(by Edward Zeusgany, copyright 2001, all rights reserved)

When Tim was fourteen, he played in a church basketball league. Every Saturday afternoon of that winter, his team went to a gym in Salem and played a game. Tim’s team was very good, although not because of him. Their toughest competition came from a Salem church team and their best player, even though he was not very tall, was a black kid who was fast and an accurate shot. He appeared to be an all around athlete, well built and Tim thought that he was very handsome. Tim wanted to be the boy’s lover.

Of course, this was a ridicules idea for the year 1950. The only other gay people Tim had ever heard of, were horrible men, who focused their attentions on first or second grade boys. He had been told their names, but Tim had never laid eyes on them. He was not sure that they even existed.

Beside all that, there was no social component to this basketball league. The boys on Tim’s team did not get to know or even meet the kids on the other squads. No time or structure was established for any interaction, other than the competition of the game. There wasn’t any opportunity for Tim and the boy he liked to connect in the way that Tim hoped for. And yet, that is what happened.

On the Monday morning of his February school vacation, Tim took a bus to Salem. He had planned to go to the sporting goods store to buy some fishing equipment, new lines and lures. Then he would treat himself to the movies in the afternoon. But when he arrived in Central Square he saw the boy, who had been in his fantasies in such an unusual way. All of Tim’s prior wishes and behavior; and after, into his early thirties, involved a person younger than himself and his taking the initiative, controlling the action. In Tim’s dreams about this boy his own age, it was the other who led, a foreshadowing of what would become a pattern in his later life.

The kid was about to pass a few feet from where Tim stood, so he called out to him. The boy did not recognize Tim. “Do I know you?” he asked, looking at Tim with suspicion. Tim explained that he played in the basketball league and indicated which team.

“I don’t remember seeing you,” the lad maintained.

“I don’t get to play very much,” replied Tim, with slightly downcast eyes, a bit ashamed of his lack of ability. The two boys talked about the league and the various teams. As they spoke, the youngster started walking slowly along and looking in store windows, heading up the main street leading out of the Square. Tim found out that the boy’s name was Marcus.

They came to Woolworth’s and Marcus suggested that they get cokes. The two kids sat, side by side, on stools at the counter. The conversation was about classes and teachers, friends and sports, hopes and planes, parents and siblings. Marcus was the last child left at home.

The teenager seemed to like Tim’s company. It appeared that the got some satisfaction from Tim’s listening to all that he told about himself. Tim had always been the sort of person, who is interested in hearing about other peoples’ lives and aspirations. He enjoyed their stories, although he liked being alone, too.

On leaving Woolworth’s, the two companions continued their walk up the street. Marcus never asked Tim what he was in town to do. He acted as though it was quite natural for Tim to be going along with him in whatever direction he chose. Marcus did not seem to have any business to do, as far as Tim could tell. The youth was just spending time on the street, taking in whatever was going on.

Around noontime, Marcus asked Tim if he would like to go to his house for lunch. Tim quickly agreed. It took about fifteen minutes to get there. Marcus lived on the forth floor of a four family building. The structure was a little run down, but Marcus’s parents’ apartment was clean and bright. They were both out working. The boys ate peanut butter sandwiches and drink milk in a large kitchen that was painted light yellow and had a darker yellow and well worn linoleum on the floor.

Marcus took Tim to see his room. Unlike the orderliness of the rest of the place, the kid’s den was a jumble of boy’s things. As soon as they were in the bedroom, Marcus put his hands on Tim as though it was understood that this was one of his rights. His hand was on Tim’s shoulder as Marcus showed him his collection of sports magazines. Marcus’s arm was around Tim’s waist while they looked at the athletic equipment in his closet.

The youth moved Tim back onto the center of the room. He sat him down on the edge of the rumpled bed. Marcus sat down close beside him. Then he started to take Tim’s clothes off.

“When are your parents going to be back?” Tim inquired.

“Not ‘til after five,” the youngster answered.

Had Marcus asked Tim if this was all right for him to do, Tim would have said no, but the teenager didn’t ask. Tim could have stopped him easily, Marcus was not rough about it. But Tim only moved for the purpose of making it easier for the youth to remove things. Once Tim was naked, Marcus stripped himself.

The two kids looked at each other. Their cocks were stiff and pointing, as if choosing one item from amongst a set. “I’d like that one, please,” Tim might have said in selecting a pastry at the bakeshop.

Marcus lay Tim on his back and got onto the bed beside him. He explored Tim’s body with his hands, leaving no part untouched. Tim stroked Marcus, too, but less thoroughly. He contemplated the sight of his light hand on Marcus’s dark and muscular chest. He looked at Marcus’s chocolate leg thrown over the cream colored one that was his. Tim was pleased by the beauty he saw and felt in their being together. The contrast of their colors was, for him, a source of joy.

The youth got Tim up from the bed and had him kneel on the floor in front of him. He opened Tim’s mouth with his fingers. Marcus said to him, “Take a deep breath so you won’t choke.” Tim took a gulp of air and the boy put his cock in. He pushed forward deeply and drew back. “Suck on it,” Marcus requested in a quiet voice. Tim felt he boy’s cock sliding back and forth against his tongue and the roof of his mouth, and he sucked the best he could. His hands were on Marcus’s hips and he felt the teenager quicken his movements. Then Marcus groaned and shot his cum. “Swallow it, it won’t hurt you, “ he urged. Tim did this, although he did not lean to appreciate the taste until years later.

They got back up on the bed and Marcus gently held Tim to him and kissed him. The youth got into a sitting position and cupped Tim’s balls with his left hand while masturbating him with the right. Then he leaned forward and took Tim’s cock into his mouth. Tim came, in just a few minutes. After that, they spent a long time holding each other, kissing and playing with the parts of each other’s body, just like they had received new toys on their birthdays.

*****

Marcus and Tim got together like that one other time. Arrangements could be made only when they met at basketball games. They were afraid to telephone each other, because someone might wonder if they did. Marcus’s parents were usually home on weekends and there was always someone at Tim’s house. Anyway, in a few months Marcus met a girl he liked, who lived near him. That was that for Tim, except that he would run into Marcus downtown on occasion and they would chat for a while.

Marcus did very well at Salem High School in both academics and athletics, so much so, that he received a scholarship to Princeton. He was one year ahead of Tim in school, so Marcus was there for three years while Tim was at Rutgers. Tim got to see him play, but they did not have a chance to talk. Fans were generally kept away from the players. The play making guard was the captain of his team during his senior year.

Tim did know that Marcus had gone on to medical school, but he did not see his old friend again until several years later. This happened at the YMCA, Marcus was there with his son. Tim found out that Marcus was then a surgeon at the Deaconess in Boston.

Marcus asked Tim about himself. Tim said that he was studying law and teaching high school in one of the route 128 communities. Marcus invited Tim to visit him and his wife, but Tim declined, saying that work and his studies at Suffolk University did not leave him time for a social life. Actually, Tim was concerned that he could easily get himself involved with Macus’s son and that would lead to a messy situation. Kids tended to like him and he would find it difficult not to reciprocate, specially for a cute boy who reminded him of someone he cared for.

I (Tim) was a participant in a church basketball league. Our team won the championship that year, and the church gave the players jackets that the boys wore constantly thereafter. Except for me and one other lad, they were among the best freshmen athletes in high school. The dark blue jacket was recognized as a mark of distinction. It had the name of the church on the back and the championship patch, a big yellow basketball, on the front. I knew that I did not really deserve to have this symbol, but I wore it anyway.

The other boy in the story did exist, and I did have a crush on him, but we never met. His team was our closest competition, so I stayed on the bench for both of those games. As a result, I never got within ten feet of “Marcus,” but I got to watch him play and to think my thoughts, while I dutifully rooted for our team to win.