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

When Brad became a high school English teacher, he told the director of physical education at the school, that he was interested in starting a weightlifting club. Brad was an active competitor in the New England Association of the Amateur Athletic Union and had recently placed first in the Massachusetts State Championships, 123 lb. Class. He thought that such a club would be of service to the school, and he could get his own training done at the same time. Then he might get an apartment in Belmont instead of commuting from Salem.

Mr. Hanks asked Brad to make out a budget. Brad did the necessary research and produced plans for a lifting platform to be built, along with the cost of materials and weightlifting equipment. Mr. Hanks took one quick look and handed it back to Brad, saying that he did not have any money for a new project. Brad got the point.

In some ways, Brad was relieved that he had not gotten himself involved. Living and training in a different community than where he was teaching made it less likely that he would form a dangerous relationship with a student, one that might easily jeopardize his position and future. His parents, both teachers themselves, had always maintained that one should not live and teach in the same town. They also had not followed their own recommendation.

Brad liked the kids who worked out with him at the Salem YMCA. He had become the volunteer coach, when Chuck moved away and the director of the Y decided that he didn’t want kids in the weight room any more, unless someone was willing to supervise them. Now that Brad was going to stay, he decided to have a weightlifting club party at his apartment, the Saturday night before the Christmas holidays.

After the party was over, Willie offered to stay and help clean up. Brad had noticed that the kid seemed to want to hang around him. Brad had acquired an old 1955, patched up, white corvette earlier in the year, and Willie had asked Brad when he was going to give him a ride in it. What was odd about this, was Willie was not the kind of kid, who took much interest in cars. He was more the studious type, quiet and serious. Brad had never heard Willie talk of anything frivolous; not cars, music or girls. The youngster usually was still in the weight room to the very end of the session, while most of the others left as soon as they were done.

Willie was not a particularly good lifter. He did not seem to put everything into it. But he would go out for coffee with the small group that accompanied Brad in his ritual. So Brad decided to let Willie stay, He was curious to find out what the kid wanted.

While they did their work, Brad watched Willie. The youngster was fifteen, a few inches taller and a few pounds heavier than Brad. He had straight golden blonde hair of medium length for 1966. It was cut a little like the Dutch boy on the paint cans. Willie looked somewhat like that lad, too, except that he was proportioned leaner, either taller or less heavy or a little of each. In spite of lifting weights, Willie was not muscular. His body gave the impression of being soft and pliable. When youth was washing dishes, Brad gave him a pat on the shoulder and thanked him for his help.

The apartment was soon reasonably tidy. Brad asked Willie if he would like a glass of coke. Instead of answering that query, the boy said, “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Aren’t you expected at home?” Brad asked.

“I told them I was going to stay over at a friend’s house.”

“What if they call there looking for you?”

“They can’t, I didn’t tell them which friend.”

“There’s only this one little bed,” Brad said, indicating with a look his old three quarter that he had taken with him when he moved from his parents’ place.

Willie blushed. “That’s ok,” he managed.

“Well, do you want a coke, or are you ready for bed?”

“Bed,” the kid said.

Brad went into the bathroom. Willie took advantage of this opportunity to get out of his clothes, except for his briefs. He took one of the two pillows for himself and moved to the far side of the bed next to the wall, and drew the covers up to his chin. Brad came back into the room and undressed. Willie kept his eyes shut so that he would not be tempted to stare. Then the light went out and the boy felt the bed sag under the weight of Brad’s body. Brad turned onto his side, facing the youth.

“Are you still awake?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Is it OK if I touch you?”

“Yes.”

A moment later, “shall I take your underpants off?”

“Yes.”

Can you say anything beside, ‘yes?’”

“Yes.”

“Then talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling, what you want.”

This unleashed a torrent of words from Willie. “You don’t know how happy I am. I thought no one was ever going to want me, not anyone intelligent and interesting, anyway.” Brad held the youngster and caressed him as he rambled on without pause for response. “I’ve been mad for you for months. It seemed like you hardly noticed me. I didn’t think you even liked me. I hope I don’t cry, I don’t want to act like a fool. You can’t know what this means to me.”

Brad kissed him on the lips to staunch the flow. He felt the tears come to his own eyes. Forcing them back, he said, “I remember feeling things like that, when I was your age.” Brad felt a great tenderness toward Willie, and a responsibility to take good care of him. Brad wondered what might have happened, if the kid had not said what he had. Perhaps there would have been just this one night. But now, to continue would mean accepting a continuing obligation.

Willie sensed something and asked with a tone of alarm in his voice, “I haven’t said anything wrong, have I? You will make love to me, wont you?”

“Yes, Willie.” Brad felt the boy’s body and his own relax. There was plenty of time now.

Brad showed Willie how to French kiss. Their tongues moved back and forth in each others’ mouths. Brad put his fingers in, feeling the inside of the boys’ cheeks, his gums, everywhere he could reach, practically down his throat. When he took them out, Willie gave out a sigh.

“Was that all right?” Brad asked.

“Wonderful,” the kid answered.

Brad put his wet fingertips into Willie’s ears. He kissed the boy’s face all over, holding his head in both hands. He grabbed the back of the kid’s neck and buried his face into the front and sides of it, licking the tender spots as he did so. Willie made little noises of delight.

Brad came up for air and waited for the boy’s breathing to become slow and regular. Then he tweaked Willie’s nipples, gently at first. He gradually increased the force until the kid was squirming and kicking against the bedclothes. Brad stopped suddenly.

“Did you like that, too?”

“Yeah,” Willie said, and he flopped over on his stomach. Brad threw the blanket and sheet to the foot of the bed, leaving them uncovered. Getting up on his knees, Brad straddled the boy. He massaged Willie’s back, buttocks and legs to the knees, Then he spread the kid’s legs and knelt between them. Reaching to the night stand, Brad recovered the container of skin lotion that he had brought with him from the bathroom. Taking a quantity into his right hand, he worked it into the crack of the boy’s rump.

“What’s that?” Willie asked.

“Skin lotion.”

“What’s it for?”

“I’ll show you,” Brad answered. He slowly inserted his index finger into the kid’s rectum, pushing it all the way in.

“Oh! Does that mean you can put …?”

“Yes, if you want me to.”

“Sure. What a great idea.”

“It will hurt a little.”

“I don’t care. I want you to.”

“I’m going to use my fingers for a while. That will help to stretch the opening and make it easier for you.” Brad pulled the tip of his finger back to the sphincter muscle and felt the shape and strength of it. Pushing back in, he felt the soft moist expanse beyond the gate. After a few minutes, Brad inserted two fingers, one on top of the other. He slid them back and forth and twisted them side to side until he began to feel less resistance from Willie’s hole.

Brad put some more lubricant on the boy’s anus and rubbed his backside vigorously. “Relax as much as you can. Try to go completely limp. Concentrate on trying to open yourself to me.”

“OK,” came the reply.

“Once I start, bear down a little, like you’re taking a dump. I know it sounds opposite, but it helps.”

The young man positioned the tip of his erection, holding it with one hand to provide extra rigidity. Very slowly he pushed and felt the boy’s bottom begin to yield. Slowly the sphincter spread in response to the steady pressure. The head of his penis moved forward. As it passed beyond the sphincter, Brad felt the muscle close around his shaft. Removing his hand, Brad braced himself for the next stage.

With uniform perseverance he entered the boy’s body. Brad felt the ring of the sphincter slide along his dick, all the while gripping him tightly. The last inch or so was accomplished quickly, when the gate seemed suddenly to swing open.

Brad’s body was now in complete contact with Willie’s. He wanted to pause a minute, before continuing. “Are you all right?” he inquired.

“Are you all the way in?”

“Yup.”

“I’m OK. It didn’t hurt so much.”

“It shouldn’t hurt at all from now on.” Brad drew back a little and then pushed in to his full length. “See?”

“Yeah. I like it.”

“That’s good. Want some more?”

“Yes.”

Brad fucked Willie as slowly as he could, until his own need took control. Even this first time, the boy started to experiment with the ways that he could move and the sensations that could be evoked.

*****

Brad and Willie were content with each other for a considerable period of time. The young man gave the teenager a key to his apartment, so that the youth could go there whenever he wished. When Brad got home from last minute shopping on Christmas Eve, he found Willie, lying under the Christmas tree, naked except for a bow tied around his neck.

At the spring YMCA banquet, Willie sat next to Brad and kept whispering his sexual desires into Brad’s ear. The kid talked a lot about how much he loved Brad. Willie coaxed Brad to say the same to him, he was always wanting to hear it. Then several days went by when the teenager did not come to see Brad. Later, Brad found out that the youth had been hitching a ride somewhere and had been picked up by a college boy, who had wanted his cock sucked. Willie had obliged and was now madly in love with this other young man, even though the fellow admitted to Willie that he had a steady girl friend. The college boy persisted in seeing Willie. Willie met with Brad only once after that at the coffee shop, where he explained, in whispers, what had happened. He was sorry, if he had hurt Brad, but things were as they were.

Willie had many relationships after the college boy. He never involved himself in either one night flings or living with another man. He became a successful lawyer, before being appointed to the Federal bench. Well regarded for the scholarship and thoughtfulness of his opinions, he was briefly considered for appointment to the Supreme Court.

Brad gave up weightlifting. He moved to New Orleans where he went into the antique business with a man he met there and who was about his own age. They lived together for over forty years.

When “Willie” offered to help with the clearing away, after the Christmas party for the weightlifting club, I (Brad) turned him down. At the time, I was involved with one of the other lifters, a youth a few years older than “Willie.”

During the party, this other teenager had gotten into the little liquor supply that I had under the kitchen sink. From the time that I had become serious about weightlifting I had not been drinking. The two bottles, one of Pinch and the other of Canadian Club, I had purchased at reduced prices at the PX at Fort Devens, while on active duty during the Berlin Wall Crisis.

I did not want to be feeding booze to youngsters, and I was annoyed that my friend would take this sort of advantage of me. The other kids knew what had happened, so perhaps “Willie” thought that this was his chance. Perhaps, I made a mistake by telling “Willie” that the other youth would be staying to help with the clean up. I wanted a chance to let my friend know how disappointed I was.

He was willing to do most anything by way of sex, but refused to be kissed. That would be “queer,” he maintained. I should have been warned. The physical aspects of our relationship ended about a year later. This was hard because I loved him. We remained close friends though, until he finished high school and went into the service himself.

I suppose I made the story about “Willie” end badly in order to remind myself that a relationship with him, could just as easily have had an unfulfilling outcome.