No. I couldn’t get any sleep at all that night. I was already becoming a regular in his bed –and that was nice indeed- but it was hard to get used to sleep with someone else.
I mean… it’s sweet to be held and stroked at night and all, but… have you ever slept with someone who holds you in his sleep like he’s gonna choke you in a deathlike grip? Well. I have.
At 2:15AM Bob put his arms around my neck. That big bear hug was very lovely but he was squeezing me like toothpaste. I anxiously tossed and turned until he released his hug. Then I closed my eyes and started counting sheep.
I was already envisioning an endless series of identical white lambs jumping over a fence in the Burdish countryside, going deep into dreamlike fantasies and about to reach REM phase –that must have been around 3:00AM-, when I felt his breathing on the back of my neck. I have unbearably ticklish neck and I’m fine with that. But not when I’m trying to sleep at 3:00AM.
I pushed him softly. He rolled onto his back and continued to sleep. BUT. Some minutes later he turned back and grabbed my hips. Then he spooned up against my back so I couldn’t move. I usually don’t move a lot when I’m trying to get some sleep. But just knowing I couldn’t do that, made me feel like moving even more. At first it was just that annoying thought rolling around inside my head. Some time later, my mind was out of control and I was shaking my arms and legs in frantic motion until he finally set me free.
He had slept like a baby that night. But I couldn’t sleep a wink. His oneiric spontaneous tokens of love and affection left me no choice: I lied to him. Yes, I bloody lied for the sake of our recently started relationship.
- Oh, yes. I slept like a rock! –I said enthusiastically-.
- Cool. Wanna have a power breakfast, Len? Don’t move and you’ll be served in bed.
He rushed to the kitchen. In the meantime, I indulged myself leaning backwards on the pillows. I fell asleep on the spot. I needed to sort it out urgently: I loved to sleep with him, but it would do me no good if I was going to be sleepless every night.
Some time later –it seemed to me that it passed in the blink of an eye-, he was back. He woke me up with a soft kiss. I could hardly open my eyes.
- Wake up, sleepyhead. I have plans for us today. –he said-
Breakfast was on a tray overloaded with hot coffee, milk, orange juice, toasts, butter, marmalade, cheese and ham. I usually had just an apple and a glass of milk, but that looked real good and I stuffed myself. He was happy as a clam.
He poured me a strong coffee. I woke up suddenly when I heard what his plans were:
- There’s a desert beach near Sand Bay where I usually go to test my smoke grenades. Would you like to join me there?
- You do smoke grenades? –I asked, a little bit shocked-
- Oh yes, since I was a kid. It’s easy and funny. You just need a good smoke mixture, basically potassium chlorate, lactose and a dye. Then you have to heat it slowly until it gets brown like peanut butter and…
- And you blow yourself up. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had to gather your arms and glue them to your body one fine day.
- Nah! They’re only smoke nades. They don’t blow up. They’re safe. But thanks. I'll bear it in mind.
- Safe, huh? –I asked-
I had serious doubts about the safety of his homemade smoke grenades. Bob was always a surprise package. His pyromaniac kid’s dreams survived through the years and he was still playing the nutty professor.
- They’re safe, Len. You’ll love them. I do them in all colours.
- Where do you make them?
- In the kitchen, of course.
Jeez and he had made our breakfast there. I was feeling a bit apprehensive. Inexistent powder dust and other imaginary chemicals were already getting inside my lungs; tingling in my throat; making me cough. But apparently, I had no trouble breathing.
- So… why don’t we spend the day there? Let’s take our bath suits, some sandwiches and the nades. Say yes. Please.
I finally agreed to join him. He drove north for one hour until we got to Sand Bay and then walked for one more hour. Bob took his binoculars and had a careful look.
- Good. Nobody here.
It was a beautiful beach with soft white sand and warm calm water. It was damned hot. I took my T-shirt off, spread out my towel on the sand and started topless sunbathing. He suddenly went into a panicky mode:
- Hey! Wo wo wot do you think you’re doing, Len? –he babbled-
- What am I doing?
- These lovely teenage boobs are mine and only mine! –he said pointing at my tits-. I’m not gonna share them with the rest of the guys on the beach!
- The beach is deserted, Bob. And you’re being silly.
- What if someone comes and… -he stammered-
- And what? Are you telling me not to topless, huh?
- That's right.
- What a ruddy nerve you have! My boobs are mine! You can touch them, but they’re not yours! I’m not your personal property! –I said, standing up on the sand-
I was really shocked. He always bragged about his broad-mindedness and tried so many ways to show me he was a receptive, tolerant and liberal guy. But, hey, my boobs seemed to be the honourable exception to all that controversial fake progressivism!
I turned back and moved over. I put the T-shirt on again hastily. I was so pissed off.
- Where are you going? –he asked-
- Out for a walk.
- Can I walk with you?
- No you can't!
I walked for almost half an hour on my own until I got over my anger.
- That’s ok.
- It’s your decision. Who am I to tell you what to do.
I accepted his apologies and took my T-shirt off again.
He lit a small fire and carefully heated up one of the nades he carried in his bag. He threw it with all his strength. The nade spew red thick smoke, forming a beautiful unstable cloud that vanished over the sea some seconds later. I clapped my hands.
- Wanna throw one? –he asked me-
- Nah! With my kind of bad luck, I’d surely blow up my hand.
He threw again on my behalf. The nade produced a hypnotic cloud of blue smoke strangely shaped by the breeze. He really liked these things.
- Hey big. Stop the fireworks for a moment and let’s have a swim. -I said-
- Len. Turn around.
He softly pushed me face down on the sand. Like Quest for fire. Like taking and dominating. He had that primary thing.
Men are visual creatures. He enjoyed the sight of my butt as he thrusted in and out of me between my cheeks, he said. It was raunchy, primitive, raw sex. But it was delightful and exciting. I brought my legs together and squeezed him slowly and gently, thrusting back and forth too as I started feeling a strong supergasm approach from miles away that made me let out a strangled cry. “I’m gonna cum…” he said just a bit later and squashed me on the sand, his arms enfolding me. He groaned loudly and collapsed beside me.
Then, and only then, we had that swim.
We finished our day at his place watching the soccer match, of course. And yes, South Sandwich won again. It was a 1-nil win, but we were champions.
Fireworks, cars blowing their horns and street celebrations could be heard in the distance; for one night, everybody was happy.
- This is for you. Congrats my lil' Sandwichian. I know you don't care a lot about the footy, but just the same.
He put eight nades alongside each other on the backyard. Eight smoke jets sprang up from them: yellow, blue, orange and green. I held him, strongly overwhelmed by that nice touch. It moved me to tears. I'm too mushy for my own good sometimes.
- Hey baby, don't cry.
- Nah. As the song goes... it's just that smoke got in my eyes -I said, smiling-.
"I'm your man" (Leonard Cohen)