We were 15. A sleepover. In my basement bedroom. Stu and I were doing sit-ups on the grey carpeted floor. A Saturday night.
We worked out together. Were best friends. We jogged an hour daily, sometimes in minus 20 degree celsius weather, and lifted weights at the school gym. And shot basketballs in the church gymnasium.
He was always changing his clothes in front of me. Peeling off his t-shirt to put a different one on. Or tossing off his jeans to put on jogging pants. At the church gym after basketball, he'd strip to the nines and take a shower. He liked standing close to me while naked. Making me feel uncomfortable and unsure.
His bedroom with the water bed, always smelled of something sexy, like cum. Like 6'2", blond, crystal blue-eyed, masculine, muscular, German, jock cum. Like he ate hearty meals of perogies and milk. He looked like Dolph Lundgren.
When I first met him, I thought he was a geek. He wore checkered shirts made of cotton. He had thick glasses. He came across as uncultured and thick. We were forced together by our families: my father, a minister, moved to Saskatoon and Stu's father was an elder or something in the church. We were expected to be friends, but I found him to be a "goof."
He got contacts a month later. I've never seen such icy blue intense eyes since.
I came from Forest Hills in Toronto - a rich Jewish area, where sophistication and intelligence were prized. But in Saskatoon, the dumber you were, the less sophisticated you were, the better. Stu taught me how to down-style, wear the right clothing, before I started high school in the fall. He knew I would be in for a beating if I didn't dress according to Saskabush style.
In my basement bedroom, with the shaggy brown comforter my mother sewed for me, Stu showed me a new way of doing situps. You interlock your legs, and do them together. You press upwards together.
I was horned up. I accidentally let my leg brush against his crotch, and felt his cock stirring. I didn't know I was gay at this point. I thought I was into his sister.
He liked it when I let my calf slide across his groin. I remember his full lips and perfect teeth, smiling devilishly at me. I had no idea what was going on.
At 15, Stu was 6'2", had a mature, muscular perfect body. No hair on his chest. Wheat blond hair. Steely blue eyes. You should have seen his butt and his big thighs. Fuck. I haven't seen any as hot since. I remember seeing him the first time in shorts, playing basketball at the gym. I nearly swooned when I saw his legs - a flush of pure puberty testosterone ran through my blood. I was so in denial. I didn't know what was going on with my hormones.
We were lying in my double-sized bed after the situps, under the furry brown bedspread, talking about what we'd like to do with girls. He told me he'd like to do it doggy style. I was so innocent, I didn't know what that meant. I think he asked me to suck his cock. I did, eagerly. I sucked his cock like I had done it before. He blew a sweet, perogie load down my throat. I can still smell it.
The next morning we went to church. We both sang in the choir. He made jokes, subtle ones, about us having sex, in front of the other members of the choir. We felt so close and connected. I was the one who felt scared and uncomfortable. It was as though Stu wanted to tell everyone about us.
Other things happened in high school, that showed he cared for me.
Some guy at school decided he didn't like me. He made my life hell. His name is Cal. I found out I looked like Cal's gay brother who used to beat him up. Long story short: we had a fight. We beat the shit out of each other. He never bothered me again after our fight. But after the fight I was shaken up and had a black eye.
Stu took me to his cabin with his parents, to take care of me. We had to sleep together in the same room, in a bunkbed. I didn't realize it consciously at the time, but Stu tried to get physically intimate with me. I didn't respond. He was hurt. I didn't at this point realize I was gay, somehow. He said the most beautiful words to me at his cabin, and I didn't respond. I remember him being very romantic and suggestive, such as raising the round end of the fire-poker to his lips and sucking on it. Being so inexperienced, I didn't respond. I regret this.
Stu went a little crazy after our time at his cabin. He became a thief and a drunk. He began stealing CB antennaes and drinking lemon gin. He showed me his closet stuffed full of stolen antennaes which he procured during late night jaunts. I was disturbed, to say the least. My father was a minister, and even though I had sucked his cock, I thought what he was doing was wrong. I told his parents when they asked me if I knew what was going on.
I don't remember what happened after that.
I saw him in Saskatoon, about 3 years later. I was in Eaton's looking at clothes. He came up to me. I could smell his sweet, masculine scent. His hair was as wheat blond as ever, his tall perfect body still muscular, and his eyes as blue as sapphires. He stood too close to me, leaning into my personal space. "Hello," he said.
I said, "Hi." Every moment we'd ever spent together flashed through my mind. He walked away.
My father went back to Saskatoon many years ago. He heard that Stu got married, and had children. When I searched the internet for information about him recently, I discovered quite a bit of information about his family and career. And I also saw a few pictures of him. Time hadn't been kind to him. This once perfect specimen of a man, who looked like Dolph Lundgren in his prime, now looked like Stu's father - balding and fat. He was nearly unrecognizeable. His beautiful blue eyes that used to have a passionate intensity to them, now had a cold, mean look to them.
But I'll always remember them, in my mind, looking at me with love and longing.