It was toward the end of my third week in El Cajon, and once I was ready to go out, I decided to go straight to the mall. It was still early, but my buds and I always met early, to decide what we were going to do with the day. There was a chance I'd run into more skaters using the mall as a place to meet.

As I skated down past the front of the mall, i noticed three boys sitting on the patch of grass just past the mall. I skated around the corner, before I skated back to sit on the curb close to the patch of grass. I leaned back on my hand, looking over my shoulder at them. They were three feet away.

Right away, I noticed one was older, maybe twenty. The other two were my age. Both of these had dark hair and eyes. Each of the three boys had a skateboard by his elbow. As I looked at them, they stared at me.

"I'm Z," I said. "Just moved here from back east."

The two boys my age rolled onto their stomach, pretending not to hear me. I spoke plenty loud enough to be heard. I had succeeded. I'd caught skaters who hadn't planned out their day already. I may as well have found an empty patch of grass for all the good it did me. I turned back toward the street to watch the cars. I could see the skaters out of the corner of my eye.

Things were no different here than they were back home. Any boy who did what I'd just done, while out with my buds, we'd have reacted the same way. I needed to talk to someone. I wanted to start fitting in as soon as possible. I was tired of being the lone skater.

They decided to study the side of the mall as they talked.

The third boy sat up, brushing the grass off his hands. He grabbed his board, and he looked like he was ready to skate away. He stood up to over six feet tall. He moved across the sidewalk and sat down on the curb next to me. I didn't know what to say.

"Don't mind them. They're from the, my shit don't stink side of things. I'm John. Where are you from back east, Z?"

"Massachusetts," I said, unable to hide my delight..

"Way north," John said. "My mom's from Pennsylvania."

"That's a big state. Took forever to cross it," I said with authority.

"You drove out?" John asked.

"I did with my family," I said. "My father got a job in San Diego."

"My dad's military. He's stationed at North Island. We've been here for five years now, and that's a long time to be stationed in one spot. Now that I'm out of school, I plan to stay. What about you?"

"I've dreamed of being in California all my life. It's what we all talked about back home. I didn't think I'd ever get here, but you never know. My father got a job offer, and here I am. It's less than glorious, because I don't know anyone here. I met Gordo a couple of days ago. He seemed cool. Now, I met you," I said.

I was sure I sounded like a dope to a grown man, but I waned to say something that kept him there for a few minutes.

"Gordo!" John said. "He's a bit on the wild side. He's a nice guy, and a good skater. I know most of the young skaters. By the time most guys are my age, skating is secondary. They're chasing women. Getting jobs. A few go to college. I'm not one of those. Haven't figured out which way to go yet," he said.

"I know the feeling," I said. "I haven't finished school, and I like some of the stuff I've learned, but nothing I like is going to become a career. A lot of guys go to college to figure out what they might be good at. That's way too expensive a trip to take if you aren't sure you'll use the subjects you're learning. I've got some time, but that's what worries me."

"Skaters are a different breed around here. A lot of guys my age are on the street. They don't have jobs. They skate and they hang out," John said.

"How do they survive if they don't work?" I asked.

"There's all kinds of ways to get by, Z. Guys my age have a lot to offer, and there are guys who like guys my age. It's all cool. I have a half dozen places where I do odd jobs. Places I hang out. I won't work just to make money. If I miss a meal now and again, that's cool too. No one needs to eat three times a day every day anyway," he said.

"Who are those other two boys?" I asked.

"The big one is Ace. The thin one is Dart. They hang together. As you can tell, they aren't that friendly to outsiders. Don't expect them to walk over for an introduction. If it suits one of them, they'll talk to you, but you've got to watch Ace. I'm not too sure about him. I've known Dart for a while, and he's harmless."

"Cool," I said. "Thanks."

"East Coast covers a lot of ground," John said.

"Massachusetts," I said, half looking at him, half not.

I tried to seem casual.

"Oh yeah, you said that. Gets cold I bet," he said.

"Yeah, winters are a bear. Where do skaters hang, dude? I'm not having much luck meeting skaters. All my buds back east skate," I said.

I saw no point in wasting time. I had a skater talking to me, and I asked the question that would most likely get me the result I wanted.

I might have asked him for the combination to the safe or for his girlfriends phone number. He considered the question carefully, leaning further back onto his elbows. He wore Spandex and my eyes couldn't help themselves. Who wear such garments. You couldn't hide anything from anyone. I checked the other two boys and one had on Spandex and the other had regular shorts, dark blue, and they went down to his knees. They were both preoccupied with something across the street.

John spoke casually. He seemed like he was OK. He didn't speak right away. He seemed like a guy that was in no hurry. He sat down to talk, and we were talking. He understood where I was coming from, but he wasn't going to solve my problems without taking time to think about my questions.

"Here sometimes," he said slowly, getting my eyes off the bubble butt of the other boy in spandex. Then I fought myself as they went back to the front of John's shorts. "Down at the tube we do a lot of skating, once it cools down," he said, nodding toward the back of the mall to where another halfpipe ran down one side of the parking lot.

"There's a couple of parks nearby. As long as we don't get too wild, they let us skate there. It's a smooth sidewalk and some asphalt walking paths. The Burger Hut attacks a lot of skaters, when we don't eat in the food court," he said.

"They hassle us over at the theaters, but we skate there anyway. The cops are cool, if we aren't running over people, or getting in the way of cars dropping people off to see a show."

John's brownish hair had blond streaks running through it. He had blue eyes. He was fairly tall. His long legs were covered in brownish colored hair. The spandex showed off a slim body, and he smiled each time I looked at the front of his spandex shorts. He had to be thinking I was gay, but he didn't react, except for a small smile. I figured John to be a pleasant guy. He was a little old for me, but what was too old? As long as he wanted to sit and talk, I was going to sit right there and talk to him.

I still wasn't able to adapt to boys in spandex. It left nothing to the imagination, and what I was imagining was x-rated. It was like I'd washed my brain, and I couldn't do a thing with it, and what I was doing with it made me blush. I tried to keep my eyes off his shorts, but without much success.

Gordo was cute. He had a nice smile, but there wasn't much to our conversation. Before I could ask him where he lived, he'd jumped up to meet his friend. He'd gotten into a nice white car. It could have been his dad, or it could have been an older friend.

Gordo seemed young, although I wasn't sure he was any younger than I was. I did know he sat with his leg against mine for five minutes or more. Didn't bother him a little bit, and except for getting me aroused, it didn't bother me. He'd said suggestive things, like he might want to get together later, but there was no point to most of our conversation. I didn't think fast enough to ask him where he lived or hung out.

John was way more mature. I knew a couple of places where I could go and find skaters. I'd passed the theaters and never gave them a thought. I'd passed one park on my way to Broadway from the park. It was a half a block down from where I was skating. Parks are marked with signs back home, no skateboards.

The atmosphere here seemed friendlier. I hadn't seen anyone shake their fist at me for using the sidewalk or while crossing a street. I hadn't even gotten any dirty looks that I noticed. Back home, skaters were rough. They got into a lot of trouble, and a lot of drinking went on. Although, except for a swig or two, so I didn't look like a wuss, I didn't like the taste of booze.

There was a war on drugs back east, and I was a conscientious objector. I didn't dare risk getting into trouble. My parents trusted me. I'd never gotten into trouble, except for the time I punched out Bobby Roth for grabbing my skateboard. All a teacher saw, was me winding up and smacking him in the face. I got suspended for four days, and I had to apologize to the creep.

It taught me a valuable lesson, if you're going to punch out someone, make sure a teacher isn't watching. Like most things, it was a reaction to what he did, but teachers never seem to see the boy who starts the trouble, they see the poor kid who refuses to be pushed around strike back.

John was in no hurry to be anywhere, when Ace and Dart skated away. I'd lost interest in them, but they were my age, and sooner or later, I'd get to know them better. El Cajon looked big, because it was so spread out, and you had one neighborhood after another, as you went toward Santee, a couple of miles away. For skaters, it was one big city to roam in, and there were a lot of places to go.

I wasn't going anywhere, as long as John sat there. He told me about Ralph's, and a pancake house nearby. Skater's hung by the dumpster at Ralph's, and under the trees at the corner of the pancake house parking lot. There was a burger joint down Broadway, and a surfboard and skateboard shop near Santee.

"You know where Gordo lives," I asked, figuring I'd give it a shot.

"Yeah, Gordo lives with me," John said, not missing a beat.

"With you? Where do you live, John," I asked, unsure of why I asked.

"When you skate, you go over the bridges, you can see skaters down in the concrete aqueducts."

"Yeah, I've seen skaters in those halfpipes," I said.

"You ever look farther along and you see skaters sitting up under the next bridge, next to those halfpipes?" John asked.

"Yeah, I've seen that. I figured it's cooler there," I said.

"It's out of he weather. We live under the bridges, between El Cajon and Santee. Santee is a bit farther out, and there aren't as many people. We leave our stuff there. Nothing valuable. You had your sleeping bag, if you have one, and you keep most of what you own with you."

"Wow!" I said, and it wasn't a good feeling that news gave me.

"How do you live without having some place to shower or do laundry?" I asked, my mind immediately traveling to how neat I'd been taught to be.

"I got friends. You really don't need a lot of stuff. Once you start collecting stuff, you've got to protect it, keep it safe from prying eyes, and there's always someone who will do his best to take anything of value off you. I don't have anything of value. I travel light," John said.

I stared at him. He was clean. His sneakers were cool enough. He wasn't wearing socks, It was obvious he wasn't wearing underwear under his spandex.

"How many of you live like that?" I asked, not having any idea what I wanted him to tell me.

He grew silent for a while, leaning back on his elbows. We watched cars turn onto Broadway.

"I don't know how many. Two or three guys hang up under one bridge. Sometimes it is more, and sometimes not. We usually have good, and we share, because you never know when you ain't got no food, when you are hungry. If you share what you got, when you got food, other guys tend to return the favor. It works fine. Like I said, it's an illusion we've got to eat three times a day. No one needs all that food, but because there is all that food, we figure we got to eat it."

I chuckled. John smiled at me.

"Your eyes, Z. You've got to be careful with your eyes," John said.

"I don't know what that means," I said.

"You've been scoping out what's in my shorts, since I sat down. With me, I go every which way but loose. Not all guys do. Not all skaters do. I wouldn't want to see you get yourself into any trouble, checking out guy's dicks," he said.

"We don't wear spandex back home," I said. "I've never seen guy walk around with their dicks outlined in their shorts."

"I get that, and most guys aren't going to think anything of it. Some guys like the idea of showing off their goods, but I'm telling you that you can't just stare at their dicks. You might make out fine using that approach, but sooner or later you'll run into someone who is offended by guys who like looking at dicks."

"I get that. I'm sorry. I can't get used to guys dicks just being right there," I said. "I don't mind. It makes me feel good that someone looks at me that way. I'm not like anyone I know. That's all. Be careful, Z. You won't have any trouble finding guys who are agreeable to having someone service them."

"I don't know that much about it," I said, willing to learn.

"You have plenty of time, Z. Don't hurry something that isn't meant to be hurried. Look around for a while. See what there is to see."

We heard skateboards behind us. Ace and Dart had gotten up. They were skating toward the back of the mall. John followed them with his eyes.

"Come on. Let's use the grass. My ass is getting sore," he said.

We moved to the patch of lawn. John stretched out on his stomach, placing his chin in one of his hands. He had a far away look in his eyes.

"Here abouts, skaters are free spirits. We live where we are at the moment. Guys I hang with are on their own. We don't conform to anything in particular. No one needs to live inside, eat three meals a day, or sleep in a cozy bed. That's a bill of goods we're all sold, so we work our asses off for the man, and help make the rich old farts richer. No! Give me fresh air, some odd jobs from time to time, and maybe I get in a car and make a few bucks if I feel like pampering myself," John said, seeing his life down the sidewalk from where we sat.

"Where will you sleep tonight?" I asked.

"As beautiful as it is, I'll sleep out tonight. It's way cool outside, after dark, than it is in a house, and then you need to run the a/c, watch the tube, and make sure everything smells outdoor sweet," he said.

"You've got to have shelter back east, or you'll freeze your balls off. I still live at home. I came out here with my parents. I wouldn't like living under a bridge. Who'd fix dinner?"

"I'm looking for work," I said.

"You can have my job," John said. "I'm not doing anything right now."

"I want to buy a surfboard," I said.

"You know how to surf, dude?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"Why do you need a surfboard?" John asked.

"I want to learn. You ever been surfing?" I asked.

"Sure, when I was young. Everyone had a surfboard then. Sometimes, as you grow older, doing the things everyone does isn't the thing to do any more."

"If I don't get a job, I'll sit around all day," I said.

"You're looking for a life, dude. If you can't make it here, you can't make it. It's easy, as long as you don't get too intense. It's like finding skaters. You keep your eyes open, you can't miss us. You just need to approach us with care. You got to give them time to look you over. Hear your story, you know. Everyone's curious about other dudes, dude. We'll ask you what it's like back east, and we'll listen to your story."

"You make it sound easy," I said.

"You sound like you think it isn't easy," John said. "Just be around, Z. You'll meet more guys than you'll know what to do with. It's time for me to make tracks. I might be back later today, but don't sit here thinking I might be back and you're going to wait and see. Hell, I might be in Arizona tonight, and I might be sleeping under a bridge in Santee. Don't try to pin me down, and we'll be seeing each other before you know it. Nice meeting you. See Yeah!"

I watched John skate away. He didn't look back, and I realized I'd meet a pretty smart guy. He was smart because he didn't think you had to do what you were told to do. He wanted to live life on his own terms. I liked that. I'd never be able to live that way. I was too conservative, too conventional. I'd always had jobs back home. I don't think I could live under a bridge.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

I watched John skating away from me. It wasn't noon yet, and I'd learned more in an hour from John, then I'd learned in almost three weeks in California. I'd never met anyone like John, but he was older than I was by a few years. He had something that I didn't have, experience.

I liked that he sat with me and told me things that I'd have found offensive coming from other guys, but I knew John was being up front with me. He didn't mind telling me about what he felt and what he thought about a guy my age. Except for Gordo, I hadn't talked to anyone but John. I wouldn't look for him, but when I saw him again, I hoped we could sit together and talk some more.

John left me with a million things going through my mind. I went to the food court for a soda. While I stood in line, a kid with a skateboard stood in line at the next shop, waiting to be served. I smiled and nodded at him, once he looked my way. He smiled and nodded back.

I didn't have the urge to grab him and force him to talk to me. Earlier that day, if I hadn't met John, that's just what I would have done.

I went home early, skating by the park I passed on my way to the mall. I skated around it and I saw the asphalt paths. A group of women were walking very fast, and I stepped out of their way, while I was looking around.

I went straight to my bedroom and I took out the journal I'd written in on our way to California. I had a lot to write about today. Things had changed today. Meeting John was a step in the right direction. He told me things I never thought about before, and I wanted to remember it all, and I began writing.

I didn't simply write about what we talked about, but I wrote about how it made me feel. I wanted to give John credit for knowing things about guys being together, and he had no objections to it, except he didn't want me to get into trouble by trying to move too fast.

John had slowed me down. He made me want to think more about what I wanted. I just didn't want to meet a guy who would let me hang around with him, I wanted to meet guys who were fun to be around, and maybe one of them would be so much fine, we'd become boyfriends. I know, it was a stretch, but sooner or later, I was going to want a boyfriend.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

I ran rampant creating images that covered all the possibilities. It was enough to make a good boy go bad, but instead it just made things a lot more interesting. Not only that, there was a hope that came with it that told me that soon I wouldn't feel so alone. I knew that would only come true if I was careful and didn't rush into anything. After going to my room that night, I wanted to write about everything that I remembered form that day. To write about my thoughts and experiences would leave my inner most feelings exposed for anyone in my house to stumble onto if they decided my behavior was odd enough to warrant it.

I wasn't an unconventional kid. I had never been in trouble. I came home on time and my parents had always known all my friends. I did fine in school. In spite of all that I knew that I had reached a crossroad and I needed to find where I belonged. I didn't know what that meant or what I might do to get to where I needed to go. I just knew that when it came time to make a stand to be true to myself, I was ready. If that meant going against my parents it would open up the distinct possibility that they'd feel obliged to rifle through my computer files, looking for clues and finding out my secret, and this was enough to make me stop before I started.

With that in mind I knew I needed to have a way to write down what was on my mind. Then I needed to send those thoughts to a place where they would be safe from my parents. A place where I could visit my writings and see where it was I had been and perhaps that would make it easier for me to see where I was heading.

I gave writing a lot of thought, before we left home. I definitely wanted to write down the impressions of the country, as we traveled through it. I wanted to be able to remember, where I saw the things I saw. Now that I was in California, I was writing down things that came to me.

I'd never thought my thoughts were all that world shaking, but this was California, and I was the new kid, and each night, after dinner, and before bed, I took out my journal and jotted down that days progress.

Writing seemed to be the best way to collect my thoughts, see the day more clearly, trying to make heads or tails of its meaning.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

When I met Gordo, he was on my mind, being the first guy in California to talk to me about California, and the things I could look forward to. John, older, wiser, and he made an effort to explain things, as he saw them, and lived them.

John ran deeper and seemed more serious than Gordo, but John was a hell of a lot more mature, and he'd been around the block a few more times. The fact he knew Gordo, and he didn't have anything bad to say about him, was cool. I didn't know when I'd see Gordo again, if I saw him again, and the same was true of John. They didn't seem to be tied to one place in a way I was tied to my house in El Cajon, and my parents.

This reminded me of my history teacher. The one who told us the truth about the Vietnam War. While I couldn't see it by reading the pages on that war in our history book, a teacher who lived through it, explained it.

"Kids, a quiet generation after WWII. The entire world was felt lucky to be without war, that things went back to the way they were, between adults and kids for the time before the war, which was a hard time as well. As the 50s spent themselves, all was quiet, except for the Korean War, and a little French thing in French Indochina, in a place called Vietnam."

"As lovely as everything seemed, with everyone enjoying the peace. When the French were thrown out of Vietnam, the good old Americans stepped in. We weren't going to let a bunch of peasants push us around. No one noticed this, and it didn't make the news. It was America, being America."

"College kids took a great deal of interest in the racial tension in the South. At this time, there was the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, authorized by LBJ. Military advisers in the hundreds, then in the thousands, went to Vietnam. There was an awakening among young people. Maybe it was the draft, maybe not, but if you couldn't afford college, and your family doctor wouldn't write you a note, saying you couldn't serve, you went into the draft lottery, and that wasn't good, if you wanted to live a peaceful life back in America."

"Once the war went full tilt, and the body bags were flooding back home, young people were the first to ask, why are we there? What did the Vietnamese do to us? What we got was, their commies, we're fighting for the free world, but what had the Vietnamese done to us? What was our reason for going to war?"

"What this amounted to was an uprising. It was orchestrated by college age boys, and it was fueled by college campus anti-war gatherings. Young people, who had always been silent and respectful to their elders, weren't silent any longer. The nation was full of war protests, marches, and in general, young people stood up. They were told to sit down. They asked why? They were told that their government told them so, and therein was the rub. The government had no answer, except it was the government, but of course all Americans know, the government is of the people, by the people, and for the people. Our government forgot all about that."

"The times, the music, the activities, and racial justice, women's rights, gay rights, all moved to the forefront all over America. The government wasn't doing anything about the injustices in America. We all knew about Vietnam. The body bags kept coming back home from Vietnam. Black people were treated like dirt. Woman were told to be in the kitchen, and in the bedroom, but not necessarily in that order. As you can see, a lot of oxes were being gored. The government could still say, 'Sit down and shut up,' but the people, especially young kids approach draft age, did not sit down, and they only got louder."

"Today, in the face of all this turmoil, kids have a great deal to say and do with what is going on. Never has the United States government been more petrified, than when the people stopped listening to them. If this continued, and there was no indication of it letting up in the late 60s and early 70s, the governments power would be drained away, and the people were going to do what they damned well pleased, because their government wasn't being accountable to its people. They should have been replaced, and they likely would have, if they hadn't done what they did to counteract the unrest."

"You have the right to be who you want to be, and adults aren't going to lean on you all that hard. Kids are not only seen, they are heard, and they figure into a great deal of the decision making. No one, not parents, not the government, not gigantic corporations want to go back to the anarchy the Vietnam War generated inside America. The next time, the protesters might not simply go home, once they think they've won. When kids speak, adults are listening, and trying to figure out how to keep the cat in the bag."

"You might say we got half a loaf out of what took place back then. The government got to continue being the government, and the people went to work, paid their taxes, and did their best to educate their kids. You have the freedom you have, because of the 60s. Once everyone realized how determined young people could become, they loosened up on the idea they could be told what to do. You can tell kids what to do, how to be, and the kids will decide for themselves, because when they finally stood up and told the country what was on their mind, everyone was listening, and things changed somewhat. You are the beneficiaries of that change."

John's lifestyle seemed to be what he decided it would be. I was certain that I could live on the street, but if I really had to. If something really drastic took place. I think I could make it. I didn't mind work. I tried to listen to my parents, and consider what they had to say, but I didn't agree with them all the time.

I realized what I'd seen, how I'd been treated, how my parents acted around me, made me like them. I think they call that modeling, but whatever it is, we learn by example. If you want your kids to be thoughtful and compassionate, you've got to be thoughtful and compassionate.

America was America. We'd done some very good things. I hoped to contribute to making our country even better, more responsive to the people. I wanted someone to stop gay men from dying, and I wanted for the preachers and the government to stop leading the hatred permeated government and religion.

While racial justice, women's rights, and gay writes made headlines from time to time, the opposition to it was mainstreamed. It was shouted from the TVs and newspaper board rooms. We needed to leave each other alone.

I wanted not to be ashamed of my feelings for other boys. I wanted people to be able to live their lives as they saw fit, like John saw fit. We had difficulty doing this, because people who had their rights, wanted to deny them to others.

Anyone gay, like me, had to be careful. If you were too vocal, too visible, there were people who would hurt you. I didn't want to be hurt. I wanted to be heard, and I wanted everyone to live together having the same choices. If not for black people, in the t990s, gay people were the most hated people in the world, and that wasn't something America should stand for.

While thinking about what I knew and thought, I felt like things were on the way to getting better. I was in California, and I'd begun to make headway. Whether or not I saw Gordo or John again, I'd make friends, meet people, and adapt to the California skater's culture. All in all, my life was good, and the kids were all right.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

I had made up my mind what I wanted to do. I wanted to love someone and I wanted him to love me. I'd figure it out as I went along. I was tired of being alone even when I was with my friends. I needed to plan how I would go about getting where it was I wanted to go. I decided to go to the mall at two each day. I would hang there until five when I would need to go home for dinner and then I'd return in the evening. I was sure to meet other skaters.

When John was around he always included me like I was his friend, and I liked that but we were never alone. I couldn't ask him what I wanted to ask him. I lucked into meeting quite a few dudes over the next few days. While they were mostly preoccupied with one another, they did speak to me and they didn't seem to mind my presence.

If I was with John, he introduced me to boys I didn't know, like he said he would. I didn't see Gordo, but I kept my eyes open. I began seeing boys I recognized on the street. I'd wave and they'd wave back. Sometime they stopped to talk, and I asked them what they were up to, and where they were heading. May as well make hay while the sun shines, by learning where skater's hung out.

There was a big difference between the skaters in El Cajon and the skaters back home. We had tight little clicks, and outsiders need not apply. The older boys wouldn't be caught dead with a younger skater, and younger skaters froze out, anyone somewhat younger than they were. Without knowing anything about a guy, you decided if he was in or out of your group.

From the day I met John, at least three years older than I was, and maybe four or five, he said he'd introduce me around, and he did. John was the guy I ended up talking to most often, and his friends, older guys, joined right in, like I was OK with them, if I was OK by John.

I met Ralph, a thirteen-year-old one day on the patch of lawn just past the mall. I gave him short shrift, which was how it was back home. I didn't want to be seen as a guy who like little boys, but in reality, Ralph was a good kid, and he was smart and funny. If I hadn't met John, and seen that there were no dividing lines between boys of different ages, I stopped to talk to Ralph, when I saw him. Each time he saw me after that, he gave me a big smile. It made me feel good.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

California was a different world. It took me two weeks to get to see Gordo a second time. When I saw him, I reminded him of our chat that day on the small patch of grass just past the mall.

He said, "Oh, yeah," but he didn't remember me.

We went through my name being Z, and me telling him the Z was for Zane, and he again asked me if I wrote. This time I could tell him I wrote every evening, but I didn't get into my journal revealing my inner most thoughts and impressions of a California I was getting to know.

"I been with my girlfriend. I sneak into her room at night. Her mother caught us doing it in the bathtub, when she came in early from work. She may have been saying, 'Go! Go! Get out! She didn't miss my hard dick, while I was trying to get my shorts on. You ever tried to slip spandex on over a wet body? Let me tell you, it ain't no quick job, and she stared at my dick the whole time. I know she wanted a little. I'll go back for some show and tell in a few days."

"A girl's mother. You'd screw your girlfriends mother?"

"Don't act so innocent. You get a chance to screw, you screw, you know."

I didn't know, and I wasn't sure Gordo did. I knew better than to swallow anything whole hog. I detected a bit of a story teller in Gordo, but it was a reason why I'd never be able to wear spandex, because any time a guy talked sex, I got aroused by what he had to say. Maybe because I didn't know anything, everything sounded titillating to me.

I wasn't sure Gordo was straight. I didn't know about the guy in the car he got into, the day I met him, but now he wanted to talk about women. I suppose it could be a good cover, or maybe he was straight. Then, I remembered how he let his leg lean against mine. I'd never had a guy do that to me before, but conduct was a lot more tightly observed back home. Guys were definitely friendlier here.

I decided to follow up on the conversation Gordo seemed to want to have.

"Bathtub?" I asked. "You do it in a bathtub?"

"Anywhere that's handy. She thinks she can't get pregnant that way. The water and all She got that in school. Gives new meaning to keep it clean," Gordo said, laughing at his joke.

"It was obvious you had big plans," I said, advancing my cause. "Spandex does give away what's on your mind, you know."

He looked at me for a minute.

"Always," he said, still staring as my eyes moved to the spandex and back to his face. "Oh, that. Hard to hide some days. Just hard on others. I got no complaints. I'm solid in that department. She can't get enough. Still can't get her to go down on it. Nothing like a good b j," he said, smiling.

"Nothing," I said, feeling a warm rush between my thighs. "That's what you wanted today?"

"Hey, that's what I want every day," Gordo said. Boys give better head. They know how it feels, and so they know what to do to get the most out of a hard aching dick, don't you think?" Gordo said, rolling on his stomach, letting his leg touch mine.

That was more like it. It hadn't taken him long to get off his girlfriend and to start taking a better look at me. He looked at my face, and he looked away, not moving his leg, but not indicating what was on his mind either.

"Whatever I can get," he said with a smile. "Once it gets hard, I want to take care of it, and she's easy. If she's really hot, almost anywhere out of sight will do. We did it in the park, behind the swings, one day. There are some bushes there. She pushed down her shorts and I stood behind her. Man I could get that sucker all the way up there and she didn't mention it hurt. Good position. From behind. That way she isn't constantly talking about hurry up, someone might come. Someone did. Me," he said, laughing, and rolling onto his back to pull at the front of his spandex.

"Why take the chance of getting caught?" I asked, worried about doing it in a park.

"You know how much harder and bigger your dick gets, when you are doing something risky, that people don't approve of and will bust you if they catch you?"

"No, I don't see the point in taking a chance. Sex is plenty good enough, when you can get it. Why risk everything?"

"It's the thrill, dude," he said, fully erect now, and moving it in his shorts, before giving it a good squeeze, while watching me watch him.

He rolled over on his stomach and pushed against the shady cool lawn.

"You're a bad boy," I said with a chuckle.

"You don't have any idea how bad I can get, Z," he said. "Which makes me very very good."

"You know John?" I asked.

"John? Sure, John's cool," he said. "He introduced me to Cindy. Up at Lakeside. He took her up there on his bike. He'd been doing her this past spring, but didn't like that she was always needing to be home. Her mom, you know. John wouldn't do her at the house, because the mother might come home. That's the part I like best. Makes it a little dangerous. I really get into thinking about getting caught at it. Like I say, I might go around looking for Cindy, when I know she isn't there, and I'll give mommy dearest a go," he said.

"Isn't she a little old?" I asked.

He rolled over onto his back and grabbed his erection through the cloth.

"Not to old for my pogo stick. She stared right at it. She wants it."

"I guess," I said. "Maybe she'll suck you off."

"Girls aren't that good at it. I mean I ain't complaining, but you want a good blow job, you got to find a guy who'll blow you. He knows how it feels. He knows what to do, and he don't complain and worry you to death, once you let him do it. Not saying I'd rather be doing stuff with a dude, but for a b j, a dude will give you a run for your money, you know."

"I know," I said, as if I knew all about it.

This was the conversation I wanted to have. I'd never been hotter the day I sat with Gordo on that patch of lawn, and he pressed he bare leg against mine. I was so hot, I could hardly stand it, and then he gets up and leaves. I'd thought about that day often, and we were right back in the same place again, and I was sure Gordo would say yes, if I offered to suck him off.

How did I do that without sounding queer?

We were ready to make the sale and I didn't know how to close the deal. Was I going to go home empty handed again? If I didn't speak up, Gordo would be off to his next conquest, and I'd be left empty handed.

I mean I wanted to go off with Gordo, to find out what it was like, but Gordo was a talker, and did I want it to get around that Z will do you for a favor. I would, but guys looking me up just to get me to do that for them, maybe not. I wanted to do it in the worst way, and I didn't, The time needed to be right.

"See, you know exactly what I mean," he said. "Guys like us need to stick together, you know. We can do things for each other."

"Sure," I said, not wanting to ask him to let me do it to him.

"I'd talked her into doing me and John one time. John wouldn't do it. I knew he was cool. He's not bashful. I watched him get blown by a guy who was staying with us under a bridge in Santee. John does like sex, but not two on a girl. I'll do anything. I guess John has some limits. He's still cool in my book," Gordo said. "He treats me like I'm a regular guy."

"You got to be careful not to let stuff like that get around. Most of these guys are cool, but some have big mouths. They tell everything they know. You can't let them know you'd go along with a deal with another dude. There's nothing wrong with it, as far as I'm concerned, but you don't want that gossip to get around," he said.

"No. I know that. Some things are best kept to ourselves. I meant with you, it would be cool. I don't know anyone else that well. Maybe John," I said, as Gordo pulled on the front of his shorts. He was deep in thought, and he didn't appear to me to be a deep thinker. I would shut up and let him think it was his idea, if we ended up doing something later on. On the lawn at the mall wasn't the place I wanted to get up close and familiar with a boy for the first time.

"I'll try anything once, you know," Gordo said, hand on dick and his eyes on me.

"Once, or four or five times if it's good," I said.

Gordo laughed, rolling onto his stomach to hump the cool blades of grass.

"You always ready?" I asked.

"They don't call me Hot Rod for nothing, dude. Ready, willing and able."

"And I need to do something. I'm going to find Cindy girl," he said.

"I thought her mother's always home," I said.

"We got places. The park is usually empty this time of day. I did her down in the tube one time. She's always wanting me, once she spots the telltale bulge. I think, when she sees my expanding spandex, she can feel it inside her. I mean she just can't wait. I know it isn't my winning personality."

"What would you do if you got caught doing it in public?" I asked, thinking it sounds about as bad as anything got.

"I'd be a horny guy with a criminal sex offense to prove it. With all the rank shit people do to each other, and no one gives a damn, if I can be made a criminal for doing what everyone has been doing for a million years, I won't feel no shame over it. The shame is how people treat each other. Making sex illegal is just another simple minded way of controlling us," Gordo said, sounding certain.

"That may be true," I said, but not being arrested, and having sex, sounds like a better deal to me."

"You're so practical, Z. Why didn't I think of that. I've had more sex than the law allows, and I ain't been locked up for it yet."

It was my turn to laugh.

"You really aren't bashful," I said.

"Being bashful never got me laid," he said. "If you're offering me a sure thing, when I'm only hoping I can catch up with Cindy, I can dig it. I mean I can't give you anything but a hand, but if you want to take a toot on my dick, I got no problem with that deal. A glow job in the hand is better than the possibility of pussy in the park," he said, lifting up to give me a good look at the bulge.

"Where do we go?" I asked, suddenly aroused and ready to go.

"There's a spot over by the half pipe. Lots of bushes, and a bare spot I made that's big enough for two," he said. "Although, I do jack-off there a lot.

"With guys I only use my hand. I don't do that other shit. I'm not like that," Gordo revealed.

He made it up as he went along, and I did my best not to lose focus. The ground rules changed as fast as they were mentioned. I still felt that Gordo and I were close to doing it, and I wouldn't know what the rules were, until we'd done whatever he had it in mind to do.

He may not have been like that, but the front of his spandex said that Gordo was ready to rock and roll. I wasn't wearing spandex, but when Gordo looked at the front of my shorts, he knew where my mind was, and he smiled.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

The night I had something to write about, I didn't know what to say. I'd gone with Gordo, and he showed me the place. He was out of his spandex before I turned around. Gordo in the all together, was all together gorgeous. He had a solid body and more than enough to go around, but I already knew that.

While I did what I could to give him what he asked for, he took that time to instruct me on how many teeth I had, and how my dentist needed to file them down. I was doing the best I could do under the circumstances, and two cars did drive by while I was trying to get the hang of it.

I knew we couldn't be seen with the thick bushes between the two of us, and passing cars, but the idea I would see the other side of the halfpipe, and I concluded, a skater in the halfpipe would get an eye full. It worried me, but not enough to make me stop what I was doing. It was the moment of truth for me, and my truth was all wrapped up in the boy I was with.

The SDSU marching band could march down the halfpipe, and Gordo would continue instructing me on how to suck the well endowed dick. All in all, he was patient, and I knew I bit him a could of times, trying to give him as good as I could. For my first time, it was a lot more exciting for me than for Gordo.

Practically ripping my shorts off, Gordo had another idea.

"Here, let me show you he said, making short work of my erection. Before he got started good, I was losing contact with just where I was. As much as I enjoyed doing Gordo, He swept me away by giving me the time of my life. I didn't know you could feel that good. I flew so high, I almost lost my mind.

With his hands moving all over me, Gordo stayed with me, until he drained me dry, and he didn't stop doing what he was doing, and in spite of the odds against it, he got be aroused again in short order. If something was worth doing once, there was no reason to rule out doing it a second time.

That had to be how Gordo felt about it. I was too busy trying not to faint to study his technique. What my first sexual experience with a California boy taught me a thing or two about Gordo. He talked a good game concerning girls, but he was as good as he needed to be, taking me on the journey of my life. I couldn't say whether I was coming or going, but it really didn't matter, as long as he kept doing what he was doing.

If Gordo did for girls, what he did for me, he would be popular indeed. He had the capacity to stay with what he was doing, until the end. Then, it became impossible to tell where the end was, because he started all over again.

When I met Gordo, I was sure that he'd be part of my first sexual experience. I figured it would be one of the most powerful experience, but nothing I thought could come close to the total euphoria that went with it. For a time, perhaps a few seconds, or a few minutes, I was not inside my own body. I soared above the earth, feeling like a shooting star, and my slow gentle return to earth was every bit as wonderful as the takeoff.

I had no objection to doing it again, but I had some idea that the human body had some limitations, and I didn't know I could do it again, not right away, but again it was, and as good as the first trip had been, the second took me higher, and further, without me being able to sense how high and how far. I'd never left my body before, and I was hoping to find it again, but as long as my mind was in the state it was in, that was good too.

I don't have a thing to add to my first great sexual experience. Gordo was the doorway to infinity that day. and I plan to hide this journal entry where my parents will never stumble upon it.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Gordo was closer to my age than John was, although John wasn't as overpowering. He was obviously more mature, and Gordo wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it. We had been sitting near where John and I sat, when John told me his secret. Gordo wasn't telling me a secret, as much as he was telling me what he wanted to have done to him. Which had me far more anxious to do the deed.

He wanted it now, and I could keep waiting to get beyond the idea of having a sexual deal with a dude, but I wasn't getting any younger, although I couldn't get more hornier than Gordo had me, with the mere suggestion that I attend to what for him was a major problem. John made it clear that getting together with me wasn't out of the question, but unlike Gordo, John was in no hurry.

This separated the two boys that had me thinking sexually. The boy with red hair made it an even three. Having sexual thoughts was nothing new, I'd been having those since I was twelve. The thoughts I'd had were a passing fancy. 'I bet he's nice.' I hadn't been ready to investigate my feelings until now.

When Gordo had enough, his intentions were murky. "Me, I never get enough. Maybe we'll see each other later on if you want."

I wanted to start looking for rings, but this would require much more investigating before it was time to be serious about a boy. As keen as I was to let Gordo be the one to show me the ropes. I couldn't shake the feeling, Gordo is not the guy I wanted to get serious about.

"I hope so," I said. "I like you too." I was sure glad I got that last bit out because he was gone before I thought to give him my number or ask for his. I was still on the verge of ecstasy and thinking wasn't one of the things I was doing real well. Just trying to figure out what we were talking about kept me on my toes. Then he wasn't saying anything and I didn't know any more about him than before we started. Well, maybe a little more.

He skated away from me before I could say anything else. I would make it a point to find him again and then maybe I could determine what shit was. Massachusetts wasn't even in the same century with California, when it came to doing stuff together, or maybe I just didn't know how to find people like Gordo. All I know is, I'd done more with him than I'd done with anyone else.

In Massachusetts, we were way ahead in conversation, because I always knew what we were talking about, when I was talking to my friends. Especially when it came to sex stuff. Back home, everyone talked about when they did it, but no one talked about what it was like to do it. I knew the reason why.

Real men didn't talk about their feelings. Real men didn't admit to any weakness. Real men had standards. It's just that no one knew what those standards were. Having them was the important thing, after all.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

The night after my afternoon with Gordo, I sat at my computer thinking about my feelings for him. I didn't want to get too far out ahead of myself. I knew how guys were, and I knew I didn't know Gordo at all, and yet I knew more about him than I knew about anyone. I knew what flipped Gordo's trigger.

How far we could go together, I didn't know. I did intend to find out. I already knew he did plenty with a guy, because he'd done it with me, fifteen minutes after we got into the bushes. It would take time to figure out where we were going, if we were going anywhere together.

I didn't know, but I intended to find out, if there was a next time with Gordo. I created a file, and I created a folder, and then I created another folder. I put the file with my most intimate thoughts inside them in the first folder, than I hid it in the second folder, I marked Rules For gym Class.

This was about the least likely place my parents would look, if they decided to go looking for my most intimate thoughts. I even began the document with rule one, you must have one gym type pair of shorts. Rule two, you must have one gym type pair of white socks. Rule 3, you must have one gym type pair of shoes, and rule three, I needed to find out how far Gordo would go..

As with most of the shit Gordo said he wouldn't do, I suspected what he did wasn't even close to anything he said he did. He was young, and there were probably reason why he was the way he was. I would do my best to see if I could get him to talk about himself.

Having my first sexual experience of any consequence, I thought that I wouldn't be horny again right away. It proved how little I knew about my own body. The night of the event, I woke up with it and Gordo on my mind. My thoughts were definitely not tor a PG audience.

By the time I left the house the next morning, I decided to look for John. He had been honest with me about doing it with guys, but he preferred girls. I was attracted to him in a different way than my attraction to Gordo. I liked John's calm exterior and honesty.

John knew Gordo, and I was sure they'd been together.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

It took another week to learn the names of the boys that appeared most often at the back of the mall. There were two distinct groups. The first one I tried to gain access to was made up of guys my age. This was the only place where they settled long enough for me to approach them, although I'd seen most of the faces inside the mall.

When I did feel comfortable enough to say something, they usually all grew silent and looked at me until they were absolutely sure I wasn't going to say anything else, and then they pick up where they'd left off, shutting me out once again. I wasn't going anywhere. I was sure I'd be friends with some of these boys. I'd give it time and wait for them to get accustomed to seeing me around.

I did recognized the technique. The guys I ran with back home froze out new boys. I can honestly say, I didn't know any better at the time. It isn't something I started, but I went along with excluding new kids from our group.

Until now, I'd never been an outsider. Now that I was, I wish I'd been nicer to new kids. I'd been a butt head, and it was my turn to see what it was like to be ignored, precisely at the time I was desperate for friends. Kids were cruel. I'd been cruel. Nothing like the shoe being on the other foot to learn that lesson.

I'd be perfectly happy to sit down, shut up, and listen to whatever they were talking about. I wasn't likely to turn states evidence on anyone, or brief the Ruskies on what California teenagers talked about.

After leaving such a gathering, after pretty much being ignored. I found myself being followed by one of the younger skaters. I wonder if he might have been sent on a scouting mission to see where I went, who I talked to. I couldn't be sure and so I went about doing what I did most days.

I spent a lot of time lying on my back at the far corner of the mall, looking into the clear blue sky over the San Diego region. Shortly after I dripped down to strike that pose, the younger boy dropped down beside me.

"Don't feel bad. They're too ignorant to give new guys a break. I know, I was the new guy last summer, when I moved here from Grand Rapids. I found them funny. They think they're the kings of their kingdom, you know. They're so narrowly focused, they don't know there's another world out there. I'm Ralph."

That was how I met Ralph. I'd seen him around, and he'd been on the patch of lawn past the mall on Broadway, with his friends one day. We hadn't been introduced, but I heard his name, and so I knew who Ralph was.

I was looking at him by this time. If the other boys gave me the cold shoulder, Ralph had provided my first honest to goodness warm welcome.

"I'm Z," I said, noticing he was probably in middle school.

"Z? That's your name, Z?" Ralph asked.

"That's what I'm called. My actual name is Zane, but I like Z better," I said.

"Z," he said. "That's cool. Better than being named after a grocery store."

I had to laugh. There were no Ralph's back east, so I didn't instantly think of the grocery store when he introduced himself.

"You were here with some other boys last week. I heard someone call you Ralph. You all took off right after I arrived."

"Probably figuring out where we might get food," Ralph said. "I remember seeing you. I wasn't sure where," he said. "You're interesting. I'd have hung around to talk to you, unless we were going to eat. Then, I'd have gone to eat."

"You don't eat at home?"

"Home isn't where my heart is. Being summer, I tend to get scarce."

"What do your parents think about that?" I asked.

"They live in their own world. I'm merely an inconvenience they created on their way to being absent," Ralph said, sounding far more intelligent than most kids his age.

"You know John?" I asked.

"Sure. John's cool. He knows where to get the best food," Ralph said.

"You can't go home and eat?" I asked, trying to figure that out.

"I won't go home if it isn't absolutely necessary," he said. "It usually isn't."

"What about school. You're too young to be out of school," I said.

"I'd like to drop out of school and see what anything is like, besides sitting in class all day," Ralph said.

"You need to stick it out through high school," I said. "That allows you to go to college later on, if you decide that's what you want," I said, offering the advice I was given.

"Believe me, it isn't what I want. I want to get on with it. Sitting in school all day is a waste of time, once you learn English and math," he said. "I know English and math just fine."

I found that hard to argue with, and that's when the rule of feast or famine came into play, as Gordo skated up.

I hadn't seen him since our afternoon in the bushes, but I was immediately aroused when he skated up. It wasn't hard to see what was on his mind. It wasn't soft either.

"Sup, Z," Gordo said, dropping down on the other side of me from Ralph. "How's it hanging, Ralph?"

"Hanging to the left. I decided to try running it down my left leg today," he said.

"Not that much to run, junior," Gordo said. "But it'll grow."

"Has since the last time you saw it," Ralph said.

"Yeah, well, you're at an age. You need to hang with boys your own age. You get more than you bargained for hanging around older guys," Gordo said.

"Surprising what you can learn, when you add a third person to the conversation."

"Not yet. I get pretty much what I bargain for. Guys my age are idiots. You never know what one will say or do. Old guys are predictable. The ones I know anyway."

"Sup, Z?" Gordo said, offering me his hand. "Some of my buds are inside. I figured you would like to meet a few. They're mostly cool. They know which way the water flows."

"I know which way I flow, and I can see you two don't need me hanging around," Ralph said, dropping his skateboard on the sidewalk, and skating away.

"See you, Ralph. Nice meeting you," I said.

Ralph waved without looking back. He did stop to talk to me.

"You don't like them that young," Gordo said.

"I was in the mall, being ignored by the other skaters. He followed me out," I explained.

"He's like a lost puppy. He never hands with guys his own age. I mean he's a nice kid and all, but way young."

I followed Z as he skated toward the food court entrance. I'd already tried and failed to get someone to talk to me in there. Obviously, having Gordo with me might enhance my chances of meeting other skaters.

"You guys know, Z. He's kewl. He's from back east."

Why didn't I think of that?

The boys who had been in the same area, before Ralph followed me out of the mall, were gone. These were guys in their twenties. They were way more mature, and everyone was immediately saying, "Hi, Z."

"Hi," I said. "I've been trying to meet skaters for weeks. You don't know how lonely it gets being the new kid," I said.

"Now that you know us, you don't need to meet anyone else," a tall boy with buckwheat colored hair and freckles said. "I'm Henry Holloway. They call me Freckles. I bet you can't guess why?"

"I'm stumped," I said happily. "Why do they call you freckles."

"Cause I got 'em on my dick. Only when it's hard, or I'd show you," he said, no bashfulness in his family.

"Freckles, shut up," a taller, older guy said. "He'll show you his butt too, if you ask him to. I'm Quick," he said. "Because the ladies can't resist my charm."

His smile was authentic, and I wondered if he'd asked to see Freckle's butt. That thought passed quickly, and I shook Quick's hand, because he put it in front of me.

There were more introductions, more handshakes, and off to the right, Ralph sat next to two boys who looked to be Quick's age. Gordo sat in a chair next to where I sat, and the talking began. Guys wanted to hear about the east. Not everyone talked, but the few that did were nice. A couple were funny, and a couple acted like their questions were important, and they waited for me to answer.

Had Gordo told them about me. If he did, what did he say? They were almost too nice for boys I didn't know. It was a nice change, and being alone became a thing of the past. Meeting Gordo had led me to the mother load in the local skater's scene. Each time I would meet one of them, and he was with someone I didn't know, I got an immediate introduction. That was the best part.

Most of the guys wore spandex. Some wore the knee length shorts that didn't give as much away. By the way freckles filled his spandex, I was sure there a lot of freckles on his dick. He was the brunt of some jokes, but he didn't seem to mind. Everyone was friendly.

As we sat and talked, some boys began to wander off. I looked for Ralph, who had been fairly silent, but he'd gone. Before long, Gordo and I were alone at the table where we sat. "You want another soda?" I asked.

"No, what I want is to go to our spot out back. I came through for you, I was hoping you'd come through for me. I ain't even jacked-off today. I'm hard as stone and twice as horny," he said.

"Stone gets horny?" I asked.

"When it's hard as me it does."

"You ask to see Freckles butt?" I asked.

"Freckles? You want a date with Freckles?"

"No, I just wondered if he was as easy as he seemed."

"The boy's from Nebraska. Raised on a farm. I went with him once, but I don't do boy butt. Not my style. He does a few things, but he's naive. From Nebraska, like I said," Gordo said. "Do you want to go somewhere or not?" Gordo asked.

"I saw you in the mall two times. You ignored me totally," I said, thinking direct was best. "We either know each other or we don't. I don't do part time friends, Gordo."

"Yeah, well, I introduced you around didn't I?" He defended. "I don't know you that well. I've got a rep. Some stuff you can't let get around, you know. I don't know who you been with."

"I been with you is all. It's the first thing you wanted to do," I said. "Want to know how many guys I was with back east?"

"How many?" Gordo asked, like he expected something prolific.

"None. I was with no one like we were together. No one knows I'm gay," I said.

"I'm not gay," he objected.

"You do a good imitation of a gay boy. Look, I did enough when I was real young, to know what I liked. That was kid stuff. Once I got in high school, I didn't want to be labeled. There was no one I was willing to risk ruining my reputation over. I'm gay. I'm old enough to figure out what it is I like, and who it is I want to be with. You do your own thing, and that's cool with me. It's nothing I'd ever talk to anyone about. That is between you and me, dude," I said.

"Really! Lucky you met me, huh? I took you where you wanted to go."

"You did. It was nice. I'm not very good at what I do, but I'll get better. It's not like I was born knowing how to suck a dick or what other guys want," I said.

He let his knee touch my thigh. He put his forearm next to mine, so they were ever so slightly touching. He wasn't looking at me, simply making contact.

"I like you," Gordo said, checking to see if anyone was in earshot first.

"I thought so until I saw you in the mall."

"Some times it's kewl, okay. Sometime it ain't kewl. In the mall when I'm with the ladies, it just ain't, okay."

"Okay," I said, not wanting trouble with him.

"Want to meet someone?" Gordo said.

"Yeah," I said, thinking I wanted to meet anyone.

"He's older. I was going over there before I saw you. Since you don't know anyone, I'll show you where he lives. In case I'm not around, you'll have a friend, you know. That's if you aren't into Freckles. Come on. You don't need to do anything."

We skated out behind the mall and went up the main drag until we reached Arapaho. I stayed just behind him and watched the way his Spandex moved on what seemed to be a rather fleshy bottom for such a thin boy. He never hesitated at corners or when the lights went against us, charging ever onward up a long hill until he zipped into a parking lot, grabbed his board and charged up some stairs ahead of us. He never looked back to see where I was, but I was close.

First he knocked on the door and then he banged and banged again after twenty seconds.

"Take it easy," the man said as he swung the door open. "Can't you give me a chance to get to the door?"

The guy was tall and old. Not old old but way older than us. He hadn't shaved and he was in a white T and blue boxers that you couldn't see for the T. His legs were hairy and he had no shoes.

"No!" Gordo said, using his elbow to dislodge the man from the door as he went uninvited into the messy living room.

The man looked at me suspiciously as I stood there, looking quite out of place. He had rather dark green eyes and dark hair. He wasn't skinny but he wasn't fat either. I guess he was like your average mid-twenties dude but I hadn't seen any in their underwear, so I wasn't sure.

"Oh, yeah, that's Z, he's kewl," Gordo said after dropping down on the couch and pushing his feet up into the middle of the coffee table.

"I'm Pat," the man said, quickly pushing his hand out the door to shake mine. He stood to one side, seeming to be inviting me in. I waited for the words. "Come on in before the neighbors start wondering."

He closed the door as I scurried past him and sat cautiously beside Gordo. He sat across the room in a maroon recliner. There were glasses, plates, and piles of papers stacked everywhere where things could be stacked, and when he ran out of places, he had started to stack stuff on the floor.

"I see your wife hasn't come back," Gordo said, looking at a Mad magazine he found on the floor beside the coffee table.

"I thought I told you not to bring anyone else up here, Gordo," Pat said firmly.

"Yeah, well, Z ain't no one. I told you he's kewl. He don't know no one and I was coming up here and you're good people and all. You know how it is. I couldn't get rid of him."

"Gordo!" I said. "He said he had someone he wanted me to meet. I'm from back east. Just moved here. Gordo is the first friend I made in the month I've been here."

"Maybe your luck will improve in time," Pat said. "Gordo isn't much, but he is persistent."

"Oh, Pat, and the last time I was here, you told me you loved me. I'm crushed. Like I'm totally crushed," Gordo said, not sounding crushed.

"I lost my head. The nicest thing about you is your dick. I meant I love your dick, and when you pull crap like this, I'm reconsidering that idea."

"Look, I'm trying to help you out. Just don't you say anything else until I get done smoothing things out here," Gordo said just like he had taken me aside to give me his instructions. "Anyway, he's kewl, Pat, just a little slow."

I rolled my eyes to show my disapproval but I didn't interrupt him. "That's what you said about that Donnie kid and he's here more than I am," Pat objected. "I can't get rid of him. Where do you find them?"

"Yeah, he's something else isn't he. Never gets enough and I got other fish to fry. I figured you two would get along fine," Gordo said.

"I'd like him more if he would go home," Pat said. "Don't, I repeat, don't bring anyone else up here with you. When I met you I wasn't looking for a date and I don't want to date your friends. I didn't know I was getting your entire dance card when I brought you home."

"Yeah, I know," Gordo said sounding dismissive. "Z's kewl. You'll like him too. I don't think he knows much. He's a virgin and I'm trying to help him out with that."

"I'm not either," I objected strenuously. "I never said that."

"I don't care if he's the Virgin Mary. I don't need to be fixed up with any more of your friends. You're a kid. I'm an adult. What if my wife decides to come back to me?"

"Take her a week to find you in this mess," Gordo said, looking at the stacks of stuff.

"Excuse me," I said, and pat turned to look at me. "You're married?"

Pat began laughing hysterically. He sounded quite mad. His belly laughter calmed down to a less insane sound, and then he chuckled and grinned.

"I'm hornier than anyone has a right to be. I mean even his friend is tolerable, because he has the same problem. He simply doesn't have a brain in his head. I met her at a bar where I play piano. We were both drunk. We fucked all weekend, and when we sobered up, we figured we ought to get married," Pat said. "That was last year, and this is the third or fourth time she left me, but then she gets really horny, and she knows where to go, and I'm married again. Why am I explaining my unfortunate life to someone I don't even know?"

"I'm Z. I could go," I offered.

I could wait at the end of the parking lot for Gordo, but I didn't know why.

"Z, I'm Pat. You're the only sane one here. Why would I want you to leave? I should leave. Gordo should leave," he said.

Gordo was obviously following the conversation closely.

"He goes, I go. That what you want?"

"You go. Leave him. I need some adult conversation. You don't qualify," Pat said, speaking to Gordo.

"No, that's not what I want. You're here now. What I want is for you not to bring me any more little boys. If you know a maid that works cheap I could handle that. You are fine. Why do you think I need anyone else."

"I thought you guys couldn't get enough," Gordo said questioning.

"That's what I always heard."

"Just what do you guys have in mind?" Pat quizzed.

"Gay guys!"

"I'm a married man. You think because I play the piano and I like to suck dick, that makes me gay?"

"If you're married, which would indicate that you're straight. Why do you like sex with guys, which could be an indication you're gay," I said, losing my head.

"You brought me Sigmund fucking Freud. Just what I need, a teeny-topper who does psychoanalysis on the side," Pat said, not sounding that out of sorts. "I'm not gay. I'm married. Do you really think about what you say before you say it or does this stuff just pop out?"

"Sure! I mean I thought guys that blew were gay. My mistake."

"Are you gay?" Pat said in a very accusatory voice. "I'm not gay. Frankly, Sigmund, I don't know what the hell I am. Does that help?"

I took the high road, remaining silent.

"Oh gee, I thought you were old friends by the way you told him all about me. Gordo, everyone doesn't think guys your age should be hanging around with guys my age. Let's keep it down to your school and the immediate area."

"I wanted to see you. He's a nice guy. He won't make any trouble."

"Until I met you, Gordo, I hadn't done that since I was your age. It was your idea, not mine. You're the one that got this ball rolling."

"Oh, like you didn't like it? Pretty good for not having any practice in what, twenty years?"

"Closer to ten," Pat corrected. "I find it's like riding a bicycle. Your dick happens to be perfectly shaped for it."

"Yeah, well, all you had to do is say you didn't like it. Maybe I wouldn't have come back. Maybe I would, because you're the only guy who has ever swallowed me whole."

"I never said that. You're putting words in my mouth. Once you thrust it at me, I figured, since it's there, why not. I just hadn't done it in a while. I'm not saying it wasn't OK."

"OK? 'Gordo, I think I may fall in love with you.'" Gordo said in a falsetto voice. " Got that tape, Pat?" Gordo asked. "I really get hard watching that tape."

"Which tape is that?"

"You know the one. With the three babes and the dude."

"It's in the player," Pat said.

"We do have that in common. Three's the right number don't you think?"

"Fine by me," Pat said, getting up to push the play button and turn on the TV.

"Oh, dude, watch this. It's my favorite part," Gordo said to me.

I felt a little like I'd walked in to the middle of a Three Stooges show. The guy was fat. The chicks were old and it was disgusting. What they saw in it I don't have a clue but there we were watching the most intimate acts anyone could perform, except once you get it on video tape, I think it takes the intimacy out of it. Not that it bothers me if that's what they want to do and it was obvious that's what they wanted to do.

When I looked up Gordo was on Pat's lap and I had become invisible. They took some time making certain they were positioned correctly. Neither one of them even glanced toward the movie. I had no interest in it.

Spandex peels a lot like a wet bathing suit, when you watch from a distance anyway. I hadn't remembered how light Gordo's hair was and there was more of it than I remembered at least from this angle. He kept one arm around Pat's neck as he fell on hard times, lifting Gordo up to make a full meal of it, and Gordo raised his hips, and he clung to the knowledge he held Pat's best interest in hand, while making it easy to eat.

Tightening his grip on Pat's neck, so he didn't get away, Pat positioned Gordo to take the full offering. Gordo raised his hips higher, making sure Pat didn't miss a morsel. They worked well together. Pat being considerate of Gordo, making sure he didn't gobble his food. Gordo, on the other hand, was happy to feed Pat, until he was full.

It was quite a nice-sized interest Gordo showed for Pat' appetite, and they both did a good job of making a happy meal memorable. Gordo's eyes closed after watching the first two acts intently.

He hugged himself tightly to Pat's neck, giving out with sounds of pleasure, until he gave him his just desserts.

The movie sucked. Pat sucked, but being there to watch the live show didn't suck at all.

I'd never seen anything like that back east, but I suspect I had come close once. I had been too young, too stupid to understand what I was seeing, before I knew men and boys both had toys they liked to share, and given the right circumstances, sharing them with one another was possible. When facing this reality, I had dismissed it as something else, which most people do.

I'd made another discovery in the apartments near Ralph's, at the upper end of Main Street. Everywhere I went, I learned new aspects, about people, I never understood, or thought about, before. The more people I met, the more differences there were in between people. They all looked similar, but you never knew what you might find behind a closed door, or a new pair of eyes.

When I sat down to write about my day, this is how it came out. I suppose what I didn't know about human sexuality would fill books, but I was learning, one experience at a time.

If my parents find this entry, they be calling a shrink.


Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm@yahoo.com

On to Chapter Six

Back to Chapter Four

Chapter Index

Rick Beck Home Page

"In Skater's Time" Copyright © 1 January 2003 OLYMPIA50. All rights reserved.
    This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

Home Page | Authors | Stories by the Writer Suggested Reading | Suggested Viewing | Links Privacy Policy | Terms of Service Send a Comment All Site Content © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer unless otherwise noted Layout © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer