My "Brokeback"

this post, and subsequent posts involving the "NY" story are lovingly dedicated to the man, the myth, the legend, James "Erik Rhodes" Elliot, who writes the most gutsy, honest, heart-felt blog out there. he shames most of the rest of us, including me, who put a front and hide behind the person we want our readers to see. J.E., you hide nothing, you write what's true in your life, and you don't hide behind the porn-star persona most people think they know because they watch your films. as someone who came to "know" and love you through your amazing blog, i want to say thanks for the inspiration you are to me, and all the best to you on your quest for beauty, happiness, and the love of a lifetime.
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i have never been so happy about something so foolish. usually it's the first kiss that rocks your world, but it was my third that sent me flying through the stars. #'s 1 and 2 don't compare in any way to #3.

we drove up into the mountains for about an hour, stopping at overlooks and taking pictures of the amazing views. we talked over a lot of things we had missed in each others' lives over the 21 years we've known each other--how messed up our families really are, how we coped with things, how similar we are, both of us being the second boy, peacemaker, optimist, arts lover, sensitive type. mostly, though, we talked about why he's gay and not. at least, not really. i believe i have the choice. he doesn't. his family knows; mine doesn't, at least not all of them.

we made it up over 6,000 feet to a landmark overlook. we sat in the car, talking, and i knew. i knew the whole way up, really, but it was there his body started moving differently.

"can i ask you something personal?" he asked hesitantly in his faux-British accent. (we were both born in NY, and he's only spent the last 3 years or so in and out of the country, but he picked up the accent fast. it's his way.)

"sure." i smiled. "you can ask me anything. i might not always tell you the truth."

"never mind." he said, turning in his seat.

"no you don't," i insisted, "ask me."

"well... i was wondering... i'd like to kiss you."

i fairly launched myself over the console. i grabbed his face--thumb in front of his ear, four fingers on his occipital bone--and pulled his lips into mine.

ecstacy.

i eventually crawled over into his seat, straddled him, and drove him absolutely wild. i gave his lips a light, teasing kiss, drew back, made him follow me, gave him another, drew back, and forced him back into the seat. i went for all my favorite spots--the chin, the angle of the jaw, the ear, the neck, the forehead. it was pure, unadulterated joy.

i laughed when i saw we had fogged the windows. my first time, hopefully not my last. we kept our clothes on, and i turned down his offer to see his 7.5 incher. i wasn't in it for sex, and i had told him that within a minute of picking him up. he gasped "you have such amazing self-control," and it was true. i felt in control of every second, driving him here, twisting him there, making him lie still while i brushed his face, neck, and chest with my lips.

eventually, i wore out, having no experience (although he was incredulous when he heard it was only my third, second true kiss--"you're so f***ing good" he gasped) or endurance, and i wrapped my arms around him and lay on him. i quietly covered his face, head, and neck with kisses, whispering how beautiful he was and how amazing his skin felt against mine. i held his hand, rubbed his body, and loved every magnificent second of it.

"it's like our own modern version of Brokeback Mountain, isn't it?" he whispered. I had to laugh. it had come up in conversation earlier, and i had to agree. it was better, though. he asked me, in the middle of the passion, "do you know how long i've waited for this?" it was over ten years.

finally, he said we should head home, which was true. we had been gone a long time, and our cover story was "coffee." we would have to change that tune. we went to change seats, and he ended up on top of me for one last amazing full-body kiss. i could only gasp "oh my God..."

once i was back in my seat, he started looking for where everything had gone--his coat, his water, his camera. he looked up, and i pulled him into another kiss. i laughed--i have never been so happy--and put the car in drive. i hit the brakes, grabbed him, kissed him, pushed him away, and howled in laughter as he exclaimed "ow!" i was in a trance the whole way down the mountain. we held hands, taking turns kissing the other's fingers. he leaned on my shoulder, and i kissed his head. he upturned his face, and i met his lips. "this is so dangerous..." he noted.

i laughed. "feels good to live on the edge, huh?" we almost drove off the edge when i started kissing down his wrist. "that wouldn't happen if you'd stop being so amazing, " i playfully reprimanded him.

we lip-locked at every stop sign all the way home. it was pure magic, the most beautiful thing i've ever experienced in my life. we listened to music on the way down the mountain, including "your hand in mine" by explosions in the sky and "saeglopur" by sigur ros. it was all i ever wanted. he was understanding and respectful when i told him i didn't want to go further than the kissing and touching.

on the way back, he was nuzzling my arm, and i gently told him, "don't get attached. you're going back to england in two days, and i'm leaving town tomorrow." and it was true. he couldn't get attached. i felt so incredibly cold and bad-ass, in a way. having that level of intimacy, yet having to remain objective and let him go, and tell him to not get attached to me... not like me at all. and it felt kinda good, a little sad, like Brokeback. i'm not going to cry, though. it was perfect, and i don't need anything more.