked with the same intensity. Ben leaned back and began to push upward as he slammed his ass down.
Ben came first, shoving up and shuddering with release. Oliver kept working his ass on the spurting cock.
“Please…Oliver…”
Oliver came. Thick ropes of cum arced upward and landed on his chest and stomach. He settled his ass down on Ben’s spent cock and shivered as the last of his load dribbled out.
The shower ran hot steaming up the bathroom. Oliver faced the wall, forehead and hands braced on it. His feet were spread apart, and Ben’s cock was fucking him again. Slowly with full long thrusts into his depth. His own cock swung heavily between his thighs until Ben reach around and took it in hand.
A kiss to the back of his neck, then along the left shoulder. A hand stroked his cock while the other rubbed up and down his stomach and chest. Then a tall muscular body pressed against his back, and he moaned as he felt its undulation. Undulations that were pumping cock inside his ass.
It was Ben. The boy who came back. He opened his eyes and watched Ben’s hand on his cock. He pictured the tall muscular body as he felt it against his back. He pictured the thick cock as it sank into his depths.
Oliver came first, spraying the tile wall with his load. Then Ben was shuddering against his back while jamming hips against his ass.
Oliver woke during the night to Ben sucking his cock. Then he woke again to sunlight bleeding through the blinds giving the bedroom a warm glow. He was on his side and Ben was snuggled against his back. An arm held them together, and he smiled at the comforting nature of the embrace. He lay still, barely breathing, not wanting to wake Ben and end this fantasy come to life.
As graduation approached, Oliver and Ben found every chance to be alone. Each opportunity taken advantage of from being the last in the locker room at school, to parking down McGee Road to the south of town, to staying at one’s home when their parents were away for any length of time. Oliver took Ben in every way, eventually even being on top. They explored the other’s body, learned every curve, every mole or scare. They took the other in their mouths and their asses until sweaty and gasping for breath.
And afterward, in that moment of sweaty exhaustion, they whispered sentiments they dare not utter in front of others.
Springtime
Oliver walked across the campus heading back to the dorm. It was springtime and the campus was a hive of activity. Students heading to class or back toward dorms, and he walked along with them, feeling a part of the college that still seemed unreal. He had spent two years at the community college while Ben went over to Reid State Technical College. Once he finished his prerequisite courses, he got in at the university a couple of hours away while Ben finished his degree at Reid then took a job in Montgomery, an hour drive away.
He had just four weeks before finally graduating and receiving his degree. Four weeks and it would be time to get a job and settle into a new stage of life. He knew Ben had compromised on what he wanted, taking electrical courses to become an electrician when what he wanted to be was an artist. To Oliver, it was one more unfairness in life Ben had to endure but Ben had told him he always had his art regardless of the work he did to support himself.
He strolled past one of the planting beds and saw among the red and blue flowers, a group of bright yellow flowers. Their small petals stood out among the other flowers, bright as the sun, and it made him think of the sunflowers Ben always grew at his home. Sunflowers of various heights and colors, but it was those that towered over the others, twelve feet tall with large flowers. Flowers ringed with bright yellow petals mimicking the sun, staring back up at it during the day. It made him miss Ben. The blonde headed man who patiently waited for him to finish college.
Four weeks. Just four more weeks.