Freedom

I had managed to navigate my way through three years of high school while keeping my deepest secret safely hidden. With only one year left to go, the 1970’s would be over and so would the living hell that I called high school. It had become a daily web of lies that I’d weave just to keep friends who’d abandon me in a heart beat if they new the truth. Especially a few of my male friends that I had developed crushes on at one time or another.

I’d watch them pair up into boyfriend and girlfriend and then celebrate monthly anniversaries as if it were some sort of milestone. The textbooks all said that this mating ritual was a right of passage that has been revered and celebrated through the centuries. However, the very same feelings between boys were deviant and despicable behavior. I tried to stop thinking of boys in the way that they think of girls, but I couldn’t. It was like trying to get a cat to chase a dog up a tree. – It’s impossible!

Only graduation night would bring me the freedom that I had been praying. With only 9 months left to go, it felt as if it were finally within the realm of possibility. All I had to do was to suppress my desire for a life of faggotry between now and June. Pretty simple, right? - But no sooner had I finished that thought, did I catch a glimpse of a boy that I’d never seen before. He looked as if he’d just stepped into 1979 from somewhere back in the 1960’s.

Even from the distance that I first saw him, his long hair and blue eyes were absolutely captivating. I watched him climb out of the most colorful VW bus that I’ve ever seen. It was emblazoned with hand painted flowers and I watched him ignore the obvious spectacle that it and his hippie style clothing was creating. I could tell that he’s had practice dealing with being different and it left me with a sense of shame. I chose to hide my difference from the world, and here was this kid wearing his like a fucking uniform. I rushed over to do or say something, but as I approached, I saw a slight look of alarm on his longhaired father’s face. I could tell that he’s had practice worrying about his son.

“Cool van!” I said.

“Right on man! – You see Free? – I told you not to worry! – What’s you’re name brother?” His dad asked.

“Oh…um…my name is Chico sir.” I said.

“Sir? – You can call me John, and this is my son Freedom.” He said.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and my entire body was pulsing with electricity. But that was nothing compared to what I felt when Freedom’s warm hand met mine in a friendly handshake. He looked me square in the eyes and said “Hey” with the most beautiful smile on his face. John motioned me closer to the passenger window and introduced me his wife. She said hello and in not so many words, she thanked me for coming over to say hello rather then stare like the others. I took a quick glance at his schedule and told his mom that we had 3 classes together. She seemed pleased and I was to even if P.E. wasn’t one of them.
We talked for a minute longer before I was introduced to the girl sitting quietly in the back of the van. It was easy to see that she was Freedom’s sister.

“Hey Chico! – This is Free’s sister Liberty.” John said.

I liked the way his did shortened Freedom’s name to Free and wondered how long it would be before I could do the same. As it would turn out, it would be only a matter of minutes. I asked him where he was from and he said that he was born in Oregon, but had just moved down south from Northern California after his mom and dad graduated from U.C. Berkley. There were only minutes left before the first bell would ring and I was already missing this person who was walking by my side.

“Okay Freedom! – This is your homeroom man! – I’ll see you in history, okay?” I said.

“Right on! – But call me Free, okay? – That’s what my family and friends call me.” He said.

“Bitchen!” I said.

“Chico is my nickname!” I said over my shoulder as I dashed off to my homeroom.

I was floating as I walked to class and new better then to allow myself to feel what I was feeling. I had been down this road a few times before and knew that it was pointless since I could never tell him that I was attracted to him. I knew that just like all of the other boys that I’ve liked, some girl was going to take him away from me. I’d soon have to sit in silence while she held his hand and kissed his lips. I’d cry myself to sleep for a few nights and then somehow manage to maintain a friendship through the false pretences that I’d become very good at creating. But at the same time, I had also become very good at rationalizing even the most ridiculous hypotheses if they’d support even a remote possibility. I had been prying for freedom from this hell on earth and this morning, Freedom stepped out of a VW bus and had me feeling better then I have in more then year. I couldn’t overlook the irony.

Who knows? – Maybe this was the result of my prayers. All, I know is that by the time that October was coming to an end, Freedom and I had gone from total strangers to close friends. On that first weekend of our new friendship, I learned that Free had about as much modesty as I had self esteem. Free and I went for a swim in his backyard since late October still felt like summer. I took every opportunity to look over the exposed parts of his body and found all of it to be flawlessly beautiful. But that all paled in comparison to what I was allowed to see in the privacy of his bedroom. I was used to how most of my friends would step into their closet or excuse themselves to the privacy of the bathroom when changing required the removal of underwear. I found it odd that even though we’d seen each other naked in the boy’s shower countless times before, being naked together in our bedrooms was no longer acceptable.

Freedom didn’t subscribe to this theory. He had no nudity hang ups whatsoever, and stripped down naked without any hesitation. Not only did he strip naked; he stayed naked while he took his time searching through dresser drawers in search of dry clothes to wear. I had always thought of a guy’s penis in terms of big or little, hairy or not so hairy, but Free’s was simply beautiful. He was the first one to make a comment about my sense of comfort being naked. Little did he know that it was as big of a surprise to me as it was to him?

“Whoa! – I hate what swimming does to me penis.“ Free said posing to show me his shriveled penis.

“No kidding! – I’m all helmet, no shaft!” I said looking down at my waterlogged penis.

“Yeah, but that’s a pretty big helmet.” Free said.

I didn’t know what to say other then Thank You. I had never had anyone compliment my penis before and it sort of caught me off guard. I wanted to compliment him back but I was afraid that anything I might say would be a dead giveaway of my feelings for him. Like me, his penis wasn’t more then a head protruding from his bush of dark brown pubic hair. I causally commented that at least he still had some shaft showing after getting out of a cold swimming pool and he countered my comment with an even bolder comment.

“You’re bigger! – You just have fluffier pubes covering your shaft.”

“You’re right! – There you are little buddy.” I said to my penis as I pushed my pubes back to expose two shriveled inches of shaft.

Our penis conversation continued and eventually led to comments about some of the well-endowed boys in our P.E. classes. Free asked me if I knew a guy named Robert and of course I did. I also knew that for a guy with such a below average height and weight, he had an extremely thick and lengthy penis. We also spoke about the least endowed boys too and agreed that being average wasn’t a good as being like Robert, but it was a hell of a lot better then being like Jeff in my class and Mike in Free’s class. For as much as we talked about our dicks, we never seemed to get around to the topic of masturbation. We seemed to look for reasons to expose our dicks to each other and I don’t recall pissing out doors as often as I did whenever Free and I were out and about. We’d be at the mall all day with restrooms available at every turn, but it wasn’t until we’d take a short cut through a vacant lot on the way home that we’d suddenly have to pee.

One time we stood there with our dicks out long after our streams of piss had stopped as if it were some sort of contest to see how’d put their dick away first. I was pretending to shake the last drops away when Free said that if I shook it more then 3 times, I was playing with it. He said it as he was putting his away and that was the closest we’d come to the subject of masturbation.

When two months had passed and a girl had yet to steal Free away from me, I let my guard down a little even though he had infrequently verbalized an attraction to them. For the first time, I found myself not going along with the status quo and professing an attraction to females like I’d done with other boys that I had liked. I just left the subject alone and Free didn’t ask say anything that would force me into an admission or a denial.