Brad: at 12, My Crush on a Bigger Boy

Posted by: Author: Age: 45 now, 12-13 then Posted on: 0 comments
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Remember being 11 or 12 and having your first little crushes on other guys or girls? I sure do! I didn't really understand my sexual orientation yet, and my first big crush was on a boy who was a High School Senior. Handsome and very kind to me, he stirred feelings inside of me that when I felt them for the first time seemed like the stirings of some kind of magic I held inside. This is a short, lighthearted tale from my past. I have been blessed with a memory that allows me uncommonly vivid, detailed and powerful recall from my childhood, and I am thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to share these true experiences from my life from more than thirty years ago with you.

I have just a few more stories to come.


In a previous story I had mentioned how my friend Jake and I had been accepted into a symphony orchestra for advanced high school musicians, even though we were just Junior High School kids. At first I was very afraid at the prospect of being around so many older guys and girls, fearing I'd be lonely and ignored at best, teased and humiliated at worst.

These fears proved to be totally groundless, as the older kids were generally very nice. I was seated near the rear of my instrumental section, owing to how young and inexperienced I was, and was delighted to find that my stand partner was a 17-year-old blonde boy named Charlie. He didn't look at all the way I would have expected a string musician to look, as my stereotypical view was that boys who would be good musicians were nerdy and very un-cool. But Charlie was so handsome to me, a real beach-boy with feathered back sandy blond hair, straight white teeth and pale blue eyes. He wore colorful but well-worn T-shirts and dusty white tennis shoes, he was freckled, tanned and friendly with soft blond hair growing on his forearms that looked so nice that I longed to touch it. As far as the orchestra went, he wasn't a great musician, but that didn't matter at all to me. What mattered most is that he talked to me and treated me like I was a teenager like him, not like I was some little kid. The music was OK, but I soon realized I lived for the breaks in the action where he might turn and smile and say a few words to me.

I was captivated: enraptured by this older boy, and couldn't wait for Tuesday nights to roll around. One warm night he came in late just as I was afraid I'd be sitting all alone, and sat down next to me. 'Sorry I was late little dude,' as he called me, which made me just melt inside. 'I lost track of the time!' He was wearing cutoff shorts that night, and I couldn't keep my eyes away from his legs, seeing them for the first time bare, and I saw they were covered with the most beautiful tangled carpet of the softest looking blonde hair.

By the Spring I was newly thirteen, just barely starting puberty, and to me, this older boy was my ideal. I imagined little childish innocent romantic scenarios; that he and I might hold each other's hands in the dark or that he'd ask me to visit his house or come swimming with him. I imagined I might work up the courage to ask him to play racquetball with me, and that afterwards we might change together and even shower next to each other. I wondered if he masturbated like I did, or if he was too grown up for that now! (I had no concept of what a seventeen year old's sex drive was like, and I then thought maybe that jerking off was something only younger kids like me had to do!) My childish romantic fantasies dared extend even further... I visualized that he might privately and tenderly hold me on his lap and caress me. I imagined how willing I would be if he tried to undress me, and that if he did, I wouldn't be afraid even a little. I fantasized that we would let me see him undressed too and we'd feel each other nakedly and maybe we could even taste each others' secret places with our mouths, and what a willing learner I would be and that he might even be my secret boyfriend for the whole summer. Taking things absurdly further, I pondered the steps I would have to take to keep our relationship secret from my parents, who would surely wonder why I was spending so much time with a teenaged boy nearly five years older than me. I'd work that out, I convinced myself through my haze, if only he'd give me some sign that he was interested in me in that way...

'Hey Brad!' said Charlie as the conductor called a break in a Saturday afternoon rehearsal. 'Wanna see my new car? I drove it here tonight!'

Did I want to see his car? Was the Pope Catholic? Of course I did! 'Cool, Charlie!! Show me!' I happily replied, and followed as he led me down the hallway of the school building we used for practices and out the door into the parking lot. 'There she is!' he pointed proudly across the lot. She was a light blue VW Beetle, with worn mag wheels and a little brown rust showing around the edges of all the fenders.

'Ohmygod! Charlie, It's so cool!' I said with awe. 'Can we sit in it?'

'Sure!' he offered, jingling his keys as I sprinted towards the little car. I climbed into the passenger seat and he climbed in behind the wheel, and he immediately turned the radio on. I was in heaven! My boyfriend would have his own car too-something I hadn't even dared add to my daydreams.

Sitting alone beside him I just slipped into a happy trance. I attached great significance to this event; that he wanted ME alone to see his car and let me actually sit in it! I was speechless with wonder as I poked the buttons, opened the glovebox and reclined the seat. I fantasized that this might be the place that we would first fool around alone together. Maybe he'd take me for a ride and pull off on some quiet lane while we shut off the motor and would listen to the radio just like now and then he would put his arms around me just like I wanted him to and...

'We better go back inside little guy,' Charlie interrupted my fantasy. 'The break is probably over and you know how mad the director gets if you walk in late!' I certainly did know. But in an odd way I wanted this to happen! I wanted the director to call to the attention of everyone in the orchestra that Charlie and I were coming in late together; showing that we had been off alone, maybe hinting to the others that we had a relationship, this handsome bigger boy and me.

When practice ended and we put our things away, I made sure that he knew I was leaving. 'Bye little Brad dude!' he said with a big smile, looking down at me right in my green eyes with his big, clear blue ones, and my stomach did a little flip. He was so cool, and I longed to tell him that if he wanted me that all he had to do was give the sign and I would gladly be his, unconditionally.

For this short memorable time, I thought of him a lot, especially in bed as I prepared to sleep, drowsily letting my fingers wander down between my legs, playing with my sensitive little penis till it tingled and stood erect, then unsnapping my pajama bottom and opening them up I'd stroke myself softly but rhythmically, imagining how gentle Charlie would be with me and what a willing student I'd be for him, letting him try anything he desired with my newly developing body. Oddly, I never imagined kissing with him, as the mere concept of boys kissing boys was totally taboo in my mind, but I know now that if the situation had presented itself and he had wanted to kiss me, I would have willingly participated-(and if that had happened then it certainly wouldn't have had to wait till I was eighteen or older till I first kissed another boy! See 'Teddy, Tad & Me' for that tale). Thinking of him, I climaxed many nights in my hand while I tugged gently, and often still wet and sticky, drifted off to sleep just imaging him close to me.

The concert came up just a week later, and that Sunday afternoon I dressed in my black suit and bowtie for the performance. I kept a careful watch for him to arrive, and beamed as Charlie entered the practice room where we all warmed up beforehand. He was in a suit, too, but wore it in a rumpled, casual sort of way he still looked like the beach boy he was to me. 'Brad, meet my girlfriend Lisa,' he said, motioning to a petite, blond haired girl who stood next to him.

I was crushed. Charlie, my future and forever boyfriend had a girlfriend?? The boy I admired and looked up to, and the one whom I imagined would teach me how to make love for the first time had a girlfriend named Lisa???

Lisa was cute and she smiled shyly and said hi in a very sweet, polite way, but I immediately blindly hated her with a vengeance. How could she? How could HE? I guess it never crossed my mind that Charlie wouldn't be available to me. Consider my frame of reference- In my age group of 12-13 year olds, nobody had girlfriends yet, so I generally considered every boy to be potentially available... it just never occurred to me that this Adonis who was so friendly and accessible might already be (appallingly) involved with a member of the opposite sex. While he had never meant it, I had chosen to interpret his friendliness to me as a come on, and I recall this was one of the first times I ever faced the fact that I might be truly different; horribly, defectively and different from other boys in a twisted, unfathomably sick way.

Charlie graduated high school, and the orchestra, that spring and I never saw him again, and after a experiencing a brief sadness at his loss, I moved on to other crushes on other boys. But I still recall my childlike, innocent infatuation with Charlie, and I am certain that then he never had even the tiniest, slightest hint of a clue how I felt about him.



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