Looking For God

By Cerulean Skye, KingJ0785@aol.com

I like to sit on my special rock just outside my porch and just breathe in the salty sea air, and watch the ships pass by going toward the skyline of Manhattan. This is my own special place, the place where I think and get everything cleared out of my head. It's a humble rock, just a small stone that probably fell down a long time ago from the top of the hill, and just sat itself in front of what would soon be my house. Sometimes, I even feel closer to God on my little rock. Seeing the great city watching the clouds and the mighty Hudson just makes me feel so tiny... so humiliated. I feel like I'm just a tiny little tile in a great mosaic, almost like someone's always watching me, despite the fact that I'm only a little dot.

I guess I only pray when I'm upset. Yeah, I call my thinking "praying," even though I'm just talking to myself. This time's really no different. For a while now I haven't felt that cohesiveness with the looming cityscape, that "one" with the land. I guess ever since I met this guy. I guess you could say he changed my life. It was almost like meeting my own private savior; a Godly experience in itself.

It was a while when I was sitting on my rock thinking, well, mostly crying. I've never been called "fag" before, so it was something that drew some emotion from me. I mean, I was at this party and this girl just started groping me. I felt uncomfortable and I asked her to stop. No, I told her to stop, and she didn't. So I yelled. And someone, some sad person called me a "fag." All I could do was run home and cry on my rock. So many times I've sat there hoping I could just jump off and go home. So many times I've wanted to fly away, in those great clouds to a utopia, where I could be myself.

And as I sat in my special seat, I felt a small wind on the back of my neck. Of course my reflexes being slow, I just sat there feeling the hot wind. And then it was accompanied by a slight rub; a finger drawing circles on the nape of my neck. Of course, now, I panicked and turned around to hit the pervert that was touching me. As I turned, I saw the most beautiful angel of my life. He was about 5'11", black hair, coal black eyes. He was dark, and beautiful in his own complex way. He had large red lips, big eyes, a narrow chin and the palest skin with just the slightest tan. He made me quiver just looking at him. And I could do was say, "Shit! You friggin scared me!"

He just laughed and said coolly, "Sorry man, I didn't know I'd scare you. I just wanted to know when your father'd be home. He's supposed to help me with my geometry before school starts in the fall."

"Oh. He's not home," I said. "He'll be back in a week. My parents left to Trinidad yesterday. I'm sorry, he must've forgotten to tell you."

"No sweat." He replied, "It must've just slipped his mind, that's all. I may as well get going. I have a long walk down the road to my house."

"No, it's a hot day. Why don't you come in and drink something, and maybe grab a bite to eat before you go? You don't want to collapse of heat exhaustion or starvation or something." He was so beautiful, and he touched me like no other. I felt sparks and I wasn't going to give up.

"No. It's okay, really. I'll just be on my way." Maybe he doesn't like me.

"Fine, suit yourself." Maybe if I use reverse psychology...

"All right, fine, I'll stay for a while. It is hot, after all." YES! YES! YES!

We just talked for a while after that, about school and tests and all. Nothing really. I found out that he just moved here from Spain. His father was working for an English firm in Gibraltar and married a Moor from Grenada that spoke perfect English. He had a light accent, but it was mostly British than Spanish, since Gibraltar's a British possession. But, he was trying to lose the accent, which I found to be a little annoying. It poked out whenever he'd get passionate about a subject, and he'd just blush whenever it came out. His father's company just built a North American headquarters in Newark because it's got America's busiest port and the metroarea's busiest airport.

I could already tell I liked him. He lives over in the condominiums down the road, and is one of my father's students. I was really looking forward to seeing him again. Damn, he even helped me forget why I was so down. I still couldn't explain why he was touching me like that, though. It's like he knew I needed it.


I'm still alone while my parents are off having the time of their lives in the Caribbean. I wish I were that far away. It's been some time since I've seen that Spanish guy. I think someone said his name was Gabriel, but his nickname is Sky. I dunno why, but lately I've been feeling so lonely. The only moment of rapture I could remember this whole summer was when he touched me... it was like an angel had been breathing on me rather than a stranger. Oh, well, I'm home alone and I have nothing better to do then go online, talk to other guys and masturbate all day.


Of course, my second meeting with him was a little awkward for me. I was at home watching "My Best Friend's Wedding," (I'm such a romantic), sitting in the family room with a bag of hot popcorn, a phone and a pair of black boxer-briefs when suddenly in my favorite part, (the wedding), someone knocked on the French doors at the far end of the room. I think when I saw him I was so embarrassed I almost pissed. I mean, sure, I'm told by everyone that I'm cute, I have a good body since I've been playing baseball since I was 3, and I'm the only sophomore on the varsity baseball team. So yeah, I'm a looker, and what my boxer-briefs was covering is nothing to be ashamed of either. But, I dunno, I just felt so humbled whenever I even thought about him.

He was wet and cold, since the night had been long and rainy. He told me his parents were at the state opera and he knew no one he could hang out with, so he stopped by. He was wearing a black dress shirt with a black tank under it, and black khaki pants. He looked like he belonged in the movie, "City of Angels," instead of at my door. I let him in immediately and he asked me if I could lend him something to wear since he was drenched.

We both went to my room, the house was dark and the lightning lit our path toward my door. We went in and I helped him out of his wet clothes. We probably think alike since he had the same underwear as I did, and what he was covering looked like it could be a nine-incher. He just picked out another pair of boxer-briefs, black as well, since he said he wanted me to feel at home when he was around. Sort of like his friends in Gibraltar.

Now, you know I would never argue to that, would you? He brought some videos with him in his bookbag (also black, notice a trend?) The videos her brought weren't exactly the kind I was used to, like, "The Saucier Side of Candy Lane," and, "Little Oral Annie." I told him that it was okay, I had some videos of my own. So instead we just went to my room again and listened to some CD's.


I dunno what happened last night, but I woke up in my parents bed with "Sky" and I had a HUGE bone. Just looking at him got me aroused, so I just rubbed my hands on his abs, and I slipped a finger or two into his underwear as he just laid there. He didn't seem aroused until after I started rubbing the crotch of his undies. I touched him with my left hand and released myself with the right.

I was almost done choking-off when he awoke with my hand halfway down his pants and my underwear around my knees. I was so embarrassed I got up and ran out of the house crying. I thought that the chance I'd had to become friends with this stranger were completely over with because I literally molested him. I couldn't even believe what I had done. I mean, I molested this guy, how embarrassing was that? I was sure he'd go and tell everyone what had happened.

Of course, I wouldn't tell you this story if this had actually happened, and my school is an all-boys Catholic prep school, so I'd probably not be alive to tell you about this story, right? So anyway, I went walking. I just walked and walked until my legs couldn't support me anymore. I walked all the way down to the riverfront park and just walked for hours along the harbor. I didn't come home until the cool crisp air began to nip at me. I supposed Sky had left, so I went in, ready to phone him and apologize. I began to thinking that I shouldn't've been so forward.

When I got into the house, I felt like someone was still there, lingering, with me. I walked into the rec. room and who do you think was there in the doorway? Why, it was Sky, of course. He was still in the boxer-briefs and he'd prepared us dinner. I got out of my running clothes and comfortable and went down to eat. We didn't really talk much until said, "You're gay, aren't you?"

"Yeah." He knew already, I guessed.

"I sort of figured after the way you didn't react to me the first time we met."

"The way I didn't react?"

"Yeah. A straight guy would've been pissed, and hit me. But you, you just acted startled, but I knew that that's just what you needed."

"How did you know this?" How did he know?

"I know more about you then you know about yourself." I began to get scared.

"Are you gay?" I sorta figured, but I may as well be in the clear.

"Maybe. I really don't know right now. Don't be scared of me, I'm here for you."

"How are you here for me?"

"You needed me to love you, and I do. This morning in the bed, I was awake the whole time, I only opened my eyes to return to favor, and see the ecstasy in your eyes. That's all. I didn't want to scare you." Wow. I couldn't believe him.

How does someone answer to that? I surely couldn't. And rightly so, I didn't. I just looked at him and dropped my hand on the table and he held it, and I saw longing and understanding in his eyes. It was like he was Godsend .... it scared me, and humiliated me. But I loved him too, and he was giving himself to me.


Nothing really happened that night. He knew I didn't want to go any further, he knew I was afraid, so he left. We fell asleep talking on the couch, and when I woke up at around 2:00 in the a.m. to go pee, he was gone, and the French doors open. I thank him for that. I thank him for letting me be. The next couple of days went by, he never came. I just kept on going. Life goes on and I went alone.

I went grocery shopping alone, I went to the movies alone, I went skating alone, I went jogging alone. Hell, I even did my own laundry for the first time... all alone! I really didn't miss him all that much although there was that longing inside of me. I would always be mindful of the windows hoping he'd come in through one. But the days passed and my parents would soon be home.

A few friends heard about what happened at the party and came by to say hello and chat for a while. I came out to all of them, too. I even found out one of my other guy friends was gay, too. We spent a lot of our time together after that.

His name was Trent. Trent was a beautiful boy from any definition. He had blonde hair, a swimmer's body, since he was the high-dive captain, and deep blue pools. I, on the other hand, am sort of like Sky. I have brown hair, blonde in the Sun, with brown eyes. But my eyes are so clear people say that they can see the other side of my head through them. I always smell like cologne, even when I have none on, and I have big red lips that Trent says are more luscious then an Italian Ice on a hot summer day. He has a square jaw while mine is more feminine, more narrow. But I've always been told I should model, even though he's all the more beautiful then me.

Me and Trent spent a lot of time since then. We lost our virginity giggling at one another when we saw each other hard for the first time. I still laugh when we have sex. But it was more, it was love, and poetry. Trent and I just meshed so well, it was like Sky had never even appeared.


It would be about a year until I'd see Sky again. I was walking down the trail to the waterfront through the mountain and I felt breath, and it was Sky. We talked until we met Trent at the bottom the trail, I tried to have them meet, but when I introduced them, no one was there.

I looked him up and no Gabriel Linley was ever enrolled in my dad's school. He'd never even heard of him, and no one named Linley lived in the condominiums down the road. And no company called Cathedral Shipping was established in Newark. And the photos I took, (I took photos of us on my porch,) I got them developed and I'm alone in them.

It's been 5 years since then, I'm enrolled in Columbia University and Trent and I still see each other very frequently. And you know, since then, I've felt closer to the Earth, closer to God. I even go to church, now. I guess angels really are real.

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