Michael:
We were just kids, when he said, "I promise, Mikey, I'll protect you, no matter what. We'll always be friends." And, as small as I was, I believed him. I was just a slip of a child, built smaller than most of the boys in school. Tommy wasn't built very big, but was dramatically bigger than me. I loved him, even then. His bright blonde locks seemed to glow in the sun, and he always had a smile. It was a joy to be around him.
Then, when we both were fifteen, I lost him. His parents moved away, taking him with them, and thus, taking my protection. I was thoroughly devastated. And, those bullies of the school made it necessary for me to start seeking self protection.
I started self-defense classes, as well as muscle training. Over a four-year period, I experienced a rather massive growth spurt. I went from a four-foot waif, to a man of six feet, and well developed muscles, and decent looks. My black hair still remained, and I saw no reason to get rid of it. I also was rather hairy. Thick fur covered my chest, legs, and arms. I was a man, and secure in that.
Still, I always kept my Tommy in my mind. I worked, and thought of him. Sometimes, I would silently cry, wishing he was still in my life. To say I loved him would have been a gross understatement. I wrote letters that never got sent, because I knew of no way to contact him.
I now lived alone, in a nice two story apartment home, more accurately called a condo, and I worked at home, doing systems analysis. I made a decent amount, and actually owned the condo. It was a good life, if a lonely one.
One day, I decided to get out of the house, and head to town to eat a bite. I went to a diner I'd never been in, and sat down to a plate of Chicken Parmesan. I ate, and read the paper for a while.
Then, as I paid, a figure caught my eye. He was sitting in a corner booth, alone, and focused on a sheet of paper with handwriting on it. It was his hair, I suppose, that caught my eye, followed closely by his intense gaze, and full lips. I took a careful breath and said quietly, "Tommy?"
He looked up and I knew it was him. I slowly walked closer and sat hard on a chair nearby. He was back.
~=~=~
Tommy:
I fainted. I know I did. Because, when I heard that voice, and saw those eyes, I blacked out for a moment. Mikey... I quickly came to, though, and saw a panicked Mikey looking into my eyes, and patting my cheeks. "I... I'm alright, Mikey... Just very startled. And happy." I threw my arms around him, and hugged him as tight as I could, which, to be honest, was not a lot, considering the way life had been lately.
We talked, and despite my protestations, he paid for my meal, then invited me to his house for a chat and a drink. I instantly accepted. He asked the diner's owner if we could leave my car for a while, which was allowed. He led me to his car, and opened the passenger door for me. I climbed into the nice sedan, and sat in the plush seats. I relaxed instantly, and just breathed.
Then, my promise from our early in our lives came back to haunt me, as it had many, many times. And, I started silently crying. I'd told him I'd protect him, and now, that was just a dream. And, I felt a failure.
The years had been incredibly kind to Mikey, kinder than they'd been to me. He'd grown into a rather big man, apparently tall and strong, whereas I, on the other hand, was only a five-and-a-half foot waif. I had been sick for a good two years after the move, stunting my growth somewhat. I'd added some weight, too, but still, despite now being quite healthy, I was not able to gain a lot of muscle and weight. Maybe it was for the better.
My weeping caught Mikey's attention, and he said, "What's the matter, Tommy? Why are you crying?"
I broke, and told him everything. At age fifteen, I moved with my family, settling several states away. Although I loved my parents, and knew they wanted the best for me, hence the move to another state to get a better income, I couldn't get Mikey out of my heart. I missed him intensely.
At age eighteen, I was diagnosed with clinical depression as well as asthma. It had become rather easy for me to become overworked, and therefore, I was placed on the permanently disabled list. I knew, secretly, and subconsciously why I was depressed. But, this secret I hid from myself as well as everyone else.
I longed for home. I longed for Mikey's company. And as I became a man, I longed for Mikey himself. Long, slow masturbation sessions, imagining him kissing me, touching me, usually culminated in me spraying thick ropes of cum over my stomach and chest.
Truth told, I was a virgin, and this meant I had little knowledge of how sex worked, or of the pleasure that could be had. So, I decided to do some research. I admit, my research was flecked with bouts of gay porn, but through study of writings and through many videos, I was introduced to the idea of anal penetration.
So, I bought quite a collection of anal toys and lubes over a year's time, and one rainy night, began to masturbate while slowly fucking myself. I imagined that it was Mikey doing the fucking, and imagined the pressure of his body above my own, pistoning within my hole. I moved the toy in a spiral motion, and suddenly found my p-spot, causing me to cry out, and to cum harder and more explosively than ever.
Cleaning myself up, I knew that I had to be with Mikey at some point. At that moment, I made my mind up to return to my home city, no matter what. I went to sleep, then, heart resolved. From that moment, I was a total bottom, and knew what I wanted most from the man of my dreams, other than his loving arms, of course, and a life with him.
It was when I turned twenty-one, when my parents gave me two things that changed my life. The first thing they gave me was a trust fund that payed me the equivalent of an upper-middle-class salary, in the form of a weekly check, of three thousand dollars. They'd worked it out with my bank, so that I'd not have to work again. Second, they gave me a new Dodge Charger, red in color, and with red trimmed gray interior, and a fantastic sound system.
My mother, speaking for them both, told me, "Son, for years, we've tried to do what's best for you. We wanted you to be taken care of, and we made sure of it. While we did what we thought best, we have seen we were wrong in one area. We took you from someone you cared deeply for. Now son, we know you are gay, and that's alright. We want you to go to your man, and make your life with him. And when you can, come visit, or even move out here to be near. Just make sure that he loves you back." With that, they both hugged me, and released me. I left two days later, heading east, toward my true home.
As much as I wanted to get home, another stay in a hospital was in the cards. Three weeks I stayed in the hospital, victim of pneumonia. My asthma made it worse. Once I was better, I continued my trip.
I arrived in my hometown, seeing that nothing much had changed. I stopped at a diner, and ate a meal. And, it was at this point, that I heard his voice. The rest, as they say, was history.
I withheld nothing from him, in the telling of the story, not even the fact that I loved him, nor the self-explorations I'd gone through. All of it spilled out, my voice refusing to get loud, or to go beyond his hearing. I told him everything. Of course, I feared what he would say, but I had to get it out.
~=~=~
Michael:
Six years of being without the one you love, even if you don't really know you love that person, can be difficult, by anyone's reckoning. I raptly listened to Tommy's story, stunned by what he'd gone through, and how life had changed us both. Tears fell from my eyes, as I drove to my condo, caught up in all that had happened. At times, I raged at the things that he told, stories of how he'd been treated, not necessarily by family, but by weak-minded bigots. At other times, I rejoiced at his tales of triumphs, no matter how meager, including his family's eventual acceptance of him. I was rather turned on by his admission of love, and what he'd done to ease the ache. I hurt with him, as he told of his hospital visits, hoping with him that it never would happen again.
After parking the car, we went into the condo, and sat with a couple of beers, to continue our talk. At his urging, I told my story, and left not one of my hidden emotions uncovered. This is what I told him.
I loved you from the start, Tommy, even if I didn't accept it. The day you had to leave, I thought my heart would shatter. It was broken, true enough. But, I held you in my heart, remembering the fact that you said, "We will always be friends." I knew, no matter what might happen, if we ever met again, our friendship would be as fresh as it was at first.
My mother and father are gone now, Tommy. They both passed shortly before I turned nineteen. I had come out to them when I was seventeen, telling them then that I intended you to be my husband if you ever returned. I still feel that way.
The first time I saw you sexually, and not just as a friend and companion, was after my parents had passed, and I had turned eighteen. One evening, I was resting, after a particularly rough day at my new job, where I was apprenticing. My thoughts roamed, and played images on the backs of my closed eyelids. At first, I saw my parents, the memory of them making me smile softly. After some time, my thoughts turned to you.
This turn of thought reinforced the longing I'd already had, but this time, there was a new, and arousing element. I started imagining your lips on mine, your body against mine, and the feel of your hair in my hand, as I would caress your head. The response of my body was, as you can imagine, rather hard to ignore, and for the first time in my life, I shed my shorts, and took matters into my own hands, as it were, the feeling of the arousal at once foreign, and familiar to me.
