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Date Posted: 16:40:42 05/11/16 Wed
Author: Comicality
Subject: (Part Two)
In reply to: Comicality 's message, "(S) "Left Without Words 5"" on 16:30:29 05/11/16 Wed



I pedaled my way over to Deme's house, and he actually opened the door before I was able to lean my bike against the side of his house, next to the fence, and ring the door bell. Had he been looking out his window, hoping to see me? Was it a coincidence?


 
I heard the door open, and Deme came over to where I was standing and gave me the warmest, most incredible, hug around the neck. "Hey! You are even more early than I expected! I am glad!" He said. "Do you want something to eat or drink or do you just want to go to the park?"


 
Deme was wearing a very light grey, pullover, t-shirt. the material was so thin, that I could see his nipples through it, even though they weren't erect. And looking down, he was wearing jean shorts...but they were cutoffs. And cut more than halfway up his insanely smooth thighs. Much higher up than any regular American boy would have thought comfortable. A dusty blue color, with glaring white fringes of string hanging from the material. Just looking at it took my breath away, causing me to fidget and almost whimper to myself in an audible tone.


 
Deme didn't wait long for me to answer. He just rushed outside and looked me in the eye, his stunning good looks nearly knocking me over with their charm. It was almost as if the sun itself was trying to shine a little bit brighter at that moment, just to compete with the glory of that boy's presence.


 
If that was the case, the sun had every right to be jealous...and had a long way to go before it could ever hope to consider itself a challenge in comparison.


 
"Which park?" Deme asked me. I almost missed his question, as I was too enamored with the vision of seeing him raising that smooth, tanned, leg over his bike to straddle the bar, and eventually smoosh his sweet ass on the seat behind him. You have no idea how much I wish that seat was my FACE!


 
"We can...uhh...ahem..." Wow, my voice squeaked in such a high pitch, I thought Deme was going to cover his ears in pain. Shit! I really wish it didn't do that when I was nervous. "...We can go to...well, I know this place that, ummm...just follow me. K?"


 
Deme smiled at me, and I nearly fell over. But managed to peel my infatuated gaze away from the bronzed perfection of him and start riding. I'm not sure how I kept my physical coordination in tact long enough to work the pedals of my bike, or my breathing steady enough to keep me from passing out....but somehow I managed, and Deme followed me all the way to the park that I had in mind. Mostly green grass and trees for shade. Not a lot of bike or roller blade paths, no picnic tables, no beach and lake front tourists. I wanted something kind of quiet. Something a bit more secluded so deme and I could have a decent amount of silence to just talk and laugh and...bond. You know? No major interruptions. Just us.


 
I know that girls look at him. I could see them staring the whole time we were riding our bikes over there. Even older ladies would do a double take while they were walking their dogs and saw us swiftly riding by. I wish I could say that I wasn't envious of their shameless, slack-jawed, glances....but I can't. I was soooo jealous! Why do they have to look at my dream boy like that? I found him FIRST! So back the fuck off! You know?

  
 
These random street people are no better than my mom and Sarah back at home. And I know that I don't really have any right to lay claim to Dimitry in any romantic or preventative way...but still...he was MINE! I wanted to throw a blanket over his face and sexy body and keep him from being ogled and drooled over by people who didn't earn the right to do  so. They didn't know him like I did. They've never seen his smile up close, or heard his laugh. They never lost their breath when looking up the wide leg of his shorts or forced themselves to grin through tasting his poorly made, salt ridden, Greek dishes at the restaurant. I did. ME! And I had fallen for parts of his personality that these gawking strangers didn't even know about. So...leave us alone. Because Deme's not some piece of meat, you know? He's better than that. So much better.


 
"Ooh! Here, Shane! By the tree, not far from the drinking fountain. Do you want to rest there?" He asked.


 
I could always hear the rising enthusiasm in Deme's voice when he spoke. Accent and all. And it's not like I'd ever be heartless enough to tell him 'no'. So why not? The tree not far from the fountain it is.


 
The only thing sexier than watching Deme's smooth thighs and short shorts straddling that bicycle seat was watching him dismount. I brazenly stared at the shape of his taut and perfect ass as he let his bike fall to the ground, and he spread out a large blanket that he brought with him for us to lay on. Already, my heart was pounding in my ears to the point where I could barely make out what Deme was saying when he talked to me.  "I'm sorry, what?" I asked.


 
"Oh, I said that we have enough shade where the sun would not be too hot. It is a good spot to talk." He grinned.


 
"Oh. Ok." I replied, but then I felt kind of lame and asked, "Are you sure that this is ok? I mean, do you just want to 'talk'? I brought a Frisbee and stuff. I wasn't sure what you were into, but if you want to do something else, like...ummm..."


 
"No, thank you." Deme said, spreading out the last corner of the blanket right at the base of the tree next to us. "I hope you do not mind, but...I desire just good old fashioned conversation. I would really love to talk to you more. I think that would be...ummm...I don't have the word. I would like it much, though." Our eyes connected, and there was this spark of absolute panic that began to churn in the center of my stomach. I began to tremble on the inside, but on the outside, I played it cool.


 
I just smirked at him and said, "Alright. Fine by me." Hell yeah! Can I get some pimp points for that? Er, ummm...well, can I? I don't know. It sounded good at the time.


 
And talk we did. For at least an hour. No stops, no stumbles...I got so into it that I forgot to be awkward. You know, Deme has this really cute habit of lowering his head when he laughs. You can see his flat stomach sort of fold in on itself, and his shoulders lean forward, and those soft, silken, waves of dark hair come floating forward to cover his eyes...almost as if there was no gravity at all. Like slow motion. Those tender locks would sweep over the tips of his ears and gently lick his cheek...and it made for an awe inspiring moment of true admiration. It's like life was telling me, flat out...


 
...This is what love looks like.


 
Eventually, a brief silence passed between us. Not an uncomfortable silence, mind you. It was just a moment where our eyes connected and our conversation was better continued without any words around. Sometimes they just get in the way.


 
"Is this one of those golden moments?" I asked him with a smirk. "The ones you write about?"


 
"Hehehe, it's funny, but I was just asking myself that same question." He said. "It feels like it. I brought my notebook, but I don't want to write."


 
"Why not?"


 
"No. It is rude. We're having a good talk."


 
"That's ok. When inspiration taps you on the shoulder you've gotta answer, right? If you miss the moment now, you might not remember it later."


 
With a gentle smile, but a slightly serious tone, Deme looked me in the eye and said, "No, I will remember. I wouldn't dare forget this moment. Not for anything." I'm not sure why that one statement took my breath away, or why his determined gaze seemed to be sending me a message that my body was too weak to handle without warning...but I found myself swooning over him to the point where I had to lay back on my elbow and stretch out on our blanket to keep from falling over.


 
I took what little oxygen I had to say something and shake free of his spell. "Poetry. You know, I honestly don't know how you do that. I don't understand how you can take a blank piece of paper and write something so beautiful on it. You literally create something out of nothing."


 
"I don't know if I can explain." He said softly.


 
"I mean, there's a rhythm to it, and a structure, and a flow. Sometimes it rhymes, sometimes it doesn't...how do you know what's good poetry and what's bad poetry?"


 
He giggled, "There's no such thing as bad poetry." There he goes again. Lowering his head. It's like he tries to hide his smile from me but stops himself halfway. "It's like...you use your brain to speak your mind every day. Words are...as you say, 'functional'. Poetry is different. It comes from the heart. The words arrange themselves differently. When you're inspired to speak from the heart, there is a quality that simply writing 'functional' words can't achieve. It's not a textbook or an instruction manual. It's not a recipe for baked chicken or a random letter to a penpal. It's...the true essence of a person splashed upon the page. A soul attempting to express itself, hoping that others will comprehend and relate." He said. Then he pressed his finger to his chest, right over his heart, and said, "It is like taking a tiny little seed from here...and planting it there." Now touching my chest as well. "Only when you really feel and believe what you write, only when you have learned to be your true self through your own words, can you finally be understood. Only then can you move people. Otherwise...you are just scribbling words on paper. Is not the same." I think I blanked for a second. I have never had anybody say anything like that to me before. Ever. That might actually be the single most amazing thing that I've ever heard another teenage boy say, like, ever. Seriously. "I am sorry. I'm probably not making much sense."


 
"No! No, I totally get it, I just...you kinda caught me off guard. That's...so beautiful."


 
"You understand? Good. Then, maybe I planted a seed in the right place."


 
"You most definitely did. I mean, wow...hehehe!"


 
Deme looked away with a bashful grin. "Back home, Samantha always told me that I get all unraveled when I talk about writing. My father and Papa Milo always say that it is a hobby, but it is something I take very seriously. It represents everything that I am. It is the one place where I can be myself with no judgements and no excuses. I don't want to fake it. It has to be real. Once you corrupt the purity of what you write for something trivial, you can never get it back. The damage lingers forever. Art should be pure, never corrupted. Never controlled."


 
Could I be any more in LOVE! Owwwww, how is it that I'm falling for him so hard and yet it feels like my heart is breaking in two at the same time??? Is that even possible? Or am I more screwed up in the head than I was yesterday? Gah! Help me! My emotions are running around on a total COCAINE HIGH right now, and every second I spend with Deme in this park is making it worse!


 
Say something, Shane.


 
SAY SOMETHING!!!


 
"So...ummm, Samantha, huh?" Wait, what? Don't say THAT? "Your...girlfriend, or...?"


 
He chuckled. "You are always trying to set me up with a girlfriend." He peeked up at me and said, "No. Samantha is my friend. That's all."


 
"Ok. Just wondering. I always just imagine that you would have had somebody falling all over you day and night. Especially with the poetry and all." Where am I going with this? What am I doing? Am I doing this? Oh God, I'm actually doing this! "Boys like you don't usually make it this far without a few pretty girls trying to snatch you up for themselves."


 
Shyly, Deme began to play with one of his shoelaces, saying, "No. I would not let them catch me. And I would not stay if they did. Hehehe!"


 
"I'm sure my sister, Sarah, is going to be crushed to hear that." I smiled. "She's kinda got her sights set on you."


 
"Really? Strange. She was so secretive about it." He snickered.


 
"Sarcasm. Nice." I noticed that his voice was getting more and more quiet. He wasn't looking me in the eye as much either. Instead, he just twirled his finger around his shoelace and stared down at his feet. "Anyway, I don't think you have anything to worry about. I highly doubt Sarah and her brat pack would even know what to do with you. Hehehe, but I'm willing to bet that they'd gladly lock you in a room and spend a long long time trying to figure it out."

     
 
Deme blushed as his smile widened. Do you have any idea what a visible blush looks like on olive colored skin? It's so subtle. Like a pink glow shining through a thin layer of caramel. It makes your heart stop for a moment and reset its natural rhythm in an attempt to keep up with the way it makes you feel. Awww, even the tips of his ears were pink now.


 
"And?" He asked, just above a whisper. "What about you, Shane?"


 
He timidly peeked up at me again as he awaited my answer. And I said, "Well...I don't think I'd know what to do with you either." Nervously, I began to giggle...my eyes darting around the park to find anything that might distract me from having him see the truth in my eyes when I made that statement. "Then again, I'm not the one chasing you, right? Hehehe!"


 
After a brief pause, Deme said, "Too bad. I might just let you catch me. If you wanted to."


 
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you have an emotional orgasm without touching yourself! Jesus Christ!


 

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