One afternoon I was sitting outside, underneath the covered porch. It was mid March, and it was already warm. I was talking to my classmate, one from a math class. He was a super gorgeous man-6 foot 3, long and muscular. Such a nice boy. Didn't seem to have a care in the world. He wals always so complimentary, but he couldn't be flirting with me? Could he? If he, is he has no idea of it. Our friendship had suddenly been blurring the lines. To me as a gay man, I always deflect and advances from "straight" men. Why even bother? Why put myself into a situation where I might never be able to have what I really want? But this was somehow different. Suddenly he was calling me every day, coming to see me, or I was going to see him.

I felt some type of way. I could tell I was falling in love with him. He was such a great guy. So sexy and masculine, but somehow more sensitive and caring than anyone I had ever met. Ever. I didn't want to have these feelings for him. I was just going to get hurt.

Suddenly I realized he had stopped talking. I saw something flash across his beautiful green eyes. And then suddenly it was like he has this courage that come out of a rocket ship. He was telling me that he wanted to share something with me. Because he felt like he could trust me. This was not the first time this had happened to me. All throughout my life people would open up to me and tell me one of their deepest darkest secrets. Or all of them. Somehow me just being me made people comfortable enough to tell me things like they were cheating on their significant other, or were really into something that most people would not think about while being turned on. The biggest one up until now had been nothing compared to what he was about to tell me.

I may not have done everything out there, but hey I had the internet. So honestly, no one could really shock me at this point. Sometimes I would beat off and then be laughing at myself because I couldn't believe I had just cum to something so silly ( or disgusting ). I'm a pretty sexual person, and as long as nobody is truly getting hurt, or having a bad time; it's on.

He looked me square in the eye. He said. "I love to get messy". And suddenly he was shaking, and not shaking, I mean shivering. He suddenly looked totally different to me. This tall dark and handsome man
Who always seemed to cool and collected, looked so vulnerable. I asked him, "like gunge?" And his eyes lit up. He was surprised I even knew what it was. But he didn't know that as a child, I was caught rolling in the mud constantly and as a pubescent teen I had whacked it many times to people having sex in the mud & a few to guys pouring food on themselves or shaving cream.

He was shaking harder. Explaining to me how this was monuments for him, and how I was the first person he had actually worked up the courage to tell in person. And I knew it. This was the start to something, it did not need a label. Because with him or not, I knew one day I would do it. I knew one day I would pour buckets on top of him. I would pie him in the face, and I would love every second of it. I knew with him or not, there was no way if was going to miss out on giving that to him.