As I was unpacking on a very warm, early September day, a boy climbed through the window of my room from the tree outside and sat perched on his haunches on my bed. He said his name was Charlie, and he was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen in my life.
Being raised as an only child by a strict Catholic mother, I had never had a chance to spend any time around other boys. If the truth be known, I was somewhat of a sissy in those days thanks to dear old mom. But here was a boy who wasn't making fun of me. A boy who offered friendship as the most natural thing in the world. I think I fell instantly in love with him.
I hadn't had any experiences with sex at all up until that time (except for constantly jacking off since age 4) but within 2 weeks of entering military school, I had found my first sex partner. I won't say lover. We were fuck buddies. His nickname was "Stretch" from being so tall and he was, in the words of my dyke Aunt, as "ugly as homemade sin". Ugly yes - but he seemed to exude sex out of every pore of his body.
Our first encounter began with "wrestling" on the bed. Suddenly, and I don't know how, my hand was down his pants feeling a substantial hardon. At that point it was like a neon sign went off in my head - THIS IS WHAT YOU'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR! It said. You didn't know what you were looking for but - THIS IS IT!
This encounter proceeded to mutual blow jobs. He accused me of doing this before because he said I was so good at it. I hadn't, but it was nice to hear that I could do something sexually right. We continued to have sex on a regular basis for the rest of that school year. But that wasn't the only boy I had sex with!
I quickly learned that boys between the ages of 14 and 19 love blow jobs, if they don't have to reciprocate and you don't ever tell anyone. I soon found myself the willing "sex slave" of half the school. With my popularity, I could afford to be "choosy" - and I was! I only did the best looking ones. Every one I wanted. Every one but Charlie.
Strange as it may seem, I never approached Charlie for sex and he never said a word to me about my "reputation", though I know he was well aware of what my relationship to half the campus was. That whole first year we were just good friends. We'd talk, spend time alone together, do things that this sheltered child had never done. With Charlie I would do anything. Even skinny dipping in a creek that was freezing cold. Swinging out on an old rope swing and dropping into the freezing water.
Because Charlie was an outstanding athlete (and I wasn't!), I became the manager of all the sports in which he participated. Wrestling, Track, Baseball and Tennis. Anything to be near Charlie. Well...the fact was that I was also "doing" half the wrestling, track, baseball and tennis teams along with half the football and basketball teams as well. And while I found out later that Charlie had known all along about my activities, he never once said anything about it. Never made me feel like the "school faggot" - a role I had earned.
No, Charlie was my friend. No one dared to say anything derogatory about me when he was around. You see, not only did Charlie have the respect of almost everyone in school for his athletic and scholastic prowess (he was both a gifted athlete and scholar) they had a tremendous fear of him as well. Charlie held a 3rd degree black belt in Karate. And it was this skill that kept my hormones in check where he was concerned. I figured he was a good and valuable friend, but that if I did something that he didn't like, I could be a long time dead!
So our friendship grew over the year. At the end of the year, the lists came out for who would be promoted to officers for the following year. Charlie was on the list, as was expected by everyone. What wasn't expected was that I was, too! I not only learned that year about mansex - including rimming - but I had learned to "brown nose" as well and had gotten myself well connected with certain teachers and administrators. That is how I got officer's rank, which also meant I had to be back to school 2 weeks early the following school year. But that was fine with me because so would Charlie.
Then insanity struck! Charlie and I decided that since we were both officers and on "Brigade Staff", we should room together.
Now, believe me, I had done everything I could to keep my hands off him for the first year and he lived in another building on campus! Now I was going to be in the same room with him for an entire year! And keep my hands to myself? Yeah, right!!!
But I was "young, dumb and full of cum" and really believed that I could be a "good boy" with Charlie in the next bed. And I would have (I think) except for what happened to the beds.
You see, I spent all that summer celibate. I was back at my Aunt's house with no chance to "play". So I was eager to get back to school and my very active sex life. Even 2 weeks early because I knew that some of my "playmates" would be there, too. What I hadn't counted on was Charlie. Charlie got back 3 weeks early.
Now I should explain, Charlie came from an extremely wealthy family. He always had more money than anyone. You didn't think about it, though, because Charlie never "flaunted" it. But he was rich! Or, at least his family was.
And what he had done was return to school with a truck load of brand new furniture he had bought over the summer. The furnishings in military school were about what you'd expect in a place full of teenage boys. Metal bunk beds, beaten up dressers and desks, and a few unbroken chairs. The floors were linoleum and had to be kept "spit-shined" like our black leather shoes.
Charlie, however, had brought real beds (with mattresses and box springs), real dressers, real desks and real comfortable chairs. He also brought heavy velour drapes for the windows and a large oriental rug for the floor. All in shades of deep blue - my favorite color. Charlie went so far as to re-paint the room in a pale blue as well. When I saw the room for the first time, I thought I was in heaven - not military school! But there were more surprises to come.
Now I should tell you that this was 1966. And in those days, marijuana was not heard of in Kentucky. The worst offense that you could commit at military school (one that would get you instantly expelled) was drinking alcohol. Booze was the big thing in those days and everyone tried to smuggle it in. Few succeeded. But rules were not something that ever stopped Charlie.
That night, after lights out, Charlie reached into the bottom of his footlocker and removed a false bottom to reveal a number of bottles of good Jamaican rum. I was shocked and scared out of my mind! If we were caught with this hoard of contraband, I would be expelled as well - no questions asked! But that was soon the least of my worries.
Charlie proceeded to get rip-roaring drunk! He was leaping all over the room (using the beds for "hurdles") and generally raising quite a loud commotion. I was petrified that the school's night watchman would hear all the noise, come and investigate and find all the booze and Charlie drunk as a lord! After a little while, however, (as more booze hit him) Charlie sat down on my bed and began to cry. I cannot adequately explain to you what the sight of Charlie, one of the most masculine boys I had ever known, crying did to me. I was shocked. I was thunderstruck! I didn't know what in the hell to do!
Thinking that this was brought on by a combination of the booze and homesickness, I began to try and console Charlie, telling him that he could get leave soon to go home and other such nonsense. What I was saying took a while to get through the haze of alcohol in his brain but, once it did, he let me know in no uncertain terms that he was NOT homesick!
"Then what the fuck are you crying for?" I asked. If I lived a thousand years, I couldn't have anticipated his answer.
He looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I'm hurting so much because I'm in love with you and I don't want you to hate me for it!"
I was speechless. I just sat there with my mouth open. I didn't know what in the hell to say. Here was the very first boy that I had ever fallen in love with, telling me that he had fallen in love with me and I couldn't say a word! I never, in my wildest fantasies, had expected this to happen. I was speechless for so long, Charlie began apologizing profusely, thinking that I was totally disgusted by his admission.
I quickly "came to" and assured him that not only did I NOT find him disgusting, but that I had been in love with him almost from the moment we met. He then did something that I will remember my entire life. He took me in his arms and kissed me.
Now I had a lot of sex the previous year. More than I wish to recount here. But through it all, I had NEVER been kissed. The "rules" were that if you kissed - you were "queer". You could get a blow-job and maintain your "straight" status as long as you didn't reciprocate in any way. So no one had ever kissed me. In fact, I got my very first kiss from another male from the first boy I ever fell in love with. No one really deserves to be that lucky and I will be grateful always for it.
At this point, Charlie had yet another surprise for me. He had not bought bunk beds as was common in military school. He had bought 2 single beds. To single beds with a secret. When pushed together just so, there was a mechanism installed that locked them into one bed. This he did and then reached for me and began to undress me. I quickly returned the favor and we were soon in bed, nude, with him lying on top of me, making out like bandits! Unfortunately, it was at this point that all that "demon rum" caught up with him and he passed out cold, in the nude, on top of me.
So I spent our first night as lovers, lying there with his naked body pinning mine to the bed. But I didn't mind. The feel of his naked body was worth whatever minimal discomfort there was. That is I didn't mind until the next morning.
I woke about 10 minutes before Charlie came to. He was still on top of me and still naked. And I began to think. Now he was drunk last night. He isn't going to remember anything he said or did! And when he comes to and sees us naked in the same bed, he's going to KILL me!' Or thoughts to that effect.
And, indeed, he did "come to" about 10 minutes later, slowly rose up on his arms and looked down at me, then at the position we were in and said the words I dreaded most of all - "What did I say last night?"
Well, there it was. My death warrant'. I couldn't very well lie, so I told him the truth. The whole truth and nothing but. I told him he said he loved me and began to make love to me when he passed out from all the rum. I figured if I was going to die, it would be for the truth!
Charlie looked down at me, smiled, and gently kissed the tip of my nose and said, "I just wanted to make sure I'd finally said it." And then he proceeded to make love to me for the very first time.
We spent the rest of that year as lovers. Charlie was the only person that I have ever been completely, physically faithful to. No more playmates. I had something I never dreamed I would find - love. It took the school some months to sort the whole thing out (there were a LOT of very disappointed athletes who had to go back to "taking matters in hand" again). No one could believe that Charlie, of all males, could be "that way"! And worse, the idea that we could be "in love" was just too much for them to deal with. But after a couple of minor altercations to prove that he was still very much a man to be feared, Charlie no longer had anyone who cared to make any more comments about our relationship.
It did, however, come to the attention of the school administration in the person of Col. Black. "Kern" as he was known, was not only the coach of the wrestling team on which Charlie was the star of his weight class and I was the team manager, he was also the "commandant" of the school (military school term for "dean").
One day, Kern called me into his rooms (he had an apartment on campus where he lived). Kern sat me down and asked me point blank, "How do you feel about Charlie?".
I didn't know what to say, so like I was always taught to do, I told the truth. I told Kern that "I love Charlie more than my own life." (At 15 you are given to dramatic statements like this! That's why sophomore English covers "Romeo and Juliet"). And that was the truth. A truth I fully expected to be expelled for in Kern's next breath.
But instead, Kern just sat there, smoking his pipe and not saying a word for a very long time. I sat there mentally composing my suicide note. But when Kern finally spoke he said, "I don't begin to understand any of this! If you had said anything else I would have kicked your butt outa here! But I just talked to Charlie and he basically told me the same thing about you! I don't understand it, but I don't feel that I should mess with it either. I told him, and I'm telling you, you two keep to yourselves. Don't involve anyone else in this, and we'll just try to ignore the whole situation. That's the best I can do for the two of you. I like both of you and I don't want to lose you. So, please, do us all a favor and keep your feelings to yourselves. No public pronouncements of displays! What goes on in your room will be between the two of you. But what goes on outside is my area of responsibility, so I don't want any problems - Understand??!!"
I shook my head, "Yes". I couldn't speak. It was better than I had any right to expect. We had "permission" - to be LOVERS! At least in our room. And that was enough! And it would have been except for Captain Steele, the most feared English teacher in the school.
I should point out here that the ranks given to teachers in the school were honorary ones. Oh, some of the teachers had actually served time in the military. But NOT Captain Steele. Captain Steele would have caused the institution of the "don't ask, don't tell" policy all by himself!!! He was the first "piss-elegant queen" I ever met. And I loved him dearly. Though obviously gay, he was the "scourge" of all freshmen and sophomore English students. Especially the very butch and athletic ones. He seemed to take special care to make their experiences of English classes the most painful that could be devised! I remember when he had the quarterback of the junior varsity football team memorize the "Out damned spot..." speech my Lady Macbeth and "perform" it in class in front of all his buddies.
But he had evidently spotted me as a fellow traveler' and my experiences in his class were delightful. He constantly praised my creative writing and we became good friends. The funny thing was, that long before Charlie and I knew that we were in love, I think Captain Steele saw something because Charlie was the ONLY athlete he never picked on. Of course, Charlie was a brilliant student, but that didn't usually matter to Captain Steele where athletes were concerned. Only Charlie escaped the daily "floggings". Strangely enough, I'm probably the one who caused this special position for my lover. I never talked about Charlie to anyone - except Captain Steele. I could tell him, even that first year, how much I loved Charlie. So I guess I protected' him from Captain Steele the way Charlie protected me from those who would make fun of the little "faggot".
At any rate, Captain Steele got the brilliantly insane idea to produce a play on campus for the faculty, administrators and the "Corps of Cadets". And the play that he decided to produce was Thorton Wilder's "OUR TOWN". Now, of course, this play has both female and male roles. And there were no girls in the school (the idea of co-ed military schools was 10-15 years in the future). This was to be a "cadet project", so that meant that some of us would have to play females. I was chosen by Capt. Steele to play one of the major female roles - Emily. And that would have been fine, but Capt. Steele evidently decided that he would have a "little joke", and cast Charlie in the principle male role - George Gibbs. The same George Gibbs that Emily falls in love with and in the 2nd act, actually marries on stage!
All through the rehearsals for the "marriage scene", when he was supposed to "kiss the bride", Charlie would put his hand over my mouth, turn me away from the audience and kiss the back of his hand. This was perfectly acceptable to other members of the cast and the school administration. God knows! They were having heart failure' over this production as it was! Cadets in dresses, wigs and make-up were not their idea of "proper military discipline"! But Capt. Steele had convinced them that this was an adventure in culture' and, since the play was only to be seen by the cadets and the staff, what harm could there be? What harm indeed!!!
Comes the night of the performance. There were a few technical glitches' but nothing that anyone could notice. The first act went splendidly and the cadets really gave us a very warm round of applause. They were really enjoying it.
Then came the 2nd act and the wedding scene. When George (Charlie) took Emily (me) to "be his lawfully wedded bride", Charlie whispered to me that he REALLY meant it! And then came "the kiss". Charlie took me in his arms, turned me towards the audience (so that everything that was about to happen was fully visible to the entire theatre) and kissed me full on the lips (no hand' in between) for what seemed like hours but probably was only 30-45 seconds. But there was NO mistaking what was happening here. Charlie and I were announcing to the entire Corps of Cadets, Faculty and Administration of the school EXACTLY how we felt about each other!
The amazing thing was, that as we joined hands and ran down the center aisle (as if we were leaving the church') the entire Corps of Cadets rose and gave us a standing ovation! Now, true, some of our friends had started the ovation, but the rest joined in. To this day, I think that they not only had respect for what Charlie and I had done in the face of so much opposition, but like most males our age, they loved "sticking it to" the adults who ran the school.
Charlie and I were severely reprimanded for what we did, but nothing else came of it. Charlie and I went on as before, never being affectionate in public, staying to ourselves most of the time. But we were given a much different level of respect by the other cadets from that time forward. It was as if they realized that here was something very real and something they knew nothing about and had no right to denigrate.
I would like to tell you that this story has a happy ending. But, unfortunately, the ending is as tragic and as unhappy as the romance was happy.
One day, before the end of school, Charlie's father appeared on campus and demanded Charlie's immediate removal from the school. I never knew how he found out about us, but he made statements about the school "turning his son into a queer!". Charlie and I were not even allowed to say good-bye to each other. And I have not seen or heard from him from that day to this.
Three days later, the school was forced to call my father to come and take me home as I was in the infirmary in restraints, on sedatives and on "suicide watch". My father came to get me and never said a word about what happened. He just took me to our home in Florida where I spent the next 4 months locked in my room, refusing to come out. I spent most of the time crying and trying to think of a successful way to kill myself. Luckily, I didn't. What I did do was one day wake up and decide that I REALLY needed help and called a psychologist I found in the phone book.
Now, I wouldn't normally recommend this as a way to find a therapist, but I was very lucky to find the one I did. He was the first adult, who wasn't gay, who tried to help me adjust to my gayness.
My father did finally did make one, and only one, statement about my gayness and what had happened with Charlie. It was the last time that we saw each other before he died. He was in the hospital and I was visiting. He turned to me and said, "If it makes you happy, and you really love him, go ahead and marry a man."
For a man born in rural, south Alabama in 1904, this was an amazing statement. It was only many years later that I came to realize how much my father must have loved me to be able to make it.
I searched for Charlie (through phone books) for many years. His last name is very unusual and there are not many of them in the country. I've even checked all the names of all the dead and missing in action in the Viet Nam conflict. But I have never been able to find him. Maybe that is for the best. What we had was the result of being very young and very naive. I know today that the chances of our relationship lasting were very small. But I am grateful for finding that there really is love. And that I am capable of giving and receiving it. And that is the most valuable thing of all.