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Chapter 2

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Love Transcending, Chapter 2

Please send any comments and/or constructive criticism to bwctadmin@cox.net .

Upon returning home, life began to return to normal. The summer ended, school resumed, and the Boy Scouts continued on without Gary and Chris.

Nick's father, Chuck, took over as scoutmaster of the troop. He was a preacher at a church in town. Upon his taking the position, he promptly moved the weekly meeting place to the basement of the church. Other things had changed as well. We now began and ended our weekly meetings with the Lord's Prayer, and we would also attend church at the end of our weekend camping trips. It seemed a little tacky at first, but no one seemed to mind.

I continued learning more new skills during the meetings and overnight camping trips as time passed. Every time I thought about Chris, I would remember the good things, such as spending time with Chris, and that incredible night, as well as the harsh reality that my love was gone forever.

In the months that followed, meetings came and went, new Scouts joined the troop, games were played, memories created, and the overall quality of the troop improved. I was surprised that Chuck was able to turn the troop around, and help us earn the respect we deserved.

I began to take a more active role in the administration of the troop. I had become a senior patrol leader, which is basically the highest-ranking scout in the troop. I planned and ran the meetings and activities throughout the next few months. It was a learning experience for me. I had always liked working with younger kids, teaching them a new skill, or helping them through a problem or difficult task. It is a wonderful thing to know you can affect a young man's life.

There were a few troubled boys in our troop. They weren't bad kids, they just needed a little extra support. JT was a smart and energetic boy, with a good heart. Unfortunately, he was cursed with attention deficit and hyperactivity disorder. He had trouble concentrating during the meetings, and would often wander away from the group during camping trips. I remember spending extra time with him, sometimes teaching him a new skill which was troubling him, or consoling him when he was feeling left out.

There were other boys, some comedians, some were the brain's, some the jokers. Some boys seemed to write their own rules, and form new groups. Until you spend time with a group of boys such as those I had the pleasure of knowing, you won't understand how much they appreciate the attention, companionship, and respect they get from a supportive group, such as the Boy Scouts.

Here I am, on a quest to better the world again. While I was temporarily distracted from my own problems by helping boys in need, things for me continued in a downward spiral.

You could say that the two years following Chris' grand exit from my life were a very colorful time for me; specifically red, black, blue, and gray. I was often the subject of abuse through the end of eighth grade and on into high school. Mostly, it was just emotional abuse, but that didn't mean I avoided the shoves into lockers, targeting in the gym locker room, or anywhere else.

Some days I'd sit in class, trying to learn and live, minding my own business, when a few idiots insisted on finding ways to make my life miserable. Throwing spitballs was popular, as well as pencils, or any other object that was big enough to sting, but small enough not to attract the teacher's attention.

Even when the teachers did notice, they hardly attempted to stall my attackers' behavior. Here I was, a vulnerable young boy, looking to my teachers for help, and they literally turned their backs on me every single day.

To say it was devastating would be an enormous understatement. Each day that I sat there, wondering if they'd get tired and leave me alone, my spirit would break little by little. I looked to the more compassionate classmates to partner with, and hopefully draw strength from, but not many people wanted to be friends with such a big target.

It got to a point where I truly dreaded getting up in the morning, was nervous and jittery each day I entered the commons of the middle school, rode home on the bus.

My parents were useless in aiding my efforts to blockade the slew of abuse thrown at me each day. It got to a point when I simply lied to them, telling them I had a good day, just so they wouldn't be infected with my misery as well.

Sometimes, I wished that something would happen to someone in school, and I could swoop in just in time to help the victim avoid disaster, and maybe gain some sort of "hero" status that would save me a few weeks of abuse, and maybe even reward me with some complements.

One day, while I was in the hall between classes, this cute black-haired boy who looked to be an 8th grader was fooling around with a friend as he was walking down the steps, and he looked as though he was going to lose his balance, and I was mentally prepping myself to step in if he actually did lose his balance and take a dive down the stairs. He actually did miss a step and stumble a little, but he recovered fairly easily.

He and his friends joked about it afterwards, and I mentally smacked myself for even dreaming that I'd have a moment of grace like that in my life. I really hated that those types of tactics seemed to be the only logical ways for me to gain some acceptance in school. If there were better ways, no one ever shared them with me.

The abuse and subsequent depression really started significantly affecting my life in ninth grade. My grades were faltering, I had no one at school to identify with, and I found no solace at home. I had given up on making friends around then, as it was obvious to me that no one would ever befriend someone as weak and pathetic as me.

The idea of suicide rarely left my conscious, from the time I got up in the morning to the time I went to sleep at night. Sometimes, even my dreams weren't an escape from the abuse. I was torn between satisfying myself by ending the pain, and pleasing my maker by making the best of it and surviving.

I can't say that I really ever chose one or the other completely. I was scared I would go to hell if I killed myself, so in a way, I experienced what I called a "living death." I got up, went to school, came home, and went to bed, all without thinking, feeling, or doing much of anything.

I was put on different drugs for depression during this time, most of which were useless to me. Sometimes, I would go on them for a while, and be relatively stable, then someone would push me past my comfort zone, and I would abruptly stop taking my anti-depressants, which would cause me to careen into a deep canyon of depression caused by withdrawal.

In a way, I felt more comfortable in such deep depressions. Yes, they were terribly painful, lonely, and distracting from my school and social life. They did, however, provide me with the only constant in my life. No matter what happened, good or bad, I would stay depressed. There were no unexpected surprises which would send me deeper into depression. There were no great days which would bring me back up again, only to slide down the next day. I was depressed, but I was comfortable, secure, and stable in my own world of self-loathing.

Not many days would go by without me longing for a connection with the boy of my dreams. We wrote letters to each other a couple times, but I felt bad about infecting him with my misery, as that was pretty much all I had to say about my life. It wasn't interesting, it wasn't exciting, it was only bleak and uncertain.

Most of all, I just didn't want to accept that I'd never see him again. I knew he was gone, but I always held on to the possibility that some day, some way, we'd find each other again.

I found myself comparing every boy I encountered to Chris, in my quest to fill the void in my heart that his absence created. Most predictably, none of them ever measured up to the high standard he set. Some came close, but I never felt strongly enough about any of them to pursue anything more than friendship. Plus, of course, there was that whole "them being straight" factor. It really threw a wrench in the whole process. I knew I could probably have seduced a couple boys that were "on the fence" over for a little fun, but I didn't want to be one of their regrets one day.

Well, time continued on until it was about a year and a half since I had seen my beloved Chris. Words cannot express the feelings I felt with him, and without him. I was totally unsuspecting of a plan in the works, one that had been under consideration since Gary and Chris' departure.

The troop was informed, one Monday night in late 1996 that the leaders wanted to plan a "high adventure trip" for the more experienced scouts in the troop. There were various options given to us as choices: a week-long canoe trek through the boundary waters of northern Minnesota, a couple of extra weekend trips to WSR, Winnebago scout reservation, a local camping ground, and a few other options which weren't important enough to me to remember. The idea of a weeklong canoe trip sounded new and exciting to everyone.

Thus, the decision had been made, and plans set in motion for the trip to take place from the 19th to the 26th of August. You know, it's interesting that I remembered the exact dates upon which the Trip took place. Maybe it was because I knew that it would be a memorable experience.

It was going to cost each scout six hundred dollars, so we had a couple fund raisers in the early months of 1997 to help shave some numbers off the total. Some of the real gung-ho scouts, like Travis and Nate, made a killing off their door-to-door candy and popcorn sales, and managed to cut a considerable amount off the total they would have to pay. Jason, being the brain that he was, just gave some boxes to his mother to sell at her office, and he cleaned up as well. I only knocked off about one hundred twenty dollars, much less than the others, but not the lowest amount either, so I felt okay about it.

As it approached late May, Chuck decided to drop the bombshell, revealing his surprise that Gary and Chris would be joining us on the canoe trip. I was shocked and excited by that wonderful news. In just a month and a half, I would be reunited with the boy that I missed so much. A web of fantasy began to spin in my head; things I would say, things we would do, and memories we would create together.

I wondered if he remembered the kiss we shared, the comfort and passion, or the feelings they invoked on that gloomy night just over two years before. I replayed that moment in my mind on the worst days of my depression, holding on to that memory as evidence that no matter how bad my life got, no one could ever take that moment away from me. I wasn't sure if our night together meant as much to him as it did to me, and frankly, I was terrified to know the truth.

Chris and I didn't mention it much in the letters we sent each other for a few months after he moved away. I felt that if I asked him about our night together, I'd push him away. Many kids go through an "experimenting" stage, and I feared he was just experimenting with boys, that it was just a "phase" he'd grow out of, taking my chances of finding love in him with it. That, coupled with his impending departure, leaving his friends behind, and having to start his life over again in a place he hadn't been to in years, was probably too much for him to handle, and he just had to connect with someone. I mean, I really didn't know what he could have seen in me anyway. I was nothing special; just some nerdy kid with a dark cloud over my head.

I really worked myself up about the meeting which grew ever closer with the day. I hated to do so, but I had no outlet for my frustrations, other than to stew over them and hope that something good would come out of the situation. He was my first real crush, the boy I compared all others to. I even played out a few scenarios in my head ahead of time, as to how I would confront him; how I would find out once and for all if he shared the depth of love that I had for him.

Each day brought us closer to being re-united; each day brought more butterflies to my stomach. I got so nervous and jittery in school that the teachers had to tell me countless times to stop tapping my fingers on the desk, or grinding my teeth, or biting my fingernails. I was a wreck.

Surprisingly, I was able to pass all my classes, despite my heavy distractions. As school finished up, and it was approaching late June, we had scheduled a weekend trip to Clear lake, Iowa, a town only nine miles away, to begin learning the skills necessary to be able to perform well on our trip. We learned how to navigate the canoe, which is not as easy as it looks. We also had to refresh our safety precautions and first aid skills, and other such activities. I was enjoying my time out on the water with my friends, on such a warm and sunny day.

Unfortunately for me and the other fair-skinned boys, it was little too sunny. A lot of us boys had taken off our shirts in the balmy weather, and logic tells us that being shirtless in an aluminum boat on a sunny day can bring severe problems. Logic, however, never won out when pitted against emotion in a teenage mind.

"Coolness" dictated that when it was hot, and you were working hard at whatever you were doing, you took your shirt off to cool down a little. Well, I'm not quite sure how cool I looked with my flabby stomach, but I didn't do much cooling down that afternoon.

Several of us returned home with quite a substantial sunburn. I was one of the worst off. I was thoroughly burnt to a crisp on my shoulders, and majority of my back. It was so bad, that blisters the size of half dollars formed on my shoulders. When I got home, I had to see a doctor and get a prescription for the severe sunburn I incurred on that eventful day. To this day, I have suffered a slight sensitivity, and loss of feeling in the skin of my shoulders and upper back.

Luckily, within a couple of weeks, the burn was gone, and new skin replaced the damaged areas. It was almost time to start our journey. Last-minute preparations included going over packing instructions with the Scouts, making driving arrangements, and other such activities.

Finally, it was the night before the trip was to begin. My mother, who, bless her heart, is an insufferable nag, harassed me for hours regarding the equipment I was taking. I decided to use my brother's duffel bag, which he had acquired when he was in the Navy. It made me feel cool to have such a bag. Once my equipment was set, I packed it in the car, so I would have one less thing to do in the morning.

It was a rough night of slumber, for the excitement outweighed my need for sleep. In seven short hours, I would be on my way to the most exciting week of my life.

As dawn broke, I dragged myself out of bed, and performed my morning ritual, which included a shower, shave, and a thorough flogging of the dolphin. Once that task was taken care of, I dressed in my scout uniform, with my camouflage pants, and waterproof boots. I was ready to do battle with the lakes and rivers we were about to conquer.

Of course, the actual canoeing wasn't set to begin for two days. But that didn't stop everyone from getting excited. We met at Nate's house, loaded our gear into the trailer, and waited for the rest of the group to arrive.

As Gary pulled up to the house, having been given a ride by Travis's father, Gene, he and his son exited the car, and walked over to the rest of us. I was a little taken aback by Chris' somewhat dramatic change in appearance. He was obviously in the middle of puberty, having shot up in height, lost every ounce of baby fat, and taken on the traditional look of an awkward teen ravaged by the hormones coursing through his veins. Not to say that I was disappointed, but I missed the youthful glow that his face now lacked.

I felt bad to think that my first thoughts of him upon our being reunited were negative, but I was definitely glad to see him. He was still the beautiful, charming, and intelligent boy I fell in love with.

I walked up to him, and greeted him. "Hey, Chris, how ya doin?"

"Hey man, what's up?" he responded. We both seemed to be a little nervous over this whole meeting, but I couldn't take another moment apart. As I shook his hand, I pulled him in with my other arm, and gave him a hug that I so much wanted to give.

"I missed you so much..." I wanted to say more, but I felt it best to save that for a time when we could be alone to discuss such private issues as those regarding our feelings for each other.

Being in Boy Scouts, you have to be very careful with matters concerning sexuality. Some troops apparently don't have problems accepting gay teens, but one never knows until the subject is brought up, which I wasn't planning on doing any time soon.

I stuck as close to Chris as humanly possible while on the ridiculously long ride from Mason City, Iowa to Duluth, Minnesota, over six hours with the law-abiding citizen type drivers that were our leaders.

Chris was busy playing with his VirtualBoy, a very low-tech VR device which was "top of the line" in the mid 1990s. It's funny how things so "revolutionary" become dust collectors in less than a year. But of course, it was the craze of the year, so we all took turns playing it. None of us slept during the ride there. We were too excited to sleep. Our car was filled with 6 of the most hyperactive 14-17 year olds with hormones surging so fast through their body that they couldn't even sit still for more than ten seconds. It was a VERY loud ride there. I tried to hang as close to my beloved Chris as I could. His squeaky pubescent voice was so sexy I never wanted him more than at that moment. "No worries," I thought, "there will be time for that."

After the long ride all the way to the most northern part of Minnesota, we arrived at the canoeing outfitters, which would provide us with all the food, cooking utensils, and other various camping necessities we needed. Once there, our leaders checked us in at the main office, retrieved our cabin assignments, and we split off into groups of four per cabin. Here were the assignments: Me, CHRIS, Travis, and Nate. In the next cabin were Jason, Nick, and Michael in the other one, and the leaders: Chuck, Tony, Gene, Fred, and Tim in another.

Once we were given our cabins, we unpacked all our gear from the trailer and stowed it in our cabins, then changed for dinner, and we all packed back into the vehicles and found a McDonalds nearby and had our fill.

Once we teenage food processors finished the plethora of food we ordered, it was time to high-tail it back to camp to get cleaned up, packed, and ready for tomorrow's start.

All of us were extremely impressed with the accommodations of the outfitter. The rooms were well heated, despite the cool climate of northern Minnesota. Once we gathered up our change of clothes, most of us walked over to the shower building to prepare ourselves for a week of shower-less conditions.

Chris and I chatted along the way, until we entered the bathrooms, walked to the back room where the showers were, and put our materials down.

I don't know about Chris, Trav, or Nate, but I was wicked nervous to undress in front of them. Even so, I wasn't about to be called a wuss or anything. So, I decided "f**k it", and started undressing, pulling my shirt over my head, exposing my hairless, but chubby stomach. I eyed the other two, which decided to follow one step behind me the entire way. As I sat down on a bench to untie my shoes and remove my socks, the other three removed their shirts as well. Not that I stared, but I did get a pretty good look at each boy's upper body structure.

Chris, my love, was pretty short, as he was when I last saw him 2 years before, though he had grown SOME since then, he was thin and skinny. His chest was hairless and very light, evidence of his chronic fear of spending too much time in the sun. He had small nipples that stood erect in the cold night air.

He continued undressing slowly but steadily, removing his shoes, socks, and shorts, and stopped, waiting for the rest of us, his smooth hairless legs looking luscious, his body smelled of male hormones, the sweet stench of a boy transitioning into a man.

Travis was the tallest in our group, a regular bean pole. He seemed to have a natural six-pack, and very long legs, which were further revealed as he unclasped his belt, unzipped his pants and tossed them in his locker. His legs were also thin, with light blond peach fuzz covering them evenly. He stood in boxers, waiting for Nate to catch up.

Nate was the group's smallest member. He was very short, but extremely well built. He wrestled and played other sports in school, so his body was in perfect shape, six-pack and all. I couldn't be sure of his ethnic background, but he did have very tight curly hair, and a medium brown skin that suggested his heritage came from Central America, though I can't be sure. He had thin, hairless legs that were as fit as his upper body.

I was basically of average height, but not nearly as fit as these other boys. I was quite the pudgy one; my baby fat seemed to stick around for a few years longer than desired. I was by no means fat, but overly plump I guess. Lower body was pretty strong, legs with quite a bit of dark hair on them that gave them the illusion that I was tanned. If it wasn't for that, I'd be as white as a sheet of paper.

Alas, it was time for us draw the curtains. Nate was the first to shove his boxers down and dash into a stall, fast enough for me to only get a partial view of his development, which contrasted his undersized frame, with clear evidence that he was well into puberty, with dark pubic hair, a good sized flaccid p**** and medium sized low hanging balls.

As he locked himself in the shower and began to bathe himself, Travis was next to kick off his boxers. I was, once again, not at all surprised with his development. He had a good sized endowment, with medium-large testicles, which hung mid-level behind his flaccid 5 inches. As he turned to the shower stall, his lean dimpled cheeks smiled at us all the way.

And then there were two...

I was so completely sick of hiding my sexuality at this point that I was openly staring at Chris, waiting for him to make the first move. Chris returned my seductive stare and slipped his jockeys to the floor, revealing his pride and joy, a 4 inch limp p****, with small-medium sized balls. Though it may have been small, it was magnificent in my eyes. I had waited three years to glimpse this masterpiece that is Chris' body. Here it was, in all its beauty, Chris making no effort to hide his genitals, instead pleading at me with his eyes to reveal my own, which I did soon after.

I was a little smaller than average, I'd say; about five inches or so, though I never cared enough to measure it. My balls were small-to-medium, with plenty of dark pubic hair surrounding my genitals. I wasn't much to look at, but what I had was definitely enough to get the job done, if there was a job to be done there, which I hoped and prayed there would be soon.

Both of us broke our stares suddenly and turned towards opposite stalls, each of us enjoying the wonderful pleasure of the hot water trickling down our bodies. I had gotten so worked up seeing my friends naked that once I closed the door to the stall, I popped wood almost instantly. Frankly, I'm surprised little John stayed down as long as he did.

I let myself relax for a few minutes, thinking about that last day at summer camp two years ago, wondering if it meant as much to Chris as it did to me. I could picture it in my head with sparkling realism, reliving every detail as though it was happening for the first time. Does he still love me? Did he ever love me in the first place, or was that just the result of overactive hormones? God I wished it was real. I wished with all my heart that I could find that love we lost so long ago.

As soon as I got comfortable in the warm shower, I put my right arm up against the wall and leant my head onto it, closing my eyes and picturing my friends and my love Chris, naked, exposed, shouting to the world their developing sexual maturity. I wrapped my hand around my rigid c*** and slowly stimulated myself to a powerful climax, spilling my load onto the shower wall.

As I recovered from my blissful moment, I heard a cough from behind me, which startled me, causing me to spin on my right heel dramatically, catching Chris staring at me intrigued. I immediately turned my back to him and sat down with my back to the door, embarrassed at being caught by the one boy whom I felt the most incredible feelings for.

Little did I know that Chris wasn't just spying on me while I pleasured myself, but rather masturbating while gazing at me from across the room. Chris knew that I was checking him out, and was just waiting for the right time to make a move. I was excited and nervous at the same time. I had yet to have a sexual experience, so I was pretty ignorant as to how to go about finding the right moment, but I knew that in the shower house, with two hopelessly straight boys showering as well, this was neither the time nor the place for any further sexual activities. We would find the time, I knew it...

After getting out of the showers, drying off and dressing, the four of us walked back to our cabin and began setting up our bedding to go to sleep. Trav and Nate were on one side of the room, Nate on the top bunk, and Chris and I were on the other side. I decided to sleep on the bottom bunk, with Chris above me. Besides, in my mind we weren't going to be in separate beds for long...

The four of us chatted about our excitement to beginning our journey around the Boundary Waters of northern Minnesota tomorrow, who we wanted to canoe with, what we would do at nights when we weren't canoeing, and other various topics until fatigue finally hit us all. Trav and Nate were the first to knock off; Nate's light snoring was almost melodic, setting a peaceful mood to the air.

I lay on my bed with my head propped up by my hand, staring at the bed above me. I tried to clear my mind and fall asleep but Chris was all I could think about, the vision of his beautiful body imprinted in my mind for all eternity. I was almost startled back to reality when Chris popped his head down from the bunk, looking at me upside down.

"I can't sleep, can I sit with you for a bit?" he asked.

Umm lemme think...Duh!

"Sure, man, hop on down."

Chris climbed down the ladder of the bunk and I sat up to make room for him. We sat with our backs to the wall of the cabin, at first not making any eye contact. I still felt as though what happened in the shower was not real, just a product of my overactive imagination, however I was about to be proved completely wrong.

"About earlier," Chris started, "I'm sorry I caught you...you know.

I didn't mean to..." His voice quieted down to a whisper by the end of the sentence.

"It's ok, man," I quickly responded to help ease his anxiety.

Chris stayed silent for about a minute, before he began again. "Who were you thinking about?"

Who do you think, fool?

"No one really," I replied. You lying sack of s**t.

"Oh," Chris responded, sounding disappointed. After a pause, he continued. "I...I was doing it too..." he meekly admitted.

"I know," I stated in a nonchalant manner. I was both hoping and dreading the direction in which this conversation seemed to be going. But I figured if this is the way it's meant to be, I better not do anything to f**k it up.

"Matt, can I tell you something?" Chris asked meekly.

"Sure," I responded, my mouth dry and palms sweating with nervous tension. This was it. This is where it was all going to come out.

Chris gazed in my eyes for a few seconds, his awesome blue eyes communicating the intense love he held for me in his heart. We knew that nothing needed to be said. This was the moment when we knew for sure that we loved each other deeply. This love, this infinitely deep love, was much more powerful than a simple friendship. I was head over heels for this teenage Adonis, and he was madly in love with me.

I took his hand in mine, squeezing gently, reassuring him, giving him the strength to take the next step. Chris pursed his lips, cocked his head to the right, and moved ever so slowly towards my lips, eyes closing a mere millimeter before our lips made contact with a lightning bolt so powerful that my heart raced, breathing sped up, and a hot tingly feeling rushed over my body, electrifying every nerve with intense pleasure the likes of which I hadn't felt for over two years.

His lips tasted as sweet, I loved the aroma of his body, the closeness and warmth our bodies shared. I placed my left hand on his side, touching his bare skin, so soft and silky; my right reached up and held his cheek, as I attempted to slip my tongue past his lips, which he graciously parted for me, revealing even more of his delicious candied mouth. I savored the succulent flavor of his saliva, while exploring as much of his mouth with my tongue as possible.

I broke the kiss, gazed at Chris with a mock confused look, and asked, "So, you're saying you still love me?"

Chris and I giggled at my sarcasm, and then we settled into a deeper level of emotion. I felt Chris project his love for me through his eyes, and did my best to do the same. We brought our lips together again and returned to our passionate kissing, using our hands to lovingly caress each other's bodies while we made love with our mouths.

I was so emotionally driven at this point that I barely knew what was happening. My entire reality was the kiss, the touch, the moment. But suddenly, it wasn't enough. I needed more. I brought both my hands down to his side, gently guiding his smooth body to the mattress. There he lay on his back, waiting eagerly for whatever I had planned...

What did I have planned???? I have no idea, but I seemed to be doing damn good at this point.

I continued making out with Chris, my most valued dream coming true right before my eyes. My hands ran themselves over his torso, fingertips grazing his erect nipples. As I began kissing his neck lovingly, Chris began grinding his groin into mine. As if it were even possible, my bliss jumped ten levels, to a point where I knew I would be messing up my pants within minutes. I gently ground myself into his hardness in reciprocation, ever so lightly. The pleasure continued to build as the heat of our encounter enveloped us in a shield of warmth.

As my orgasm grew frightfully close, I knew we needed to slow down, fast. Not that I wanted to stop, far from it. But we were beginning to moan softly, and since we were not alone, I was not going to let this situation progress any further. The Boy Scout environment is so unpredictable in the way each troop deals with homosexuality, that it could have been very dangerous for us to be caught in an awkward situation. Gently I stopped my hip gyrations and pulled my lips off my newfound love.

"We need to slow down," I whispered. "I don't want us to get caught."

"Aww..." Chris sighed, "It was just getting good."

"I know, baby." Baby? "But we've got plenty of time for this. Let's take it slowly and carefully."

Chris sighed. "Ok, but I don't know how I'm gonna get to sleep tonight with this," Chris motioned towards his erection.

"Save it for later, sexy" sexy? Where was this coming from?

We hugged for a little longer, and then Chris gave me a kiss on the cheek, smiled at me, then climbed back to the top bunk and settled back under his sheets. I did the same, laying there still reeling from the new emotions I had felt that day.

I knew that tomorrow was going to be an eventful day. I had a million questions to ask Chris, as I'm sure he had just as many to ask me. Until Chris came back into my life, I had given up to the idea of finding a boyfriend and being happy. I was a Prozac-lifer with no chance of parole.

Everything changed at that moment, the moment Chris and I were joined at the lips in the most tender, loving show of affection that we knew of, a re-confirmation of the love we felt so long ago, and had held inside us for two long years.

This was going to be an AWESOME week...

Comments and/or constructive criticism to bwctadmin@cox.net .

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