tagIllustratedNever Saw Blue Like That Ch. 01

Never Saw Blue Like That Ch. 01


Calvin Butler was eight years old when he first learned what 'gay' meant and he would never have thought that the word would have applied to him. He wasn't sure why he went to Garrett's house that day. Maybe he went to see his best friend's mayo jar of lightning bugs or possibly to play a little baseball but he had awoken as usual, shoveled an egg and bacon sandwich down his throat and pedaled his three-speed down Hampstead Boulevard, ignoring his mother's screeched words to be careful of the traffic. He deftly weaved through the cars and laughed when an ambulance swerved to miss him. Geez, what a rush!

Garrett was quiet that day. Calvin found him in the backyard at their favorite spot, a spit of jetty that overlooked Lake Pinto. His blond curly hair lifted in the wind as he just stared across the sparkling water, his bare feet dangling in the lazy waves. Garrett parked his bike at the side of the house, took all of two minutes to get rid of his shoes and socks and dashed to his friend's side, plunking his toes in the lukewarm water. It wasn't until much later that he noticed that his friend had been crying.

"What's the matter?"

He would never forget the look on Garrett's face nor the look of sadness in his deep blue eyes. "We're moving."

"What?" The words hadn't quite sunken into his head but he knew that they were the reason for his friend's sadness. "What'd you say?"

"We're moving."

"No shit! That sucks!" Calvin kicked the water up, splashing their calves. "Who's gonna go fishing with me now?"

Garrett Whitley didn't have an answer for his question. He was wondering how he was going to live the rest of his life without telling Calvin that he loved him.

* * * * *

"I want that property!" Cal Butler spat into the phone. "I don't care what it takes, I want that property."

"Mr. Butler," The clerk's apologetic voice filled the tiny speaker. "There's nothing I can do. The property belongs to Mr. Whitley's son. If you want to purchase it, you'll have to talk to him."

Cal closed his cell phone and closed his eyes, taking a deep, cleansing breath and rubbing his pounding temples. Why couldn't anything be simple? For almost thirty years, he had been after that property, watching as it changed hands several times within the family and now that the last Whitley had died, he thought he had the perfect opportunity to snap it up. But now to learn that there was a grandson involved ...

He let his hand blindly drop onto the intercom button and his assistant, Patti, answered quickly. "Patti, book me on a flight home."

"Home, sir?"

He lifted his head and swiveled in the chair, his eyes falling upon the perfect view of New York's vibrant skyline. "Yes, Patti. Home. Florida."

* * * * *

The memories overwhelmed him almost immediately and Cal stepped off of the plane, nearly stumbling down the tiny set of stairs as he recalled the last time he'd seen this airport. He had been nine years old and his best friend, Garrett was leaving on a plane that would take him to the far-flung reaches of Colorado. His throat tightened when he stepped on the tarmac, looking over to the spot where they had shared their last embrace.

His breath caught as the ghosts of two young boys appeared, their thin arms wrapped around each other, tears in their eyes and then the scene morphed into the imaginary sight of a coffin sliding across the heated road, Garrett's parents mopping their eyes as they slowly trudged behind it. The news of Garrett's death had hit him hard; in fact, he would be honest enough to say that he'd never recovered from it and had not been able to bring himself to attend the ceremony when he'd learned of the news.

"Mr. Butler?"

He was happy that the car Patti had arranged for him was waiting and he piled himself into the Grand Marquis, his eyes smarting as long-remembered roads unfolded before him, all leading to the piece of property that he obsessed over, lovely Lake Pinto and the acreage that went along with it. And the unspoken childhood memories with his first and only love, Garrett Whitley.

The car trundled into the sand-and-pebble driveway, winding its way to the big house and finding a shady space at the side. Without waiting for the driver, Cal stepped out of the car, leaving his expensive jacket in the backseat and ordering the driver to wait inside the vehicle until he returned. Orders given, he kicked his shoes off and walked down to the end of the jetty, noticing that the Florida sun had taken its toll on the weathered pine boards as age had taken a toll on the old bones that he lowered to sit at the end.

The green scent of algae and moist earth assailed his nostrils and he inhaled deeply, fighting the ghosts that wandered all around him. Garrett's cornflower blue eyes reflected up at him from the depths of the lake and he felt his cock harden as he closed his eyes and recalled his perfect features. If he was still alive, Garrett would be fifty-three, the most handsome fifty-three year old that Cal had no doubt ever seen.

He imagined what he would look like: full lips with a perfect cupid's bow, tousled blond curls and those dark, blue eyes. Never saw blue like that, he'd said once of his friend's eyes, a color whose beauty was only matched by the angry sky's reflection in this little scoop of water. Garrett had laughed and largely ignored him for most of the rest of the day, except ... he whimpered as his hand rubbed his hard penis through his pants.

He imagined that beautiful mouth drawn in pleasure, sweet breaths issuing around his soft tongue as Cal wrapped his own tongue around Garrett's hard cock, enjoying the musky smell of his best friend's crotch. His sweat and heat commingled with the fresh air and the jetty creaked with the rhythm of passion, Cal's rich imagination firing his own desire as he stroked his rod, quivering as he neared the edge, then went hurtling over, Garrett's sweet name a whisper on his lips as his cum fountained, arcing and landing into the gently lapping water below.

Tears burned his eyelids and he swallowed past the lump in his throat as he tucked himself away, his friend's name on his lips as sobs overtook the remembrance of pleasure and plunged him back into the clasp of despair that he'd known for so long.

"Who are you?" The young man's voice reached into his stupor but it was his eyes that caught and held Cal's attention. He struggled to his feet, hastily wiping the spent semen from his hands and blinking his tears away.

"I'm Cal Butler. I was a friend of your father, Garrett."

The expression on the young man's features went from anger to unbridled joy. "Uncle Calvin?"

"Just Cal."

"I'm Neal Whitley." He extended his hand, warmly enclosing Cal's in his own. "I've been looking forward to meeting you for a long time."

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