This is my story, still vivid in my memory many decades later, and I have to write it because I think many of us have similar missed opportunities. No sexual contact, sadly.
I loved Boy Scout camp, first as a camper and then as a counselor. At age 15 I was a counselor in charge of a "troop" of younger Scouts from different home troops. There were about ten such troops scattered across the camp property (Florida). We counselors had open-front (screened) cabins with bunks for two, whereas the younger Scouts were two-by-two in walled tents on platforms. I had become friends with another 15-year-old counselor who had the camp nearest mine. I found him very attractive, but we also competed for the attention of an older counselor, whom I found very attractive.
It was my custom to wait until the boys in my camp settled down and I would go over to Bill's cabin to chat. I found him attractive in so many ways-- a beautiful young man, very intelligent and a talented maker of Native American costumes.
I would enter Bill's cabin in the dark (the cabins had no electricity) and would sit down on the lower bunk with him, reclined a bit against the wall as we chatted. Mainly we chatted about school and things at camp. We both were honors students at school. Sometimes Bill would shout out for a kid to be quiet if we heard talking from a tent. Then we would settle back and continue chatting.
Here's the thing: Bill slept in the nude. So there we were, reclining side-by-side in the dark, I was clothed and Bill was naked.
You can read my "Scout Grope" story here on ST, my memory of a real "first time' experience with another cock at age 14, he 13. So the next year, at age 15 and reclining next to a naked teen I found attractive for many reasons, I could have hit on him. Could have, did not. Why was he naked every night we chatted? Did it mean anything? Was he testing me to see if I would hit on him and he wanted that? As is often the case, I did not want to ruin a friendship by misinterpreting a "signal" not intended. I know, I was stupid. But I had layers of fear in the homophobic atmosphere of 1960. If he rebuffed my touch would word spread in the camp that I am "queer"?
At this point I could write a fantasy about sex with Bill on one of those nights, but I would rather leave it as a story about a missed opportunity.
Many years later I found Bill on Facebook, and we chatted a lot. I could not tell from his FB page and pics whether he was straight, bi, or gay. At one point, I decided to ask him in an email what was the meaning of his chatting naked with me in the dark all those nights. But on FB he admitted to failing health and finally his presence on FB and email stopped. I searched for an obit but could not find one. Lost was any chance of my knowing what was happening those nights and what could happen.
Sounds like a romcom with a sad ending, one of the pair dies without ever consummating the love. Did I love him? Certainly it was not just lust; otherwise I would have hit on him. No, I think it was the sort of male adolescent love you can read about in fiction, such as A SEPARATE PEACE. My feelings still now can be best called mourning.
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