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@ 27.055 MHz: Ad Astra; How BlueShift Achieved The Comfort Zone Of His Seductive Intentions, To My Joy [NSFW]
On Saturday, July 10th, 1976, he took his shoes off, just after the
film began, and tossed them on to the rear floorboard of my car. I
was still reeling from having received, an hour or so earlier, the
gift of my first c.b. handle, Starwatcher, to which he had helped me.
For the first time, I felt free of the shadow of the identity my
parents had imposed for just short of eighteen years; as well as the
inhibitions that no longer prevented me from a desire to enjoy the
beauty of his feet, sheathed in midnight blue socks beneath the frayed
cuffs of his distressed, bell-bottom jeans. I wanted to inhale that
fragrance to the fullest capacity of my lungs; and I wanted my
mouth and tongue to convert it to flavor.
On Friday, July 16th, he took his shoes off just as we drove up to the
ticket booth and paid for our admission. In his presence, and on the
c.b. radio, I was no longer "Fairy Jerry," or worse: I had become
Starwatcher. In my presence, he felt comfortable enough to take his
shoes off well before even the cartoons began. A little later, he
propped his feet up on the dashboard, and I engorged immediately:
neither prejudice nor precept could, any further, obstruct or impede
such pleasures as those feet implied and provided.
On Saturday, July 17th, he took his shoes off as we drove westward on
Interstate 70 to the drive-in; and, as we pulled up next to the ticket
window, he had already propped his feet up on the dashboard. I made
direct eye-contact with the ticket clerk: I was Starwatcher, not "Fairy
"Jerry," and the beautiful male next to me, comfortably flaunting the
erotic attraction of his sock-sheathed feet, was, I knew by now, my First
Beloved who, that summer, had brought my adolescence to its full blossoming.
On Friday, July 23rd, he took his shoes off as we entered I-70 from the
entrance ramp just north of our small village. We passed several
semi-trucks---giving the drivers, in their high cabs, a fine view of his
feet on the dashboard. A couple of them, who apparently had accepted their
souls' given natures, gave us appreciative blasts of their horns.
On Saturday, July 24th, he took his shoes off as soon as we left our
dead-end street, on the west edge of our rural, somewhat homophobic
township. The sound they made, as they tumbled to the back floorboard, was
like the cacophonous crash of my parents' restrictions and rules, that had---
far too long---crushed "Fairy Jerry" beneath their weight; but now, strewn
about as rubble, could not withstand the triumphant stride of Starwatcher,
beneath the constellated sky of this world that was no longer forbidden me.
The intrusive and obstructive inhibitions, imposed parentally, or by
inquisitive (inquisitorial) neighbors, or by local society's assorted
prudes and haters (thugs, all) had fallen away, and the shattered
rubble of those divisive walls lay in its own inert, now impotent dust.
On Friday, July 30th, just after his walk down the slope of our dead-end
street, he took his shoes off as soon as he entered my parents' driveway.
His eyes and smile indicated a comfortable defiance of societal
expectations, as well as implied seduction. My eyes and smile, as well as
another, more southward response, indicated an attraction to this
playful version of his beauty. I was anxious to get into the car with
him, that the fragrance of his feet through those socks (always, I shall
say again, midnight blue) should fill the compartment quickly. Inhaling
deeply, I imagined the scent being converted to flavor by my eager
mouth and tongue.
On Saturday, July 31st, as I watched from my parents' driveway, he left
his guardians' house---shoes already off and dangling from his right hand.
Before reaching my parents' house he had to pass five other ranch-style
homes, and some of the residents were outside in their yards or driveways.
What they might have thought of his choice is unknown to me; what I
thought of his choice is the purpose of this poem. He had found his
shoeless comfort zone; and watching him---and those midnight blue
socks not quite concealed beneath his denim bell-bottoms' tattered
cuffs---I entered, most joyously, the zone of homosexually erotic
delights, no longer forbidden me or restricted to fantasy.
Januarian
