June Spoon
By
Timothy Stillman
I awoke that early morning in the new year, soft warm breezes, an ocean that went on forever, in placidity, in contentment. In my warm soft bed, my window open to January, the touch of my sheet over me, nakie save for my favorite black undies, come on them from last night's masturbation, and was an open tender heart for everything. I had time. I was 15 and in love, and loved in return. No more school `till March. Time for making love, and TV and eating and going to the mall. New Years' was when we came out. New Years' full of plenty ahead and hand holding and fears gone away.
I smiled to myself and put on my glasses from the bedside table, my Harry Potter glasses, and I stretched my long and skinny body and closed my eyes in that delicious state when morning means a whole day of glassy sun and roaming with friends and laughter--god, the laughter, and the sheer fun of life--even going to the grocery with my mom was fun. Being me and nobody else and run I thought and swung my legs out of bed, the rest of me coming with them of course, peeled off my undies and dressed in summery clothes, in wintry soft light blue shirt and shorts and tennis shoes, wondering and feeling every part of myself, my hand on my crotch, stroking my penis hard, my butt cheeks clinching back and forth, not conceited, just me, kind and polite and an elf and an imp inside me.
After grapefruit and juice in our kitchen, I ran to the beach and the ocean and the day and the world was my friend. Sometimes early morning when it was still sun sleeping time I would run naked on the beach and swim in the cold enveloping ocean, with my head running free and my arms paddling and legs too, all of the day drawing down for me, as if the world were one great big kiss--an extravaganza signaling friends up ahead, and arcades and movies and comp games and web sites popping color and sharp and dream almost there if I could just get through the screen some how, but luckier than images, and I ran past the few people on the beach this morning, having discarded my shirt and shoes--and I was pale from the summer months, but here in winter I would grow a nice tan like a song baking through my skin.
No camera ever caught me not smiling--no day ever found me even in school not happy, not filled with the coil of life so always unwinding, so always beneficent, and friends found me generous for that is what we are supposed to be--my lover--my hope--my lips to find him later on this morning in my room and touch of eyes closed eyelids and putting them next to his, and feeling the soft breath of them, for eyes closed and held on his own eyelids make them breathe, and his face on mine, his mouth on mine, the skin and texture of our faces, known only to the other, for we cannot tell how our own faces, our own bodies and hands feel, not really, only someone else can tell us that, and the same for him as well.
Zephyrs blew and the air was so munificently warm on me as I ran into my world and felt the sky of blue leaning down to me, as I passed our beach house and saw a riot of colors in the white light and the white sand I dug my bare feet into, in order to gain purchase, all time for Josh and me and for Rosie and Nat and Max and David and Celesta, and we were songbirds, we were grace notes and mountains of each other with climbing to the topography of eyes that were warm smiling and how loved we were and how un-alone we were, and I wanted to be tall enough to touch the sun and say thank you for every morsel of minute you give my friends and me--to thank you for the miracles of life giving and a cell and a computer and a dream come true while others may search for theirs all life long and never find it-but if I could help them, if I could make them feel happy and giggly at the LMAO ridiculousness of life and raise a smile--and I do--and I am so glad they
have come my way.
We clown, we giggle, we use our bodies for silliness and we use them for seriousness too, we are so aware and I said my heart pounding with fear, I love you, I honestly love you, and did not turn my eyes away from his, and he said with fear, I love you, I honestly love you, and we kissed softly and only for a second, tasting, and we were hard and he held me and I put my arms round him and friends became in that instant long and forever more than friends.
I run with my hard on, and my close cut dark hair and my mouth open and the grains of sand on my feet and kicking up to my legs and me pistoning along an endless beach of winter solace, while leagues to the North it is winter as cold winter as snow winter as mournful kids on school busses headed to classrooms for another baleful day and I dance and clown round and stop and run to the surf daring it to catch me, for no one can but him and we explored and we dared and we touched in ways that fifteen year old boys can touch and we trusted and never gave up and never believed it would be any other way but this.
We sleep entangled some nights on the beach, and find wonder constantly in our words, our silences, our making love; we have sheer fireworks joy in the perspiration we lave on each other as we strive to put a midnight sun in each other's souls and I stop now, hands on knees, bent over, catching my breath, I am proud of my body, skinny and sexxxxyyyy he says, I am proud of what I can do with it, and our plays and secret words that would mean nothing but puzzles to anyone but us.
My stomach rumbles and the refreshment stand is not far away, so I hie there where the sodas are and drink my heat into cold, sliding summer icy sugary soda down my throat, all me in pulsations, every nerve in me on fire, everything that pumps up this tremendous energy I have, all the needs to run the world, to catch and pace and then surpass it, as I feel the need to be nakie, the need to be safe in a world where we can make love on this beach or in the pool, down below, sucking each other in the womb of water blessing and swirling and keeping us together as merboys.
As I finish the soda and the morning still not quite half over, still there are ladders to climb, still there are glasses out of which to drink and food to eat and cakes to bake and fish to fry and love has not left me hungry as my mind sifts through the photos of me and of him and of us and our friends as bright balloons in a sky of azure, as bright balloons in a field of wheat mown softly and respectfully by the wind of a December or January day, and I run to Joshua as I will always run to him all of my days and he to me as we try to get inside each other and feel the blessing of love and bodies and penises and cum and something way more--something like the world that we can dance with--the pensioners in their apartments in town, the lonely children who should not be lonely, the sad men who should not be sad--and we have he and I made a pact--to protect who we can, to make happy the sad lonely ones--to be sunshine in boy bodies--to keep watch on
moonless nights--to place our heads on each other's bare chests as we make love--to say world be us and we will be all the dreams we can pass into your heads
--for a sad smile is better than no smile at all, for sad smiles have a chance of becoming happy ones--for Alex still has some baby fat and it makes him curly haired cuter than ever--and Nat sings like a dream--and David is a blonde haired dream come true-but when I see my love, they disappear, when I seen my love, I feel of worth and value and cannot, should I even try?, contain myself, for I want our cum on each of us, I want to feel the look on his face, the way he tosses his head back, the way his eyes close in deep down wonderful ecstasy and the love he makes in my hand or in my mouth, and we hold tight and thus keep the world from spinning off its axis and in our own fashion we are making love also to that world that needs it and us so very much.
And Joshua touches me on the shoulder and I turn in surprise and he smiles a million kilowatts to me and I touch his neck. He is dressed only in Speedos and he holds me to his strong body and in front of the few people on the beach, for the first time ever, we kiss, long and hard and deeply. Later on, Death Metal and sexing or soft and slow Jonas Brothers tender love making, but for now, he takes my hand so very gently, so very surely, and in this world of mad and bad, we have conquered; we dared; we took such chances; we found ourselves, as we walk to the surf and gradually gradually in to the ocean of cold and gray blue as the sun languishes up above in a secret grin, and then further out, till covered to our waists. He pulls down my shorts. I pull down his Speedos. And we begin. For the very first time. All over again.
"From your smile, I'll build a wall, the tallest wall that man has known, then I'll hide behind your smile, and never be alone, I'll never ever be alone." Rod McKuen