My Greatest Memory, Part 1
My Greatest Memory, Part I My dad took up jogging at forty-two after a mild heart attack. Neither my brother or I wanted him jogging alone, so we joined him. It wasn't much fun with anybody else. Neighbors who went jogging wore radio headphones. They weren't interested in anything I had to say to them. Okay, I can play that game, I thought, and I wore headphones. Until I got hit by a car. I wasn't hurt and I made a friend of another jogger, a young photographer named Barry. He picked me up, dusted me off, and invited me to join him for breakfast. What I got before eggs, toast, and coffee, was a sexual jolt. In the bedroom I had to go through to reach his bathroom and shower, one whole wall was covered with framed black and white photos of nude men. "That's the kind of work I do," he said stepping into the room. "Some of the photos are for magazines, others are just interesting to me." "What kind of magazines use photos of nude men?" I asked. "Oh, gay magazines. Art magazines. Gay art magazines." Meeting his gaze and seeing him grin, I got the impression he was telling me he was gay. But then he backed off. He took his shower behind a closed bathroom door, slipped into a bathrobe, and hurried back to his kitchen. Over breakfast, he talked about cameras. I wanted to hear more about those men he photographed. He talked about the upkeep of his home and yards. I wanted to hear him admit he was gay so I could admit I was gay. It was the hardest answer I'd ever given back to a question. "Are you gay?" he asked. We were back in his bedroom looking at those photos again. He couldn't ignore my interest in them. When I begrudgingingly replied, "Yeah," I felt like I had just accomplished something big and important. After years of pretending and posturing, I told somebody the truth. He didn't take me into his arms and I didn't dissolve into tears. We both just stood there until it was time for me to leave. It took me almost a month of fidgeting to get from those photos over to that man's bed. There was no easy way to tell him what I wanted our relationship to be. I had to make some move to show him what I wanted. The anticipation of sex heightened my senses and made the meeting of our bodies nothing short of awesome. It was a hungry look in his eyes when we kissed. It was a long and rough kiss before we parted. When he went after my dick and took it into his mouth, one incredible sensation seemed to build on another until I was ready to explode. "No, No, not yet," he whispered, and was back up in my arms for another kiss. He sat up to give me a minute to gloat about everything and then his hands began to roam. Finally, after a sweet nibble on my nipples, he raised my left leg up to turn me over onto my stomach. "Sweet memories you'll have of this night, I'll bet," he whispered, spreading my legs. Sweet memories that have endured. For each of us, I'm sure.
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