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An explicit collection of young adult erotica, Boy Crazy explores in heady detail the “first time:” the first time feeling lustful toward another boy, the first time falling into bed with a peer, the first time discovering love with another young man. This youthful collection relishes the thrill of being crazy for a certain boy, for a moment or for a lifetime. In Jere M. Fishback’s “A Beautiful Motorcycle,” a young man shares a hotel room with his sister’s boyfriend and experiences a whole new kind of room service. Guitar lessons give way to instructions of a more amorous variety in L.A. Field’s “Summertime Blues.” Mesmerized by two hot young bikers, Warden finds himself taking a ride on the wild side in Jeffrey Rounds’ “This Is Not Your Country.” These and other stories of sexual awakening vividly evoke the trembling, heart-pounding, sweaty-palmed excitement of the first time.
Published: Cleis Press on
ISBN: 9781573444576
List price: $9.99
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Boy Crazy

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Boy crazy. Crazy about the boy. That’s what self-aware homosexuals are all about, in the beginning, when they’re young, as they pass from adolescence into young adulthood, from their teens into their twenties, when inner need and outer gaze come together to focus, sometimes on the whole world of young men around them, sometimes on a singular, special guy. Some of them have never, or almost never, been kissed by another young man—until now, in this unique erotic collection of young adult fiction, coming-out tales, and accounts of first-time sexual experiences and romantic encounters that build into love everlasting. These are the stories of those boys, and the boys who are crazy about them.

Some of them are college students…

In The Viking, a bony, politically progressive post-nerd cynic finds exuberant physical and safe emotional harbor in the muscles of a redheaded football player. In Army Brat, the closet doors open for two scholarship musicians whose professor is an unwitting role model. In War and Peace, a Dutch student and an American student spurned by their girlfriends learn they have dp n=11 folio=x ? more in common than a cramped apartment near the Berkeley campus. In To Thine Own Self, a studious, reticent queer lad lusts for the same theater student his overbearing sister thinks belongs to her. And in Treasure Map, a freshman, smitten by the boy across the hall, will never let him fall.

Some of them hook up out in the world…

In Sundelin, a young man who has never been with a dude, but who knows what he so desperately wants, cruises—stalks, really—his barista. In Mercutio’s Romeo, a provincial theater production of Romeo and Juliet brings Romeo together with…Mercutio. In Game Boyz, an afternoon in a video arcade transforms the closeted life of a lad lusting after his straight best friend—when a boy named Zen comes into his life. In After Stoolball, two summer farm workers find sexual freedom, and each other, in the lush fields. In The Pasta Closet, a young man in his twenties finally has sex with a stud he has desired since boyhood. And in This Is Not Your Country, a traveling Canadian escapes his metrosexual companions with a native named Valentino and a motorcycle named Paolo.

For some of them, first crushes and first lusts—but not a first real relationship—come young…

In Paperboys, a lad yearns for the companion who wasn’t really gay. In Larry and His Father, a lad who builds his body up in pursuit of his school chum learns that he can be both queer and strong.

Some of them were younger once, and remember when…

In August, a reticent, love-struck teen’s first time comes one summer on the ocean, with a gentle young fisherman. In Coming of Age, a couple who have been together for decades recall the brutal night of violation that led them to each other’s arms. In A Beautiful Motorcycle, a junior high student’s one dp n=12 folio=xi ? night with the senior who was his sister’s boyfriend lives with him forever.

And in The Dolphin Temple, it’s so okay to be gay that the cum of young men, in a queerly fantastical world, is a religious experience.

Boys being crazy about boys: it’s nature’s way if you’re gay.

Richard Labonté

Bowen Island, BC

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Natty SoltesZ

They met on an early summer morning with mist over the grass, a young day with no night in sight. Carl had been delivering newspapers since March; it was Nate’s second day. Their routes intersected on Walnut Street. They found they lived just across the railroad tracks from one another, and like the random combination of a lock their friendship tumbled into place.

Sometimes the papers arrived late at the newsstand. They sat waiting in the back of the store, their newsprint-grayed paper-bags protecting their butts from the dusty linoleum. Carl got up and walked past the magazines (the pornos on the top rack tantalizingly wrapped in plastic) to the paperback racks. He leafed through a romance novel, stopping when he hit on a good part, waiting for Nate to investigate.

What are you reading that for? Nate asked, and Carl showed him. It was less than three pages of heaving breasts and throbbing manhoods and red-hot centers, but it was enough. dp n=15 folio=1 ? Better yet, the romance rack was full of them, all creased to the sweet spots for easy access. They would read next to each other in silent appreciation, crouched on the floor below the view of the clerk, knees sore, secret boners folded into their shorts.

These make me want to play with myself, Nate said.

Gross, Carl said.

It’s not gross. Everybody does it. Even my dad plays with himself.

Nate’s dad Mario collected comics. So did Nate. Carl read them but wasn’t into superhero stuff like Nate and his dad. He liked weirder ones, such as Tales from the Crypt and The Sandman.

Mario’s den was right below Nate’s bedroom. It smelled like wood and rare books and was strictly off limits.

"He has Playboys down there somewhere but I’ve never been able to find them, Nate said. He pointed to a vent in his floor. He can hear everything that goes on up here."

They were having a sleepover in Nate’s bedroom, and apropos of nothing Nate decided to change his underwear.

Don’t turn around, Nate said, standing behind Carl. Carl stayed still as Nate’s cotton briefs laved his smooth thighs. Don’t look, I’m naked, Nate said, then Carl heard a slow sliding up, the snap of fresh elastic. Okay, you can look. Nate smiled a dimpled smile.

Should I sleep on the floor? Carl said.

No, we can both use my bed; we’ll just stay in our sleeping bags. When Carl came back from the bathroom Nate was already tucked in.

Why are you wearing all that? Nate said.

I don’t know.

I just wear my underwear to bed. Sometimes I even sleep naked. Nate didn’t let go of the issue. Don’t you get dp n=16 folio=2 ? hot? That’s stupid to wear all those clothes. Carl conceded, but waited till he was under the covers to strip down.

Nate was the first one up that morning.

I’ve got a boner, he said.

You’re sick, Carl said.

It’s right here under my sleeping bag.

At least you have underwear on.

I don’t anymore. I always take them off in my sleep. See? Nate pulled his briefs from under his body. He tossed them onto Carl’s face. They were warm. Carl threw them to the floor, acting disgusted. So yeah, Nate said. I’m totally naked with a boner right now.

What is wrong with you?

Nothing. I get a boner every morning, don’t you?


What about right now?

No, Carl lied.

Now I’m touching mine, Nate said, his hand rustling in the right spot.

Oh, my god.

I dare you to touch yours then lick your hand.


That’s not so gross, right? Brandon was daring everyone to do it after gym last year. They all acted like it was sick but I couldn’t figure out what the big deal was. Then: I’ll do it if you do it. Carl followed Nate, sliding his hand under his briefs and laying his cool palm on his warm erection. Nate pulled out his hand, slathering his tongue across his palm and fingers without hesitation. Carl followed suit. It tasted salty but not like anything.

Now put your hand back on it, Nate said. They did, lying with breathless silence, their slick palms against their hard-ons.

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C’mon, you’ve got a boner too. Admit it.

Just then Nate’s dad opened the door. Carl moved his hand off of his crotch too quickly.

I thought I heard you guys, he said, looking into Carl’s reddened face.

Do you believe in ghosts? Nate asked Carl one waning wasted summer evening on Nate’s back porch.

Sort of, Carl said.

What do you think happens when you die?

I think you could stay around if you wanted to.

But you wouldn’t necessarily haunt people.

Totally. You could haunt people if you wanted to, or you could just hang around. You could live in your same house and go anywhere you used to. You could watch people and they’d never know you were there, Carl said.

You could watch them do anything, Nate said. You could watch them go to the bathroom. They laughed.

At home in bed Carl closed his eyes and visualized the walk to Nate and Mario’s house. He placed himself in a corner of their bathroom and watched.

Nate was a grade behind Carl, but they were both in the same building, Groom Junior High. Though best friends, they were removed from one another during school, merely exchanging hellos in the hall.

In the afternoon they’d walk home together with two neighborhood girls, and it was through those girls that Carl learned Nate was declared to have the best butt in his class.

He couldn’t argue with that. Nate’s butt was round and plump and he loved to show it off, mooning Carl whenever he got the chance. Returning from their routes, Nate would jump dp n=18 folio=5 ? ahead of him in the alley, lowering his shorts over his substantial behind, strutting for Carl’s embarrassed amusement.

Mrs. Foust was teaching health today, Nate said one day on the walk home from school. And Steve Sprague asked her how gay guys have sex. It was unbelievable. She should have been like, ‘Okay, Steve, you come up to the front and bend over. Now Ken, you get behind him and pull your pants down, and put your penis in that hole.’ And just like that Nate had handed Carl a powerful piece of information. Gay sex had been a murky amorphous thing for him until then, a soft-focus picture of two muscular men rubbing their soapy bodies together in a heart-shaped tub. Now his imagination had a physical act to contend with, and contend it did.

The two friends had never seen one another’s dicks, but once Carl spotted Nate’s balls under his boxer shorts, resting against his thigh, and was bold enough to point it out.

I don’t care, Nate said. He looked down at himself, then raised the leg of his boxers until his whole smooth nut sac was exposed. Carl feigned disgust but Nate wasn’t moved.

You’re so weird about your body, he said to Carl, which hurt, but Nate couldn’t know that the risks weren’t the same for both of them, the playing field not level. Carl barely realized it himself.

They played at flirtation. Nate put on Depeche Mode one night, slipping his ass out of his shorts and bumping around his room. Carl sat below him on the beanbag chair.

What are you doing? Carl said.

I’m stripping for you, Nate said in faux-seduction mode. Carl laughed incredulously as Nate lifted off his shirt and wiggled his bare ass from side to side. He got more and more explicit, dp n=19 folio=6 ? carefully holding his shorts above his crotch as he pushed his butt back toward Carl’s face. He planted his feet wide and bent over all the way, then pulled his cheeks apart. There was his hole, the first one Carl had ever seen, a pink-purplish shock. Nate laughed at his own brazenness, but Carl kept his cool. Taking it further, Nate lay down on the floor, ass in the air, and humped away. He brought his butt closer to Carl’s face and finally got on all fours and spread it wide.

The shock had worn off and Carl found himself with a hard-on, mesmerized at the sight of that hidden forbidden place. He thought of holding out his finger and giving Nate a shock of his own when he backed up his ass, wondering what it would feel like to touch it. He’d touched his own before.

Nate rolled on his back. The song was nearing its end. He threw his shorts-bound legs over his head and as the song died down he flexed his asshole to the beat. It was ridiculous, beyond transgressive, and they both laughed hysterically as Nate dropped his legs and pulled up his shorts. The pup-tent in the front didn’t go unnoticed by Carl, but Nate tried to hide it, launching himself belly-first onto the bed.

That was so gay, Nate said.

They went to the Groom Senior High homecoming game and walked home together when it got boring. The announcer’s voice echoed from the field across the brisk night sky; the field lights were still visible on the hill.

You know Chad McCrae? Nate said.

Yeah. Chad was a junior like Carl’s and Nate’s older brothers.

He’s going out with Hillary Ramsden. My brother’s friends were over last night, and they were saying that Hillary ate out his ass.

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Ate out his ass?

Yeah, Nate said. It’s like the other kind of eating out, except she did it to his…butthole, Nate said.

Gross, Carl said.

She’s a slut, Nate said. I can’t imagine how you would do something like that. Unless he’d washed his butthole really good.

Even then.

Yeah, it’s disgusting either way, but maybe not as bad if he was really clean.

"Maybe," Carl said.

Later they were in Nate’s bedroom. Nate’s parents and brother were still at the game, so they had the whole house to themselves. They played Risk and Nate won, as usual. They got bored.

I wish you weren’t here so I could jerk off, Nate said. Don’t act like you don’t do it. We both do. Why don’t we just admit it to each other? Why is it this big secret?

I’ll go downstairs if you want to jerk off, Carl said.

No way. I need to go downstairs too. I get naked and run all around the house when I jerk off.

You’re full of it, Carl said. Nate got on his stomach and started humping the bed. He took down his underwear and exposed his ass, backing it up to reveal his hole.

Then you pretend you’re Hillary Ramsden and I’m Chad, Nate said.

You gotta get it clean first, Carl said.

Okay, Nate said, and got up and left the room. Carl was sitting on the beanbag chair, looking at the comic in his hand but not comprehending a frame of it. He could hear running water in the bathroom, though it could have been Nate tricking him. When Nate came back to the room he had just his underwear on.

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I’m ready for you, Hillary, he said and flopped on to the bed with his legs dangling over. He shoved his briefs down around his thighs, then took them completely off.

"Oh, Chad, Carl said with soap-opera passion, getting between Nate’s legs. He took hold of his calves. Give me that ass, baby." Nate chuckled and raised his butt toward Carl’s face, letting his cheeks spread apart. Nate’s sac was drawn up tight below his asshole; the space between them domed and swollen. Carl moved his hands up higher, let his fingers flirt with Nate’s buttcheeks.

Do it, Hillary, Nate kept saying. Eat my ass. To Carl, the idea was starting to seem less crazy than it had a few hours ago. Nate’s asshole was familiar to him now, smooth and pink with downy hair around the rim. There was the distinct smell of Dial soap coming from it, suggesting that he had in fact washed. Underneath that was a musky, not unfamiliar smell. He let his face graze Nate’s smooth cheeks.

I can’t wait to taste your ass, baby, he said, moaning. Nate backed up abruptly and his asshole made contact with Carl’s nose.

Oh, shit, Nate said. He lay flat and looked back at Carl. Sorry.

It’s what I wanted, Chad, Carl said, and Nate backed up again, but Carl couldn’t think of anything else to do. So he just sat back in the beanbag chair. Nate put his underwear back on carefully and remained on his stomach for a good ten minutes. Carl’s boner was tucked underneath his waistband. His nose seemed to burn from the contact.

He left after Nate’s family returned, and when he jerked off that night he tried to time it so that they would be doing it at the same time.

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Mario was supposed to drive them to the comic book store one day but backed out at the last minute. So Nate and Carl went walking along the tracks. They then veered off into a clearing in the woods. They were farther away from home than they should have been, but they knew the tracks were behind them as they continued deeper in.

At first the sun strobed through the trees but as they went farther—and only later in life did Carl question why they’d walked so far—the sunlight got watery and weak.

Carl was getting ready to ask Nate whether they should turn around when they saw the shack. It was small, a lean-to, wooden and decrepit, and it sat in the middle of the forest as if it had grown there. The door in the front was cracked open. Nate crept toward it.

What if there’s somebody in there? Carl whispered. Nate got closer. He pushed the door and it creaked as it swung in. Carl saw only a pool of dark beyond the frame. Nate peeked inside and motioned for Carl to join him. Carl did, hearing every stick and leaf crunch under his feet.

On the floor of the shack was a gray mattress, half folded against one wall and littered with dead leaves. On top of it was a billiard cue.

Holy shit, Nate said as he stepped inside. Look. He pointed to one corner. Stacked there were porno magazines, at least twenty of them. Nate picked up a stack. These are weird, he said. They weren’t the garishly colored covers of the newsstand porno magazines. They were dark and murky with foreign titles. The cover creatures were enclosed in latex and masks and gagged with red balls.

We need to get back, Carl said, but Nate was already rolling up four magazines and trying to stuff them down his pants.

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Help me, Nate said. He handed Carl the roll of magazines and lifted his shirt, holding out the waist of his pants. At the last minute he held out his underwear waistband too. That should hold them better, he said. Carl looked down. Even in the dim light he could see Nate’s cock, soft and nestled in the cup of his briefs. He knew that Nate knew he was looking. He slid in the magazines. Nate lowered his shirt.

You take some too. The ritual was repeated. Nate took his time, rolling and rerolling the magazines to make them tighter, and unabashedly looking into Carl’s pants. Let’s go, he said once he had them inside.

They stepped outside the shack. The woods were even darker. And just there in front of them was a man. He was lying facedown on the ground, and how they’d missed him before was a mystery. He was wearing a white shirt and maybe pants. He was motionless, but that was all they saw because Nate took off running and Carl followed. They ran with a fear greater than any they’d ever known, until they were back on the tracks and back in the light.

He was dead, Nate said when they’d gotten a comfortable distance away.

Are you sure?

He wasn’t moving, Nate said, and that was true, though Carl later seemed to remember an empty bottle lying nearby.

They got back to Nate’s house but crept behind the garage to where his dad kept a metal barrel for burning. They put the magazines in the barrel, showered them with lighter fluid, and lit them. As the pages disappeared Nate took his dick out and peed on the fire. Carl took his out too. Though typically pee-shy, he was able to let go just then. Their urine hit the flames and evaporated. They burned the pile until there was no trace.

Once home Carl sat on the living room chair and took off his dp n=24 folio=11 ? shoes. His dad and sister were in the kitchen carving a pumpkin. On his socks were black burrs from the woods. They were dark and insectlike, with twin prongs that attached themselves to the fabric. He picked them off one by one.

What ended Carl and Nate’s friendship a year or so later was unremarkable, being merely the period on a sentence that had well since finished its thought. Their sleepovers had tapered off, as their flirtation had begun to carry too much weight. They’d gained new friends, Nate with boys and Carl with mostly girls. They ignored each other throughout high school.

Carl wanted to walk to his house sometimes, just ring the bell, and see if it could be like it was. He wanted to ask Nate about the shack and parse its mysteries. He wanted to parse Nate’s mysteries too, Nate who’d developed into a wholly handsome and desirable young man, even if he never seemed to have a girlfriend.

Instead Carl walked into the alley behind Nate’s house at night, holding a paper bag. There was a small factory just across the alley from Nate’s backyard.