He was so great to me. I remember in ninth grade he got in a fight with Mark Smith for touching my ass. And the summer before tenth grade he drove t... all the way to Allison James' house at three in the morning to pick me up and take me home because I was drunk from her party. And later that night he held my hair for me while I threw up in his car. He never got mad at me, ever. Even when I messed up bad. And I loved him for that. It was Friday, May 30th. Our last day of high school. . I'd barely spoken two or three words to him since he'd moved in a couple of months ago. My wife, however, had conversed with him a little more detail. Apparently he was some kind of builder and played a lot of football. He also fucked a lot. His bedroom adjoined ours. I don't think I need to go in to more detail, although historic echoes of his grunts rattled through my brain as my eyes picked out the sweat amongst the dark blond curls on his chest and the bulge in his shorts. “Alright, mate.. More

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