The storm started just as the game ended. Not much rain, but a wild wind. We hung out under the stands for a while, and if we’d been alone we might have kissed. In my mind we were kissing. I’d kissed him before, but never with people around.

When the weather let up we set off across the parking lot, which was pretty much empty, and I noticed a light way out in the field. “Seems strange to have that light pole way out there in the middle of nowhere,” I told him, and he agreed.

We walked out into the field toward the light. On the base, a cement block, stood a beer bottle. “Someone must have been here,” I said.

“Looks like it,” Curt said.

The beer bottle was open, but it was dark glass so I couldn’t see if anything was inside. Curt picked it up.

“You’re not going to drink it?” I said.

Curt laughed. “No way. Could be piss.”

I hadn’t thought of that. Beer would have been bad enough. He handed the bottle to me. “I’m not drinking it either,” I said. He laughed. I poured out whatever had been inside.

“Kind of strange the wind didn’t blow it over,” I said. I put the bottle back where it had been. “Do you think if we come back here next week it’ll still be here?”

“Or next year,” Curt said.

I laughed. “You know, under the stands I wanted to kiss you,” I said.

“I did too,” he said.

“Why didn’t you?”

He hung his head.

“You should have,” I said. “Maybe you could kiss me now.”

“That would be good,” he said, “but I kinda have to pee right now.”

“Okay,” I said. “Go ahead. I won’t watch.” He turned his back. I liked the sound of it. It occurred to me that it would not be easy to pee into a beer bottle. I wondered if it would be easier for a guy. Probably.

Curt turned around. “You don’t need to?” he asked. “I wouldn’t look,” he added.

“You could look if you wanted,” I said, “but I don’t have to.”

We looked at each other. “I liked the sound you made,” I said. “Peeing. It might have been fun to see.”

We kissed then. A long kiss. I could feel his hardness pressed up against me.

“Can I see it?” I asked during a break from the kissing.

“See what?” he said, but I think he knew.

I touched the front of his jeans.

“You really want to?” he said.

“I do,” I said.

We looked at each other. My heart was beating. I wondered if he could hear it.

“Okay,” he said. He worked the button and the zipper.

“So big,” I said.

“It’s not always so big,” he said. “Just when I’m with you. Or thinking about you.”

“Can I touch it?” I asked.

“Yeah, but...” he said.

It was so soft, the head. Soft and firm at once. I couldn’t quite get my fingers around the stem. I moved my fingers up and down, slow and gentle. I was pretty sure I knew what would happen.

It did. It was glorious.

“Thank you,” I told him when it had finished. “That was so nice.”

“I thought so too,” he said.

We kissed some more and then we went back to the parking lot, to his mom’s car. Next time I was going to taste him. I wondered if he wanted to taste me.