Jace was always shy and stand-offish when we were with anyone else. When it was just the two of us, he was a different person. His guitar playing improved as well. He left it hidden in my room. When he let it out of the closet, so was he. Flamboyant like Mick, screamin’ like Jimmy Paige, crazy like Hendrix, and wild like Gene Simmons. He needed a real amp so badly; it wasn’t enough to run around my room playing acoustic while I spit out the lyrics. We’d end up lying on the floor, panting from running and jumping so much. I swear he could see the fans out there going crazy for him. But it never happened unless we were alone. It bugged me, he was so uptight. What anyone else thought was their crap, not ours. One night no one else had come over. We were lying there panting after running through our set of guitar covers. I got up and put Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon’, on the stereo, starting after the ‘Money’ cut. I pulled him to his wobbly feet and pushed him onto my bed. He never stopped me from doing whatever I wanted. I lay down and we floated away – ‘lunatics on the grass.’ Spacy space cadets. I reached over and held his hand, hoping we’d levitate. At least his shorts might levitate. We fell asleep. He woke me as it was getting light outside.
“Tim, wake up.”
I smiled and got back the goofy grin.
“I gotta get home before school?”
“Why?” Does your step-mom check up on you?”
“Naw, she’ll be too busy getting ready for work.”
“So, stay here and we’ll go to school together.”
“What if someone sees?”
“That we walk to school together? Maybe if I held your books for you.”
He turned red, score one for the Dude.
“So, talk to me. We got two hours before we have to get up.”
“Whadda ya mean?”
“Well, what’s the plan about an amp?”
“I dunno, maybe for Christmas.”
“Right, your parents???.”
“What can I do?”
“How do we get high?”
“’With a little help from my friends.’”
“How do we get by?”
“’With a little help from my friends.”
“I don’t need anybody.’” And I poked him.
“I just need someone to love
(Could it be anybody?)
I want somebody to love.”
Writer(s): Paul Mccartney, John Lennon
Copyright: Sony/ATV Tunes LLC
And he leaned over and kissed me.
Finally. Oh my gawd. I about died and went to heaven. It was not expected, nor was it that long. After the kiss, he had the goofy grin again. I love the goofy grin. It was my turn. I didn’t let go until he was squirming under me with my tongue going in and out of his open mouth. Maybe his jaw was locked open, but I took it as an invitation to probe deeper. He remained still until I felt the stirring of his cock. He first tried to rearrange it, make it more comfortable. Finally he was unable to stop squirming. His breathing suddenly became labored. I hoped and feared he was about to cum. With his hips bucking, it was either stop him completely or let nature take its course. I pulled his jeans down, took an impressively large cock down my throat, squeezing it and holding my breath, until he started shooting at every thrust. And he was still squirming while he bucked. Jace in XXX 3-D. I sucked the length of his penis as it withdrew from my larynx. Somewhere along the line I had creamed my shorts. I hadn’t even noticed. I was a mess and he looked as fresh as a newborn, all shined up and ready to sleep. Do I say anything? It would only spoil what had happened. Goofy was as Goofy does. We both lay back in bed. He reached and grabbed my hand.
“This is what did it for me,” he indicated our hand holding. “Pink Floyd and us united.”
Not quite poetic, but I’ll write the lyrics.
“Let’s have a band,” I rolled on top of him and shook him by the shoulders.”
“Just the two of us?”
“You’ve got to stop being shy in front of everyone but me. You’re a guitar hero, but nobody knows.”
“What about an amp?”
“Listen, we’ll get Robby to solve all that. He can play his drums to something more than records. I’ll sing and you can teach me rhythm guitar. It’s your band, music man.”
He kissed me again. My god, three kisses in on day.
His Mr. Woody was awake again. I slapped my limp, confused old dick, against his stiffy. I still couldn’t remember how it went off the first time. As it perked up, we were dueling dicks in my bed. He wanted to compare and grabbed both dicks in his hands. I could see I was barely bigger. I kept moving mine against his. The friction caused us to be less interested in comparing and more into shining our proud shafts. He had no control over when he came. His dick was in charge as we butted each other like rams in rut. Again he was obviously ready to geyser. I had been ready for a while. I took charge with longer thrusts, as he his stiffy rode me to climax. The cum was copious and a trip to the laundry room inevitable. Both our faces and chest was drenched in cum. I saw a wad in his hair. He picked it out by a finger, swallowed it, and pronounced it was his by its taste.
“You don’t know what mine tastes like. How can you be sure?”
He leaned down and licked a glob of it off my stomach.
“Yup, mine’s sweeter..
We wrestled around, finally falling off the bed and continuing to smear ourselves on each other.
“Tim, is everything all right up there?” Susan called up.
“I’m fine, just getting ready for school, Mom.” It was the first time I had called her Mom. It completely threw her off her game.
“Oh, Tim,” she sighed.
I was so bad.
Jace’s face went from panic to goofy grin.
We jumped in the shower together, and he began soaping up my back. He knew the area well from all the massages he’d given me. Moving from my back, he thoroughly soaped both butt cheeks. When his thumb rubbed near my asshole, I started to squirm. He liked that. It didn’t take long for my soapy ass to be invaded by the thumb, then one and two fingers. I reached back and pulled him by the hips close enough to feel his engorged cock. With no hesitation I grabbed the dick by the base and stuck it in, pushing away his fingers. It felt like swallowing the Titanic, but his massaging had really opened me up. I grabbed the shower knobs and held on as he rode me like at the rodeo. Each thrust hit me at a certain point that made me squeeze and gasp. I looked back, and he had his eyes closed and was locked into the fucking. My dick was leaking long strings of pre-cum. A lifetime of seminal fluid was finally being drilled. I couldn’t stop myself from thrusting back. Jace did his best to control me while his dick was on its own Journey to Bountiful. His breathing reached a climax pitch. I took his hand, wrapped it around my dick and showed him how to do a reach-around. He was a natural as I was soon cumming, which pushed him over the edge. The shower was still warm. We uncoupled and finished washing each other. How do I find these incredible fuckers?
We made it to home room, although my cool slouching walk was a little stiff. I tried to hide it but it was so obvious from Jace’s red face. Is there no modesty in this world? More obvious was my glow which I couldn’t suppress all day. Before we ditched, he took me aside.
“You gonna be mad I don’t act like your boyfriend in front of everyone? I need to take this slow.”
“We’ll save that for ‘The Dark Side of the Moon.”
Goofy grin again. “’Shine on You Crazy Diamond.’”
When we met for ditch hour at Nutrition, we decided to return to the garage, as it was closest to school. Jace missed Max, or, as he said, Max missed us. I was silently grateful that my room was no longer everyone’s ashtray that never got dumped. Standard procedure was to leave Jace’s and John’s garage before their folks got home from work and go to Robby’s for the evening.
Max was indeed a happy black lab when we returned, sniffing everyone’s pockets for weed; when he found Robby, his tail wagged furiously. He barked authoritatively, demanding his smoke. Max followed the joint around the room, catching his share as each person exhaled. It ended when he fell over and wasn’t able to get back up. Jace sat with him in stoner heaven. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Jace. Instead of it annoying him, he just winked at me and grinned.
Mary was the only one who knew how painful my break up with Scott had been. I asked her if Robby was her first boyfriend, or if she had a been in love before. She told me about Ned. He had been part of the group but moved away two years ago. They still wrote, hoping he would come back to Miami for college. She started going out with Robby after Ned left. What struck me were her plans to go to college. We were such a group of dropouts; it didn’t seem likely anyone would graduate.
“You’re in all college-prep classes,” she reminded me.
“That’s before I started smoking out.”
“You just changed?”
“I don’t even want to think about tomorrow, let alone in two years. All that preppy crap is a waste of time.”
“Well, I’m not going to give anything up until I have to. All you guys do is get stoned and listen to music. I may as well stay at school. That’s boring, but so is this.”
I didn’t have to agree with her, but she was the one person in the group with whom I could talk about my thoughts and feelings. Whenever I brought up Tina or my other Puerto Rican friends, she shut me down. I was stereotyping her by ethnicity. I admired her forthright attitude.
Jace and I went to Robby about our band plan, believing he could solve our logistical problems – no amp and no place to practice. Not knowing how well Jace played, he was enthusiastic but required that first we help him with his Halloween plans. When he asked Jace what kind of amp he wanted, Jace instantly answered, “Marshall Stacks.”
“At least you’re ambitious,” Robby remarked.
We agreed to help in his preparations. The next night he led me on an exploration beyond our regular neighborhood. Sitting high up on branches, he asked me to use my ‘second sight’ to find a special group of trees.
“What’s ‘second sight.’” I asked.
“Looking beyond what you see.”
“You mean see more than I see?”
“Yeah. Like when you close your eyes, you see an after image.”
I closed my eyes. “All I can see is your ugly face.”
“Good, ‘cause you’re not really seeing my face. Your mind is creating it. Am I really ugly?”
“You’re grinning at me, really evil.”
“Great. Now do the same thing with the trees. Close your eyes and let your imagination take you in the direction of our Sacred Grove.”
“Yeah, we have to find a place where the spirits will speak to us.”
“I thought they spoke to us through our feet.”
“No, idiot. Our feet keep us in touch with the spirits, in the earth and in the trees. No one speaks to your feet.”
“Now, try it. Let your imagination lead us to the Grove.”
“Why can’t you do it yourself?”
“I am the ‘Drinker of the Blood.’ My powers are different. You are the ‘White One,’ the spirits speak to you.”
I liked that I had an important role. Looking in all four directions, I made a picture of our surroundings in my mind. Closing my eyes, I searched the picture, looking for a sign that would direct me. After long seconds, my imagination took over and the picture became more primeval, with the colors brighter and the sky glowing. A brightening on the horizon made me think it was dawn, with the sun rising, but when I opened my eyes, I was surprised to see I had pictured the sun rising in the south.
“Well,” Robby anxiously asked, “did you see the Grove?”
“No, but Nature played a trick on me. I saw the sun rising in the south.”
“That’s a sign. It’s in that direction.”
Before I could argue, he was jumping to the next tree, in the direction I had indicated. We climbed for a while, stopping only for me to check my imagination. We were headed for the rising sun. After several blocks, the trees abruptly stopped. It was Bird Road, with no overhanging branches.
“Where do we go now?” Robby demanded.
“My vision doesn’t show a gap. I’m seeing the trees before they built the road. It’s like a long time ago.”
“Really? This is good. But, still, where do we go from here?”
“Do we have to stay in the trees. Maybe the Earth can direct us as well.”
“I buy that. Let’s climb down.”
As soon as we were out of the trees, my vision was gone. It became fragmented memories, with no coherent order and direction. We crossed Bird Road, but still there were no visions.
We sat on the curb in front of a house. Robby asked me how serious I was about the band.
“I am, mostly because Jace is so into it. He’s a master on guitar, able to play any song by just listening to it once.”
“Jace? Do I have to ask how it’s going with you two?”
Don’t kiss and tell ruled out sharing, even with Robby, but I figured I could be opaque.
“We’re doing a lot of practicing. It’s just that when we’re alone, he’s so much happier and open. He shuts down when anyone else is there.”
“By open, you mean his jeans?”
“Don’t even go there. He’s great with me. I don’t even miss my swim team friends now. You guys are my friends now, especially you and Jace. I’m as excited about the band as he is. Can’t you get into it, too?”
“Let’s wait until after Samhain’s over. I’m up for it. Maybe we need a joint for inspiration” as Robby drew one out from behind his ear and lit it up. We sat there getting high in someone’s front yard. A voice yelled at us from the house, and Robby casually dropped the joint. A kid our age came out the front door.
“Hi. You guys want to share that?”
“Sure, man. What’s your name?” Robby found the joint and handed it to him.
“Uh, George. Can we walk around the side of the house, so my dad don’t see me doing it?”
“It’s your house. Get stoned a lot?”
“Naw. I just moved here. I seen you guys at school and figured you was stoners.”
“That obvious, huh?”
“It’s how you walk and are always on the lookout for narcs.”
“Well, we gotta be careful.”
“But you were just getting high in the street.”
“Yeah, school’s out, George. In case you didn’t notice.”
We all laughed. Once we were all under the trees in his side yard, we stopped and finished off the joint.
“Wow, guys. This is really cool. I haven’t been high for months.”
“You can come over to my house anytime you want to get high,” I offered.
“Thanks, man. I don’t really have any friends here.”
“Now you do.”
“You probably don’t know this neighborhood too good either?” Robby observed.
“Well, I have been exploring. There’s an old abandoned graveyard about a block away. It’ll be cool at night, stoned and all.”
Robby and I looked at each other, nodding. George led us down the street, then into an overgrown, vacant lot. As we walked on a path leading into the undergrowth, I could feel my feet tingling.
“Feel it, too, Robby,” I asked.
“Yup. This is it, man.”
“What?” George asked.
“This is where we’re going to have our Halloween party,” Robby told him.
“Check it out. There’s even some old gravestones over here.”
There were several old stones, half-fallen over, even an old crypt, with the door missing. It was very spooky. Robby and I started to dance around each other. Our feet tingled and kept us dancing in a mad, whirling dervish manner. George looked at us in amazed glee. Settling down, we stretched out, with backs against the tombstones.
“Think there are ghosts watching us?” George asked.
“You must promise not to repeat what I tell you,” Robby looked at him seriously.
“We’ve been on a quest tonight, to find the perfect place for our Samhain ceremony (that’s the same as Halloween). We asked for a vision to guide us, but the spirits are so old, they knew not the roads built-in the forest. We were directed to this place, but Bird Road interrupted our vision. We were lost but found you. This is a sacred place, far more ancient than a burial-place for these poor souls. It was the spirits that rule this world that led us here, not mere ghosts.”
“You made a vow not to reveal our secrets. If you break this vow, the spirits of the underworld will haunt you until you are theirs.”
“Com’n you guys, you’re scaring me.”
“If you have nothing to be afraid of, then you can’t be scared. What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing. You guys are spooky.”
“Then run home and hide,” Robby yelled at him.
He jumped and starting running to his house. Robby laughed. He got up and ran after him, telling him not to be so afraid.
I sat in the darkness of the overgrown lot. All the thoughts about spirits and visions ran through my pot-addled brain. I wondered what it would be like to actually confront a spirit. Before I could laugh, I heard my name being called. I looked up quickly, I swore I saw a wispy, white presence, sitting on a limb above me. I heard my name again, but from a far distance. Looking directly at the smoky apparition, I could hear it speak to me in my head, not from the outside.
“You are willing to let a spirit inside you?”
“To converse,” I thought without speaking the words.
“Do you trust any spirit to enter your mind, to control your thoughts?”
“Is that how to speak to a spirit?”
“How else? I am not of this world.
“What world are you from?”
“From beyond this realm.”
“Can you come into this world?”
“Only when you let me, like right now.”
“I’m letting you come into my mind?”
“There are dangers. You have to give me control. I’ll take over your body, and you’ll be trapped in the back of your mind until I leave.”
“Yes. Once I take control, you can only look out through your eyes and watch what I do with your body. Are you still willing to let me in?”
“No way, man. Isn’t there another way to communicate?”
“You must let me into your mind, like we are doing now. It’s only a matter of time before I take over.”
Again I heard my name called, this time, two voices, one Robby’s. I shivered and consciously pushed the apparition out of my mind. Jumping up, I ran toward the voices. A quick backward look confirmed that the spirit was still sitting on the limb. I ran through the brush, not worried about finding the path. Soon I was on the street with Robby and George.
“You look like you saw a ghost,” George noted.
“I did. I swear on all my mother’s bibles. I just talked with a ghost.”
Sitting down I related the whole conversation to them. George became even more nervous. Robby’s reaction was just the opposite.
“It’s ‘cause we split up. The spirits are able to break through to you, when you are alone. This is great! All the signs say this year’s Samhain will be the greatest since the Druids left this world for Avalon and Tir-na-nOg.
I began to feel how cut and scratched I was from my flight through the brush. Pulling a green thorny leaf from my jeans, Robby cried out, “Look. Another sign. This is mistletoe, the holy plant of Wicca. We must gather more. This is the sacred place.”
He started running home. I followed, after telling George to meet us at Nutrition the next day. Once we passed Bird Road, Robby was up into the trees, swinging branch to branch toward his home. I tried to follow but couldn’t keep up. He came back to me, reveling in our spiritual adventure and the finding of the deserted cemetery. He was convinced I had special powers which enhanced his own. I told him it was all the pot we consumed.
“Don’t you see. The drug is a path to the inner world. It helps unlock the barriers we impose between the spirits and us.”
“I just had a spirit tell me to beware of breaking down those barriers.”
“You felt vulnerable because I wasn’t there to protect you.”
“I wasn’t thinking about you. I was freaking out. It was your voice I recognized that got me to push the spirit out of my mind.”
“See. I told you. You need me to protect you. Who knows what we’d have seen if I’d been there, too.”
He was definitely carried away by the experience. When we got to his house, he immediately called Mary to come over. The two of them made me go over in detail what happened. Mary took out her Tarot cards to help interpret it. Robby kept making me take bong hits, so I didn’t care what was going on. She had me shuffle the cards for the longest time. She laid out the first six cards in the shape of a cross. The top of the cross revealed The Wheel of Fortune, depicting a man and wife reveling at the top of a wheel while their son tumbled into the abyss. Next came the four prediction cards. Making the cross at the top, the final one was The Hanged Man. Robby jumped up and down.
“You’re all hung up. You’re going nowhere.”
“Shut up, Robby, it’s more likely he’s hung up on some moral dilemma.”
“Maybe I’m just hung.”
“Shut up, both of you. You’re ‘sposed to take this seriously.”
“Then, what’s it say?” I asked tentatively.
Mary took the top two cards and explained they both represented the future. The Wheel of Fortune was an influence, and that I was affected by Fate. The Hanging Man was an actual event, when I would get hung up on some problem. Then she reversed the card, making it look like the Man was standing on a beam, explaining that the reverse reading might be what would happen to me: I’d not be able to balance the conflicts and let things turn out as they should. I’d get hung for my mistakes by not worrying about it beforehand. I agreed I had taken this path.
“Just remember,” she warned, “Fate decrees we all pay for our choices eventually. Be prepared to accept what fate befalls you.”
It sounded pretty authentic, just like a real fortune-teller.
After the reading, Robby had a list of things for us to do. It was mostly Halloween costumes to wear. He wanted us in white robes, carrying scythes, like Father Time. He refused to hear that these were New Year’s Eve costumes. We also had to carry candles, keeping them lighted while we walked around. He made it sound important. I was glad to have some new adventure to pursue in the next ten days. He also said we’d celebrate Samhain/Halloween on November 1st, not October 31st. When I finally left Robby’s, I was still too high to go to bed, so I was drawn back to the deserted cemetery. I wanted another look at the wispy ghost. I boldly walked down the overgrown path and found the gravestones and crypt. I tried to invoke the ghost, actually calling out for it to come forth. It was to no avail. I sat down, exhausted by the night’s experiences, especially the bong hits. Once my mind had calmed, I heard the familiar voice.
“You still want me to take control?”
“No, but I want to converse. How can I regain control, once you’ve taken over?”
“It’s not me that would take control. I’m the guardian, to warn you of the dangers of entering the spirit world.”
“Then who do I speak to, to give over control.”
“The spirit world enters you, once you ask it in. It’s not just one spirit. It’s the power of the whole spirit realm.”
“You mean I’d be possessed by evil?”
“It’s neither good nor evil. It’s power in its purest state. Your will is lost once you accept it.”
“Can’t I just push it out of my mind, like I did with you earlier?”
“All you can do is observe the loss of will, watching the spirits direct your body.”
“What if my friends physically control my body, not allowing the spirits to act?”
“There are ways to exorcise the spirits, but that knowledge has been lost. Don’t foolishly oppose the spirits.”
“Can the spirits help me?”
“The spirits don’t recognize you as an individual person. You possess a modicum of soul, yearning to join the greater body of souls in the spirit world.”
“Why don’t the spirits come and take over all the souls in the world?”
“There’s no need, since everyone in your world dies. Their souls are already committed to the spirits.”
“But don’t the spirits desire to control this world?”
“The spirits can’t see your world. They only exist as pure energy. Matter doesn’t matter to them.”
There were a hundred questions in my head, but I felt a terrible fatigue from this conversation. I looked for the apparition of the guardian, but it was nowhere to be seen.
“You won’t see me again. Once we’ve spoken like this, I can no longer serve as guardian to you. When you are here, you have in a sense already crossed over.”
“But you still speak to me?”
“Everything I have to say has been imparted to you. How and when you remember it is up to you.”
“You are my friend, always with me?”
“I am a message. How you interpret it is your choice. Because you face death, choice is the only difference between your world and ours.”
“You mean I can choose to live?”
“No. Your only choice is when to die.”
“So death is choosing to let the spirits in?”
“No. Dying is giving up the chance to bring the spirits into your world.”
“So the spirits can come into this world?”
“This world of space and time, of energy and matter, doesn’t exist to the spirits. They are only aware of pure energy. It only exists here when your soul gives up the body and departs. Once you become pure energy, you enter the spirit world and are absorbed. That is why you, the singular, is really you, the plural.”
These thoughts inspired thousands of questions, but the guardian spirit started to slip away from my mind.
“Wait. Can I always talk with you?”
“That is not part of my message. I can only serve as a warning. What you desire to know requires you enter the spirit world. The final warning is, once you lose your soul, this knowledge means nothing, because this world does not exist for the spirits.”
It was almost faded, but I asked a final question.
“Friend, how can I call you, if I don’t know your name?”
“I am called Guardian, but I was named Charon by the Romans; as an animal, I was called Cerberus; in medicine, I am Cerebellum. Your Wicca friend would call me God of the Oak.”
“I will call you Friend, Guardian.”
It was gone. More questions arose, but I pushed them away.
I barely made it home, I was so exhausted. Jace was sitting on my bed, practicing guitar chords. He often came over at night, usually to practice guitar and often sleeping with me. He was seldom in the mood for sex before we went to sleep, but he appeared to be someone who was horny when waking up, the joys of morning wood. I was giving him time and space to work out what he wanted and if he was really gay. It didn’t seem that way. Also, I was not interested in another intense relationship, so soon after Scott. This night I was glad to fall into his arms and go to sleep while my back was expertly massaged. I awoke at ten o’clock to Robby and Michael shaking me from a dreamless sleep. Jace was long gone. I could tell that Robby noticed from the bed covers that someone else had been there. He didn’t say anything. I tried to explain to Robby what I had learned. He was incensed that I’d gone back to the cemetery without him, warning me I needed his protection. I needed to mull over all these thoughts before choosing whom I needed as protector/guardian.
Mary came over after school. She sensed that I’d had an extraordinary experience. I finally asked her to walk with me to get away from the drugged confusion in a room of heavy metal noise. She listened to my memories from the night in the graveyard and advised me to go slowly with experiencing more. She recited what she called a Santeria prayer to protect me. I hadn’t known how many protectors I had. My confusion was heightened by the fatigue I still felt from the experience. She suggested I go easy on the pot smoking to clear my head. When we returned to my room, Robby tried to get me high again.
“I need to cool it for a while,” I told him.
“You need to maintain your high, man.”
“I’m just trying to maintain my head here.”
“If you come down, man, you won’t be able to return to this high.”
Robby’s theory about getting high was based on maintaining your high. Others used ‘maintaining’ to mean a facade that you had everything under control. Robby meant you had to maintain a ‘super’ high and never become sober. He claimed your brain created a new consciousness that helped you operate in the high state. Once you sobered up, you lost the ‘super-high.’ I needed to take a break, which pissed him off. Mary took my side, which only made matters worse.
“Tomorrow, we begin the Samhain celebration,” he complained, “and both of you want to be straight. Great.”
“I’ve gotta be able to think about all of this, Robby,” I argued. “My head’s really dull.”
“All you gotta do is follow what I say.”
“Let him find his own way, Robby,” Mary added.
“You’re both fucked, ganging up on me.”
He stomped out of my room, with the others following, knowing where the pot would be. I wanted to be alone for once. Remembering how swimming had cleared my head in Hollywood, I grabbed my suit and headed for the University pool. I had to laugh about searching for my Speedo, when I had never been without it for two years. It was still early and practice wouldn’t start for half an hour. I slipped into a lane and began taking easy, slow strokes. Watching all the air bubbles through my goggles, I was mesmerized by this underwater world, weightless and incommunicado. My muscles responded to the challenge. After a long layoff, my lungs felt inadequate to the task. I kept the pace slow and easy. It was Stu who interrupted my reverie, diving into my lane and making faces as we swam together. I stopped at the wall so we could talk.
“Hi Tim, can you swim again?”
“I just came to loosen up. What’s going on?”
“I miss you, Tim. Is your back still bad? It’s all my fault.”
“Why’s it your fault? I hit my back on the trampoline. Anyway, a lot has happened since then. What’s going on with you?”
“Just the same. Scott and Lydia are ‘going together’ now. He won’t even talk to me.”
“Well, you’ll have a girlfriend someday.”
“But when you were around, it was like I had two brothers. Now I have none.”
I just laughed. Then pushing off the wall, I swam a quick lap with Stu following. I told Stu I had to go and beat a swift retreat before the others showed up. Stu gave me a sad look, having hoped I’d returned for good. After showering and dressing, I watched the group going through their regular warm-up routine. It seemed like nothing had changed. Riding my bike home, I knew I had changed too much to ever be part of that group again. It wasn’t a loss, but growth. I couldn’t define what I had grown into. My head had cleared but not completely.
Robby was sitting in my window when I got home; no respite here.
“Gonna be a jock-head on us now?” he accused me when he saw my wet hair.
“No. I know that’s finished. I just needed to clear my head.”
“You still gonna stay straight?”
“Give it a rest, Robby. I’m beat from last night.”
“Well, Mary told me the things you wouldn’t tell me.”
“You didn’t want to listen, man.”
“No. You just wanna get on Mary’s good side.”
“She was at least willing to listen.” My headache was returning.
“Just remember, man, she’s my girlfriend, not yours.”
“I have a girlfriend, man.”
“Why’d you come over and wait for me? Just to put me down?”
“No. I need your little faggot ass to help me with Samhain.”
“I said I would. Why you so jealous?”
“Forget it, man. Listen, tomorrow we’re going to wear the white robes to school. And we’re gonna have a candle ceremony at Nutrition.”
“Whatever. Just tell me what to do, mastah.”
“Shut up. I’m the Drinker of the Blood. Remember””
“Yeah, and I’m the sucker of the cocks.”
“Take this seriously, man. You’re the White One.”
“Guess that makes me the mastah cock sucker.”
We both finally laughed. Robby took me to the abandoned lot to gather some mistletoe. We walked there, avoiding George’s house. After finishing, we sat by the open crypt, and Robby took out a joint. Without a word, he lit it. Before passing it to me, he gave me an inquiring look. Without hesitation, I took it and we both got high. It felt better having a choice.
“What are you gonna do with the mistletoe?” I asked.
“Everything has a role. At tomorrow’s ceremony during Nutrition, we’ll pass out the mistletoe for each of the faithful to wear. Then we’ll light the candle, signifying the start of Samhain. I’ll give the candle to you. To get a robe, you’ve got to keep it lit for a whole day. The next day we’ll pass out another candle. If they keep it lit for a whole day, they get a robe. Each day we’ll pass out candles and robes. All the robed believers will march around school together. On the day before Samhain, we’ll all light our candles, leading to the Samhain celebration at midnight.”
“So, Halloween, the day before Samhain, we’ll all be marching around in robes and candles?”
“Right, but don’t use the word Halloween, it profanes our celebration.”
“You worked all this out yourself?”
“This is an ancient ritual, except I doubt we’ll have a human sacrifice.”
“Well, that’s reassuring.”
“But I still carry my sickle. I may need it.”
I gave him a doubtful look, but he was playing it all serious. He asked me to call forth my guardian, but my heart wasn’t into it. Nothing happened. He explained that the role of the White One was to speak to the spirits, whereas the Drinker of the Blood had to control the ceremony of sacrifice. I was glad he understood our separate roles. Just as I was ready to give up on my guardian, I heard a voice calling out our names. The pot made me hope it was the spirits, but I realized the voice was coming from the street, not from in my head. We both answered and soon George appeared.
“What are you guys doing?”
“Planning our ceremony. Meet us at Nutrition tomorrow, and you can take part.”
“Really?” he was so happy to be asked. I realized my doubts wouldn’t be reflected in the others. Robby had the charm to lead others astray.
Next morning I dressed in my white robe, feeling as foolish as a kid dressed up as a cowboy. I ignored the weird looks I received in the halls. In class my teachers avoided singling me out. At ten, Robby and I marched into the school cafeteria, where the others waited. He took the mistletoe out of a book bag, and then pinned a sprig on everyone from our stoner group. Without a word, he directed the group outside to the quad. He lined everyone into a semi-circle, facing east. Taking out a large, white devotional candle, he lifted it high over our heads. Pointing to the crescent moon that had risen in the morning sky, he dedicated us to the coming Samhain ceremony. Then he lowered the candle to be lighted. Once the ceremony was completed, we marched single file out of school. Everyone watched, and no one interfered, including staff. We all marched to Jace’s and John’s garage, where we proceeded to get high. Robby was in ecstasy about the success of the ceremony. In the ensuing days we held similar ceremonies, every morning, bringing in someone new with a robe and candle. The moon had yet to rise during the final days. Robby swore we would renew our vows in the light of the full moon on Samhain. Once all the high school stoners had been inducted, we marched to the junior high and inducted Dave, John and Jazz. No one interfered, playing along with our Halloween hi-jinks. On the 31st, we all lighted our candles and walked single file to Coral Gables Elementary. We formed a circle around a bushy tree that grew in the school yard. It was recess time, and at least 200 kids surrounded us. Robby had us chant a nonsensical phrase, until it reached a high pitch. Taking his long sickle, he made swipes at the purplish flowers growing on the tree. After cutting about a dozen flowers, he motioned for me to pick them up. We departed. The kids and teachers applauded our performance. We marched single file to the garage. As soon as I picked up the flowers, my feet began to tingle, and I felt a strong foreboding. After we arrived, I told Robby.
“There’s something wrong with these flowers.”
“The spirits are beginning to speak to you,” he answered.
“But they’re warning me.”
“These flowers are powerful magic. They’re called Deadly Nightshade, or Belladonna. It’s better’n acid, man.”
I understood my foreboding. I hadn’t experienced psychedelics. All the others smiled knowingly. Robby got Mary to stand up, and said a prayer; he called her the Lover of the Mother, who would prepare a potion from the flowers. She separated the flowers from the stems, then cut them into bits and placed the bits in a large bowl. Robby had her chew a handful of these bits, then spit them back into the bowl. We watched half-disgusted, half-entranced. Jace put Zeppelin’s ‘Stairway to Heaven”
on the stereo. We all swayed to its slow beat. Ricky placed his sickle over the bowl, slicing the tip of his middle finger and letting the blood run into the bowl. Motioning to me, he took my hand and soon I was bleeding into the bowl. Everyone followed, until he cut a finger on each of Mary’s hands. She was mixing the flower, spit, and blood concoction while bleeding into the bowl and absorbing the mixture into her bloodstream. We watched as a transformation came over Mary. Her eyes were blank as if blind, as if looking inward at her own dreams. She began chanting her own incantations, with no relation to the heavy metal music blasting on the stereo. Robby took the concoction away from her. She was completely unaware. She began calling out various people. When anyone responded, she ignored them. We realized she was in her own world, experiencing a reality completely separate from our’s. Her blind eyes were terrifying. I swore that no amount of pot could convince me to take this ‘trip.’ The focus Robby had created all morning remained unbroken by our concentration on her trip. She spoke more and more about her mother. We knew she was experiencing a memory or reaction to her feelings about her family life. She alternated between grief and joy, speaking mostly in Spanish. I knew enough of what she was saying to be embarrassed by its personal nature. She was fighting for acceptance from her mother. With my messed up family, I wondered what kind of trip I’d have. Finally she lapsed into a daze. Robby had us lead her outside. We made a sitting circle around her as she lay face down on the ground. Robby invoked the spirits to infuse her with the energy of the Earth, saying from then on she would be known as The Lover of the Mother. First he, then everyone in turn, lay on her and embraced her prone body. He had us remain in a circle contemplating the lit candles. He led Mary into the garage. I remained fixated on my candle, until I perceived the flame growing. It appeared to flare up to a height twice the candle’s length. It looked like an elongated onion, with two peaks at the top and two holes in the middle. Just as the two holes appeared to be eyes, it returned to its normal height. I had received a picture, and then lost it. Again I fixated until the flame grew to an abnormal height. Flickering, I could see a long face, with twin horns on the head and a goatee on its chin. Below the two eyes a mouth opened and leered at me – the Devil.
“Yes,” it answered my mind, “You called me forth.”
“I don’t want the Devil,” I whined.
The others jumped up and gathered around me.
“Who are you talking with?” Dave’s voice wavered.
My concentration broken, the vision disappeared.
“Did you guys see the flame grow?” I asked.
“Just blowing in the wind.”
“You didn’t see it grow to twice the candle’s height?”
“No way, man. You been doing acid too much?”
“I’ve never done it. But I saw the Devil’s face in the flame.”
“No, man. Let me concentrate again. I saw it twice already.”
“Okay. Shut up you guys,” Dave said, his serious expression exposing his worry.
I fixated on the candle again, and as it flickered, I felt myself drawn closer even though I hadn’t moved. The flame grew. Again I saw the leering face, with horns and holes for eyes.
“I’m still here,” it stated.
“What do you want?” I asked, barely hearing the others hushing themselves to keep quiet.
“That’s my question. You brought me out. What is it you want?”
“Nothing. I don’t want anything from the Devil.” I heard Dave’s sharp intake of air but it barely touched me. The flame flickered down but grew again.
“You know what my powers are, yet want nothing?”
“I know there’s a price.”
“But what’s my protection worth without a price?”
“I don’t need protection.”
“I am here when you need me.”
The flame abruptly shrunk to its regular height. And I leaned back out of the trance.
“What happened?” Dave breathlessly asked.
“The Devil said he’d protect me.”
“Is that good or evil?”
“I guess evil.”
“Then did you accept his help against good?”
“I didn’t accept anything He just said I knew how to get him back.”
“Good. Your soul’s safe,” Dave concluded.
Everyone just stared at me. Robby had given me a couple of joints, so I lit one and soon we relaxed. I was confused by my vision which included what I, a non-religious type, called the boogeyman. I figured it was the pot which had made me susceptible to all these religious, pagan and traditional ideas with which Robby, Dave, and Mary were fascinated. I wondered where Robby was, when he came stumbling out of the garage.
“Go to her, man,” he told me. “She won’t speak to me.”
I started questioning him, but he dragged me toward the garage. Once inside, I saw Mary lying on the floor, stripped of her clothes, mumbling incoherently.
“You raped her,” I accused him.
“She’s my girlfriend, you idiot.”
“So what? You still raped her. Look at her. She hasn’t a clue what’s going on.”
“She’s the Lover of the Mother. She needs love. I tried to have sex, but she rejected me,” he half-cried.
Mary was still in her own world. Her eyes were searching blindly into her imagination. Then she calmed down and smiled. I sat down and held her hand. Instead of trying to direct her, I let her take me into her own world. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what she was experiencing. Taking my hands, she placed them on her large, exposed breasts, having me squeeze and stroke the nipples. It was not an unpleasant task. Suddenly, I was pulled away. Robby jerked me to my feet, as I opened my eyes.
“You fuck, that’s my girlfriend.”
“Then you make love to her,” I told him. “Just close your eyes and let her take the lead.” I pushed him toward her. He sat down with her, but soon they were struggling on the ground. Robby wouldn’t let her lead in lovemaking. It was so typical of him. He told me to get out, which I was glad to do.
Outside, everyone had relaxed from the pot, anticipating the trip to come that night. They asked if Mary and Robby were okay. I told them she was teaching him how to make love, so we should stay out of the garage. Dave and Jazz pulled their white robes over their heads and ran around pretending they were ghosts.
We all went to my house to eat and finally returned to Jace’s garage as it was getting dark. In the twilight, we could see other kids in their costumes, trick or treating, reassuring us that all we had experienced was normal. I wasn’t sure who to worry about more, Robby or Mary. As soon as it got dark, they both appeared in their robes. He got us into a single file. We walked to the deserted graveyard, me leading with a candle in my hands. Following me was Mary, holding the bowl of blood, spit and belladonna. Next came Robby, with his sickle. The rest of the group all held lit candles. Once we reached the tombstones and crypt, a circle was formed around Mary, Robby, and me. Waiting until we were perfectly still, Robby began another incantation, mixing English and magical words. He motioned for me to sit in front of Mary, and taking a handful of the concoction, he stuffed it into my mouth. It tasted bitter and the thought of blood and spit made me want to puke. He held my mouth shut until I swallowed.
“Spirits of the other world, Mael, God of Night, God of the Oak, and Great Mother, hear our cries as we beseech thee,” he prayed. Then directing the others, a cacophony of cries and howls were screamed by the circle around me.
“Send a vision to our White One. Connect him to the spirit world. Through the divine blood he has received, let him pass the barrier of death and be one with the spirits that guide us.”
More howls and screams rang out, as I sat perfectly still in the circle.
“Let all the followers of this Druid tribe taste the divine blood, connect with the spirits, and help draw the spirits into our seer of visions.”
Robby led Mary to each robed figure, taking a handful of the elixir and sticking it into their open mouths. After swallowing, the initiate howled or screamed. When it came to Dave’s turn, Robby invoked ‘the father, the son and the holy ghost, causing Dave to choke on his unholy Eucharist. All Dave uttered were low moans, not howls or screams. His moans were more eerie than the full-throated screams and howls. At this point, I had full use of my senses, including a clear memory of the events. Soon my perception changed to a more dream-like state. I remember the group dancing around me. As if by some outside direction, I snapped my eyes open. Instead of sitting on the ground, I had floated above the group, yet I saw myself still sitting in the circle. I was in a dream, but I was hearing the others as they surrounded me. This split perception broke when I heard the guardian spirit speak to me. Looking into the trees, I saw him on his familiar branch.
“Break free of this world,” he called to me. “Leave this world of hurt and pain.”
He motioned for me to follow him. My head was spinning, but once I leaned toward him, my sight blacked out. I felt that I was falling into a deep well. That sensation faded. I knew I was moving through a light-less tunnel. There was no up, down, or sideways. My guardian was gone; no wispy ghost; no reassuring voice. I was alone and still moving. At last, I sensed wispy arms of clouds moving with me, probing my body as it fell, then holding me by an arm, leg, and under my head. My motion slowed to a stop. The probing continued, yet it was without intelligence. Suddenly I felt my arms and legs being pulled in opposite directions, trying to separate from my body. Before ripping apart, I exerted my will to draw away from each wispy arm. Once I broke free, the falling restarted. Again the arms reached out to me. Instead of pulling away, I concentrated on the arm holding my head, tucking into a fetal position. I was pulled rapidly in a different direction, until we stopped. Checking myself I was horrified to see my right foot and left hand were gone, yet I could still walk and use my missing hand.
“Talk to me,” I whispered.
At the sound of my voice, light and color returned. It resembled the underwater reef I had explored with Scott and Stu. I was weightless and couldn’t discern up from down.
“You are strongly attached to your body,” A voice boomed from everywhere.
“It’s strongly attached to me.”
A great belly laugh shook my underwater world.
“Am I inside you?” I asked, thinking of Jonah and the whale.
“No. You are we.”
Thinking about this answer, I asked, “Then why am I I?”
“Don’t you mean me?”
“Like we are me?”
“No. You are we. “
“Can we be happy, have feelings?”
The calm blue colors around me changed to iridescent pinks, greens and purples. The world moved in sharp bounces, like giggles. My mood irresistibly changed to joy and hilarity. I wanted to contemplate what I was seeing, but the changes continued, without explanation.
“What is happening?”
“Life goes on.”
“You mean I’m dead?”
“You died, but we go on.”
“Who are you?”
“You are we.”
“We are Tim?”
“Names have no meaning. Had you followed your leg or hand, you would be they. They are they now.”
“Can I be they?”
“There is no they, I, or you. There is only we.”
“What about me?”
“Once you are fully we, there will no longer be past, present, or future. We will just be?”
“How do I give up time?”
“Forget your body, like you’ve forgotten your hand and leg.”
“Where is my body?”
“With your friends.”
“Are they we?”
“They will be.”
“I thought there is no future?”
“Once they are we, there won’t be.”
“Where are we?”
“There is no space and time.”
“Are we going to talk in riddles forever?”
“There is only forever.”
“But I want to be then.”
“Where my body is.”
“You shall go there as we have other things to do then talk to you.”
I was hurtling through space again, until I suddenly reappeared above the circle of white-robed Druids. But the scene was different. The forest was the same as it appeared in my original vision when we found the Grove. My friends were different. They were grown men. Mary was an old woman, almost a shrew. To my dismay, my body was no longer in the middle. It was stretched between two trees, with my arms and legs tied to separate branches. I watched in horror, as Robby, or the old Druid with a sickle, raised it, and then split me into two halves, which fell asunder. I felt a rushing sensation dragging me back into the bottomless well. Yet the horror of what I’d seen done to my body dragged me toward the twitching remains on the ground. With a thud, I fell to earth. Opening my eyes, I had returned to my own time, but my friends had gone from the carefully orchestrated ceremony into chaos. None had their robes on. Their clothes were covered in dirt as they ran helter-skelter, crashing into bushes and trees. Most were screaming at no one in particular. I saw Robby and Mary huddled inside the crypt. I crawled in with them, but we didn’t speak, just stared in wide-eyed disbelief at the scene around us. I fell back into my nightmare of death. I watched the old Druid sunder my head into pieces with the sickle. I traveled to the underwater reef, which had turned into a primeval soup of surging tides, alive with prehistoric creatures and protozoan. Primitive feelings washed over me, then slowed and were extinguished. I absorbed the energy of stars and watched the energy flow out of me in many directions. I watched my shadow moving freely away from me. I was no more.
I woke up for good in Mary’s arms, who in turn was wrapped in Robby’s. Looking out of the crypt I saw everyone else collapsed in solitary piles, exhausted from their drug-induced trances. I crawled out of the crypt in time to see two faces peering out of the undergrowth.
These were not phantom spirits, but two ten-year-olds in their Halloween costumes. They had discovered our party. Iggy burst out of the brush behind them, scooping them up under each arm and dragging them into the clearing.
“What ho, me droogies, a bit of spy-spies.”
When Robby and Mary emerged from the crypt, the boys started to scream, which only awakened the others. Robby leaned over my seated body and asked me what was to be done with the boys. All I could think of was my dream and I mumbled, “Tied to branches. Split in two.”
“Grab the ropes,” Robby ordered and quickly the two boys were strung up between two trees. We danced around them until Robby held up the sickle. We chanted and urged him on. Tears were running down the boys’ cheeks. Robby held the sickle aloft, stilling the group. He then cut the boys’ costumes off, leaving them naked in their underwear. He said a deep-throated incantation.
“In the name of Mael and the Great Mother, I liberate your souls.”
He swung the sickle downward four times. With each slice, he cut a rope that bound the boys to the trees. Both collapsed at their release. In the split second it took them to realize they were not dead, they swept their eyes over the drug-crazed teenagers circling them. With one look at each other, they jumped up and ran off into the woods. Robby gathered everyone quickly, had all the robes and candles collected, and then told everyone to leave immediately. He wisely said we had been exposed. The cops would not be far behind. We all ran across Bird Road without being hit and made for our homes.
I found Jace who looked about as worse for wear as I did and led him to my room. I needed to remember as much as possible about my trip/dream, which I related in detail to him. He said we needed to write a song. I said it should be about religion and pagan worship. Jace said we’d call them false gods. I said we’ll be the false gods, and the others can foolishly worship us; we’ll live eternally and laugh at others painful screams. Jace got his guitar and played a basic E chord, singing We are false gods, we are false gods, each word a quarter note. I said speed it up with double quarter notes. Dahda dahda, dahda dahda, We are false gods, we are false gods. I jumped up and sang, “We found your world so meek and blind, We stand here laughing at your kind.” Jace did an A chord slide up and down twice with eight beats. I sang another couplet, “We will live eternally and hear your pitiful screams, Just wait 20 years or so and you will know just what we mean.” Jace switched back to the faster chorus, “We are false gods, we are false gods.” And repeated it over and over, until I couldn’t sing another note.
“Write it down, write it down,” Jace ordered. “It’s our first song other than covers.”
“Robby promised us an amp now that fucking Samhain is over.”
“Maybe not but something with a couple hundred watts to start.”
“We’ve already started. We won’t be stopped.”
“Because we’re false gods.”
“Fall to your knees.”
“You useless fleas.”
We broke up into hysterics. After, Jace made me write that stupid fleas lyric as well. I sat on my bed writing. He grabbed the notebook, looking to make sure I had copied my own lyrics exactly and threw it on the floor. He jumped me, ripping off my filthy clothes. I kissed him deep into his mouth, sucking his tongue as it thrust in and out of my mouth. What the hell, I’d let him fuck me for five minutes. The serious lovemaking could be done later. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulled down his pants, and grabbed his dick which was leaking pre-cum like he was ready to blow. I smeared the head against my anus. He blew about five wads of jism, as I tried to get the Titanic inside me. This was too good to be true. Once he had finished, I jumped on his back. With a gob of his own cum, I lubricated myself and his asshole, and mounted him in one stroke. He moaned so loudly, I’m sure my folks knew what was happening. The door was locked and I wouldn’t stop. As I went in and out several times, he was squirming trying to accommodate my size. Then I must’ve hit his prostate because the complaining moans became satisfied sighs. His dick was leaking again. I pulled his hair back to get his butt in the extended position perfect for doggy style and proceeded to fuck him to quick climax, which was almost as fast as he had been. The little upward twist of my dick when it’s ready to blow must have found his prostate again because his eyes rolled back into his head. I kissed him during the final thrusts, and let loose the full arsenal. I was shaking and shivering by the time I finished. He was ready to go again and finish what he had started but had gone off too soon. I rolled over on my back, with my dick popping as it pulled out. It reminded me that he had just been de-virginized. We didn’t stop for a souvenir picture. He jumped on me fully erect, and I positioned my legs up so my feet hung over his shoulders. He took me as aggressively as I had done him. I was able to slow his rhythm down just a bit, so I fucked back as he thrust into me. Looking into his faraway eyes as he mindlessly fucked me was a tremendous turn-on. Too late, I realized I had passed my point of no return and would cum before he did. I grabbed his head and kissed him as deeply as possible as I squeezed and rocked, with the jism spraying everywhere. The look of surprise turned to determination as he hurried to catch up. It felt like I’d died and come back to life, except I had already done that tonight. My bad habit kicked in after he finished fucking me. The next thing I knew I was waking up at first light. I looked over at Jace, a sleeping angel with a goofy grin, and realized I had blown fucking all night long. Then I looked at us and the bed covers. Besides the jism stains everywhere, we were covered in dirt from the ceremony. It had soiled the sheets to possibly a point of no return. No regrets, I thought. He stirred and opened his eyes.
“You fell asleep,” he noted.
“Yeah, that’s not best practices for mature fucking. Sorry.”
“Who gives a flying fuck about practices. We got off three times in about twenty minutes. Gotta be a record.” He grabbed me and I got a morning kiss. We were setting new records left and right.
“That song.” he noted. “We should change it to ‘We are fucking gods’.”
“That’s kinda a mixed message.”
“What, that we’re fags?” Another first.
“No, no. More that we’re so egotistical we think we’re god, like John Lennon.”
“He is god.”
“Maybe now we can write a sex song that’s not a love song.”
“Not yet ‘cause everything I do is to show you I love you.” Too many firsts, stop.
“How about a love song that talks about sex, but the chorus is “This is not a love song?”
“I think someone else will do that in a few years.”
“I’m still trippin’ space and time, from last night.”
“I’ve forgotten everything from before we got home (home? another first) last night”
“Stop. Before we go any further, let’s go over all the things we’ve just done for the first time. 1. Wrote our first song. 2. You got fucked 3. I finished before you did. 4. I died and went to Hell, in my dreams. 4. You called yourself a fag 5. You called this place home 6. You said you loved me. Now I’m going to say it. If you freak out, remember you said it first. I’ve been in love with you since before I broke up with Scott. I love how we got here in our own way. That’s number seven.”
He looked at me, got the goofy grin going, but then became serious.
“Well, maybe I got carried away just now, but 1. We’re going to write lots of songs. 2. I loved being fucked, but don’t tell anyone 3. I like fucking until I’m done; none of that 60 minute-man shit. 4. You didn’t die, so don’t let a bad trip stop you from being the sweetest person I’ve ever known, except for Max. 4. I know what I want. If that’s being a fag, that’s fine. 5. Can I really live here? Not all the time but as much as possible; I hate my house since my dad got remarried. 6. We love each other and that will keep us together more than any rules or best practices, as you call them.”
“Man, that was a speech. I agree with everything. But we have totally gotten ahead of ourselves. I don’t think being able to say we love each other changes anything. Let’s not get all gay pride about it. If anyone asks we can tell them but let’s keep it on the down low. I know you prefer it.”
“Yeah, but I ain’t ashamed of being a fag. And I ain’t never had anyone love me before,. You gotta let me handle it. Teach me how you walked into our lives and told everyone you’re gay, and they didn’t hate or kill you.”
“I don’t hate myself, so I don’t attract the haters. Maybe I attract lovers of any sexual preference.”
”Am I a lover.”
“Come here, lover boy.’”
We kissed but cut it short because we really stunk up the joint. Showering together rules.