Les, my closest friend now that Mike has been killed in Iraq, sits quietly on the couch listening intently as I tell him about my explorations with Mike in that scout tent so many years before. How our relationship had grown beyond experimentation. How our experiences had left me shaken, doubtful about my sexuality, but oh so excited. About how I believed that I had “loved” Mike in a way that was very close to the love I had felt for women.
There is a long pause as I stand over him, hoping his reaction will not be too harsh, that he will not think ill of me, will not cease to be my friend because of my “queer’ feelings for Mike.
Les rises. Stands still for a moment and looks straight in my face, then leans forward and kisses my lips lightly. I stand in shock, not knowing what to feel, my face tingling where his coarse beard has touched.
He takes my hand and leads me into the bathroom. I stand near the door, mute and paralyzed, my emotions in an uproar, watching as he lights several candles and turns on the steaming water. I feel like a virgin on her first date as Les begins slowly unbuttoning my shirt. My breath catches in my throat as my pants puddle at my feet. A huge lump forms at my solar plexus as he kneels to doff my shoes, his face inches from the monster, his breath hot on my thighs. I want to scream at him that I don’t want this, that I am “not that way”, but my voice won’t work and my loins are afire.
Hand gentle on my lower back, Les firmly guides me toward the steaming shower. “Get in”, he says, “relax.” The hot water on my neck and shoulders relieves the tension a bit. “I shouldn’t go through with this,” I keep telling myself, but I seem powerless to act.
Several uncertain minutes pass before Les slides in behind me. I feel his stiffening manhood bobbing around behind me, between my cheeks and on the backs of my thighs. he grabs the soap and, reaching around me, begins to soap my chest and nipples, his rough beard and fluffy mustache feel odd, but exciting, scratching over my back and shoulders. I begin to stammer as his hands soap lower.
“Les, er, I . . .” I want to scream, “Stop! Stop!” So why don’t I?
“Shh”, his voice whispers in my ear. “Just relax. I want you. So bad.”
His soapy hands move lower. Across my belly. My thighs. One hand slides slipperily under each side of my ball sac, cupping gently, massaging. He takes my hardness firmly in one hand, soaping up and back along its length, sliding my foreskin on and off the monster’s engorged head. The other hand moves to circle round and round the head. The intensity causes my hips to draw back against the length of him, snuggling all down the tight crease between my cheeks. His kisses and nibbles and tiny bites are roving down my back. My body is covered with goose bumps.
Suddenly his hands leave me. He draws back. The sense of relief at his cock moving away from my sensitive crease is almost as intense as my sense of loss. Confused, I start to turn. But Les moves around in front of me. He uses the weight of his body to force me gently back against the shower wall. His face finds mine, lips hot on mine, tongue seeking, probing. At my first kiss from another man, I have an eerie sensation of extreme strangeness and extreme forbidden excitement. His hands move to soap my back. The kiss goes on and I find myself responding, our tongues twining. His hands soap the cheeks of my buttocks, slippery fingertips gently sliding, teasing between , up and down.
Les’s mouth leaves mine and moves down, kissing and nibbling my hairless chest, His tongue, his teeth on my nipples are like no other feeling. Our cocks brush and bob against one another. He kneels before me. Drawing back a moment to let the steaming water rinse me, his hands roam over my legs, my inner thighs, my balls. He draws my foreskin back tight against my body, stretching my cock hard and long, its crimson head bulging. Snaking out his tongue he inserts its tip into my tiny cock lips. Involuntarily I jerk forward and pierce his lips, but he guides my hips backward, pulling me out of his warm mouth. Swirling his tongue around and around my sensitive cock head, he reaches and slides my foreskin forward, enclosing his tongue, licking around under it. My knees nearly buckle at the intensity.
And now, finally, I relax, surrender, knowing that this skilled lover will bring me joy. For now, for the moment, I am his, come what may, Conscious thought is a thing far from me, alien. The swirling in my head, the intense pleasure, blots out everything. There is one universe, this small shower stall, the two of us its only inhabitants.
At last he leans forward, taking me deeply inside his mouth, the head of my throbbing manhood entering his throat. He takes my hand and guides it to his neck, where I can clearly feel my cock bulging and moving inside. How wicked, how wanton, how wonderful! He slides his mouth on and off me, simultaneously laving my length with his tongue. My hands move to embrace his head, fingers entwined in his long hair. I draw him against me. I can feel his nose in my pubic hair, my balls on his chin, I mightily resist the urge to fuck strongly forward.
His hands move to caress my butt, fingertips teasing. With one fingertip he twirls and teases at my tight hole, then slips it gently inside. I jerk forward, pushing my cock deeper in his throat. His head moves forward, forcing my hips back, impaling me deeper on his finger. He picks up the pace, alternately taking me deep in his throat and impaling me deeper on his finger. Nerve impulses from all over my body rush to my groin. I feel the pressure building, feel my hot seed rising.
His finger leaves me. His mouth leaves me. He rises to his feet. I feel barren, empty, abandoned, lonely, longing. My legs are tight and shaking.
He turns around, reaches behind him to grasp my dick, and leads me by it, still dripping, out of the shower and into his bed.
I awake as golden fragments of morning sweep slowly across the small bedroom and gently kiss my face. I feel spent, used up. It is the first time I have awaked next to a sleeping male form since Mike’s sleep-overs in my early teens. Les lies beside me, his spare form sprawled on the bed, arms akimbo and legs spread. His yellow hair is spread beneath his head like a radiant halo. His dick lies peacefuly along the golden down at his thigh, surrounded by its own halo of nearly transparent golden curls. Even in its flaccid state, it is nearly twice the size of mine when fully erect. Its bare head, the golden curls around its base, his thighs, are lightly coated with the dried traces of left over lust. I lie on my side and gaze at him for a while, reliving the events of the previous night.
What is it with me? What am I? Have I no morals, no shame? I search deep within myself. I can discern no trace of the shame, the disgust I believe I should be feeling. Is it love I feel for this “friend”, or only lust?
He is radiant, gleaming.
Gently so as not to wake him I let my hands graze over his taut frame. Cautiously, I heft the length of his sex in my palm, impressed by the solid weight of him. The smell of him, of us, and the remnants of our sex is heavy in the room and heady in my nostrils. The taste of him is a memory on my lips, my tongue. Did I really do all that last night? Take his long heavy thickness deep in my mouth, my throat? It seems impossible, yet already I feel the stirring want of him reawaken somewhere deep in my psyche. Yes, I believe I would do it again. Momentarily I am tempted to lean over his taut, muscular form and take him once again in my lips. “Could I do that? Perform the acts of my recent memory in the cool light of daylight and reason, without the compelling lust of last night?”
I suppose the hot urgings of the torrid night might provide a slim excuse for my behavior. But here in the glowing morning sun, I now, at last, must honestly admit to myself that I would probably do it all again. In fact, the power of him excites me to daydream of completing the one act I refused last night. To some small degree, I want this loving man to have me, take me, pierce me. What would that be like? In all those days and nights piercing, penetrating, possessing women, I have never once given thought to how it must feel to take another into oneself, to surrender ones inner body to the probing, impaling of another. To have that long hardness impale you, to take it deep within. If such a thing is a purely feminine trait, then how could this strong, obviously masculine person beside me desire it so fully?.I have no doubt that Les would discuss it with me at length, but have I the guts, the honesty to broach the subject with him?
It is time, I think, to finally begin in earnest, the task of examining myself honestly, a task that I have put off, denied, submerged in the day to day of existence. Yet how often have I heard the call to sincere self-examination?
Preparing to rise, I lean gently over and softly kiss Les’ chest.
With a playful lilt in his voice, he says, ” don’t stop now, you horney devil.”
We laugh together and his hands flutter over my body like butterflies seeking nectar.
In moments I am hard and taut, pointing at the ceiling.
Once again he takes the initiative, taking me full in his mouth without preliminary. Once again his fingertips tease, tickle, probe. When he slips one finger into me, I am startled as before. But this time I am resolved not to hold back. Taking his face in both my hands I draw his mouth from me. His blue eyes hold hints of golden fire as I say simply “Yes!”
Still kneeling between my outspread thighs, he grasps them with both his strong young hands and urges me over onto my belly. His knees hold mine in place His arms under my waist pull my hips up and back, forcing me to a kneeling position, my face on the bed, back arced and ass high,
His hands caress my cheeks, oh so soft, oh so intense. I feel the heft and weight of his manhood on my lower back, his need obvious, wet and hot.
My legs tremble in fear and expectation as he glides his swollen hardness down, up, down, up between my cheeks, lubricating me with the wetness oozing profusely from him. Adding wetness from his saliva wet fingers, he gently pries me open. I feel his thumbs spread me. Suddenly I feel his manhood stiff against my tight tender hole. So hot. He presses forward. I am rejecting what I know I really want, squeezing tightly, denying him access, suddenly very afraid.
“Relax, Jeff, It is gonna happen now, buddy. You know you want it to!” He presses forward firmly, meets resistance once again. Deciding that gentleness is not going to work, he rams forward hard and fast. The bulging head of his cock pops past my tight sphincter and I cry out.
He leans over me and kisses my back. His hands rove over my thighs and sides. My ass feels as if someone has set it afire as Les pushes in slowly bit by bit.
I struggle to move away but his hands grasp my hips firmly and he slides the final inches into me. The pain is intense. A blinding white light goes off before my eyes.
“Relax, buddy,” Les says once more. “Take it in, friend, you know you want it.”
Slowly he draws the long hard length of himself out of me and slowly slides it forward once more. My ass is bulging with the fullness of him. I am gritting my teeth, eyes shut tight, groaning with the fierce pain of being punctured.
Les sets up a rhythm of long slow penetration and withdrawal. It goes on and on, tears fill my eyes and my screams fill the room as his cock fills me over and over.
After a long nightmare of pain, Les picks up the pace and begins slamming hard and deep, withdrawing oh so slowly, but slamming home hard and deep again on the forward strokes.
My voice is shaking, cracking. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” I scream over and over.
But he is merciless in his driving need and punches into me, piercing, pounding. Again and again.
At long last I surrender and fall flat on the bed. He shifts his body and continues harder and faster now. Driving, pounding, His cock a hot ion pounding into me.
The fire in my burning hole spreads to my groin and my cock, now hard as ice. Spreads out to my limbs, my skin.
The pain washes away as his cock pounds my prostate, wave after wave of fiery pleasure
crashes through me
Finally I feel my ass open fully and welcome his hard burning manhood. I thrash and moan under his heavy weight. “Yes!” I cry aloud. “Yes.”
I go completely limp under his pounding, finding at last the true freedom of total surrender, the ultimate pleasure of total subjugation. My ass, my body is now his to do with as he will.
He reaches under me and grasps my cock hard and firm and begins pumping me to the rhythm of his thrusting need. I am silent now as he uses me completely.
I explode in a hot torrent of cum, feeling it wash over my belly.
And now he is ready. His hot cum fires deep in me, hot against my prostate and all life and love and longing and consciousness leave me and I am adrift in endless space, feeling only his seed filling me, hot so hot!
It seems as if his cum flows into me for a very long time, oozing out around his huge dick and running over my balls. Finally he softens and withdraws from me. The sense of loss is overwhelming. He stretches out his long lean frame atop me, whispering softly in my ear. “Oh yes, Jeff, you loved it didn’t you?”
“Shh,” I say, “Just hold me.” He rolls to one side, arrns around me and I curl into his body. His cock, though now flaccid, seems impossibly large against the curve of my butt. I wriggle my soft ass back against him as if thanking him, thanking his cock, for teaching me the awesome pleasure of surrender. He reaches around and cups my cock possessively and we drift off in contented sleep.