	             ____________________________
                    |                            |
                  /)|     KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF    |(\
                 / )|         DIRECTORIES        |( \
              __(  (|____________________________|)  )__
             ((( \  \ >  /_)              ( \  < /  / )))
             (\\\ \  \_/  /                \  \_/  / ///)
              \          /                  \          /
               \      _/                     \_       /
                /    /                         \     \
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o  	This part of my collection offers a very wide variety of  o
o  stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the  o
o  world.  Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no    o
o  particular order other than offering them to you in  alpha-    o
o  betical directories.                                           o
o  	I don't believe in categorizing things. "I don't want to  o
o  be typed therefore I don't type things myself." I think it's   o
o  a lot more fun to browse around and find 'little' surprises    o
o  that you might not have even thought of looking for.           o
o   	Lest we forget!!!  This story was produced as adult en-   o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors.  Kristen Becker   o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

1979 (comimg of age)
by Joe Jones

**

Here's the disclaimer...

Warning! The following story deals with consensual sexual
activity between two males who may or may not be related.
If such subject matter offends you, if you are under age 18, or, if 
by your local standards it is illegal for you to read this, 
STOP NOW.  Get rid of this and go watch TV.  If you live in such 
circumstances, you'll just have to go write your own smutty stories.
Or live them. Now on with the show.  
 

1979

by Joe Jones 
(author of Letters Home, The Wonder Year, The Leary Men, Man of the House
and Men of the House) 

     In the summer of 1977, when I was 12, my older sister started dating
an Indian guy named Dave.  She didn't tell my parents for a long time
though, because she figured that when she did they found out they would
kill either her or him or themselves.  They weren't out and out racists,
but they weren't exactly welcoming either.  We were lower middle class
people living in a failing city in upstate New York, just a notch over
white trash ourselves, and they weren't eager to lose any ground by having
their 18 year old daughter getting involved with anyone who wasn't anything
other than white himself.  The fact that he was 6 years older than her
wouldn't exactly thrill them either.
     The first time she brought Dave to the house our parents were out for
the night.  Dave was coming over to watch a movie on TV with Sue, and she
asked me to stay in the living room and watch it with them.  I think I
understood, even then, that if they were alone Dave might want to do things
my sister didn't exactly want to do, and she hoped that having her 12 year
old brother around would stop him.
     Dave wasn't exactly what I thought an Indian should look like.  I
expected a tall, lean man with long shiny black hair.  But Dave was only
about as tall as I was, which would have been about 5'9", and stocky.  He
had very short black hair, not much more than a crew cut, and square sort
of face.  He wore aviator-style glasses.  He acted like a normal guy too.
     I was in love.
     It was a hot June night, when he came over, and he was wearing a red t
shirt, blue Nike-brand sports shorts, white socks and sneakers.  I could
hardly take my eyes off his forearms, which were thick with muscle.  Or his
legs, or even just his calves, which were the size of two bricks.  Both his
arms and legs were hairless (except for some dark on his calves and
ankles), and the smooth coppery skin fascinated me.  Sue had told me that
Dave was a real jock.  He loved basketball, despite his less than
impressive stature, and soccer.  He jogged, and even lifted weights, which
you could tell, by his physique.  He wasn't a body builder or anything, but
anyone with eyes could see that his stocky compact body was in great shape.
     Sure enough, while we three sat in the dark watching TV, Dave started
to kiss Sue's mouth and neck.  I saw out of the corner of my eye.  I also
saw that he had an arm around her, cupping her small breast in his hand.
Nothing more than that really happened, I suppose because I was there.  But
I wished that it would.  I wished that he would take his shirt off, and his
shorts.  I wanted to see all of his body.  I didn't know how long I'd been
attracted to men, but I knew that I was, and I knew that Dave was as fine a
specimen as I'd ever seen.

                                                                   ***

     Sue continued to date Dave, and my parents eventually found out.  They
weren't happy about it, and they were even less happy when she moved out to
live with him.  They didn't like Dave (who they called "The Indian") at
all, and it wasn't hard to see why.  He had been raised in the very worst
part of town, where there were nothing but drug dealers, gangs and welfare
mothers.  He worked on-and-off as a delivery man, and, as far as they were
concerned, had no better prospects.  It didn't matter to them that he had
joined the marines when he was 18, and that he now took classes at the
local community college.  And nothing could make them overlook the news
that in his teenage years he had fathered five children by four different
girls, and that he had made very little effort to pay child support.
     None of those things diminished him in my eyes.  In fact there wasn't
much for a 12 year old boy to not like about Dave.  His interests weren't
far from those of an average teenage boy: sex, sports, and science fiction.
You could almost always find him hanging out with other guys, and they were
either talking about girls or playing basketball or soccer.  At home he'd
either be working out, or reading.  He had a lot of books, and most of them
were school books, about psychology or sexuality, but he was also a fan of
Conan The Barbarian, and he had all of his books and comic books (he even
had a big poster on the wall of Arnold Schwarzenegger).  Rounding out
Dave's reading materials were a dresser drawer full of Playboy and
Penthouse magazines.
     Our parents hated their run down apartment, and the furniture they
bought at the Goodwill.  But I loved it.  I spent all the time I could at
their apartment, which was only about five blacks away from our home
(although 5 blocks in the direction of the less appealing part of the
neighborhood).  In the summers, when school was out, I practically lived
there.
     It wasn't unusual for me to fall asleep on their couch, and spend the
night (or several nights in a row) at their apartment.  I enjoyed being out
of the watchful eye of my parents - Sue and Dave never cared what I ate or
read - but I had another reason for being there.  I loved watching Dave,
and was alert to his every action.  I didn't want to miss seeing him work
out (he had a weight bench a free weights at home), or glimpsing him
leaving the shower wearing a wet towel wrapped around his waist.  I studied
his body intently.  It was as smooth and hairless as my own, though broad
and muscled in ways I couldn't imagine ever being.  When I was alone I
would rub my dick and think of Dave's body.
     One day Sue went to work at the restaurant where she was waitressing,
and Dave had to go register for fall classes, leaving me alone in their
place for about four hours.  Of course I immediately began to look through
his things - for a curly pubic hair in his underwear, or a box of condoms
in his dresser drawer.  And then into his porn magazines.  I didn't care
for the pictures of women (although the thought of Dave being tuned on by
them gave me some pleasure), but there were quite a few men in some of the
pictures too, and I liked them.  I also liked to read the stories, and
letters that people would send in.  Like one guy who was a telephone repair
man and wrote in about how he fucked some woman who always called in for
repairs when she was horny.  Or another guy who wrote in about how a girl
he was fucking put her fingers in his butt and made him cum.  Or one guy
who wrote in to tell about how he fucked his teenage sister in law.  I
always stroked my dick and pretended I was the girl when I read those
stories, and that it was Dave who was doing those things to me.
     That particular day, having the opportunity to be alone with Dave's
things, and reading story after story, playing with my dick felt better
than ever.  I just kept doing it, sniffing at a sweat scented T shirt of
Dave's.  My dick started to feel funny, sort of itchy, and I just kept
doing it, and then I felt like I had to pee, but I couldn't stop even for
that.  The pee feeling increased, and I felt like I had to pee more than I
ever had in my life, but I also knew that peeing never felt that good
before.  And then my head felt like it was going to explode, and I kept
stroking my dick, and I didn't care right then if I peed all over the
floor, and then the pee erupted out of me --- only it wasn't pee.  It was
thick and white and hot, and it splattered on my hand and on my t shirt.
And I knew, of course, that I had cum.  Finally!
     I picked up the magazines and put them away, and went to the bathroom
to clean myself up.  While I was in the bathroom washing off, I heard Dave
and Sue come home, so I shut the bathroom door.  Then I realized, to my
horror, that I had left my shorts out on the floor, and taken Dave's t
shirt with me instead.  Also, I realized that although I had put the porn
magazines away, I hadn't shut the drawer they were in.  That was bad
enough, but what would I do without my shorts?  I just stood there, trying
to think of a way out of his terrible mess.  And then there was a light
tapping on the door.
     "Joey," I heard Dave say in a hushed tone, "Joey, open the door."
     Not knowing what else to do, I opened the door just a little, standing
there in my white underwear and T shirt.  I saw Dave standing there,
grinning and holding my shorts in hand.  His hands were thick and strong,
and bulged with veins.
     "I found these out there," he whispered.  "Don't be embarrassed
though...your sister didn't notice anything.  Here."
     He dropped my shorts in my hand and I realized that he knew.  He knew,
at least roughly, what had happened, and was my secret ally.
     "Thanks," I whispered.
     "Don't worry, man," he said, and then laughed conspiratorially.  "Next
time I'll take longer getting home so you have more time."
     The next summer was pretty much like that.  I hung out at Dave and
Sue's when I could.  I would look at Dave's magazines now and then, and he
always let me know when there were new ones.  I continued to masturbate,
most often thinking of Dave.  I learned all sorts of things from those
magazines, which I didn't hesitate to try out myself within the confines of
my masturbation.
     I didn't do much to make friends my own age, but I didn't feel I
needed to, since Dave and Sue had so many cool friends, who accepted my
company.  They smoked pot, and drank beer, and they didn't care what I did
or didn't do (except for Dave, who hardly touched any of it himself, and
encouraged me not to).  One of Dave's friends, Richard, I especially liked,
because he was so cute, though in a very different way than Dave.  He was
tall, and had big furry arms.  He mostly wore long pants, and shirts with
collars and buttons (instead of the T shirts and shorts Dave was always
in), which I guessed was because of his job as a teacher at the community
college Dave went to (and where they met).  Sue sometimes teased Dave by
saying that he should be more like Richard, with a real job and some money
and an education.  She would say that she didn't understand why Richard
hung out with Dave, and they would laugh.  Then Dave would say that Richard
always had the best pot, and then they would both laugh some more.  I
didn't see what was so funny, but I liked to think of Richard, and his nice
furry body.
     A terrible thing happened that summer.  Dave had been fooling around
with another girl, and Sue found out.  So Dave had to move out, and Sue
wouldn't even talk to him anymore.  I still hung out there, maybe because I
had nowhere else to go, but also because Sue was the only person who was
near as unhappy as I was, and as they say, misery loves company.  I didn't
know what Sue was thinking exactly, but I think she probably felt like her
heart had been torn out of her, and like she'd be alone forever.  That's
how I felt.
     Dave tried to talk to Sue.  He told her it was a mistake and that he'd
never be with that girl again, and that she was the only thing he wanted
--- the very words I wanted him to say to me.  But Sue wouldn't have any of
it.  She told him that she should have known that he'd screw any hole that
offered itself up to him, and that she never wanted to see him again.  So
Richard came over to talk to Sue, on Dave's behalf.  He told her how much
Dave was hurting, and how she should take him back.  He went on and on
about how, except for this bad deed, Dave was such a great guy.  How he was
so smart and funny, and handsome.  How anyone would be happy to have him,
and wouldn't she please forgive him.
     After Richard left I couldn't stop thinking about the things Richard
had said.  So I asked Sue about it.
     "Wasn't it weird," I said to her, "how he kept going on about how
great Dave is?"
     "I guess," she answered.
     "He even said that Dave was really cute.  That was kind of strange."
     "Yeah," she answered, "maybe he's in love with Dave.  I always figured
him for a queer."
     And she laughed.
     I realized then what I'd been really asking about all along, and it
wasn't about Richard, but about myself.  And so I knew what I was.  Queer.

                                                                   ***

     To our parents distress and my delight, Sue took Dave back a few weeks
later.  My life was back to normal.
     As I grew older my fantasies about Dave persisted and increased, in
both quantity and desire.  I fantasies about other men too, but he was
always the touchstone I returned to.  His porn magazines fed my desires, as
did his other books.  In the comic books, his favorite hero, Conan, had as
many sexual conquests as adventures, and he was portrayed as with black
hair and reddish skin, like Dave.  I couldn't help but make a connection.
I also read his human sexuality books.  I read more about being queer.  I
read about homosexual men, and even about regular men who sometimes
experiment with other men.  I hoped Dave would one day want to experiment
with me that way.
     In addition to my increased lust, my teen years brought about more
visible changes in my body.  I was tall, taller than Dave, and good
looking.  I had straight golden brown hair that hung in my eyes, and
similarly colored hair appearing on my arms and legs.  In the summer I
always tanned quickly, so my skin was golden brown, with a band of faint
freckles appeared across my nose and cheeks, which made my honey colored
eyes look bright and clear.  I was long and lanky, but had a fair amount of
lean muscle.  There were a few golden hairs in the center of my chest, and
growing in around my dark rose-colored nipples.  I measured my dick, and it
came in at 7 inches, which seemed a respectable size according to what I
read in Dave's books.
     What I'm getting at is that I was turning into a good looking kid.  If
things kept to their course, by the time I was a grown man I'd be better
looking than Dave, or even Richard.  And I hoped that Dave would notice,
and maybe want me.  I kept thinking about what Sue had said to him, about
fucking any hole that offered itself up to him.  I wondered if that might
mean my hole too, which I wanted him in so badly.  So I walked around him
shirtless when it seemed reasonable to do so, to show off my developing
physique.  I tried, inexpertly, to turn any conversation to sexual matters.
     One night, while I was sitting down on the couch with Dave, I
purposely spilled a glass of water I was holding onto his legs, so that I
could bend down between his legs to pick it up, and wipe the water from his
exposed calves with a towel I had handy.  He took the towel from me to
finish up himself, but not before I could feel his rock hard calf in my
bare hand, could see the little dark hairs there and the green-blue vein
that bulged there because of all the muscle beneath them.  I knelt for a
long time between his legs, hoping that he would be so taken with the sight
of me there that he would pull his sorts down and let me suck his cock.
     By the end of my fourteenth year I was doing outright stupid things.
I'd try to "accidentally" walk in on Dave when he was taking a whizz.  Or
I'd squeeze onto the couch between him and Sue, sitting almost in his lap.
Or I'd make sure to splatter some of my cum onto his new porn magazine when
I'd jerk off.  I'd tear little holes in the crotch of his underwear with my
teeth.  Or put his things in my ass when I'd jerk off: his cologne bottle,
the end of his weight bar.  I told him once that Sue had said he'd fuck any
hole, and laughed, but he didn't think it was very funny, and he told me
so.  I don't know what he knew and what he didn't, but Dave seemed less
happy to have me around than he once was.  But not that could stop me.

                                                                   ***

     In September of 1979, I went back to school.  On the first day they
let us out early.  My parents weren't expecting me home, so I decided to go
over to Dave and Sue's place.  I knew neither of them would be home for a
couple of hours yet, but I had my own key, and thought I'd just let myself
in and watch their TV.  When I walked up to their apartment building, I saw
something unexpected.  It was Dave, and he was with a woman, but it wasn't
my sister Sue.  Instead it was a tall woman with big breasts and short
auburn hair.  They were standing near the door to the apartment building,
and they were kissing.  French kissing.  After a long time, the girl gave
Dave a last peck on the lips, climbed into her little sports car and drove
away.  Dave looked pretty happy.  Until he looked across the street and saw
me standing there.  I walked over to him, and he suggested we go inside and
talk.
     He begged me not to tell Sue what I had seen.  He told me he was just
fooling around, that was all.  That it meant nothing, and would soon be
over.
     "Tell me why I shouldn't tell her," I said to him.  "Give me one good
reason."  I was visibly angry.  Seething.  Anyone might have thought that
it was righteous anger, on my sister's behalf.  But of course I was just
envious.
     "Because you could break us up Joey.  You don't want to do that, do
you?"
     "What do I care if you break up?  It's not my problem."
     "Isn't there something I could do...something to keep you from
telling?"
     He massaged my shoulder, in his firm grip.
     "What do you mean?"  I asked.
     "Can I do something to convince you?  Anything?  C'mon Joey.  I'm not
stupid."
     He took my chin in his hand and turned my face toward his.  He kissed
me lightly on my lips.  He pulled me closer to him, and his tongue plied
apart my lips, and darted over the surface of my teeth, and then between
them.  His tongue played gingerly with my own, exploring the interior of my
mouth.  Within minutes, I was responding in kind, our tongues writhing in
each others mouths.
     He stopped and pulled his face away from mine.
     "What do you want?" he asked.  "A blow job?"
     I nodded in agreement.  I couldn't put a coherent sentence together if
I'd tried.
     Dave unbuttoned my shorts and pulled them and my underwear down from
my slim hips to my knees.  My dick stood at attention, a tiny drop of
precum sitting on the head.  Dave crouched down over it, and wrapped his
open mouth around it.  I gasped as I felt his warm wet mouth slide down
around the head and shaft, and then bob up and down.
     He wrapped his hand around the base of my cock and jerked it while he
sucked the rest of it.  I nervously ran my fingers through the short black
bristles of his hair, and over his T shirt, feeling the broad muscles of
his back beneath.  His other hand was digging into his own elastic-waist
shorts and massaging his dick.  The thought of him working his cock was
almost more exciting than his mouth working my own, and I began to thrust
my hips forward, which made Dave gag a little.  But as he grew accustomed
to my pace, he met it, sucking harder and groaning.
     He let his hand drop lower, cupping my balls and squeezing them
gently, and then lower again, between my legs.  His fingertips roamed the
space between my balls and my asshole, kneading it.  And then lower again,
touching my asshole lightly.  One of his fingers began to poke at it, and
it sent a powerful wave of pleasure through me.  As the finger pressed
against my hole, he moaned loudly, and suddenly took the whole length of my
cock into his mouth and throat.  I felt another incredible wave of
pleasure, originating with his fingertip in my hole, shooting up to my
balls and then through my dick, emerging from my cock as a load of hot cum
fed into Dave's mouth and throat.  He gagged and choked, and lifted his
head off my spurting cock, but my balls kept pumping the stuff up and out,
running down into my pubic hair.  Standing on one leg, his knee on the
couch, Dave spat out into his hand the first large gushes of cum I'd
released.  He looked at it in his hand, and then wiped it across the front
of his shirt.  His shorts were pulled down over one hip, and distorted by
the erect cock inside.
     "Okay man," he said to me, his voice scratchy and deep.  "Is it a
deal?"
     Instead of answering, I reached forward with both hands, hooked my
thumbs under the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down.  Dave's cock
bounced free, staring me in the face.  It was a little shorter than my own,
but a good deal thicker, and uniformly so from top to bottom.  It was
veiny, and much darker than mine.  I lifted it straight up to see the hairy
balls beneath it, surprised to see how much darker than my own they too
were.  I cupped them with one hand, and with the other pumped his cock
gently, milking a bead of precum out of the head, and a moan out of Dave.
The precum began to ooze off of his cock, in a slow string.  I caught the
drop on my tongue, and followed it all the way up to its source, wrapping
my lips around the knob of Dave's cock, and sliding my lips down the shaft.
     I closed my eyes as I tried to take as much of his cock as I could,
which wasn't much at all.  I felt Dave's hands wrap around my head, pulling
me closer, forcing more of his cock down my throat.
     "Suck it," I heard him say.
     I tried to take more, and did, though every now and then I'd gag and
have to pull back.
     Dave took his T shirt off, lifting it over his head, and my hands
moved up to explore the plains and valleys of his stomach and chest.  I
found his nipples and tweaked them while I sucked his dick.  They were
small, and crinkled up into bone hard erections.  Dave seemed to like that.
     When I'd sucked his cock all I could without choking or gagging more,
I looked up to him, my eyes teary.  It was harder than they made it sound
in the magazines, and it took a lot longer to make a man cum than I
expected.
     Dave looked happy enough, but somehow different than he'd ever looked
to me before.  There was an element more alive, more dangerous, than I'd
ever seen in him before.
     "That was pretty good," he said.  "Have you ever been fucked before?"
     He said this as if it were the most ordinary question on Earth.
     "No," I answered.  "Not yet."
     "Okay.  Hold on," Dave said.
     He kicked off the shorts resting on his feet, turned his back on me
and walked to the bathroom.  I knew that I would never forget the sight of
his compact muscular form, the high firm globes of his ass.  He came back
with a small tub of Vaseline.
     "Stand up," he said.
     When I did he lifted my T shirt off of me, and ran his blunt
fingertips over my chest and stomach, pinching my nipples, tracing a
straight line down the center of my chest and stomach, into the bush of
hair growing around my dick, and wrapping around the base of my again erect
cock.
     He kissed me very lightly on the lips and said "Turn around."
     I did as he told me too, facing the window behind the couch.  Outside,
and two floors down I could see the heads of women and children passing by,
as Dave put his hand in the center of my back, pushing me down.  I gripped
the backside of the couch for support, and felt something cold touch my
asshole.
     Dave's fingers worked some Vaseline into my asshole, slipping the tips
of his finger, then fingers, in and out.  Then it felt like the base of his
thumb was kneading my asshole, and somehow pressing into it.  And then I
realized it wasn't any part of his hand.  It was his cock.
     Dave began to slide his dick into my tight virgin hole.  As he inched
more and more into me my bowel twitched, and reflexively I tried to move
away from the invading force.  But Dave took hold of my hips, keeping me in
place.
     "Stay with me," he said.
     When it was all inside me, he rested in place, giving my body a moment
to grow accustomed to the feel of his cock lodged in me.  I started to rock
back and forth on his cock, and waves of pleasure ripple through me.
     "There you go," he said, and began to pump his cock into me.
     As he continued, my bowel relaxed, and I really started to enjoy the
feel of his prick sliding in and out of me.  Seeing that I was doing
better, he started to pound into me hard, and then harder.  My legs felt
weak, and I longed to at least kneel, but Dave was fucking me so good and
hard that I wasn't about to change a thing.
     I could feel Dave's hands run over the small of my back, and then
clamp down on either side of my waist, pulling me back to be impaled again
ands again on his erection.  I looked back over my shoulder to watch him.
Beads of sweat were building on his forehead, and in the general area of
his collarbone.  His lips were tightly closed in a sort of smile, and his
eyes were closed too.
     He continued to ride me for a long time, and every time I thought he
was getting close to cumming he'd just shift his position, and fuck me even
harder in some new way.  He'd spread his legs, or draw them closer
together, press down on me so my back would arch, or hike me up again.  I
couldn't believe how quickly and powerfully he could keep fucking me.  Once
or twice I tried to stand, so I could be closer to him, maybe kiss him, but
he didn't seem interested in that, and his hand on my back shoved me down
every time.
     Finally it just got to be too much for me, and I could feel my dick
and balls tense with every thrust of Dave's.  I let my hand began to stroke
my cock, and as I did my sphincter clutched hard on Dave's cock, making him
shove his cock even deeper into me.  I started making weird whimpery little
noises, and I knew I was rapidly building to another orgasm.
     "I'm gonna'," I whispered, "gonna' cum..."
     Dave took that as his cue to pick up his pace, his hips pumping like a
piston, again and again pulling his cock out and then driving it back into
me so fast that I couldn't even tell what was happening.  My skin tingled
everywhere, and I felt the cum churning up from my balls through the length
of my cock.  The white stream gushed out of me, thick and hot.
     "Yeah man, oh fuck...FUCK!" Dave grunted, as my sphincter spasmed
around his cock buried so deeply in me.  "Stay with me man...cum for me
baby..."  His non-stop fuck pounding the last spurts of cum out of me, as
my legs trembled and buckled.
     Dave's strong arms wrapped around my waist, holding me up.  Beads of
sweat dropped from his brow onto my back, and I could feel jolts of pain
and pleasure as he thrust his cock forward into me.  He had pummeled me
fast and hard earlier, but now more urgently, pulverizing my guts with his
hammer-like cock.  Then I heard him make animal like grunts, and one
impossibly deep thrust which penetrated me completely, as he filled me with
a huge load of his cum, fucking it into me mercilessly, until his balls had
pumped out every last ounce of cum.
     When he finished, he slid his cock out of my worn tender hole, and I
collapsed onto my knees on the couch.  I turned around to face Dave.  His
semi-hard dick hung down, a clear fluid dripping from its head.  His torso
was covered with perspiration.  His close cropped hair was wet through, and
sweat ran down his face and neck in thin rivulets.  I knew that was
how Dave sweat after a particularly grueling game of basketball, or lifting
weights.
     "Thanks," I said, feeling stupid.  What was I supposed to say?  "It
was incredible"?
     Dave looked serious.  Firmly, he said "You'd better get your clothes
on.  Before your sister gets home."
     "Okay," I said.  I wanted him to be friendly again.  To like me.  "I
won't say anything," I added.  "About that girl."
     "Okay," he said to me.  He picked up his shorts and went to the
bathroom to wash up.
     I vaguely understood what had just happened had been a different
experience for the two of us.  I wondered if I had done something wrong, or
of he had.  So I put my clothes on, and went home.
     Two weeks later I turned fifteen.

                                                                   ***

     Dave and Sue didn't stay together long after that.  By the end of the
year, Sue had kicked him out again, and this time he didn't struggle so
hard to be taken back.  After that he went back to school full time, and
eventually got a degree in sociology.  The last I heard he was some sort of
social worker, counseling Native American (we used to say "Indian" back in
1979) kids who were in trouble.  Sue married a nice guy who didn't turn me
on at all.  They have a kid, and are hoping to buy a house in the next few
years.
     To my parents' great happiness I did well in high school, went on to a
good college and a fine grad school.  To their great disappointment, I
never did much of anything with my degree was in English, which would not
make me the sort of success they were hoping for.  I'm an AIDS counselor
now, in another city.  Sometimes I go to high schools and do safe-sex talks
for teenagers.
     During my college years, I ran into Dave's friend Richard in a gay
bar.  Sue was right after all: he was queer (but in 1997 we say "gay").  He
was very closeted, and asked me please not to tell Sue that he was gay,
even though she knew that I was.
     I confessed to him my enormous crush on Dave, and confessed the same
to me.  He told me that one night at his place, he and Dave got really
high, and Dave let Richard suck him off.  I didn't know if I believed him
or not, but I decided not to tell him any more of my own story than I had
already.
     I asked Richard if he wouldn't mind giving me a ride to my parents'
house, where I was staying for the summer.  I thought that once we got into
the car, I'd blow him, or maybe we'd go to his place for something more.
But by the time we were in the car, he was way too drunk to drive, so I
took his keys, drove him home.  From there I walked the rest of the way to
my parent's place, disappointed.  It's not that he was so gorgeous -- I
knew by then that neither Richard nor Dave were really quite as handsome as
my less experienced self had once thought -- but he did have nice furry
arms, and I would have liked to have done him just once, for old time's
sake.


End
