Friday, March 9, 2012


The first time I saw his ass I was belaying him as he climbed a rock wall. There was a hole in the seat of the jeans he was wearing, and when he shifted in just the right way with his boxers hiking up, I could see an entire cheek and a glimpse of the furry crack. His thighs were powerful as he pushed his way up the wall, spidering out at incredible angles that seemed insane to me. He was a very skilled climber and and loved watching him work his way up the wall almost as much as I enjoyed watching for those flashes of ass as he climbed higher and higher away from me.

I was not as skilled at climbing as him, but he graciously belayed for me on an easier course in return. He was one of the most supportive belayers I'd had, encouraging me to keep pushing, calling out where the next hand or foot hold was. We got along amazingly well for people who had just met and had almost nothing in common other than a love of the athletic workout that rock climbing gave us. I hadn't even gotten his name yet, but halfway up the wall I realized that I was starting to crush on this built and masculine man.

The rock wall was at a college not too far away from my own, but far enough away that the trip involved carpooling and planning on the part of all of us involved. The rock climbing club at my college was small, but fun and we all got along well, and the car trips were not a problem. What was a problem was we were never assured on any given trip of even numbers. Being the odd man out can be annoying when climbing, as it is a two person sport, but that day it was working out for me. There was a group of students from the college climbing with us, and they had an odd man too. I just happened to be standing in the right place at the right time when he needed to be belayed. I obliged, and suddenly I had a climbing partner who pushed me more than I pushed myself, and who was helpful enough to give me tips on what was actually a very challenging wall, even at the easiest part.

I think it was his smile that I liked the most. It was part goofy grin, part something a bit more. He was handsome in a way that isn't traditionally handsome. His face wasn't square, he wasn't a model. But he was earnest, and when he smiled at me I always felt like it was me making him smile. He wasn't being polite, I was actually entertaining him.

We ended up as default partners that night, and even after both of us were totally sore in our arms and legs, and dying the rip our climbing shoes off, we sat and talked with each other. What about, I don't recall, but it was the kind of general, good-natured conversation that you usually have with people while working out. I imagine we groan about school a bit and talked about television, probably about climbing and other forms of exercise. I knew other people at that college, but it was a bigger one, and he wasn't familiar with any of them. That sort of thing. Still, I found myself unable to stop talking to him. Almost to the point where I was ignoring the friends I had come with.

We both walked to the locker room together to shower and change. The locker room at this college, as I had already discovered from a previous, more successful visit, was below ground and rather cavernous. He let me stash my stuff in his locker while we showered, as I didn't have a locker there, and we continued talking while soaping up. The whole time I was sneaking glances at his crotch and ass. His cock was pretty normal and stayed flaccid the whole time. His ass was perky and rounded and tight with the workout he had just given those muscles. I kept wondering if there was a way I could approach him, a way I could get him to spread those cheeks and let me lick his hole for everything it was worth, but he was totally oblivious to the show he was putting on. He gave every sign of being very straight. So I resigned myself to just being a watcher.

I changed and left, promising to let him know when I would be coming back to the wall again. But unfortunately with the way my senior year ended (I was busy), I only went back two more times, and neither time were we able to connect. Climbing that wall certainly didn't feel the same without my climber eye-candy helping me along. All I have is my memories, but I don't mean that in a sad way. I can easily close my eyes and perfectly picture his ass peaking out at me from that hole in his jeans, or him wet from the shower with soap on his body, of that smile. And honestly, if that is all I get to remember him by, that is certainly enough.


  1. Sometime the memory can be better then the act. A memory can last a life time as they say, but the 'act' may not have been good or forgotten long ago. But a good memory can help get you through life.

    1. I would agree with that philosophy. I have plenty of memories that "get me through life" in a way. And I'm always looking to make a few more memories.


  2. I am sorry I missed some of your posts–they're always lovely! If that climber likes lasses, send him to me, please! ;)

  3. moments like that remind me that life is always magical and you never know whats around the corner. Sometimes a missed connection or an excellent series of dates before leaving a city can just give that extra perk in your step.

    Pak. Pussyboi

  4. Ace,

    Sounds like a nice memory from your senior year. I have always admired men in different activities and some of them I always wanted to see naked and those that I did, I enjoyed every inch of their bodies.

    Hope you are well.