Drew and I were friends from the age of seven to fifteen. We were virtually inseparable. We experienced all of a young boy's life ups and downs. We had everything in common, and even looked like brothers. Both of us had brown hair in nearly the same style, and brown eyes. He was a year older than me, and was always taller and lankier than I. Overall, we knew we could count on each other. Drew was a patient, sweet, and kind kid. He always put up with me and my mood swings. He was a shoulder to cry on when I was mercilessly picked on in middle school, and I was there to show him compassion when his family life was in turmoil.
You could say that it was because of him that I realized my sexuality at a very young age. There was no doubt about it, what I felt for Drew was more than friendship, it was love. Drew was a year older than I, so puberty hit him first, and as a gay boy in love, I was fascinated by his changing body. He even took one innocent chance to allow a quick peek at his maturing manhood. Other than that, he used to torture me, we'd wrestle on the front lawn shirtless, hot and sweaty, and he'd force my hands or even my nose into his hairy pits. He was always bigger and stronger than me, and would always manage overtake me. I feigned disgust, but enjoyed writhing on the ground with my chest touching his.
Sadly, at the age of fifteen my parents moved us away. I was too hurt to actually say goodbye to him, and always regretted that. I always remember waving goodbye to him as the moving truck left our driveway. I did keep in touch with Drew briefly until his own family moved to a different state.
For the next thirty years there was never a day that went by that he wasn't on my mind. Once during those thirty years I was able to get in touch with him. When I had graduated from college and the Internet was in its infancy I was able to find his e-mail through a popular online service. We e-mailed one another and I found out that he had gotten married and had started his own business. Again, we lost touch.
Being in love with Drew was a lot of baggage to carry. I was only attracted to guys that looked just like him. None of the men I dated measured up to the fantastical standards that were Drew. As hard as I tried, for the next twenty years, I simply had no luck in hanging on to relationships for any significant length of time. I had been out of yet another relationship for about six-months and feeling exceedingly lonely; I needed to get away and decided this was as good time as ever to do some traveling. Thanks to the Internet, I was able to track Drew down. He was still in the city that I remembered, and even found the address of his shop.
I drove four hours and arrived at his shop around noon. I entered and saw two men working the counter. I asked if Drew was working and they called him out from an office around the corner. In almost every way, he still looked like that teenager I had left on the curb some thirty years ago. His dark brown hair was still in the same style, still slicked down with just enough gel to make it glisten. The only difference now was the light flecks of gray that penetrated through. He was much still taller and thinner than me, but bigger than I had ever expected. He carried himself with the kind of authority that a business owner and boss would. He was always fascinated with having a mustache, and he had one now, along with a beard that just covered his chin.
The men at the desk pointed him in my direction. He asked, "Can I help you?"
I hadn't decided what I was going to say before entering, and I didn't know how to answer, but only a few beats passed when I heard myself say, "Drew its me, your old friend Rich." He knew right away who I was. He stood shocked in silence for a moment, and then ran around the desk to greet me with a firm handshake, and then one of those masculine hugs/chest bumps. We were both so excited to see each other, we exuded the same energy as we had when we left things at fifteen. Drew called to the guys behind the counter, "I'm taking the afternoon off and taking Rich to the diner for lunch." He told me to leave my car there at the shop, and we got into his red pick-up truck and headed through town.
When we arrived at the diner, it was nearly empty, but the waitress knew Drew right away. He ordered some coffee for himself and I, and we began catching up on the last thirty years of our lives. I felt so comfortable with him that coming out to him was in the course of conversation. I don't even think either of us really took note of it consciously; we just kept talking as old friends do. He told me that he had been divorced for a few years now. Owning his own business in a didn't offer her enough security, and he was too proud to give it up or work for anyone else, so she moved out on him and out of town. He hadn't dated anyone else since then, but he claimed he was too busy with work and that he didn't make time for dating; I could tell that he still loved his ex. Day turned into night, lunch into dinner, and several pots of coffee later, Drew finally asked me where I was staying. I told him that I had booked a motel nearby and that I would just stay there tonight. He said, "The hell you are, you're staying with me at my place tonight." How could I pass up on that offer?
He drove me to his condo in an old factory that had been turned into loft condos. Clearly they were built to attract people from the major city to the suburbs for a better quality of life. His condo was impressive. It was almost new, with concrete floors and exposed ductwork. Bricks lined three of the four walls, and the ceilings were so high that none of the walls of his three bedrooms and two baths reached the expansive ceiling. He hadn't been expecting me, so the condo looked like a forty-five year old businessman had lived there. It wasn't a mess -- no dirty dishes or laundry like you'd expect of a young bachelor -- but there was unopened mail and books and papers piled on every flat surface. The spare bedroom held his desk and papers and books were scattered everywhere in there as well.
He offered me a beer and we sat on the sofa. He turned on the TV, but it was nothing more than background noise to our continuous conversation. He excused himself to the restroom and I waited for him on the sofa watching the news.
He emerged shirtless. He had the body of your typical forty-five year old man who had worked outside for most of his life. Sure, there were no six-pack abs, but there was definitely some bulk there. He was tan everywhere except where the tank covered. His arms were well-defined. His chest was still hairless, but it was definitely not the young teenage body that I had remembered. He sat down next to me, and stretched his arms across the back of the couch, his arms reaching around me. I was surprised by the show of affection. He said, "Remember this?" I laughed, remembering how he used to torture me with those sweaty and hairy pits. He let out a couple of chuckles, but then he stopped. A new found intensity came across his face, something that I had never seen before. With one fluid motion he used the hand behind my head to grab it and push my face into his pit. "Lick it!" he demanded.
I was incredibly turned-on, though I could barely breathe, my nose shoved against him. I took in his musky scent. I did my best to open my mouth and got a mouthful of hair. I licked his pit, it tasted sweaty and musky, the result of a days worth of work combined with the lingering soap of the deodorant he had applied that morning. He released the pressure on my head, but kept his hand there, just enough that I could lap his pit like the hungry animal that I had become. My face and his pit were thoroughly wet, dripping with my saliva. He'd had enough. I tried to push my head up to kiss him, but he had other ideas.
He grabbed my head again, and pushed it down to his hard pink nipple. Now I knew what he wanted, and couldn't believe that my fantasy after all these years was coming true. I took his nipple into my mouth. He pushed my head harder. I bit down on it. His body hardened. His hips had jerked into the air, his head thrown back. He was enjoying the rough nipple work. My hands reached to touch his sinewy back and well-muscled arms. He pushed his arm between our two bodies and pushed his pants down to his knees. He grabbed my head and pushed it down between his legs. I stopped my face just above the head of his cock. I was stunned by what I was seeing. It was about six inches long, but it was the thickest cock I had ever seen in real life. I'd heard many men brag about having a beer can thick cock, and seen some online, his was truly beer can thick. It had a small head, and though cut, still had a generous amount of foreskin. He clearly did not manscape; he had a thick brown bush of pubes at the base of his flaming red and hard cock. There was no way I was getting that into my mouth. Pushing on the back of my head, he forced my head down, my lips hitting the tip of his engorged cock. He thrust his hips and pushed his cock into my face. My mouth opened. I took the head of his cock in my mouth. My tongue licked around the head of his cock, I ran my tongue around the glans and pushed it into his ample foreskin. He pushed my head harder and forced his cock further inside my mouth. My mouth was opened so far it hurt. The head of his cock hit the back of my mouth. I choked. He started fucking my mouth. He pushed my head down while he rocked his cock up. I was gagging, drooling all over his fat cock, mixing with his pre-cum. Tears welled in my eyes. He pushed the back of my pants down past my hips. He slapped by ass, my ass was red hot. "Is that what you wanted? Did you want to suck my cock? Suck it man!" The face fucking continued in earnest, he forced my head down and held my nose into his musky pubes He grunted and his body rose in the air. Stream after stream of hot creamy jizz struck the back of my throat. It filled my mouth so that cum oozed out the sides and down his cock. I choked on it. I had no choice but to swallow his creamy load. He held me there forcing me to clean his cock of every last drop of his hot cum.
He powerfully pushed me off him, still grasping my shirt and it ripped open atthe buttons. I slammed into the arm of the sofa, my hairy chest exposed. Drew stood up and left the room. Despite his forcefulness, I was turned-on by his manliness. I took off my clothes and grabbed my cock, I needed to cum. Drew came back his cock still swinging between his legs, clearly ready for more.
"Who the fuck gave you permission to do that?" he yelled.
He raced across the room, grabbed me by the arm and pulled it behind me; he practically ripped it out of the socket. I flipped over to avoid the pain. He grabbed my other arm and pulled it behind me. Now I was on my chest, my arms behind my back. With his knee on my ass, and pulling my arms back, he pushed me up to my knees, positioning my ass in the air, my face against the arm of the sofa. Again tears welled in my eyes, I cried out in pain. With his other hand he slathered Vaseline into my hairy ass crack. Then he lubed up his cock. Soon, I felt the head of his cock pushing against my waiting hole. In one fell motion he thrust that beer can sized cock deep inside me. I screamed out. He reached around and covered my mouth.
"Shut the fuck up! The neighbors will hear you."
He held his cock there, grabbed my hair and held my head back. He whispered, "Relax your hole, and don't even fucking think about pushing me out." He let go of my hair. He grabbed onto my hips and started thrusting his cock in and out. The pain was unbearable, but the head kept pounding my prostate. My cock grew to its full eight inches, I didn't know whether to cry or cum. I wanted it to stop, but I didn't and neither did the pounding. The pounding kept getting faster, harder and harder still. Finally he thrust all the way in, his pubes against my ass cheeks. He slapped at my ass, and then his cock began pulsing inside my ass, another round of streaming hot cum hit my prostate and filled my insides. Without even touching myself, I shot a massive load all over the sofa. Drew pulled out; he pushed me off the sofa on to the floor.
"Clean up that mess," he demanded.
He grabbed my head and put my nose into my own cum. I cleaned up it with my tongue. Drew let go, I fell over. We were both covered in sweat, just like when we were kids. Drew started out of the room; I was lying on the floor, spent. Drew said, "Don't even think about leaving tonight, besides your car is still back at the shop. I haven't fucked a bitch in a very long time, and I'm not finished with you yet."
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