How True Love Happened


Disclaimer: This is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the

legal age to read this, or are offended by the idea of male-male

sex or mind control, DO NOT read further.

I had a weird experience last Saturday. I had just moved from

campus housing to an off-campus apartment in an artsy sort of

neighborhood. Since I needed to furnish the place, but didn't

exactly have a sizable budget, I went to a big community yard

sale, where there was quite a large selection of goods on offer.

Among other things, I bought an old and somewhat beat-up desk

that a friend of mine helped me get to the apartment. Once I'd

cleaned off the outside, I started working on cleaning the

drawers. In the bottom drawer, I discovered two manila envelopes,

each containing a set of notes. I read the first one I pulled

out, which got me all hot and bothered, you'll see why. Then I

read the second one, which was clearly written using the same

pen and on the same type of notepaper, but in a different

handwriting. And when I read that one, I got hotter and harder

than I ever had in my life. Here below, in the order I read

them, is the contents of each of the two sets of notes. The

first one was in a broad, flowery sort of handwriting, with

big-looped L's and the occasional heart used to dot an "i":

I'm so happy, so totally in love. I've never known the happiness

I have with Jeff. He's so masculine, so perfect. Sometimes when

he's sleeping next to me, and I'm too worked up to sleep, I love

to just lie there and admire his body, his long brown hair, his

beautiful hands, and especially, his feet. When I think he's fast

asleep, I'll spend time looking excitedly at the perfection of

his incredible feet, and I'll start sniffing and nibbling around

his toes. The aroma down there is almost eough to get me off

instantly; but I know I can't get off, I have to save my orgasms

for HIM. Yes, it's a fetish, but I can't help it. He's my perfect

man, and I'm so lucky to have him.

My life is kind of organized around him. We're both students at

*** College, but he's the one with the big career up ahead, and

I do what I can to help him with his studies. I can't really

help him directly, since I'm a bit of a scatterbrain, so I just

help him organize his notes, wash his clothes, drive him places,

and so on. I may take the next few terms off of school to help

him full time, and I may go to work nearby, maybe at the local

hamburger joint or discount store. My studies really don't matter,

since he's the one with the future. Once I leave school, I'll be

totally content just to be his housewife. He's so smart and

capable, I'm sure he'll earn enough for both of us.

I'm totally gay and somewhat effeminate, even though it might

not show when I'm walking down the street. Well, actually you

might guess it from the rainbow design of my tank top that shows

off my strong upper body and biceps, and which I usually wear

with cut offs that display my muscled legs to best advantage.

I know working on my body for HIM has paid off, since I was

actually offered a job as an exotic dancer at the gay club

Jeff sometimes takes me to show me off. I kind of liked the

idea because it offered good money, but Jeff wouldn't let me

do it, since he wants me exclusively. Well, almost exclusively,

but I'll tell you about that later.

I truly love being totally gay, since it makes it possible for

me to have a life with Jeff. I've known him since we were both

in the seventh grade in a town about an hour away by car. Also

at the college originally from our town are two lesbian friends,

Heather and Dana. They live together in the same apartment

building we're in, and they are also obviously very much in

love. Dana is clearly the head of that household, while Heather

is the pretty scatterbrain like me. But Dana is also "man enough"

for the both of them. The four of us have known each other all

these years, and our relationships have grown over time.

Sometimes the four of us will go together to a party or to see

a movie.

I love the feeling that I can rely on my man. If I had to rely

on myself, I'd be completely lost. And I'm so happy he likes

my body. I'm physically bigger than he is, nearly a foot taller

in fact, and I work out so I will stay beautiful for him, but

even though he's smaller and looks less built, he's much

stronger than I'll ever be. As if to prove it, he'll playfully

wrestle me onto the floor, pinning me helplessly in some

painful position until I surrender. Then he'll climb on top of

me and stick his tongue down my throat. For a guy his size, he's

sure got a long strong tongue, and he knows how to use it to

drive me wild. Or sometimes he'll climb on top of me while I'm

lying there helpless, and he'll shove his sneaker or bare foot

in my face and order me to lick it. I don't really need his

order, I mean it would take all my effort NOT to lick it once he

stuck it there. There's something really special about his feet

that I love. Sometimes in my fantasies I imagine that worshiping

his feet has changed me into a big overgrown puppy, sleeping

contentedly next to them.

I'm very happy with my everyday life. On days when I have no

classes and I'm working around the house cleaning, dusting and

cooking, I don't like to wear clothes. I don't know why, they

just feel constraining. And when I know when he's coming home

at any moment, I like to get myself hard so he'll see me all

sweaty from housework and totally erect when he walks in the

door, since I know he likes that.

I mentioned earlier that Jeff sometimes likes having me to

himself ALMOST exclusively. On a few occasions, though, he's

made an exception. I remember the first time he did it. Jeff

has always had a very persuasive way with people. I don't know

how he does it, but he seems to be able to make a suggestion

that comes from him, say for someone to do something, appear

to be the other person's idea, no matter how far out. Late one

evening he came home with someone else in tow, actually a well-

known member of the school's swim team. The guy had clearly

been drinking or something, since he stumbled once or twice

on the way into the apartment. Jeff guided him to the stuffed

chair in our living room, and plopped him into it; the guy

seemed dazed and confused. To my surprise, when Jeff told him

to lift his arms so Jeff could pull his shirt off, he

immediately did it without changing his expression. He was even

taller than I am, and once his shirt was off, I could see he

had a beautiful upper body, naturally of the smooth, lithe

swimmer variety rather than the football type. I could also

see that there was not a body hair to be seen anywhere, on his

chest or in his armpits. I thought he might shave it to improve

his swimming speed, but then I noticed he hadn't shaved his

head, in fact his jet black hair was on the long side, and I

realized it wasn't even the season for swim competitions.

Jeff said a few words into his ear, and he stood unsteadily

and walked into the bedroom. Jeff told me to come into the

bedroom as well. When I got there, I saw that the swimmer had

stripped completely naked and was lying stretched out on the

bed. I greatly admired his body, and saw that the shaving of

his body hair had not been limited to his chest and armpits,

but extended to everywhere below his head. Of course with Jeff

standing in the doorway, it was HIM I was focused on sexually.

After a few words from Jeff, though, I suddenly found the

swimmer irresistably beautiful, and he seemed to feel the same

way. He and I immediately started to wrap ourselves around each

other, kissing and licking like maniacs. I was vaguely aware

that Jeff was still standing in the doorway watching,

occasionally saying something, but I couldn't really pay

attention. Everything on the swimmer was very LONG, and soon

we were in a 69 position working on each other's dripping dicks.

Just as it seemed we couldn't go any further without exploding,

Jeff said something and we stopped.

The swimmer and I both noticed that Jeff was now sitting on

the edge of the bed, pants and shoes off, but with his shirt

and socks still on, rubbing himself through his boxers. He

looked so gorgeous sitting there that the swimmer and I

immediately leaped off the bed and got on all fours at his feet,

me at his right and the swimmer at his left, and began tugging

his socks off with our teeth. Once they were off, each of us

worked the incredibly beautiful foot in front of us with our

hands, noses and tongues, while Jeff moaned in pleasure. Then,

practically in unison, the swimmer and I worked our tongues up

Jeff's masculine down-covered legs an inch at a time. I arrived

at Jeff's right knee almost exactly when the swimmer got to his

left knee, and then we worked our way up Jeff's inner thighs

until we both got to his incredible cock. It wasn't nearly as

long as either of ours, but it was perfect in every way, much,

much better than ours. Finally, our tongues worked either side

of his cock, using our skills to bring Jeff to an amazing climax.

As he shot load after load, I had to wrestle with the swimmer

to get as much as I could down my throat. What we both missed

at first, we competed to clean off the floor with our tongues.

When we were done, I immediately fell asleep right there on the


When I woke up, the swimmer was gone, and I was in bed with Jeff.

He was mussing my hair as if I was a little kid. Which I was,

really, his BIG little kid. "So, did you like that, big guy?"

he asked. "I've had my eye on that guy for awhile, and I've been

working on him for a couple of weeks, and I thought you'd enjoy

the change of routine."

"Oh, Jeff," I gushed, kissing him. "It was incredible, but you

know I never get tired of whatever you do. Whenever you're

here, it's like your being here is your gift to me." He chuckled

a bit and continued to stroke my hair. He said something softly

and I suddenly had a feeling of total contentment, knowing my

life was as perfect as it could be.

So that's the story of the first of our "non-exclusive"

sessions. The swimmer came back a few times, sometimes dressed

in different costumes under his coat so he could assume different

roles in our lovemaking. Once he had on a Roman gladiator outfit,

once a girl's dress, once a Superman costume. I never knew you

could get any of those for a 6'6" guy. But a few words from Jeff

and I always knew what to do when he came over. Later, one or

two other guys would come by with Jeff, usually the tall or built

athletic type that Jeff enjoys, always with that dazed and

confused look the first time, but always totally responsive to

Jeff's suggestions. Sometimes I would see them later while

walking around on campus, and they would look at me as if they

recognized me from somewhere, but couldn't quite remember where.

I think one of Jeff's favorite sessions was when he brought in

the most built guy I had ever seen at the school -- a musclebound

football lineman weighing close to 300 pounds -- and made him

imagine he was a slutty, submissive teenage girl that Jeff and

I completely pushed around and sexually dominated as if we were

gang members. But however exciting these sessions, Jeff has

always let me know that whatever we do, it's me he loves.

Jeff is having me write this while he is in the kitchen

discussing something important with Dana. He handed me this

notepad and told me to describe how I felt about myself and our

life together, including our sex life. As you can see, I couldn't

imagine being any happier.

Love, [the o is a heart]


The second note is written in a terse, tight handwriting,

sometimes hard to read because the writer obviously didn't

think penmanship was important, or was in a hurry. When I

first glanced at it, I thought it might have been written

by Jeff, the friend of the writer of the first note. I wasn't

too far into it when I realized who had actually written it:

I'm writing this because I'm concerned with certain things

that are happening in my life at the moment, and if anything

bad happens I want these things written down so someone will

know about it. I may be imagining much of this, but just in

case, I need to write this and leave it where someone can

find it.

My junior year at *** High School is ending, and I'm preparing

my college applications. I've been one of the best students

at the school, although I seem to have slipped a bit lately

academically, which may just be a preliminary bout of

"senioritis", at least I hope so. I've always been very

focused as a student, which has helped me learn alot and gotten

me an honor or two along the way. And I know from a few short

internships that I have a great future ahead of me in field of

law. As a result, there are several good school choices I have,

but I'm definitely leaning towards *** College. It's pretty

prestigious, it has a great prelaw program that is a known as

a feeder path to a nearby top-five law school, and best of all,

it's located about two hours from home, close enough for the

occasional weekend trip, but not that so close that I'd be

expected home all the time. Plus I think I can earn a spot on

their nationally-ranked rowing team; I've been busily working

on my upper body strength to improve my performance on our

school's crew, and I'm pretty good.

My concern involves a friend of mine named Jeff. I've known

him since Junior High, and back then we were pretty good

friends. Although I was more into school athletics than he was,

since I'm physically quite more developed, we were both smart,

and shared similar interests. Of course that was around the

time I first really started to notice girls, and by the time

we got to high school I was tight with a really bright and

good-looking girl named Heather. What with classes, sports,

extracurricular activies, and Heather, there really wasn't

much time I had for Jeff. He'd invite me over to his house

and I would keep turning him down, since I had other things

to do, places to go, and so on. Without trying to sound too

snobby, I was really with a different crowd at that point,

I guess what you might call the "popular" group, while he

hung out with more of the, shall we say, misfit group. He

also started to dress in long black clothes all the time,

and do weird things with his hair.

As he began to change, he also became the target of ridicule

and even some physical pushing around at the hands of some

of the school's athletes and natural bullies. You know how

it is around eighth and ninth grade, guys' sexual identities

are starting to form, and some guys feel threatened by others

who are different. And Jeff was emerging as not the most

masculine guy at the school. As a result, from time to time

I'd find myself intervening to protect him. Most of the

athletes grew out of the picking-on phase by the end of

this period, although the occasional leftover bully was

still around. I was worried that Jeff would resent my

involving myself by protecting him, but fortunately it

didn't seem to happen. He wouldn't say much, but he was

clearly grateful. I think he really looked up to me during

that time. I almost felt like I was his big brother in

a way.

By the start of sophomore year, he had given up asking me

over to his place, but I caught him staring at me on more

than one occasion. And when I would see him in the hallway,

I noticed that the crowd he was with seemed increasingly

skewed towards gothic gay types. That included a bunch of

rather faggy guys, as well as a couple of almost comically

butch looking -- and acting -- girls, Dana and Bonnie.

Although Jeff didn't act as stereotypically gay as the

others, he seemingly made no attempt to hide his interest

in us bigger guys at the school.

While I'm totally straight, I have nothing against gay

people, and there are a couple of them in our "popular"

school crowd. But Jeff's group creeps me out. They always

seem to be whispering to each other, and have the outward

appearance of always plotting something. It almost sounds

like a Columbine scenario, you know with the black overcoats

and all, except for the overt sexual aspect. Generally I

don't see much of Jeff outside of the classes we share;

since we are both good students we have generally been on

the advanced track all along, and we shared several AP

classes this year.

Although I didn't want to do it at first, over time my

relationship with Heather has become sexually active. We

always use protection and we don't do anything, well,

unusual. I'm writing that in the present tense but

actually in the last few months things have started

changing, and it's part of what I'm worried about and

why I'm writing this.

If I can pinpoint a particular time things started

getting weird, it was sometime last October as I finished

lunch. I started feeling really groggy as I finished my

water, and Jeff came over and said he wanted to talk to

me about something important, outside the lunchroom. I

wasn't in a particular hurry, as I had study hall

immediately after lunch, so I left the room with him,

stumbling a bit on the way out. That's all I remember

until I woke up to find myself sitting in my normal seat

in calculus class just as the teacher came in. An hour

had sort of disappeared from my life and I had no idea

what happened.

I would have asked Jeff about it after class, but I

didn't do it, and I don't know why. Either I didn't

quite remember the sequence of events then and only

pieced it together later, or I did know but for some

reason just couldn't ask him about it. It's all a bit

fuzzy. But starting around then I would discover that

bits and pieces of time would be disappearing on

occasion. Fortunately it was never while I was driving

or something. I should have seen a doctor about it,

but again, I felt I couldn't really tell anyone about

it. Maybe it was too embarrassing, or maybe I thought

they'd put me into some kind of analysis thing I didn't

really have time for, I don't know what. But for some

reason, I can write about it now even though I still

can't talk about it.

Because I would lose the occasional evening at home, my

studies began to suffer somewhat. I could still make

some of it up during the day, but even there the

occasional spare hour would vanish. I began to wonder

about my short-term memory when I came home once and

my mom asked, "Is Jeff coming over again tonight?" I

was astonished, because he had not been over to see me

for like three years, but I pretended not to be surprised

and told her I didn't know for sure.

But what really got to me was what was happening with

Heather and me. We had been virtually exclusive to each

other since the ninth grade. We knew each other perfectly,

we felt our love blossoming, and we were planning to go

off to *** College together. But right around the period

where I started having my mini-blackouts, things changed.

I started catching myself in the school locker room

glancing at guys. Now every guy checks out the others to

see how he's developing compared to his peers, and I'm no

exception. But I started noticing more details of their

bodies that I'd never really looked at before. I wouldn't

say I got sexually excited at my locker or in the shower,

no uncontrollable boners or anything, I was just very

aware of things I'd always taken for granted before.

And in one REALLY weird period of days, I actually snuck

around other guys' lockers while they were in the next

room showering, looking for their shoes to find out their

shoe sizes, and sniffing them to see if they had any

significant foot odor, all of which I remember writing

down carefully somewhere, although I can't find that

piece of paper today to prove it.

While this was going on, I found my time with Heather

to be less and less interesting, and our sex to be

repetitive and boring. And she also seemed to be going

through the motions. And -- here's where another link to

Jeff comes in -- once, with my interest really flagging

and with me having a hard time staying erect, a picture

popped into my mind of Jeff, little Jeff in his black

overcoat, pointing at me and moving his lips although

I couldn't hear anything -- and immediately I was hard

as a rock and very, very active. It took Heather

completely by surprise and she went along for the "ride"

without asking any questions afterwards, for which I

was grateful.

But things went downhill from there. I began to notice

that Heather was also missing for brief periods when I

expected to see her at study hall or after a class. But

I couldn't really ask her about her mysterious brief

absences without the subject of my own "gaps" coming up,

and I knew I couldn't talk about that. So we never

mentioned it to each other. And she also seemed to be

losing it a bit during classes. Once I saw her frantically

taking notes during physics; she was so absorbed by it

that she never looked up during the class. At the end

of the period, she grabbed her books and quickly left,

but I noticed she had forgotten to take her notes. I

picked up her notes intending to bring them to her later,

but then I looked at them and noticed that on every page

there was nothing but the word "Dana" written over and

over again, in different letter styles and with

decorations everywhere on the page. I was definitely

going to ask her about it, but the next period for me

was study hall, I had a brief blackout, and by the time

of my next class I guess I had forgotten all about it

(although I'm remembering it now!).

In the last few weeks, things seem to have really gotten

out of hand. From my most recent evenings with Heather,

I can only remember small pieces, and only from time to

time. As I'm writing this, I remember that two weeks ago

when we were together, something came over us and we

found ourselves role-playing, something we had never

done before. She played the tough jock, and I was the

helpless cheerleader. And she "topped" me in a totally

dominant way, calling me dirty names and sticking her

feet and other objects in all sorts of sensitive places.

Where she learned such a thing I have no idea! And I kept

having the feeling, which I forgot at the time but seem

to remember now, that there was maybe someone else in

the room that I was forced not to notice, maybe even

two people, laughing. Yes, now that I remember it, there

WAS laughing. I couldn't look in their direction, though.

I wasn't even sure they were there.

And in our most recent time together, the weirdest thing

of all happened. For some reason, Heather and I started

making out on the floor instead of on the bed, and I swear

that when I looked up once, I saw Jeff and his butch friend

Dana sitting on the bed, what looked like smirks on their

faces, both fully clothed except with their shoes and socks

off and bare feet on the carpet, and that I was lying with

my head near Jeff's feet and Heather's head near Dana's

feet. But when I shook my head and looked up, they weren't

really there, or maybe they had left, or never were there,

I don't know. I forgot about that part until just now.

Well, that's all I remember. Maybe some of it is my

imagination, or even all of it. Maybe things will

straighten themselves out this summer or during senior

year. It should definitely get better once Heather and I

are quite a distance out of this town at *** College. But

just in case, I'm writing it down because for some reason

I can't speak to anyone about it. I hope this gets into the

hands of a friend or someone who can help me. If so, SEND

HELP!! I can't even imagine what might happen if this got

into the wrong hands.


Charles Taylor

[Feedback and comments welcome.]