“Hey, buddy!”
I hadn’t recognized the number, but for some reason the ring seemed familiar. It made no sense, but I just picked up without thinking, something I never do. It was usually a robocall these days, with the shouting Chinese lady or the vacation sales lady or the credit offers.
But this was Charlie, unmistakably. I knew his pleasant voice and easy demeanor instantly. That slight bit of raspiness that made him sound like he was just waking up. There was a quality to his voice that made him sound like he was grinning.
I’d always loved hearing his voice.
“Hello?”
“Charlie?”
“Yeah, bro! It’s me! You home?”
“Almost. I’m on 95 about twenty minutes out. I almost didn’t pick up...”
“Oh yeah, sorry. I uh, got a different phone.”
“So what’s up with you? I haven’t heard from you in ages...”
“Heh. Yeah, it’s quite a story, man. Nah, I’m back in town for a bit. Figured I’d see what you were doing.”
“Not much. I was going to drop my stuff and go grab a bite, if you wanna join...”
“Where you living now?”
“213 Stoneybrook, behind the old movie house. Apartment 1.”
“Cool, meet you at your place in half an hour?”
“You got it.”
“Alright, bro, see ya!”
I drove the last ten miles distracted. You would too, if you were me. Fuck, man, Charlie had been my unconscious tormentor since middle school, when I finally started to put two and two together and realize I thought guys were hotter than girls. His lean, limber form and cute face had gained all the girls attention, but he was clueless, utterly without real vanity. Easy going was an understatement. Charlie was so chill people assumed he was a stoner, even though I couldn’t imagine him doing anything illegal. He just got along with everyone and had a knack for just coasting along through life. He’d lacked any real interest in sports, mostly because he wasn’t competitive, but the two coaches were always hoping he would try out for something.
In tenth grade the school’s new pool opened and my world changed. I’d always loved to swim, and I was pretty good at it, thanks to summers spent with my cousins and their big pool. Never particularly buff, I was nevertheless good enough to join the team.
But Charlie just liked to swim, and refused to race. He had charmed the assistant coach into letting him swim before team practice and I started showing up early for practice, just to watch him. Then I’d bang out a quick one in the bathroom before stuffing myself into my trunks for practice.
By senior year, however, Charlie seemed a bit left behind — not that he cared. The rest of us sprouted hair and muscle, and I came out (to little surprise from my swim buddies). Charlie stayed lean and limber, and seemed destined to remain a slightly tall twink who barely looked his age. Cute as a button though, without losing his masculinity. He let his hair grow and had this shaggy carefree look to him.
I had art class with Charlie (who of course was talented in that as well), and we actually hung out at lunch. He didn’t seem to mind me being gay, and gradually we became friends and hung out after school. Then, in spring, we started fooling around a little after a movie. He was my first boyfriend.
We never did much more than kiss and fool around — handjobs, blowjobs, that sort of thing — but despite that, we were happy enough. There’s something to be said for avoiding the drama.
We had lasted the summer, but college made things hard, since we were several states away. We sort of drifted apart after his folks moved away, but kept more or less in touch throughout college. By then, it was obvious things were over, partly because I was annoyed at always being the one who did all the work.
Charlie just never put much effort into anything, and i was tired of always busting my ass and being the one who drove our relationship. Plus, college had brought too much temptation my way, and I ended up in an intensely sexual relationship with my roommate Kevin. And once I’d discovered sex, I had trouble justifying a long distance relationship with a cute but lazy masturbation buddy I saw only at break. Junior year, I finally told him I was seeing someone else (Kevin had been hot but brief, but this boy Jacob was feeling serious at the time), and he was so chill about it, I actually got mad and stopped returning his texts.
By the time college was over, Jacob — an ROTC cadet who looked really crisp and hot in uniform, and was very solidly built — had broken up with me, and I’d been broken hearted. I’d sent this long rambling email to Charlie, but never heard back, os I assumed he was done with me. I got over it, graduated, found a job, and had been working about five months when I got the mystery phone call.
Man, Charlie...was he still a hot twink? I hadn’t seen him in person in more than two years, and he was awful about keeping up with social media and returning calls. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to know. Memories of his lean torso kept creeping into my mind as I drove home. That, and of course, his dick.
Charlie was about 5’9, quite average really, but he had a very good looking dick. A respectable 5.75 inch, perfectly shaped, good smelling, slightly curved cylinder, one that I could almost feel in my hand. I could instantly recall his scent, full of rosemary shampoo and fresh deodorant, but mostly full of charlie’s Earthy musk. Funny how a scent can hit you hard. Literally, I sprung wood myself remembering.
I pulled up to my crappy apartment, ran inside, whispered a quiet thanks that I’d inherited my mother’s inclination to tidiness, and ran to the loo to freshen up. I was drying my hands when the buzzer rang.
“Hey, buddy, it’s me!” Ah, that voice.
I buzze him in and waited to open the door as the tell tale sound of someone thumping up the stairs grew louder. Then, a knock, and I opened the door....
That was not Charlie.
It couldn’t be.
This guy was over six feet tall, and built. A blue t shirt barely contained a chest that would make a Marvel Chris phone his personal trainer. It was tight enough you could see the hint of abs beneath, and the arms were straining his sleeves deliciously. Below that, a pair of jeans were painted on but the bulge in the front was not what I remembered at all. His face, and his shaggy brown hair streaked with golden blond, were the same. The button hose and thick eyebrows over green blue eyes.
My brain wouldn’t process it. Did Charlie have a brother who was, say, a fitness model? Was I being pranked?
I hadn’t recognized the number, but for some reason the ring seemed familiar. It made no sense, but I just picked up without thinking, something I never do. It was usually a robocall these days, with the shouting Chinese lady or the vacation sales lady or the credit offers.
But this was Charlie, unmistakably. I knew his pleasant voice and easy demeanor instantly. That slight bit of raspiness that made him sound like he was just waking up. There was a quality to his voice that made him sound like he was grinning.
I’d always loved hearing his voice.
“Hello?”
“Charlie?”
“Yeah, bro! It’s me! You home?”
“Almost. I’m on 95 about twenty minutes out. I almost didn’t pick up...”
“Oh yeah, sorry. I uh, got a different phone.”
“So what’s up with you? I haven’t heard from you in ages...”
“Heh. Yeah, it’s quite a story, man. Nah, I’m back in town for a bit. Figured I’d see what you were doing.”
“Not much. I was going to drop my stuff and go grab a bite, if you wanna join...”
“Where you living now?”
“213 Stoneybrook, behind the old movie house. Apartment 1.”
“Cool, meet you at your place in half an hour?”
“You got it.”
“Alright, bro, see ya!”
I drove the last ten miles distracted. You would too, if you were me. Fuck, man, Charlie had been my unconscious tormentor since middle school, when I finally started to put two and two together and realize I thought guys were hotter than girls. His lean, limber form and cute face had gained all the girls attention, but he was clueless, utterly without real vanity. Easy going was an understatement. Charlie was so chill people assumed he was a stoner, even though I couldn’t imagine him doing anything illegal. He just got along with everyone and had a knack for just coasting along through life. He’d lacked any real interest in sports, mostly because he wasn’t competitive, but the two coaches were always hoping he would try out for something.
In tenth grade the school’s new pool opened and my world changed. I’d always loved to swim, and I was pretty good at it, thanks to summers spent with my cousins and their big pool. Never particularly buff, I was nevertheless good enough to join the team.
But Charlie just liked to swim, and refused to race. He had charmed the assistant coach into letting him swim before team practice and I started showing up early for practice, just to watch him. Then I’d bang out a quick one in the bathroom before stuffing myself into my trunks for practice.
By senior year, however, Charlie seemed a bit left behind — not that he cared. The rest of us sprouted hair and muscle, and I came out (to little surprise from my swim buddies). Charlie stayed lean and limber, and seemed destined to remain a slightly tall twink who barely looked his age. Cute as a button though, without losing his masculinity. He let his hair grow and had this shaggy carefree look to him.
I had art class with Charlie (who of course was talented in that as well), and we actually hung out at lunch. He didn’t seem to mind me being gay, and gradually we became friends and hung out after school. Then, in spring, we started fooling around a little after a movie. He was my first boyfriend.
We never did much more than kiss and fool around — handjobs, blowjobs, that sort of thing — but despite that, we were happy enough. There’s something to be said for avoiding the drama.
We had lasted the summer, but college made things hard, since we were several states away. We sort of drifted apart after his folks moved away, but kept more or less in touch throughout college. By then, it was obvious things were over, partly because I was annoyed at always being the one who did all the work.
Charlie just never put much effort into anything, and i was tired of always busting my ass and being the one who drove our relationship. Plus, college had brought too much temptation my way, and I ended up in an intensely sexual relationship with my roommate Kevin. And once I’d discovered sex, I had trouble justifying a long distance relationship with a cute but lazy masturbation buddy I saw only at break. Junior year, I finally told him I was seeing someone else (Kevin had been hot but brief, but this boy Jacob was feeling serious at the time), and he was so chill about it, I actually got mad and stopped returning his texts.
By the time college was over, Jacob — an ROTC cadet who looked really crisp and hot in uniform, and was very solidly built — had broken up with me, and I’d been broken hearted. I’d sent this long rambling email to Charlie, but never heard back, os I assumed he was done with me. I got over it, graduated, found a job, and had been working about five months when I got the mystery phone call.
Man, Charlie...was he still a hot twink? I hadn’t seen him in person in more than two years, and he was awful about keeping up with social media and returning calls. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to know. Memories of his lean torso kept creeping into my mind as I drove home. That, and of course, his dick.
Charlie was about 5’9, quite average really, but he had a very good looking dick. A respectable 5.75 inch, perfectly shaped, good smelling, slightly curved cylinder, one that I could almost feel in my hand. I could instantly recall his scent, full of rosemary shampoo and fresh deodorant, but mostly full of charlie’s Earthy musk. Funny how a scent can hit you hard. Literally, I sprung wood myself remembering.
I pulled up to my crappy apartment, ran inside, whispered a quiet thanks that I’d inherited my mother’s inclination to tidiness, and ran to the loo to freshen up. I was drying my hands when the buzzer rang.
“Hey, buddy, it’s me!” Ah, that voice.
I buzze him in and waited to open the door as the tell tale sound of someone thumping up the stairs grew louder. Then, a knock, and I opened the door....
That was not Charlie.
It couldn’t be.
This guy was over six feet tall, and built. A blue t shirt barely contained a chest that would make a Marvel Chris phone his personal trainer. It was tight enough you could see the hint of abs beneath, and the arms were straining his sleeves deliciously. Below that, a pair of jeans were painted on but the bulge in the front was not what I remembered at all. His face, and his shaggy brown hair streaked with golden blond, were the same. The button hose and thick eyebrows over green blue eyes.
My brain wouldn’t process it. Did Charlie have a brother who was, say, a fitness model? Was I being pranked?