Date: Tue, 10 Apr 2001 16:49:09 From: Horatio Nimier Subject: Business Trip/Heaven's Drowsy with Harmony This post contains explicit descriptions of sex between consenting adults. Much of it portrays homosexual actions and lifestyle. If homosexuality, sexually explicit language, or swearing offends you, or if reading material that contains these violates any law or personal or religious beliefs you must exit now without proceeding further. If you're under 18 years old you may not read it either because it is against the law. I regret this because I was once a randy teenager and I feel somewhat two-faced in helping to enforce the law. Hopefully, one day, censorship may disappear along with other vestiges of Big Brother and Mother Grundy. The story is fictional inasmuch as things did not unfold as portrayed. It is based on events that happened on two business trips that did take place. These memories have been cemented together with strips of fiction to make the story cohere. Names and places have been changed. Moreover, the early 80's were different from the present time. Unprotected sex with people whom you don't know well is, like, dangerous and stupid. The stories are dedicated to the memory of my friend, Kerry, and to a very close friend on the West Coast who is embarking on a whole new life. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- HEAVEN'S DROWSY WITH THE HARMONY ==================================== I cut the VFR's engine, unclipped my helmet and pulled it from my head. The cool smell of the Atlantic waves, unchanged for thousands of years, wafted into my nostrils from where they slapped over and sprinted up the beach before turning and running back coyly to their own element. Colin lifted his helmet over his dark mane and grinned at me. I smiled back: he and I both realized that we were going to get a hard time once we got inside. As he dismounted from his bike I glanced around at the parked vehicles: the other guys were all home. Oh well, let's get it over in one fell swoop. I swung my leg over my saddle and pulled the package of baby-care products from under the bungee-net on my pillion. "How's it feel?" Colin asked me as we walked across the concrete. I moved my left arm around and shrugged. "Not too bad," I answered. "The dressing feels kinda tight, but otherwise OK. You?" "Yeah. The same," he said. "Not as bad as I thought it'd be." We walked up the stairs to the front door. With my hand on the knob I paused and gave Colin a brief kiss then pushed the door open. As we walked in, Pete looked up from where he was cleaning some salad. "Where the fuck have you guys been?" he asked without rancor. "You left work before ten and it's now close to seven." "Hi mom, sorry I'm late," I said grinning at my buddy while subconsciously admiring the muscular arms that protruded from the T-shirt where he'd cut the sleeves off. He gave me a middle-finger salute in reply and I relented, "We were just hanging out in the town. Wasn't much for us to do today so we decided to take some R&R." "Well, you timed it right. Dave's got dinner ready in about five minutes." "Cool, be right down." "Hi, guys!" we called to Neil and Mike who were slouched in the sitting room watching the news on TV and they waved back as we bounded upstairs to our room. It took us just five minutes to hang up our jackets and helmets, pull on tank tops and cut-offs, take a piss and wash, and then walk back down together. Dave glanced up as we came down. "Fuckin' hell! What happened to you guys? You go down?" The other guys, startled by his exclamation, looked up. Pete came over to me and examined the dressing on the biceps of my left arm. "What happened, Chris? You get hurt?" he asked, concerned. Neil stared at us for a couple of seconds and then jumped up with a wild whoop. "Hey, our boys got themselves tattooed." Pete's eyes widened and his mouth dropped. "You guys got a tattoo?" asked Mike in disbelief. Colin and I just looked around at them grinning. "Let's see," said Dave, forgetting the food and coming towards us. We backed off and raised our hands protectively. "Not for a day or two," I said. "They've got to heal first." "What did you get?" "Where did you go?" "Is it sore?" The questions rained down on us. "Hey! Time out," Colin called making the T with his hands. "Give us something to drink and let's eat and we'll tell you everything." The kitchen became a hive of activity as everyone scurried around getting plates and liquid refreshment, all eager to hear the details. As the Coors foamed in my glass, I let my mind flick back to a morning some ten days earlier...... =================================================== We were standing side by side shaving, faces white with lather, when Colin caught my eye in the mirror. He paused, razor just above his cheek. "You ever thought of getting a tattoo ?" I completed two more strokes of the razor. Looking straight ahead with the best pseudo-innocent look on my face I asked, "This have something to do with a certain guy in tight jeans and leather chaps ?" In one smooth movement Colin picked up the aerosol of shaving cream and blasted my genitals with white foam. I grabbed him and we wrestled together with much shouting and cussing as I tried to transfer the cream from my cock onto his. The previous evening the six of us had wandered into one of the better gay locales that Charleston had to offer. The place was crowded and it took us some time to stake out some bar space. It was a good spot: guys were continually coming up to get drinks and we had front row seats for visual cruising. There'd been this neat guy leaning up against the bar near us and eventually, after eavesdropping on one of Pete's jokes, he'd joined our conversation by telling one of his own. As we talked I noticed his eyes scanning us and I'm pretty sure all of us had sized him up too. His tight jeans were covered by thigh-hugging leather chaps, a cowboy hat was pushed back on his head and a black muscle shirt accentuated his tanned arms. He obviously worked out and his firm biceps sported a sharp tattoo: a geometric interpretation of a twisted barbed wire design flowing all the way around. An hour passed quickly in chat and comments on passing talent before a friend of his came in and the two of them drifted off together. We spent another hour or so there and met a few other guys, but driving home in the back of Dave's Jeep with my arm around Colin, the sharp, black wire image kept running through my mind. A truce was called in the shaving cream war and we stood together cleaning ourselves up with wet towels. "So?" Colin asked, "Have you?" "Yeah...I've thought about it once or twice," I conceded, "but AIDS kinda scares me." "If it was safe would you get one?" I paused. The idea was kinda cool and my cock pulsed and moved out a bit at the thought. Colin pointed at it. "Guess that's my answer." I flicked my towel end at his thigh and he jumped back laughing. And so, at work that morning, we had scoured the yellow pages and over the following three days had surreptitiously crept out of the office when we could to visit various tattoo parlors to interview their artists. At first we were rather nonplussed: the shops seemed seedy and the folk in them were even less reassuring. The artists on the whole appeared to be the almost stereotypical types doing very basic work with little pride or exceptional finesse. By day three we were almost ready to abandon the whole idea when we opened the door of what, on the outside, appeared to be a rather unprepossessing shop. Crossing the threshold, however, we entered a totally different world: the room was brightly painted and clean and a mild smell of disinfectant permeated the air. On the back wall a large fish tank took up almost the entire area. Inside, like 1920s aristocrats out for a walk, brightly colored fish paraded back and forth, sometimes disdainfully ignoring the other inhabitants, sometimes bowing slightly before moving back politely and passing with a flurry of tail. The other walls supported a varied collection of photographs and drawings of exotic and tasteful body decoration which gave Colin and me our first realization of the scope of this art. A door opened and a guy in his mid thirties came out of a back room to greet us. Yeah, Simon was different, too. Unlike his predecessors we had met, it appeared he set aside enough of his free time to wash his clothes, clean his teeth and comb his hair. His right arm, from below the elbow to where it disappeared into his T-shirt, carried an unbelievably intricate, flowing, abstract design in reds, greens and blues. "That was done by the guy I was apprenticed with," he said as he caught me staring, open-mouthed and dumb. He held his hand out and introduced himself and we learned that we were talking to the owner of the shop and its primary artist, too. He ushered us into his office and in an unhurried manner over a cup of coffee he elicited from us what we were looking for and then pulled out a book filled with photographs of work he had done. Flipping through the pages he explained to us the different techniques he used. It was obvious to us as we perused the pages that Simon was very talented and had a vast repertoire of styles. Almost right from the start, Colin and I had decided we each wanted some kind of geometric or tribal design on our left arms and, when we told him this, Simon pulled out a pad and took his time to explain the differences between color and gray scale and the importance of having lines that were clear and well defined with uniform width and color. We talked with him for about an hour during which he sketched various designs out on paper until both of us had selected ones we liked. Colin, with his darker skin, had long turquoise waves finished with black tips. I went for a wave design, too, but with my fairer coloring I thought shorter, dark blue ones would look better but I went along with the finishing tips in black. After measuring our arms Simon told us it would take him a day or so to size the drafts and sketch them out onto his working paper so that the design would fit seamlessly around our arms. We discussed prices and then shook hands and took our leave of him. It was a novel experience and, as we walked out the store, I was surprised to feel my cock pressing hard against my jeans at the notion of getting my body permanently changed. ============================================== "Did it hurt ?" asked Mike. We had progressed through our meal and were sitting around the table enjoying our beer. Colin and I were full of bravado and behaved like seasoned tat owners explaining everything from the selection of the parlor to standing in front of the mirror with the design paper stuck to my arm making sure it was exactly what I wanted. The other four looked at us as though they weren't quite sure whether we were contagious or not. "Shit, yes......at first," Colin laughed, "but after a couple of minutes you get used to it. Then it feels sorta hot and tingly while the guy works on it." I remembered the excitement of sitting in the chair having the design transferred onto my skin from the carbonized paper. The first prick of the needle had nearly had me losing my piss, but, as Colin had explained, my brain soon realized that my arm wasn't being sawn off and I'd actually started breathing normally again. Simon worked on us in turns, doing an area of outlines on one before moving over to the other while his apprentice worked on the filling in of the design under his boss's watchful eye. Simon tended to concentrate on his work making only occasional comments. Rory, his apprentice, was more talkative and kept us distracted with tales of the different places he had visited in the Navy. I don't know whether it was from the excitement of the tattoo or from being in close physical contact with another guy, but I had a boner most of the day. About once an hour we would break and have a look at our reddening arms as the design proceeded. The time passed and by quarter to six Simon was putting a dressing around my arm and giving us a stern lecture on how to care for our new tats. We promised him faithfully we wouldn't pick at the scabs and, a few minutes later he and Rory were shaking our hands and reminding us to come back when they were healed so he could photograph his work. Neil got up and came over to me. He put his arm around my neck and asked, "Feel like a little rough sex tonight, Chris ?" I laughed and pushed his arm away. "Yeah.... It's sure gonna be gentle for a few days. The next two days we'll have the dressings on still, but then they're off and we've got to be careful for a while." "That's why we didn't get our cocks tattooed," Colin said and, after a brief pause, added, "or our right hands." He laughed, "But, yeah, it'll be gentle for a few days!" Fortunately the weather was warm and as we settled down on the deck we kicked off our clothes into a heap near the French door. A full round of beers had gone down before the tattooing questions and discussion finally dried up. As Mike handed out another six chilled bottles he touched the condensate- covered glass to Colin's relaxed cock causing him to jerk back. "So, Georgia boy, we're almost done here and you still haven't told us about your early sex life and deciding you were gay." "Well, really, it wasn't all that exciting. Not all the theatrical beginning that some of us had - no Hop Harrigan airplane adventures or Texan biker gangs -- or anything like that," he concluded moving his legs out of range of my foot as I tried to kick him. I settled back with my beer. I knew the highlights of the story and it was a neat jack-off fantasy. "C'mon, spill it anyway," said Neil. Nothing like first-hand porn to pass the time." We laughed and settled back in our loungers, adjusting our cocks in preparation as Colin focused his eyes on the brown glass of his bottle while he got his memories straight in his mind. "Well, when I was a kid we lived in this smallish place in Southern Georgia. In some ways it was a pretty stereotypical Southern town - everyone knew most everyone else and who their mama and papa were and who they were related to. By the time I got to high school, Nam was over and we didn't get the assemblies and stuff for each poor kid from our town that had got wiped out over there. I kinda drifted through those years: I could get good grades without much effort so I spent a lot of time reading different stuff. I was always a bit of a loner and I didn't have a whole bunch of friends. What I mean was that I was neither unpopular or popular - I got on OK with most everyone at the school and there were a couple of class buddies that I'd sometimes go camping with, but in everyday life I felt different in almost every which way; and not just sexually, either, which probably delayed any doubts about being hetero. I didn't get into any of these cliques that seem to develop at that age and, all-in-all, I was quite happy with my own company. I ran track and made the school team (shit, I set a record for javelin throwing that stood for about six years), but I really thought that a lot of the other sports were dumb, and football especially because so many of the folk took it so seriously. "My dad was editor of the local paper - the Herald -- which was kind of a big deal, I guess - and he and my mom were really liberal, which meant my upbringing was real different to most everyone else's. Dinner time was always a big discussion about politics or the war or student unrest and I was expected to take part and have my own views and defend them. So I grew up quite nerdy and had a different outlook on life to most of the other kids my age. Also, I was forever fucking around with radios and electricity and engines and shit like that. My folks didn't really understand it, but thought I'd make an engineer or something, so they didn't give me a hard time about it as long as I didn't set the house on fire. We lived on the outskirts of town and I had the whole attic for myself - bedroom, bathroom and another room where I'd built a Heathkit short-wave receiver. So most nights I'd be up there listening to hams or to the BBC or some other station while I did my homework. "At school there was this kid, Brandon, who was a hot shot football player. He was the good looking, all- American boy and his folks had a bunch of money so, one way or another, he had the chicks eating out of his hands. He hung out with a group of football jocks who didn't really cotton to me much. Not that we fought or anything, but they sensed, I think, that I regarded myself as somehow superior to them. The whole administration and most of the faculty treated these guys as immortals just because the football team was regional champions or some crap, but I couldn't care less and they knew it. We passed the first part of the senior year in a mutual laissez-faire attitude until there came this one Friday night. Fuck....." he grinned and laughed as it came back to his mind and he took a good swig from his bottle to prepare his throat for the story. "A few days earlier the PA system in the stadium had broken and the coach asked me if I could fix it. 'Yeah, you thick prick,' I thought to myself, 'I can pull out a vacuum tube and put a new one in!' Well, while I was doing that I took a look at the circuits and I figured out that I could pretty easily add a little circuitry to make the amp reverb. At first it was just an idea that maybe someone could use it for guitar or music, but then my mind got to thinking and so, when I came back from the store with the new tube, I brought along some capacitors and resistors and some parts from a Sears garage door opener that I had taken apart at home. "The next Friday night I actually went to the football game. I sat in the back of the bleachers and waited for a suitable opportunity. And the gods smiled on me. This Brandon guy goes tearing down the field with the ball and this old jock parent who did the commentaries was almost wetting his pants. '...and Walters has got the ball and is going like a wild horse...' I hit my garage door opener and the speakers all around went 'horse...horse...horse...horse....' There was a kind of silence and then everyone just roared with laughter. The school's great moment in football history had been reduced to a comic turn. The Herald came out the following day with the caption above Brandon's picture 'Wild Run of the Echoing Horse' and the name stuck." "I thought all horses were equine," I remarked in a loud aside making a gentle jibe at Colin's Georgia accent. "Fuck off with your stupid puns," he said pulling a stern face and aiming a slap at my cock which made me jerk my hips back. He settled down again and went on. "The coach knew that I had to be the one responsible, and anyway I fessed up when asked, which meant an in-school suspension. Now there's a punishment: I didn't have to go to class for a day and was forced to sit in a room by myself reading Popular Mechanic and Scientific American for about seven hours. Probably learned more that day than any other school day in my life." Understanding laughter rocked the deck. We'd all been there. "So, and I guess not without with some reason, Brandon was kinda more hostile to me after that and I became the butt of some of his group's sarcasm and puerile jock-humor. "Then, about a week or two later I was leaving the field after practice when the track coach called me over. The football coach was standing with him, too. It appeared that friend Brandon was flunking his math classes and, unless he could get his grades up he wouldn't be allowed to play. I had kinda mixed emotions about this interview. First I was kinda surprised that anyone at school cared about the academics enough to force a jock to do well. My second thought was that they were going to ask me to take one of Brandon's tests for him. But it appeared that they were on the level: they wanted me to give the guy some coaching. Apparently his parents would pay for tutoring and the football coached seemed to think I owed Brandon something. Yeah, right...... "Well, I was always short of cash, but, on the other hand, Brandon and I just did not survive in the same environment. So I wrestled with this dilemma for a while until eventually their persuasion and my greed won and I said I'd do it. "And so, a couple of days later I found myself in a classroom after school with Brandon. Some of his buddies showed up, too, ostensibly to do homework while they waited for Brandon to finish, but in fact, they were the audience for his jokes about school and math and about his staged, stupid mistakes, but mainly about me and nerds. I took this for an hour and then I'd just fuckin' had it up to here." He held his hand up to his chin. "I told them all to go fuck themselves, picked up my stuff and stormed out while their laughter followed me down the hall. I had gone a bare hundred yards and was still hot when I just happened to bump into the football coach in the corridor. 'The problem with Brandon,' I yelled at him, 'is not that he's too stupid for math, he's too stupid to know he's stupid.' Without waiting for him to speak, I told him I didn't need the bucks that bad and, without saying anything further, split. "Well, it seems that maybe I underestimated the coach. The next game came around and Brother Brandon was not allowed to take the field because of his grades. Actually it wasn't a big deal thing - the other team was a pushover -- but it sure-as-shit scared the hell out of Brandon. "The following morning, a Saturday, I was just finishing breakfast when my mom called me to the phone. It was Brandon and he wanted me to coach him in math. For the first time in his life he was groveling: There'd be no screwing around, his folks would pay as promised and, if he passed the next test well enough to get his grades up to play, the pay would be doubled." "Poor little rich boy," said Dave. Colin just shrugged. "Is it the kid or the parents ?" We all nodded sagely in agreement and waited for the story to continue. "I didn't want to do it, but I really needed the bucks, so I finally agreed. "Can you come over today?' he asked. "Fuck, I had this crashed Honda that I'd picked up real cheap about six months before and I'd just finished fixing it up real nice. (And was, I might add, the reason I needed the cash so badly). I really wanted to go riding. But,as I said, the bike cost money so, once again, greed pushed me and I said I guessed I could do an hour or so. "His folks had this real nice house: big, and in a real smart area of town. His dad answered the door and I immediately got "the gaze": it hit my long hair first and then began the vertical downward scan: the leather biker jacket, the two-and-a-half inch wide leather belt, the jeans, the helmet hanging from my fingers and finally the high-tops. Right when I reckoned he was fixing to throw me out, Brandon showed up and his dad backed off. But I sensed some grave misgivings and that gave me a huge boost to my ego, because I knew, given time, I could mind-fuck the bastard. "Brandon seemed kinda impressed that I had my own bike and came outside for a while to look at it. He was so clueless about anything mechanical that the slightest thing I'd done seemed marvelous to him. We chatted about five minutes until his dad yelled at us to do some work. Stupid prick! Did he really think I was gonna charge him for time not spent on math?" "Shit," Pete remarked, "I think our boy here has an attitude." Colin gave him a lazy grin and when our laughter had died down raised an eyebrow and said "Yeah. So what's your point." That drew our laughter again and he took another slug of beer as he refocused on the story. "Brandon's room was a typical jock's room: pennants, posters, autographed balls all over the place, but it was kinda too organized - like it had been decorated by one of these shop people to look like a jock's room, y'know?. Anyway, I dropped my jacket and helmet on his bed and we settled down to do math. That boy wanted to play football real bad and he'd finally realized that the only way was to crack the academic stuff. It was a bit slow at first and I couldn't get through at all until it suddenly came clear to me that his problem was that he didn't understand some of the real basic stuff. So we went back a bit and got that squared away and after that things started to fall into place more easily. We got onto a roll and worked straight through until it was time for lunch and his mom was calling us." Colin lubricated his throat with beer and went on. "Lunch was a bit strained at first and his folks were a tad patronizing to me, so I began chatting about politics and stuff that I'd heard on the BBC and challenging some of their ideas and finally I saw the realization hit home that I was something more than a dumb biker. By the time we were done eating his dad and I were actually getting on real well, almost leaving Brandon and his mom out of the conversation. "When we'd cleared the plates away, his parents said they were going out to the club to play tennis. Brandon said he wanted to get some more of his outstanding homework done while I was there to check it for him so we said good bye to his parents and trudged up to his room again. "We worked for about another hour and then decided to call it a day. We kicked back and chatted a bit and then I got my helmet and jacket off his bed. "'Cool jacket,' he remarked and then added that he'd always wanted a leather jacket but that his folks wouldn't let him get one. So then he asked if he could put it on and I said sure, and shit, I must admit, that boy did look hot in it." "Fucking sex maniac," chided Dave. "What can I say," Colin shrugged. "Seems now like I spent my entire teenage years with a hard-on." "Can't say that I've seen much change in you," remarked Mike nonchalantly as he opened another bottle. "Up yours," Colin rejoined languidly, "Pass me another beer instead of making wise-ass remarks." Once he'd checked the flavor of the new bottle Colin went on with his tale. "Well, as I said, this Brandon kid looked real good in the jacket so, just spur of the moment I asked him if he wanted to come for a ride on my bike. "'Shit, yeah,' he said, 'Can I ?' And I thought he was gonna cream in his jeans right there. "'Sure. I've got a spare helmet on my pillion,' I told him. He started to take my jacket off, but I told him to keep it on. 'If you come off your arms'll be hamburger.' I said. "'And you ?' he asked. I just smiled and shrugged. I didn't plan on coming off. But he grabbed his letter jacket off the back of his door and tossed it at me. 'You can pretend to be a jock for once,' he laughed. It was the first time he'd joked with me without there being a jab of meanness in the background. "We rode around town a while then out to the Satilla River and back until, on a whim, I ended up at our house. 'Come in for a while and see how I live,' I said to him as we pulled up in our driveway. I introduced him to my mom and after she had greeted him and asked him about his family - hey!" he interjected as Pete and Dave rolled their eyes, "it's a Southern thing." (He was getting defensive and it came out 'thang'). "You always ask after everyone's family because you always know at least half of them. Anyway, she checks me out in his letter jacket and says 'Oh, Colin, you look so handsome in that jacket. I've always told him to go get one,'" he put on a falsetto, female voice, "'but he thinks it's too 'establishment' - whatever _that_ means.' "'You've lettered ?' Brandon asked me kinda amazed,. "'Yeah. Last two years in track.' It was no big deal, I was just able to throw far, but it seemed to impress this kid," he laughed, "I think I mind-fucked their whole family that day," he grinned in a 'gotcha' kind of way and then started talking again. "We moved on, heading upstairs and then up the smaller stairs to my attic loft. 'Nice place,' was all he said, but I could see his eyes taking everything in. I'm fuckin' sure it was totally different to anything he'd ever seen before. I had books and magazines lying everywhere; on my desk was a piston from a VW that had a hole punched in it from a valve that bent; Model airplanes hung from the ceiling; one wall had a six-foot by four blueprint of the Spirit of St. Louis and the other had a theater poster for the Rocky Horror Picture Show which I'd got from a guy I knew in Chicago - 'cause, of course, the film was never shown in our town. "I showed him some of my stuff that I had collected and then said 'Come see the radio room.' I kinda had this notion that the whole idea of a radio room was real cool - like the Titanic and Carpathia, or some Trans-Pacific Pan Am Clipper. It was afternoon and not the best time for good reception, but I picked up some stations from the North-East and finally managed to pick up the late night news from the BBC. He was totally blown away, man, and he was like a little kid when I picked up some French station out of Algiers or something. "We ended up sitting on my bed and drinking Coke or lemonade and listening to music. I had just got Springsteen's 'Born to Run' and practically knew all the lyrics by heart. We weren't talking, mainly listening until, after a while, Brandon said 'You have a fucking neat place up here. You could have some great sex sessions up here. You ever bring chicks up here for, you know, a fuck?' "Shit! There was the question that every teenage guy asks another - and the one that never gets answered truthfully." Guffaws of laughter erupted from the five of us at that. "Yeah," I said, "that question was probably the main reason for introducing the Fifth Amendment. No seventeen year old can be forced to admit he's a virgin." "Uh-huh," Colin went on, "well, actually, I bucked the trend. I _had_ had a girl up there and _had_ had sex with her...." "See, there you are. Fucking fags muscling in on the straight guy's turf," remarked Pete slyly. "No wonder I could never get a chick into bed." "Yeah, well maybe straight guys don't have a clue about technique. Ever thought of that ?" Colin shot back grinning at him and getting a sardonic 'Yeah, right' in reply. "Actually," Colin went on, "it was the sex with that girl that was the crystallization of my doubts about being like other guys. Sex with a girl just didn't do all that much for me..." "You need some lessons ?" asked Pete, which made us all laugh again. "Naah," Colin said ruffling my hair, "Chris's better." Which remark got a series of cat-calls and whistles from the others. He smiled at me and went on, "All things considered, I guess, it was OK sex - especially for a first time. But then I began to realize that when I was jacking off I was mostly fantasizing about guys and even jacking of with my buddy was a whole lot more fun than having sex with this girl. So when Brandon asked me that question I lied rather than explain and said that I'd never had the opportunity. "Well, of course, he said he'd had several girls and it was probably true - as I've said he was a kind of hero in the school. But then he carried on that his right hand was still his most frequent sex partner. "I had to agree with him on that one. I reckon I was jacking of about four times a day on average. And then, like most young guys do, we compared notes on how often we did it and where. "'I could do with a good pull right now,' he said and I noticed his jeans were bulging a bit more than before. "'Make yourself at home,' I said realizing that I was getting a chance of striking pay dirt: here was a good- looking guy and _he_ was the one making the first move. I just sat there watching as he unbuttoned his jeans and hauled out this boner. It wasn't as big as I thought it'd be but it was a good five and a half and, best of all, it had a foreskin. "He pulled on it some, dragging the loose skin over the tip until his cock was hard and the veins stood out on the side and then said 'C'mon, let's see yours.' I was as randy as a rattlesnake and in a second my own woody was sticking out from the fly of my jeans. We stood there for about a minute watching each other stroke and waiting to see what would happen next. Man I really needed to touch his cock: to feel that juicy foreskin between my fingers. "I moved up close and reached out my hand. He didn't pull back or flinch as I put my fingers around the hot boner. I began to slide the skin back and forth over the hard meat. I was fascinated by the foreskin: it was the first time I had been up close to an uncut boner and the skin was tight over his head. I played with it gently, kinda afraid I might hurt him, but he pushed his cock into my hand until the head suddenly popped out from behind the skin and came into full view and I could smell that great guy-cock smell." As his story moved into the realm of sex there was a general stirring around the deck as we each moved to a position where we could handle our own or someone else's cock and assuage the clamoring demands of our hormones. Colin pinched his glans and squeezed some precum onto his fingers. He studied the sticky fluid for a second and then held out his finger for me to lick. He smiled at me and rubbed my chest and then went on. "Brandon and I stood there for a couple of minutes, close to each other, enjoying the feeling of another guy working our cocks. "'You ever suck another guy's dick ?' he finally asked me. Man, this was going just the way I wanted it to. "'No," I said, "Have you ?' And that was the truth. My buddy and I had jacked off together, but somehow we had never had the other guy's cock in our mouths." "He was indignant. 'Fuck, no! You think I'm some faggot ?' Well, yeah....the thought had crossed my mind." We chuckled. It's amazing the number of guys who swear they're a hundred percent straight but want to suck or be sucked by another guy. "So he says, 'It's just my girlfriend does that to me and it feels great. I was kinda wondering if you wanted to try it.' "Well, I was no fool and was sure as shit going to cover my ass, so I tried not to be too enthusiastic when I said that I'd go down on him if he'd do it to me. Brandon thought about it for a second or two and I almost thought he was going to back down, but then he asked "Nobody at school ever finds out, right ?" "'No. Course not. It's my reputation, too, you know.' "'OK. But you go first.' So I knelt down in front of him and pushed my lips up to his purple glans. I was kinda scared. I mean, it sounds crazy now, but I imagined a cock was gonna taste kinda weird - somehow different from any other part of the body. Maybe like piss - although I didn't even know what that tasted like." Everyone had a smile on their face as they recollected the first time another guy's rigid pole had touched their lips and then slid in, feeling so much bigger to the sensitive tongue than imagined, and the air of a taboo adding to the horniness of the situation. "I took more and more of it in thinking it'd be easy, but as soon as his head touched my throat I choked. So then I tried again, just taking in about half and giving my tongue room to really taste and probe. I'd always been turned on by leather and Brandon was still wearing my jacket so the belt hung down next to his cock right in front of my face. Man, it was hot." Colin's hand gave a couple of slow, firm pulls to his penis before he went on. "I wanted to feel what it was like to be sucked, so I let his cock out of my mouth and said, 'OK, now it's your turn.' "I stood up and he went down on his knees in front of me. Shit, guys, the minute his lips clamped over my head it was like electric shocks shot up my spine from my ass. This just had to be the best thing I'd ever done. That Brandon guy sure knew his shit about cock sucking and I was fast getting to the point of no return. I didn't want to come too soon and I sure wanted his cock in my mouth again, but then I also didn't want to stop getting sucked. 'Lie on the bed,' I told him, 'then we can suck each other.' I tell you, we were on that bed in a flash and my nose was buried in his pubes. Man, that first mutual suck - it was like Eve tasting the forbidden fruit. I can still remember Brandon's cock fucking my mouth without mercy and my balls screaming to be allowed to shoot. I was trying to hold myself back to prolong the fun when Brandon suddenly pulled his cock from my mouth and jets of hot jism slammed into my face, a bunch of the sweetcorn fluid spurting into my mouth as I gasped for breath. I felt the spunk start to surge into my cock and I tried to pull out of Brandon's mouth, but his hand was on my ass holding my cock to his face, so I just let rip right into the back of his throat. "I pumped and pumped into his mouth until I was really drained and then I pulled apart a bit. I felt kinda guilty that I'd come in his mouth, so I went back down on him and cleaned his cock and pubes up with my tongue as best I could to make up for it and all the while his cum dripped from my face back into his bush. "Then we just collapsed on the bed, panting. 'You're not a bad cock-sucker,' Brandon said to me after a bit and grinning at me as his hand rubbed between my legs. "'You ain't bad yourself,' I said. I was in heaven and we lay there for a few minutes, touching each other's subsiding cocks and fondling our exhausted balls in their sacs. After a while we got up and got dressed in a hurried silence and I took him back home. As we swapped jackets outside his house he asked me kinda hesitantly, 'We gonna do this again anytime ?' I was in that post-coital down and I was still somewhat wary of what new barbs would come at me at school from him and his friends." "Ooh!" said Dave, "The 'Will you respect me in the morning' syndrome.'" "Yeah," Colin conceded, "Something like that. But the more I thought about it I realized it had been good, so eventually I said that, as long as no-one else at school found out, we could do it again. Brandon seemed pleased, thanked me for the math help, gave me the money for the tutoring and we parted. "I spent the Sunday up and down: sometimes I was jacking off reliving the best experience of my life to that point, and a few minutes later I was fending off a dread foreboding that the following day I was going to be branded a fag at school. I was gonna be a modern day Scarlet Letter." He took a long pull from his beer, looked around to see that he still had an audience. Yeah...we wanted to see the outcome. "Well, Monday came and I kept a low profile at school not seeing Brandon until lunch time. When I did see him he was with a buddy of his - a guy called Terry -- but he smiled and said 'hi' and I said 'hi' back. Terry didn't say anything, but I just had the idea their eyes followed me a tad longer than usual. "The whole afternoon my mind was preoccupied with what I thought was going to be my imminent 'outing' and my physics lab took longer than usual. So, by the time I got to my bike after school, about three-quarters of the other kids had already gone. I was just doing up my jacket when this guy, Terry, strolls over and puts his hand on my handle bar. 'So, quite the cock sucker I hear,' he says grinning at me." "Oh, shit!" said Dave. "Yeah, my feelings exactly," echoed Colin. "I had been living this moment in my mind for the preceding forty-eight hours and I just snapped. I threw my book bag and helmet down and, swearing like a Marine, I started to run off to find Brandon and pound the shit out of him. I'd gone about twenty yards when Terry caught up with me and brought me down with a tackle. "'Let go,' I yelled at him, 'I'm gonna teach that son-of-a-bitch a lesson he'll never forget.' But Terry was bigger and stronger than I was and, in my unthinking rage, I was easy prey for him. In about a minute I was on my back and he was on my chest pinning me down while kids appeared from all over shouting 'Fight! Fight!' "He put his face close to mine and spoke quietly but without losing the tone of anger, 'Listen, you stupid fucker. Will you just hang loose for a minute and stop being such a stupid prick.' "'Let go then,' I told him. "So he said, 'If I do, will you stop acting like a fucking jackass and just talk with me?' "Well, I didn't have much choice. I was beaten and already my shame at being outed was replacing my rage. I don't know that I said anything, but Terry let go of my arms and, when I didn't attack him he got off my chest. 'What the fuck you staring at ?' he yelled at the kids around us and they began to move away sensing that the excitement was over. I got up and headed for my bike. I just wanted out of there in my shame. But Terry came after me. 'What the fuck was all that about ? Are you fucking loopy ?' " I didn't even look at him, just went about picking up my stuff off the ground. 'No. I had just expected your friend Brandon to keep his promise about keeping his mouth shut.' "Terry, moved up close. 'Brandon keeps his word. He had a good time with you and he thought you had a good time, too.' I looked at him without reacting: I didn't know where this was going. 'Well, did you ?' "I nodded silently and then added 'Yeah, perhaps I did.' "So then this guy leans towards me and goes on, 'Well, he and I have messed around like that, too, and he thought he was doing us both a favor. Like, maybe we could get together or something.' "Well, that sure stopped me dead in my tracks. 'You shitting me ?' I asked him, but he assured me he was on the level and asked me if I wanted to come over to his house. Now let me tell you, that put a whole new light on things but I must say I was doing a whole lot of second-guessing as I followed the red pickup truck over to his place. "We were soon at his house and fortunately nobody else was there. Shit, we had hardly got inside his house and the door closed when Terry grabbed me, running his hands up my back under my jacket and pulling me to him so that our groins rubbed together and I could feel his bone against my cock. He put his mouth up to mine and I was too amazed to do anything but open up and let his tongue in. We played tonsil-hockey for a few minutes while our hands grasped at each other's bodies and then we pulled apart and tried to simultaneously get undressed and grab each other while we stumbled up the stairs to his room. We jumped onto the bed and got our hands around each other's cocks and our mouths locked together. Terry had a long, thin, cut cock - about eight inches long - and we started off just jacking and kissing. But then we just needed more of each other and he pushed me onto my back and his mouth was on my nips, biting gently, then moving down and onto my dick. I remember holding his head, feeling the short stubbly crew-cut while forcing my cock into his mouth over and over until I realized I had to stop or I was going to blast. "We swapped around and I went down on him, once again felt anther guy's cock at my throat. I had spent the whole of Sunday evening in my room with a few bananas practicing controlling my gag reflexes,..." the deck rocked with our laughter and ribald comments, but Colin just smiled and waited until we were quiet again before continuing. "Hey, it worked! Anyway, when I took Terry's dick into my mouth I could swallow most of it without choking. I did this for a minute and then was pulled up short when he stopped sucking and asked me if he could fuck me. Shit, I hadn't even thought about _that_, but I was so randy I figured it was worth a try. We got up and I leaned against the wall and Terry came up behind me. I felt his fingers pry open my cheeks and position his cock at my hole. He pushed, gently at first and then harder, but it didn't seem like he could get in. Of course, now I realize that I wasn't relaxing my muscles and helping much either. 'Get some Vaseline,' I said in the end because my balls were screaming to let this guy inside me. "He couldn't find any Vaseline, so he used some hand cream of his mother's and we took up our positions again. This time when I felt his tip push at my ass I let go a bit and suddenly he was inside me. Shit, I thought he'd torn my ass and I yelled and bucked. He got a fright and pulled out, but when he said that there was no blood and my ass seemed intact I told him to try again, slowly. My balls were in command here, not my brain: even if I had been bleeding I would have probably done the same. "Next time we worked together and got him in slowly. It was still a bit sore, but I could feel him sliding in while his breath blew across my neck. He soon started to pick up his rhythm and my gland was getting massaged from inside so my cock, which had kinda drooped with the first pain, was soon rock hard and straining. He fucked me for a couple of minutes, his hands holding my hips firmly while I jacked myself off with one hand and pinched at my tits with the other. I could feel his hard body against my back, his breath across my neck, his pelvis rhythmically beating against my cheeks and the sliding sensation of his penis in my chute. Finally he started to groan and really shove in and I knew he was going to come. I began to pull my own dick hard, too and we both started pant and call out 'Oh, yeah!' and 'Fuck me, Terry' until we came together in a most incredible climax. "We were bushed: we just stood there, me leaning against the wall watching my jism dribble down the wall paper while Terry's sweat-soaked body lay across my back as we gasped in lungs full of air. "Once we had caught our breath Terry slowly pulled out of me and cleaned up his cock with one of his white running socks while I used my T-shirt to clean up the wall and the carpet where I had shot." "Now if that had been Chris," said Dave looking at his erection as he ran his fingers slowly up from the pubes to the head, "he'd still have that T-shirt around somewhere." "Right," agreed Colin matter of factly, "Probably still be wearing it around the house, too." "C'mon, guys," I replied defensively, "I'm not _that_ bad!" Then, shifting to attack mode, "And I could mention the names of a couple of guys who've worn jeans to work for a day or two with dried jism in them." "That's different," Dave shot back. "Yeah," agreed Colin, "all guys have precum, at least, on their jeans." "Hey, perverts," Mike called, "Let's hear the end of Colin's story, then you can go get your clothes and I'll shoot over them for you." We settled down again as Colin picked up the thread. "Well, no-one was home, so we walked around naked for a while getting a Coke and chatting. The talk was all about sex and before a quarter of an hour had gone by we were making out again. This guy-kissing stuff was a big turn on for me and I soon found my fingers spreading his cheeks and pushing at his sphincter. I wanted to fuck him so bad. I pushed him back onto the kitchen table and went for his ass and, once again, realized I had no lube. There was no time to go get the hand cream again, so I grabbed the butter from the fridge and smeared it all over my cock. It worked like a charm and my cock slid into his hole real easy. Shit, guys, that was an experience...feeling his chute grip around my cock all the way in. At first I was plowing into him like there was no tomorrow, but then I slowed down and took it easy while playing with his cock in front of me. It took me about ten-twelve minutes until we both came for the second time. "The next day I went home with Terry again and this time Brandon joined us as well as a guy called Don - another of the jocks. They'd been having j/o and suck sessions, but had never had sex, so Terry and I gave them a demo and some on the job training. Brandon for all his machismo was a bit scared of the pain, but watching Terry plow into Don gave him an incentive to let me in and then he began to enjoy the feeling, too. And from then on nothing was ever the same: I don't think a day went by that I didn't have guy sex. Don made it to Tech with me the next year and we managed to organize things so we shared a room and _that_ was another story. I tell you, over those four years I think I tried pretty much every kind of sex except with animals. Had some great threesomes with Don and his girlfriend - shit, wherever Heather is now, her husband owes Don and me big time for teaching her how to give head - and I've licked quarts of Don's spunk out of her, driving her to repeated, screaming orgasms." Pete got up from his lounger and walked over to Colin, his cock rigid and oozing clear fluid. "Show me how you give head, Col," he said holding his swollen member in front of Colin's face. Colin wet his lips with his tongue and leaned forward to meet the purple glans. He licked the precum off the tight skin and then put his lips over it and moved his head forward while his hand came up to grasp Pete's scrotum. I swiveled off my lounger and knelt next to my bud's pelvis and took his hard-on into my mouth, careful to protect my left arm from getting bumped. Dave came across wanking his cock and knelt on the opposite side of Colin and moved his face right up to mine. "Gimme a taste," he said with his lips right next to my cheeks. I moved off Colin and immediately Dave took the wet phallus into his mouth and his cheek bulged as the hard meat went in. I nuzzled the blond guy's neck with my mouth as my right hand found his nipple. It was stone-hard under my pinching fingertips and I started to tug hard on the little mound. His head lifted off Colin's penis and he moved his lips to mine. We kissed, tonguing each other strongly, and then went back down to lick in turn at Colin's shaft. Something nudged at my back and a glance showed that Mike and Neil were standing right next to me working at each other's cocks. After the foreplay that had taken place during Colin's story, this kind of action couldn't last long. Mike was the first to go. I heard his litany of "Oh yeah, man, go" uttered three or four times and then I felt the warm cream hitting my back and neck. It was the start of a domino effect: Pete went over the edge right away with a series of grunts; the spurts of jism hitting Colin's tongue and throat caused him to begin erupting and, as the warm cum shot over us, Dave and I raised our heads to get our mouths lined up with the source. Our tongues fought with each other to get at the surging sperm and we were alternately licking it off his cock and each other's faces. Dave's breath blew across my face in gusts and his body shook in recoil of his pumping right hand. "Hey, Chris, want some more ?" I turned and discovered a glans protruding from a stretched-tight foreskin right next to me where Neil was standing with Mike working at his rod. I opened my mouth and leaned forward but the dark skin had barely touched my lips when his hips moved forward and he started to pump his sperm out. I was swallowing so fast, Neil's and Colin's milk mixing within my mouth, that I couldn't do much to stimulate him - not that that seemed necessary judging by the amount of fluid that streamed across my tongue. The whole area at the base of my cock was alive with electricity. My face was covered with saliva and jism, the scent and taste of guy juice permeated my head, a few inches from my eyes were the cropped pubes and tight pelvis of a naked man and inside my mouth his cock was emptying the last drops of his spunk onto my tongue. I felt the first tremors coming from deep inside me and I grabbed Neil's ass in my hand as much to steady myself as to add the final erotic sensation. My own manhood hurtled out in a giant parabola across Colin's bush and lower abdomen. A few drops, launched in optimal trajectory, made it across to Pete's leg where they immediately started to march down to his ankle, flattening his hairs as they advanced. I let go of Neil's ass and stood up. Everyone was breathing hard as we moved apart, our fingers searching out any stray sperms that tried to hide. Mike picked up my tank top from the pile of clothes and wiped the remains of his spunk from my back and neck. "Here you go, Cum-Junkie, here's a souvenir for you." I laughed at him and took the shirt from his hands. I wiped my face and then cleaned up Colin's stomach and pubes where I'd shot. Dave held out his hand and I handed the shirt over to him to clean up his face. "Not a bad beginning, Colin," said Mike as he scanned his body for any last vestige of wetness. "You ever get together with those guys when you go home ?" "Brandon is the only one still in town. His dad was the local bank manager and so he's gone into that business, too. Beginning to be a big shot around the town, too, I hear: town council and all that kinda shit. Yeah, I look him up when I go back down there. He's married, but he still likes some guy sex on the side." "You got competition it sounds like, Chris," joked Pete. "Naah. Brandon is no match for Chris." I hooked my thumbs under my armpits and gave a brief swagger. "It'll be interesting to see what he does if Chris and I ever go down there together. Up till now I haven't really been openly out. My folks know and some other folk who are family friends -- and some folk may have guessed. My bet is that Brandon is going to shy away from me in public. I dunno - we'll see." It was a bit cooler now and Mike and Pete were pulling their T-shirts back on. I picked up two bottles of beer. "Wanna go for a walk on the beach for a bit ?" I asked Colin. He took one of the beers from my hand. "Sure, sounds cool." "I'll leave you guys to it," said Neil. "There's some motorcycle racing on the tube I wanna watch." I pulled my shirt off Dave's shoulder where he'd slung it and dragged it over my head the scents of love- juice swirled around my nostrils. I found my cut-offs on the pile and two minutes later Colin and I were walking down the wooden pathway to the beach. Once on the sand my hand found his and we walked in silence toward the sea. Only when the outermost reach of the waves reached our feet did he speak. "So, What's up?" Shit, I was kinda struggling for the right words. I gazed out to the distant horizon marked by the isolated lights of fishing boats. "Look, Colin, things have kinda changed for me down here." He looked at me, but I couldn't see the details of his face to read his expression. "What d'you...." "No, Colin, let me speak this through. I need to get this out right." He fell silent and looked toward his feet which were idly kicking spray out of the dark water. "When we were planning this trip I felt it was going to be one big adventure. It was a chance to break free and relax. It was going to be a chance to be with guys I felt safe with. Then, when things worked out with Pete, I thought things couldn't ever get any better than they were." I was talking fast, the words tumbling out. So few words, so much to say. "But, since we've been here and without me really noticing, things have changed. Deep inside me I'm not the same guy I was back then. When we planned this trip I was just some Texas fag - in the closet and in exile. I was resigned to the fact that there was no way I would ever be anything else, no way I would ever come out. "But now I know I'm not that guy any more, Colin. I am not just 'some fag'. I am a gay guy: a fully- functioning, thinking, feeling, living, gay guy. I am a whole person in my own right. I don't owe anyone any apology, and I sure-as-shit don't owe myself one." Colin put his arm around my shoulder and held me tight, but he did not speak. "Colin, I love you, man. I want to stay with you always. I want you to be with me." I looked toward him but still couldn't make out his features clearly. I turned and held both his shoulders with my hand staring into the vague form that could be my future. "Is there any way you feel kinda the same ?" He didn't say a word. His arms went around my back and he held me tightly for what seemed forever and when he spoke his voice was husky. "Yeah, Chris," he said at last, swallowing hard to control his voice. "I feel like that, too. I've felt like that for a whole long time. I never want to be separated from you." He moved away a bit to look at me and his hand brushed through my hair. "Man, I've wanted to say those same things to you a so many times, Chris. So many times. But I was so scared that you'd run. Chris, I love you, too, man. I really do." And once again we were holding each other tightly. We clung to each other like that for a long time. The sea lapped around our feet while our hands gently caressed the skin of each other's back and neck as we embraced, heads touching cheek to cheek. Colin, pulled back and gave an uncertain laugh. "Geez, Chris, you know you scared me, man. When you started your little speech back then I thought maybe it was break-up time!" I back-handed him gently across the chest. "You dumb shit. Who else would I want to be with ?" He held me close again. "I dunno......I'm glad it's me." An hour later we got up from where we'd been sitting on the sand talking and just being together. We brushed the sand off our legs and hand in hand retraced our steps to the house. The others were still hanging around the sitting room watching the TV. "Hey! Enjoy the beach ?" asked Pete. "Not bad," said Colin as we collapsed onto the sofa together. "Guys, Listen up!" I said, unable to keep silent any longer. When they looked up at me I went on, grinning wildly, "Tonight, Colin and I have agreed that we love each other and we've decided to commit and be partners for life." Neil held out his hand to Mike. "Ten bucks, buddy." "You had a bet on this ?" asked Colin smiling at him incredulously, "Man, your ass is grass!" "Aw, c'mon, Colin! It was so fuckin' obvious. You two guys are just so meant for each other. The only thing that was strange is what the fuck took you so long." And so it came about that, two weeks later, on a Saturday evening as the sun was turning the white sand golden, a small group of friends gathered with us on the beach. Colin's mom and dad had driven up. I must admit I was kinda wary of meeting them, but I'd got big hugs and a warm welcome into their family. My family unfortunately couldn't make it - right now I forget why, maybe it was golf or tennis at the local club, but I guess it must have been something important - but Brad and Colleen flew up to represent Texas. Rod, our manager, was in town to oversee the completion of the project and he joined us, which we all considered to be a nice thing of him to do. In the end, we had about eighteen folk to wish us well. True to form, Colin and I wore formal shirts, bow ties, tuxedos and cummerbunds over blue jeans and bare feet. It was a simple ceremony. Colin and I exchanged our vows and matching gold rings, Neil (who knew about these things) read some prayers, ending with the one from the marriage service that begins 'O Heavenly Father who has taught us by Thy Son that except we love one another we cannot fulfil Thy law.' Then Colin's dad read Spender's 'I Think Continually of Those' and Brad read the 'Song of the Two Brothers' from Cymbelline. Finally, I turned to Colin and said, "Colin, 'Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be. The last of life, for which the first was made.'" We hugged and then Colin put his hands together and brought his fingertips to his brow as he replied, "Namaste! I see the Divine in both you, Chris, and me. I revere that place within you where the whole of creation exists. It is a place of love, a place of life, and a place of light. That place exists in you and it exists in me. When you are in that place within you and I in that place within me, we are both one." Then it was time for hugs and tears and laughter and we trudged back to the house for dinner and dancing. Perry, our friend from the coffee shop, had brought tables, cutlery and plenty of glasses and he and his girlfriend set everything up in elegant style. We had been preparing food for about four days and the champagne and beer were flowing freely. Shane, the engineer from work, and his friend had set up huge speakers and acted as our DJs for the night. It was a grand time. Speeches were made and toasts drunk. Perry survived his first dance with a guy and got a loud round of applause for his courage. Rod entertained the folk with tales of my efforts to rebuild "The Shack" and gave an improvisation of Colin moving in with me and having to share the house with possums and skunks. Around midnight a long, white limo pulled up outside and Colin and I were sent off for the night to the old fashioned luxury of an hotel on Meeting Street. Coming in from the cobbled streets into the sedate lobby we caused some heads to turn with our quasi-formal attire. It was definitely an enclave of Southern gentility and grace and I was quietly thankful that the other guys hadn't accompanied us down to embarrass us. We should have known better. As I opened my briefcase to get my wallet at check-in the lid of a spring-loaded box flew off and showered us and the surrounding area with brightly colored confetti. There was a stunned silence for a second then a few of the folk in the lobby started to laugh and applaud. Later, stripped of the formal clothes and clad just in jeans, Colin and I sat with legs intertwined enjoying a glass of red wine as we reflected on our day. Somehow Winston Churchill's speech came to mind and I mentally paraphrased it for myself. This was not the best of times, it was not even the beginning of the best of times, but it was, perhaps, the end of the bad times. I drained my glass and pulled my legs out from between Colin's and leaned over and kissed him. "It's been a long day. Let's go to bed." Copyright 2001 Horatio. I relate these stories because I enjoy writing and I enjoy the subject matter. If you have any comments you can email me at horatio_nimier@hotmail.com I'll even accept criticism if expressed in an adult, objective and polite manner. Hate mail will be flushed without reading. Grow up.