This is a story about a love between two young boys. The usual disclaimers apply: If you are under the age of 18, or reading such material is illegal in your jurisdiction, then please leave this story unread now. There are within the story explicit descriptions of sex between boys, but that is not the main theme; so if your thing is reading stories that are purely sex in nature then this story will probably not be to your liking.
The story is made up of both fact and fantasy. The people herein are real, but their names have been changed. The rest of the story, as I said, is a mixture of fact and fantasy... perhaps how I wish it had happened. As to what is fact and what isn't, I shall keep that to myself. As usual, comments and suggestions are welcome; flames will be ignored.
Kenny
Part 1
It was the fourth day of the new school year when I first saw him. My reaction took me completely by surprise and feelings coursed through my body that I had never felt before, and didn't even begin to understand them. But before I go into detail I must tell a little about myself, so you can fully understand what was going on in my brain.
I grew up in a smallish city in eastern Canada in the fifties, totally oblivious to sex and all it had to offer. My mom was extremely old fashioned, having the very strong belief that children simply did not need to know about sex until they were getting ready to marry. The term "gay," in those days, simply meant happy or joyous. Oh, I had heard the terms "queer," cocksucker," or "homo," and knew in general terms what they meant; but my understanding was all wrong: These people, in my mind, were totally sick, and to be avoided at all costs. To me the terms referred only to the mechanical act of oral sex and had nothing whatsoever to attraction or love. Boy was I wrong!
I'd had a few brief encounters before, with boys my age or younger, but these amounted to touching, and once or twice actually sucking, but we were too young to orgasm even if we'd known such a thing existed, so had to be content with the good feelings that came from our actions on each other. I had also had two or three crushes on cute little girls, but they never lasted long and I had never had the courage to tell any of them how I felt.
I was now 14, and in an "accelerated" program at school, meaning that I had skipped a year (well, actually took two years in one) and was in the eleventh grade. My Mom had thought I was just about the most wonderful thing ever to grace the earth, but by the time I was 12 she was pretty well an invalid and although I loved her dearly, she was not much of an ally for me. My dad, on the other hand, was too busy chasing women to even know if I was alive or dead. If I brought home a report card that had 6 A's and one A- or (God forbid!) a B, I got hell, and usually a beating, for the bad grades. Come to think of it, I got beatings for almost everything, but that is another story. The good part of my mom's illness was that Dad simply wasn't around much.
Well, enough of that and on with the story.
We were just finishing up History class, the last period of the day, when he came bounding into the room and deposited his books directly on the seat behind the one I had just vacated. The was evidently his home room, and therefore I knew that he was also in the accelerated program, because this had been my home room last year. But as I said, I was totally unprepared for my reaction to him.
He stood about five feet 1 inch, about 3 inches shorter than I was; his skin was dark, looking like a deep tan. His hair was black and cut short as was the style of the day, and perfectly manicured. His face had a rugged softness to it that eluded to an intelligent but gentle boy. To top it off, he wore dark brown corduroy pants and a dark green sport shirt. I absolutely LOVED corduroy pants, and they looked so comfortable on him! (Remember, this was in 1952, when almost no one wore jeans to school). He seemed to have a perpetual smile on his face, and when he talked or laughed his voice warbled between the baritone of a teenager and the soprano of a small boy. I was totally mesmerized by his beauty.
I found myself staying in that history class until he arrived each day... Watching him, trying to learn more about him. I started having fantasies about him, imagining that he was my brother. I guess subconsciously I had concluded that if I had a brother, I would not be so lonely at home.
In my fantasies the boy's name was Robbie, and we were inseparable brothers. We shared a room, and even a bed; we shared our clothes, the immaculate clothes that Robbie always wore. There was some sex play as we slept together, but it was little more than fondling and exploring.
In the meantime I began trying to find out as much as I could about this boy who had me so totally captivated. I guess if I'd known more about life I would have realized that I was gay and in love with him, but under the circumstances I realized neither. I found out that his name was Kenny Collins, that he had just turned 12 years old, having been accelerated two years, one more than I. His father was Robert Collins, who I learned was my father's insurance agent. I had seen Robert at our house a couple times, and he seemed to me to act quite effeminate. Another popular misconception that most boys subscribed to at the time was that all gays were effeminate, and all effeminate's were gay. "I wonder," I thought. But I still hadn't put two and two together.
Kenny had what was obviously a best friend in the form of Timmy, who it turned out was the son of my doctor. Timmy was very small for his age, appearing to be only 10 or 11. His voice gave no signs of changing any time soon, and he looked somewhat out of place in High School, except that he was immensely bright. Neither Kenny nor Timmy were much interested in athletics or any other of the popular boy activities, so their friendship was quite natural.
At the time all this was going on my best friend was a boy named Ron. We were the same age, but we didn't share any classes. We had met in the seventh grade where we were in the same class. We became inseparable in the seventh and eighth grade, because of our common interest in electronics.
Ron had a "lab" set up in his home... a rather large, older home with lots of extra rooms. One of these rooms had become Ron's lab, where he had a large workbench, a control panel with all sorts of switches, power supplies, speakers and patch panels. We could connect almost anything to almost anything else with the facilities he had available. We would hang out at the local radio repair shops (remember, in 1952 there really weren't any TV's, only radios). We were known by all the radio repairmen in town, many of whom had accused us of being brothers. We even looked alike, they said. I could never see it, but that's what they said. We would scrounge any old scrapped radio's or other electronic equipment destined for the trash pile, take them to Ron's lab, and there we would salvage any parts that we thought we could use. Having been at this now for three years, we had developed a pretty impressive array of equipment.
Ron was extremely effeminate.... his gestures, the way he talked, and even some of the phrasing he used were more suited to a girl than a boy. Probably that was the reason that he wasn't terribly popular, in fact to be friends with Ron meant that you would be avoided by most of the other boys, because by association there must be something wrong with you. But I was 99% certain that he wasn't gay, or if he was he certainly never made a pass at me. If he had I'm not sure what I would have done, because I still had no inkling that I was gay. No, Ron and I were just good friends who had a common interest.
As the school year drug on, I spent more and more time with Ron, either in his lab or in his bedroom doing homework. Ron shared a room with his younger brother named Gerry, who always seemed to me to be quite disgusted with his effeminate brother, and therefore, with me too. Gerry was an "all boy" type who loved sports, was always active and usually outdoors, so he wasn't around that much. Of course my fantasies about Robbie (Kenny) were running rampant during most of my waking hours and sometimes I even dreamt about him.
On a Wednesday morning in early November I met Ron at school to make arrangements to go home with him. He said that he had something to do right after school, but he would be home at 4:00 so I should meet him there. I thought nothing of it, one or the other of us often had an errand to run, some school work to take care of.... all the things that delay a boy from doing what he wants to do. So I agreed to meet him at his home after 4:00.
"Hello, Charlie," Ron's mother said pleasantly when I knocked, "Ron's in his bedroom, so go on in." I thanked her and walked down the hall to Ron's bedroom. I stood in the open door stammering like a half-wit, completely dumbfounded! There stood Ron, Kenny's friend Timmy. Beside Timmy, in all his glory, was Kenny himself!
I made a complete fool of myself as I stood in the open doorway, stuttering and stammering, trying to cope with the fact that the object of my desires was standing there smiling at me. "Charlie," I heard Ron's voice in the far distance saying, "This is Kenny and Timmy. I didn't think you'd mind if I invited them over so see our setup." "I.... um...." I stammered, thinking to myself "Mind! How could I possibly mind?" I wanted to grab Ron and kiss him! When I had recovered somewhat I stuck out my hand and Kenny took it and shook it. Now as you already know, it is not customary for boys of that age to shake hands when they meet; but this was special! This was a meeting made in Heaven! I didn't think about it at the time, but years later I analyzed that handshake and I have concluded that something in my subconscious simply saw this as a way to touch this young adonis who had such a hold on me, so without even thinking we were indeed shaking hands.
When our hands touched, a bold of electricity went through my entire body that had me stammering all over again. His hand was smooth and soft, yet his grip was strong and full. Our eyes locked and in my mind I could see through them and I found myself looking right into his soul! And what I saw there was a very nice person, a person I knew instinctively I wanted to get to know a lot better.
When I finally came to my senses again I let go of Kenny's hand and shook Timmy's. He was a nice kid, very small for his age. I had seen him with Kenny most of the time at school and knew that they had a lot in common. I found myself wondering to my total astonishment exactly what all they did have in common. I didn't dislike Timmy, but I really envied all the time he got to spend with my young hero.
"I've seen you in school," Kenny said pleasantly, "You're in the three year course, right?" "Yes I am," I replied, "But I'm thinking of dropping out." "Why?" Kenny asked, astonished. "Because it's an academic strain and I want the Technical strain so I can take Engineering in college." I went on to explain that my father wanted me to be a lawyer, but I had no interest in such things, that I was technically minded, which dictated that I change courses and in the process lose the year that I had gained. We talked about this a while and Kenny left me with the impression that he felt I should do whatever works for me and that if my dad didn't support me, that was his problem. Score another one for Kenny!
The four of us went on talking about school, our various aspirations about career, life, our likes and dislikes, and other things that boys need to know about each other when they first meet. Kenny was bright as a whip, but he was also one of the nicest guys to talk to I had ever met. By the time we had to leave Kenny and Timmy were both very good friends. And my fantasies were even more rampant.
When it was time to leave, Kenny, Timmy and I went together. We chatted as we walked about all the things the other two had seen in Ron's "lab." They were both very bright and learned quickly, but Ron and I had been working at our favorite hobby for over three years, so we had quite a head start on them. As we walked I found myself explaining this and that electrical concept to my new friends, all the while marveling to myself that I was talking with, friends with, the most beautiful boy on the face of the earth! At fourteen I still had no concept of sex, really, and I certainly did not even consider the possibility that I was in love with Kenny. In my misinformed mind any relationship between boys was either as normal friends, brothers, or pure sex. And sex was not an option, because that was reserved for "queers," a group to which I was sure that I did not belong. So my fantasies continued along the same lines: that Kenny and I were brothers, and rather intimate ones at that.
It was only a week later that I came to realize that our friendship would become even stronger, that we had a whole lot more in common than I had ever dared hope.
I have included a lot of preamble and discussion of how it was in 1952, because I think it's important to understand how it was back then growing up Gay, or suspecting such of someone else. If younger Gay people think they have a difficult time now, you should try going back to that time! Being Gay in the fifties was totally unacceptable and something reserved for perverts, those possessed of the devil, or throw-away kids.
If you like this story or have any comments, please e-mail them to charlieje@mindspring.com