This is the conclusion to my story about Will, an 18-year-old man in California, and Miguel, a 19-year-old baseball player from the Dominican Republic. I made it up and used names not associated with anyone I know. If you're a minor, you don't belong here, but you know that already. Go do something productive instead. Please don't reproduce this story in any form without my permission -- it's my creation and I own the rights to it.
- Damian
END OF PART 12
"That was really hot, buddy, having you undress me like that and making me stand naked in front of you while you were still dressed. I've never felt more vulnerable or excited, and I loved it -- every single second of it."
Still, my father's words in the bathroom this morning brought me back to reality: "If you two are meant to be together, it'll happen in time, but you're not going to be the same person four or five years from now, and neither will he. Give yourself some time to grow up and know what you really want, Will."
I stroked the side of Miguel's face and kissed him gently. "I need a nap, buddy. How about you?"
PART 13
I wish I could say that things between us stayed on that same high level, but that would have been wishful thinking. We had our good days and not so good days. On his bad days Miguel continued to resist the "gay" label and pretended that we were just "experimenting," but on his good days he demonstrated enormous love and affection for me.
When baseball season was in full swing, Miguel was on the road a lot -- sometimes for a week or more at a time -- so I was alone much more than I really wanted to be. When he would come home from one of those road trips, we certainly made up for lost time. I didn't talk about it to my family, but I'm sure they all knew what was going on behind our closed door.
Some of things I enjoyed with Miguel were just simple little things -- like the times he would give me a wink and a smile or just touch me affectionately. When he wanted to show me something on the computer screen, he'd call me over to the desk and put his arms around my legs as I played with the hair on the back of his neck.
One time he did this when I had nothing on but a pair of silky gym shorts. As he talked, he just ran his fingers up my thigh -- knee to butt -- and then acted "shocked" when he found no underwear beneath. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened next -- he played with my ass until my "rocket" tented out my shorts. He lost interest in whatever he had been showing me on the screen, and then saw that my shorts found their way to the floor as he orally relieved me of yet another hot load of cum.
Those were the times I lived for. How had I ever been so lucky as to have this sweet, sexy man in my life? We could never get enough of each other, it seemed.
One time at one of his home games, he invited me into the locker room afterward. I got to see every one of his teammates showering and dressing, and it was clear to me that I had gotten the "pick of the litter" in getting Miguel for a roommate. He was definitely the hottest one on the team.
Another time I invited him to one of my gymnastics practices. After everyone else had showered and left, Miguel dared me to go through my routines again -- only this time naked. Wow, was that ever a turn-on for both of us! I did almost all of it for him -- floor exercise, rings, vault, parallel bars, and high bar -- not attempting the pommel horse, to protect my "jewels." I had never in my life done any of that in the nude, but long before I was finished I was completely hard from the thrill of him watching me. I felt like one of those ancient Greek Olympic athletes who competed with nothing on and wondered if they had enjoyed the experience as much as I did. Then I dragged Miguel to the showers with me, and he sucked me off to one of the greatest orgasms I'd ever had. Naturally, I returned the favor, and he came more quickly than he ever had before.
In June I graduated from high school. I never dated much as a teen, but I took a close female friend to prom and some of the senior week activities. I never came out to any of my classmates, but I think she at least knew.
I got a summer job as a lifeguard at a nearby swim center. Since it was mostly outdoors, I got a pretty good tan over the summer, which my pasty white skin definitely needed. Miguel often teased me about looking more like him now, but of course I could never be as brown as he was.
With high school now behind me, I had more time to relax and enjoy Miguel -- when he was at home. It was truly a wonderful summer. But as August rolled around, it was impossible to deny that our time together was drawing to a close. Classes at San Francisco State started on August 25, and orientation required me to report to campus five days before that. Ordinarily I would have been chomping at the bit to go, but leaving Miguel behind was going to be very, very tough on both of us.
He got home from a road trip only two days before my departure, so we spent as much of that time together as possible. On the last night we made love in every position we could think of, then washed each other's bodies thoroughly in a joint shower. We held tightly to each other all night long, not knowing when the next time would be. He had to leave the next morning before I did, so we had a tearful good-bye in my room, professing our mutual love for each other. We were both an emotional wreck.
My parents took me to campus later that morning. I had always thought this would be a day I'd never forget, and I was right -- it's just that I never expected it to go quite this way. As I hugged my parents good-bye, I could see it in his eyes that my dad completely understood my internal struggle. I realized was going to miss him almost as much as Miguel.
I had once wanted to be on my own, but for weeks afterward I felt like a giant rubber band was pulling me back home. Miguel promised to come visit me on campus when he got a chance, but that never happened. In October, after his baseball season was over, he called me with devastating news -- he had been traded to the New Orleans Zephyrs quite unexpectedly. He would be returning to the Dominican Republic for the winter in just a week. I was in the middle of mid-term exams and couldn't get away, so we cried on the phone together and once again professed our love for each other, not knowing when we would ever see each other again.
As it turned out, Miguel never played for New Orleans. His father died suddenly just after Christmas, and his distraught mother persuaded him to stay home and take over the family business and help her with the younger boys, who were still at home. By then Ricky was away at college, so there were only two of his brothers remaining in the house.
We stayed in touch by e-mail, but it was a poor substitute for being together in person. Being back home meant that it was even tougher for Miguel to even think about pursuing a gay lifestyle, and eventually there were greater and greater intervals between his e-mails to me. I felt him slipping away from me. I occasionally hooked up with some other guys on and off campus, but no one held a candle to Miguel, who had spoiled me for anyone else.
In my junior year at SFSU, Miguel revealed to me in an e-mail that he was going to marry a young women he'd known since high school. This was heart-breaking to me, of course, but I knew he had been getting a lot of pressure from his mother to "settle down." I wrote back and wished him well -- what else could I do? -- but I was nearly catatonic for weeks afterward. My grades suffered for a while before I could get a grip on myself.
A year later he admitted to me in another e-mail that he'd made a big mistake and that he and his wife were splitting. I wasn't surprised, but I didn't say "I told you so." Ironically, although it had been overcast and foggy all week long, the sun chose that moment to reappear. I opened the blinds, closed my eyes, and let the sun envelope my bare shoulders as I hugged myself, pretending it was Miguel.
As I stood there, I thought back to my father's comment in the bathroom when I was only 18: "Give yourself some time to grow up and know what you really want, Will." But I knew that what I really wanted hadn't changed at all in the past four years.
That brings me to the present moment. I'm 22 now and working in San Francisco for an advertising agency as an account trainee. It's an okay life, but it's been empty in the ways that really count. I've had no one to call my own or even snuggle up with in over a year.
But that won't be the case tonight -- and maybe ever again.
The baggage claim carousel slowly snakes its way around the room, filled with luggage that just got unloaded from American Airlines flight 1455 from Miami. Impatiently I scan the crowd of unfamiliar faces. Then I spot a handsome brown face grinning at me from across the room. We run to each other and I fall into his familiar embrace.
After four long years, my Miguel is home.
THE END
Thank you to all who have sent me feedback about this story. Please send any feedback about this concluding chapter to me at nvtahoeus@yahoo.com. Please mention your first name and location in your message (I've heard from readers on six continents -- still waiting for one from Antarctica!)
If you've written to me in the past, your e-mail address is on my mailing list so that I can let you know if and when I write another one. I currently have five stories posted on Nifty. Check under Damian on the Authors page on Nifty for a list.
Be safe, love well, and enjoy every moment!
- Damian