The Summer of 1977 - The Journey Begins

Note : This story is completely fictional!

I only had Bobby in one class out of six. Before he walked right into my life, I had never been in love with anyone, much less another boy. Yet, when that symbolic light bulb illuminated overhead, I never questioned it. I never tried to deny it, not for a second. I was in love and it was wonderful. Suddenly, my life had meaning and a purpose. Now Bobby wasn't the most beautiful boy in the world. At least not by most people's standards. But to me, there was no boy more beautiful, none cuter, no one more adorable, or with the ability to stir the feelings that that washed over me when he came into view. He had strawberry blond hair that was always falling across his eyes. It covered his ears, but just to the lobes. In back, it went a few inches from his shirt collar. His eyes were blue-green and wide. 

His forehead was tall when his hair wasn't covering it, and his chisled facial structure made him appear to be a bit older than 18-years. He had a thin, delicate, button nose that curled up just slightly at the end. His mouth was wide, with extra lips full, and he smiled the biggest smile I'd ever seen. His teeth where perfectly aligned and whiter then white. The bottom teeth where tiny in comparison to those on top. His skin was so smooth, but had a touch of brown. There was just a hint of freckling on his face.

He always dressed in faded jeans, light blue Levis, that appeared to have been custom taylored for him at the waist and inseam. I often wondered if I was the only boy to notice that Bobby never had a detectable bulge in his pants. Not like some of the other boys who walked around campus with a clearly defined penis, mostly to the left, and bulging balls below and to the right. At a bare minimum, a guy would have a mound pushing the zipper or button fly outward even if you couldn't distinguish the beans from the franks. Not Bobby, and I didn't care. I was in love with him as a person. He was the missing piece to the puzzel that would make my life complete. I loved all of him and accepted him "as-is". I often spoke to God at night as I layed in bed, and I would end my prayers the same way.

"Bring him to me and I'll never ask for anything more for as long as I live. Please God!"

He was fond of Hanes Pocket-Tee's. He had dozens in each color. Gray, Navy, black, Green, Maroon, Powder Blue, and Tan. If I had to pick a favorite color, it was the navy-blue shirts that lightened in color after many washings. They where usually short enough to afford a glimpse of his belly if he raised his arms upward. On such occasions I had been able to see the waistband of his briefs and that he had an 'innie.' He also had one thing that most boys that I knew did not. He had a very fine trail of hairs going down and into his underwear. One the days when things like this happen, my penis would pay the price late that night after my parents went to sleep.

His voice was one of those in-between voices, not deep enough to signify an adult, but not squeaky or high-pitched like a young boy and just a little raspy. Yet when he spoke the words flowed and captured my attention. He wasn't the brightest kid in class. Always in danger of failing, but it wasn't from lack of effort. He tried. He tried hard, but somehow his efforts never managed to please the teachers as much as it pleased the coaches.

I sat across the room and just behind him in Mrs. Woods class. It was easy to gaze in his direction without drawing the attention of the teacher or students. And I gazed. Day after day. Never feeling the need to look anywhere else. Just to gaze and daydream that maybe next semester, I'd have P.E with him. I daydreamed about that a lot.

I imagined myself to be in his P.E. class, watching him in the locker room, slowly peeling away his faded Levi's, then his bright white jokeys. He couldn't have much muscle and must be rather bony. He wouldn't be very defined. I figured that he'd have nickel-sized brown nipples with only a slightly reddish hue. His stomach would be flat, but not toned, no ripples, but no fat. His legs would be thin, with his kneecaps sticking out. There would be no hair on his body other what layed below that trail that started at his "innie" he'd have a noticable v-shaped crop of pubic hair above a penis. I had a herd time coming up with a mental image.With his lack of a bulge, I could only assume that it was a smaller than average, with testicles that clung tightly between his legs. His sack would be hairless and his penis no darker than the rest of his skin. 

But I was day dreaming something far different as I sat there in class. His penis would hang full and thick, making it appear as though it were bigger than it's actual size, yet still not being as big as most. I'd follow him into the shower and take the one across form him so I could get a better look. I'd watch his ass from behind as it jiggled slightly with each step. I think that is my favorite view following the crack of his ass as it curves downward, his legs parted slightly, just enough to allow me to see the back of his scrotum, and maybe, if it is long enough, the tip of his penis hanging below.

He would linger in the shower and I would wait, taking my time not wanting to miss a single second of his nakedness. We would bump into each other as he turned to leave the shower. It would be electric. We would make love right then and there without regard for anyone who may still be dressing or watching. We would hold each, lips pressed together, tongues intertwined.

It was a dream that could last forever. But alas, third period would end and my cute and sexy little Bobby would disappear for another day.

In my dreams at night, I'd dream that he would invite me to hang out after school. We'd go to his house. He'd take me up to his room and I'd look at the posters on the wall, Sabbath, Ozzy, Zeppelin, Iron Maiden, and the like. He'd turn on the hi-fi and invite me to sit on his bed. He'd sit down next to me and pull out a magazine from under his mattress. We'd look at the pictures until we had all that we needed. We'd lay back on the bed, or legs bent at the knees and hanging over the edge. Our shoulders would touch. That feeling would surge through us both, turning on that secret desire. Then we'd giggle and smile at the now noticable lumps in our pants. I'd look directly into his eyes and try to send a secret message. With my eyes, I'd try to tell him that I wanted to makeout with him more then anything in the world. I 'd admire the smooth skin of his face. Finally his eyes widen, and I know that my message has just been recieved. He looks towards me, and our eyes would meet. We'd smile at each other and then slowly moved forward until our lips touched. I remember how lucky I felt to be able to have these wonderful and realistic dreams. More often the not, I'd wake to find the evidence of just how vivid these dreams where. The warm liquid sex that saturated my pubic hair and ran down my crotch would be proof the I loved him.

During the next few school years, we became closer and closer until we became best friends. Like most buddies, we succumbed to the curiosity that comes with uncertainty over where you stand in comparison to other's. Bobby and I confided, and swore each other to secracy about things we either did, or thought about, while masturbating. Eventually we masturbated together. 

His penis was extreamly small for any guy, not just for one his age and he knew it after seeing mine. And I'm average at best. Once he saw his much younger cousin nude he became depressed over his size. I remember telling him that I could guarantee that there was someone out there that would love him no matter what. Someone who loved him for how he made them feel and could care less about the size of his dick. Somone who was just waiting for him to come along and make their life complete.

"Like who?" He said.

I was just about to say "Like Me!" when he continued by saying that he dreamed of getting married, having a bunch of kids, playing sports with his sons, and making love to his wife.

All I could do was sit there and be a good friend to somone I loved more then I loved myself. To support him and listen to him say things that he had no idea where tearing me apart and making me sadder then I had ever been. I wasn't dreaming this time! This was fucking real! 

I wanted to scream, to put an end to this misary. I wanted to tell him that maybe a wife and kids wasn't what was intended for him. Of course I would never say it out loud but I needed to scream inside of my head to drown out the horrible things that he was saying.

"Why are you hurting me like this? Why are you so worried about the size of your dick when I love you just the way you are Bobby, why?". You're perfect and I wouldn't change a thing, I'd love you forever. Why can't you see that? What's wrong with me that makes me unworthy of you love?"

Even after revolations like this, I was not able to stop loving him. I somehow convinced myself that he would be ridiculed one time too many over the size of his penis. I would just have to be patient and be ready to tell him that I loved him just as he was. And although I could never give him kids, I could promise to love him for as long as he'd have me. I'd tell him that he was the missing piece that I needed to make my life complete. And that I'd sit quietly and wait in the event that he grew tired of what ever it was that he was looking for.

I started to have dreams about him that gave me hope. I could see us making love and holding each other for hours. I could see Bobby doing things to me that I had never thought he would like to do. But in my dreams, he does. He loves doing it, doing it to me. I could see way into the future and dreamed of this wonderful life that we'd share. It restored my faith that it was there was still reason to hope that he'd eventually see that I was lovable.

But soon, these dreams became painful when, time-after-time, they'd trick me with their sharp vividness. Making me believe they where reality.

In my dreams, a teacher would assign Bobby and I to work on a class project. He would come to my house after school and we'd head up to my room. We'd spend five minutes on the project and the rest of the night, in my bed making love and confessing our love for each other.

In my dreams we'd meet in the overgrown field next to our house's. In the tall grass we'd kiss and hold hands thinking about how lucky we are to have each other. Convinced it's all some sort of dream, We'd agree to kiss with tongues to prove that it was real.

In my dreams we make love all night, never running out of passion or fire. I'd lay there holding him as we came down from the clouds. With his breathing still labored, he tell me how much he loved me, ask me to promise to never let him go. As if I could deny him anything? I lay there staring at the ceiling with his warm body wrapped in my arms.