Once lost, Now found

Chapter two

Luca

The circumstance of my first sexual encounter, away from home, came like the proverbial bolt out of the blue. I was out on one of my many solitary rambles. On these jaunts, I tended to mind my own business, in a world of my own. It was a self sufficient world, known only to those kids without brothers or sisters. I was neither looking for, nor thinking about, anything in particular. There was certainly no expectation that fate was about to cast a hulking great big boulder into my placid little pool. When it did, the ripples it caused gave me the vital clue for that which I had been searching. This intervention of fate has been the pattern of my life ever since. When I am looking for something or someone, it or they never arrive but, when I am engaged in urgent matters or just plain short of time, all the opportunities of the world consort happily together to find me out. I am sure you know exactly what I mean. It seems to be the way of the world  ‘Sods Law!’ Now, I don’t intend this account of my life to be a series of detailed sexual revelations to titillate and drool over, but I should recount this first encounter in some detail, not that there are too many details to be had. It was a very ‘Brief Encounter’, but it taught me what could be achieved once I knew the score. There is also another interesting nugget of information to be gleaned from the experience, namely, the clarity of the event.

I shudder to think how many people I have been with. Most of the names, faces and places, merge together into an homogeneous whole, thus making it difficult to disentangle most of them. There have been so many, I have forgotten far more than I could possibly remember, but this ... .I will carry every detail, every scrap of it, to my deathbed. It was a baking hot day and my jaunt had taken me into the surrounding countryside. There was a particular spot, which I loved. It was an arcane medium sized, thickly wooded copse of decaying vegetable matter whose age forced the massive trees to give a densely canopied half light. Even so, there were plenty of scattered clearings to be found, each fringed by low shrubs. Very few people visited the place as it was a bit of a walk from the main road. There was one particular pool of light that I favoured. There I would sit for hours in this blissful spot, listening to the birds singing and watching the squirrels playing their elegant games. Whilst I watched these animals, I indulged in flights of imagination. I pictured myself as the animal observed, wondering what it would be like to be that creature, I was a little strange like that. Anyway, a man came out of a particularly dense clump of bushes to my right. Because of the leaf and tree cover, the exact direction of the voice had fooled me. I thought he was terribly old, although he could have been no more than about twenty nine. Well, let’s face it, to a fifteen year old, anyone over twenty was pretty ancient. He had a mop of straight black hair and was clean shaven. His large eyes were smiling and kind. This was the sort of person who would have put anyone at their ease the moment they flashed a smile. And so it was with me. I succumbed to that smile and was put warmly and totally at ease. But that man wasn't the kind genuine man you would think, that I thought anyway. But I was at an inquisitive age, my sexuality was questioned many times by my parents and me. It was only when I realised what he was actually doing that it really caught my attention. He was stroking his dick, it caught my attention mainly because of its size, at first. I was fifteen, I was a late bloomer and this man ... .well, lets face it. Was a man and the moral of the story is ... .don't become inquisitive of a man stroking his dick when you were questioning your own sexuality, because that's when I had my first taste of becoming a man myself. I still shudder at the thought and in turn brought on many more conquests over the years. Now I'm fucked. Twenty six and have nothing. I led my life having one sexual encounter after the other until I started a relationship. It was a hit and miss kind of relationship, we didn't much like each other, but we only had each other, until that fucker fled with everything. I mean everything and I'm no moocher, so with the last of my marginal wages I earned the other day. I'm pissing it up the wall. I'm a sad kind of man, but my heart is kind of in the right place. I was never cruel. Maybe that's where I went wrong all these years.

Enough of my sob story. I'm sitting in a bar in this relatively small town I happened to adventure upon only a week ago. Doing odd jobs just to feed myself, now I'm feeling dizzy with my veins packed full of alcohol. I was actually feeling pretty damn sick and decided I needed fresh air and to find a place to lay myself down for the night before I move on. I staggered and wobbled, the scenery looked kind of warped making my stomach turn. I fell against a wall and slid down onto my arse. I couldn't move, not another inch, then a soft voice flooded my ears. I strained to look from where it came from and a face, the face of an angel appeared before my very eyes.

"Are you okay?" His voice was soft and angelic. But I'm almost full on pissed and I could have been talking to a dog. You know what they say. Beer goggles makes the ugly desirable, even animals to some people. "Excuse me…." I waved my drunken hand.

"I'm fine man, just fine."

"You don't look fine….would you like any help with anything?" Really? What kind of person ask a complete stranger that? A very drunk and pathetic stranger at that.

"Na, I'm….shit, I'm gonna vomit…" I felt it rise up my throat. I don't think I even wretched as it fell out my mouth and down my hoodie. The smell was indescribable. A mixture of alcohol and the tuna salad roll I had only a couple hours before. 

"Oh." He squeaked. "Do you need to get home?" Home….home? It's almost laughable, my shit drunken situation.

"Look….dude…" I paused as a vomit induced belch left my throat. "I don't have a home….so, just leave it….be." I was near on paralyzed from alcohol. I stank like a drunken vomit covered fishmonger and felt myself already passing out, in my own vomit. Nasty business being a homeless idiot. But then again, at least I'm alive.