IV. Possibilities
Later that evening Darren asked, "George?. . . Do me a favor. . . will you see if there's a bottle of wine in that cupboard, up there?" motioning over his refrigerator. He was at the stove sauteing onions, red and green capsicums along with mushrooms, garlic and some basil in olive oil.
"Sure," George said. He opened the high cupboard door and stretched to reach the bottle. "Only one. . . red wine."
"That's fine," then added, "the opener's on the rack next to the refrigerator. . . . See it?"
"Yeah. . . got it. Want me to open it now?"
"Please."
Later, after they had eaten they sat in the living room relaxing. The food and the wine infused their beings with a relaxed familiarity.
"Can't believe how good that was," George stated. "You're multi talented. . ."
Darren snorted, "Yeah! I like cooking. . . . but not on a regular basis."
"Could have fooled me."
Darren smiled, his head fell back against the cushion of the chair in which he sat and gazed upwards. His animated face slipped into a blank stare.
George, seeing this, said, somewhat concerned, "I guess you've been through a hell of a lot lately. . . ."
"Yeah. . . ."
". . . . What with loosing your leg. . . . and. . . . your fiancé. . . . and all."
Darren sighed deeply, "Yeah. . . . it's the shits!"
Trying to crack the shell, George said, "But, you've done well."
"Yeah?. . . . . Well, some times I wonder if it's worth it?"
Absentmindedly, trying to communicate his understanding, his empathy, George reached over from the sofa on which he sat and patted Darren's thigh--his left thigh. The touch had sent a minor shock wave through his body. Nothing erotic. It's just that no one had touched that leg with anything but clinical interest since the accident! He glanced down at the mahogany hand resting on the blue flannel-covered half-leg, and then into George's concerned face.
"It's worth it," George stated, quietly, "it's worth it." He squeezed his hand slightly to emphasize his point.
Darren continued to stare and became aware of the heat the hand was somehow transferring an erotic heat to his being. He also became aware that the innocent, potentially intimate gesture, had caused a stirring in his loins. Since the accident, since Justine had 'disappeared' from his life, he had not had a scintilla of carnal desire. Even that brief 'incident' in the hospital was strangely devoid of real erotic association. Two weeks ago he had awakened from an erotic dream to find his sheets soaked from an involuntary emission--a wet-dream! It had been years since he had experienced a nocturnal emission. He remembered the strange quality of that dream-fantasy which had been peopled by students from Mc Leicester College as well as Justine.
The stirring continued rather than lessening. "You'd better move your hand," he stated quietly, and smiled.
"Why?" came the equally quiet reply, also delivered with a warm smile. George thought that he had detected. . . had perceived a swelling in Darren's crotch.
Blushing lightly, "I don't know if it's the wine, or your hand. . . . but. . . . I'm having a bit of a problem. . ."
"What kind of problem?" came another question, as the smile continued and the hand squeezed again.
"A growing problem," came the answer.
"Is it serious?"
"It could be," Darren parried.
"Why is that?" George persisted, quietly.
Darren sighed, "Because of everything that's happened lately. . . . I'm not used to it. . . . to such feelings." he admitted and the swelling now became insistent.
"Is it painful? Is it unpleasant?"
Thoughtfully, Darren answered quietly, ". . . . noo. . . . but. . . ."
"Do you want the feeling. . . to stop?" he asked quietly as he moved his hand upward towards Darren's now bulging cock.
"I. . . . I don't. . . . know," came the confused answer as he dropped his head back on the cushion and slowly closed his eyes. Closed his eyes, not so much to shut out but to concentrate, to try to muster his thoughts and analyze his reaction.
George's hand had slowly slipped over Darren's confined, cloth covered, swollen cock and balls and gently cupped them. Darren was aware of the torrid transfer of heat and the electric sensation of that feeling. The fingers gently began to massage their charge. The captive cock reacted with a confined jerk. The hand was lifted away and he could feel fingers fumbling at his belt. It was quickly unbuckled. Likewise, deft fingers unclasped the top and the zipper was quickly drawn down.
Warm fingers grasped his swollen cock through the thin cotton fabric of his briefs. Their heat was galvanic. Darren groaned and involuntarily spread his legs a bit. The fingers insinuated themselves under the elastic band and grasped the length of his erect rod and wrested it from its cotton prison.
Darren gasped at the touch of skin against skin. The encircling fingers gently squeezed that hot, plum-topped tube. Again, Darren gasped. His cock was released and he could feel fingers slip into the sides of his loosened trousers as well as the elastic brief band and began to tug.
"Lift up," came the quiet, insistent plea.
Darren arched his back, lifted his hips off the chair cushion and felt his trousers and briefs being stripped down. Cool air encompassed his now bare skin as he was stripped bare from his waist down to his feet. This was quickly replaced by the electrically hot feeling of George's hands. Finger tips ran over bare, exposed skin, up the inside of his thighs, over his puckered ball-sack, up his firm, tense, hard cock, and back down, starting all over again.
Darren, his eyes still shut, his head still lolling on the cushion, could do nothing but groan in mounting ecstasy at the fantastic stimulation. One hand grasped his turgid cock, the other began to range over his thigh--his left thigh. Then he felt moist, hot punctuations and longer, languid lingerings over that thigh. He opened his eyes, raised his head to perceive the source of this sensation. Darren watched George's hand trace patterns over his left thigh, his lips gently kissing and his tongue flicking out as it descended towards that stump!
"Please, stop," Darren commanded breathlessly.
"Am I hurting you?"
"No," came the reply, laden with emotion, "just don't touch me there," he pleaded.
George sensed the rapid reduction in Darren's cock beneath his fingers.
"Would you have. . . . . said that. . . . . two. . . months. . . ago?" George asked carefully.
"Two months ago, I doubt I'd be in this particular circumstance," and, as he said that he pushed himself back up into the chair dislodging his nearly flaccid cock from George's grasp. His look nearly resembled a glare.
"Are you saying that because I am. . . was playing with your cock? Or, because I was playing with your leg?" came the examination.
"I think the answer is obvious. . . . The latter!" Darren spat out the last two words.
George, kneeling in front of Darren, looked unblinkingly into his eyes, took a deep breath and continued, "Darren, God knows, you've been through hell!" and added, "lately." He continued, "You've lost part of your leg. . . . YOUR LEG, not your life, not your feeling, not your mind!" he recounted, vehemently.
Darren's eyes widened at the ferociousness of this verbal. . . . attack.
"You must accept that loss!" he proceeded, insistently. "Look at it," he commanded, and repeated again as Darren did not comply, "LOOK at it."
Darren glanced briefly at that mutilated thing that had been his left leg.
"Don't stop looking," George insisted. Darren looked back to his left half-leg, and as he did George clasped the outside surface of his thigh and asked, "Do you feel that?"
"Yes," he nodded.
George's hand moved to the inside of the thigh and repeated, "Do you feel that?"
"Yes," again came the answer.
George's hand moved to the knee and squeezed. "Do you feel that?"
Darren lurched, "Yes!"
"Does that hurt?" George asked with concern.
"No, it tickles," came the matter-of-fact reply.
George's hand moved below the knee, tenderly. "Do you feel this?"
"Yes," came the reply, "But I don't want you to touch me there."
"Why? Is it so private?" he questioned. "Are you embarrassed?"
"It's. . . . . it's ugly," he blurted out.
"Ugly?. . . . . Ugly?" he repeated, then forcefully continued, "Words like 'kike,' 'spick,' 'nigger' are ugly! Rape is ugly!" He became more intense, "War is UGLY! Bigotry is UGLY!" He took a deep breath. "But this is NOT ugly," motioning to the half-leg. He cradled Darren's left half-leg in his hands and elevated it slightly. "This may not what you had a couple of months ago, but it's not ugly. It's you. . . . well. . . . part of you at least. . . . ."
Darren glanced away from the offending sight.
"Look at it Darren," George insisted, quietly. "It's part of you," he stated simply and leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss on the scarred stump.
Darren winced more from disgust than anything else. "It's part of you!" he repeated. "You've got to learn to accept that." George's voice was quiet and low, almost hypnotic. "You've been through hell, but you've come out of it. . . . . Maybe not in the same shape as you entered. . . . But, your alive, your functioning. . . . . . ."
As George was speaking these last thoughts, he gently supported Darren's left half-leg with his right and began to course his fingers lightly over the thigh and, occasionally down to the scarred tip. But he concentrated on the thigh, and particularly the inner thigh. George said nothing but watched Darren, who was staring at his half-leg.
"This is a dream!" Darren thought to himself, "Here I sit, bare assed while a guys playing with. . . my. . . leg and. . . cock!"
George moved his fingers up that smooth inner surface of the thigh. That area with its erogenous nerve endings. That satiny, erotic surface, and as he did so, George thought he perceived a reemergence of life in that now lolling cock. It lengthened imperceptibly and then noticeably began to swell. George kept up his sensual tattooing. Darren's cock began to spring to harden life again.
He leaned forward and placed a perfunctory kiss on the left knee. The cock continued to burgeon forth. He tongued the inside of Darren's left thigh. The swelling cock lurched, involuntarily. His kissed the area below the knee, but above the scar. The tumescence did not cease.
"See. . . . this is part of you. . . . . part of Darren Jansen. . . . an incredibly wonderful, sexy man." Saying that, he lowered the supported thigh to the cushion and turned his attention to the harden dick. Darren gasped, as his cock was re-grasped by George's incredible hand. He closed his eyes and rested his head again on the cushion.
"Darren?" George said gently.
Darren opened his eyes and lifted his head to regard George.
George smiled and said, "Watch my hand." Darren complied.
"Watch my hand as I play with your beautiful, big cock." Darren watched his reddish-purple, swollen cock-head as it disappeared into those wonderful brown fingers and then reappear. He reveled in the sensation that the touch communicated as well as the sight of his hard cock being manipulated. His eyes darted from that sight to George's sparkling eyes and back again. He watched as George brought his face close to that throbbing pole. He watched as George's full lips parted. He watched as George's pink tongue lubricated his lips then snake forward to touch his swollen glans. He watched his cock convulse. He watched as George opened his mouth further and lowered it over his quacking cock. He watched as George's eyes never left his. He watched George watching him. He watched George as he drew out his own hard, blue-black cock from his pants and slowly began to manipulate it. He was amazed at the length and thickness of that huge pole. . . at the satiny
fore-skin exposing and puckering, alternately, over the glistening, purplish-brown head.
The visual stimuli coupled with the tactile sensations caused Darren to groan, deeply, a primal reaction as his body began to rise into those realms of delicious, unequivocal sensuality. A luxurious warmth suffused his being. Up and down, the length his cock appeared only to disappear between those full, firm, sultry, extended lips. He luxuriated in the feeling of his cock slipping into that hot, moist mouth--into George's throat. He groaned deeply. His senses were nearly on over-load. He closed his eyes as his head lolled backwards. George increased the speed of his fucking mouth as well as the sucking pressure.
"I can't stand it!" Darren breathed, "I'm going to cum. . . . . !" and then louder, "I'm. . . . GOING. . . . TO CUUUMMMMM!"
His hips arched off the cushion as spurt after bountiful spurt of hot cum filled George's mouth and flowed down his throat. After the spasming had ceased, he fell back into the chair, his heart beat rapidly, in time with his breathing.
"That was beautiful," George stated softly, "really beautiful."
Darren lifted his head in time to see George plant a light kiss on the tip of his still hard member and uttered an equally quiet, "Yeah."
George sat back on his heels, stuffed his still hard dick with some difficulty back into his pants and zipped them up. Their eyes still held each others.
"Thanks, George," Darren uttered, quietly.
"Thank you," came the reply as he raised up and resumed his former position on the sofa.
Darren's breathing returned to normal as the two sat quietly. Then George, after taking a deep breath, stood up, smoothed the creases out of his pants and said, "I think I should be going."
"Why?" Darren asked, his voice a mixture of surprise, insistence and bewilderment. "We haven't had out coffee yet," he added.
"Well. . . I just think I should be going. . . ," came the reply, and then, "I need a shower," came the feeble excuse.
"Hell," Darren said as he stood up with the aid of his crutch, "You can shower here." He took a step and stumbled over his pants and briefs on the floor, forgetting for a moment that he was half nude. "Shit," he said lightly, "I forgot my pants. . . . . I can't get my guest coffee with my bare ass hanging out," laughing as he reached down for his pants, sat back on the chair and slipped them on, leaving the briefs on the floor.
George watched, marveling at Darren's dexterity and said nothing.
"I'll fix coffee. . . ," he said standing up again, "You take a shower." It was more a gentle decree than a statement.
"Well, Okay," George offered his consent.
"Come on then," as he went down the short hall to his bedroom, passing the hall bathroom. "I'll get you a towel."
George followed Darren, accepted the towel and began to strip as Darren left the room to prepare the coffee.
Minutes later, Darren returned with a steaming mug of fresh coffee. George had finished showering and was standing just outside the bathroom door, toweling the last remaining patches of wetness from his head and neck. He glistened in the half-light of the bedroom. Darren stopped suddenly. Within an instant he surveyed George's body slightly embarrassed at seeing his nakedness. George was tall, as tall as Darren, but did not weigh quite as much. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow as were his hips, his thighs swelled, long-muscled, before tapering to his knees, his calves were likewise hard muscled. At the base of his flat belly was a thick mat of curly, black cock-hairs, and arching out and downward from that thicket was the biggest cock Darren had ever seen--not that he had ever kept a mental tabulation--but George's cock would make any one look twice. Even in its detumescent state, it hung downward a full five inches, including the frilled
foreskin. Behind dangled his balls, substantial, but not equaling in proportion the size of his blue-black, hanging dick. Darren's eyes widened somewhat as he gazed on that huge member.
A slight smile flitted over George's face as he realized the source of Darren's obvious amazement. He quickly wrapped the towel about his waist, tucked the corner securely in, reached for the steaming mug, and said, "This is real service." After taking a careful sip, "Mmmmm. . . it's good. . . . Hit's the spot. . . . Just what the doctor ordered," George added with a grin.
Darren returned the smile, "You seem to know what is needed, too. Even though, it probably wasn't 'ordered' by the doctor." His smile broadened.
George considered Darren's statement, raised a questioning eyebrow and queried, "'Needed?'. . . needed?. . . . . not. . . 'wanted?'"
Darren did not move, did not answer immediately. Then came plaintively, "I don't know. . . ." He glanced around the bedroom, avoiding George's eyes and added quickly, "We can finish our coffee in the living room." He turned and left George there.
Minutes later, George entered the living room, his coffee mug in one hand, his shirt thrown over his shoulder. Darren was sitting in the chair sipping from his mug. Their eyes met briefly. Darren nodded his head towards the sofa for George to sit. Seconds passed as they quietly sipped their coffee. George glanced two or three times over to Darren who held his mug in front of his lips and starred into some void.
"George," quietly uttered, "Can I ask you a question?"
"Yeah. . . Sure."
"A personal question. . . ."
"Sure. . . as long as it's not too personal," he laughed.
"When did you know. . . you were. . . gay?"
"Gay?. . ."
"Yeah, you know. . . gay. . . homo. . ."
George smiled, "Darren, I had my first same-sex experience when I was fifteen. Soon after I had my first sex with a girl. Both were satisfying. Both were. . . stimulating. Both I enjoyed immensely and longed for more." He paused. Darren was deep in thought. He continued, "But, if you mean by 'gay,' exclusively homosexual. . . . Then, I. . . am not."
Darren glanced questioningly at George. George continued, "I guess you could classify me as 'bisexual. ' I like both men and women. . . . . . If you ask me if I could have an exclusive relationship with either a man or a woman. . . a real soul-mate. . . then. . . under the right circumstances, I suppose I could. . . . But that hasn't happened. . . . yet."
"A soul-mate, God, I want a soul-mate," Darren said to himself.
Again they sat quietly for a few moments.
George began again, "Can I ask you a personal question?"
Darren answered, hesitantly, "Yes."
"I assume, obviously, you have had sex with a woman. Did you enjoy it?"
"Yes, immensely," came the quick, honest reply.
"Other than with me, have you ever had sex with a man?"
After a second or two came the reply, "Yes. . . . But, not really."
"Either you have or you haven't," George probed, "Which is it?" The question had an edge to it as it was spat out.
"I. . . . have, but it was one-sided."
"One-sided?. . . You mean like what we have done?"
"Yes," came the quiet answer.
"Did you enjoy it?"
Darren glanced back at George. Inside was a raging battle.
"Did. . . you enjoy. . . it?" George repeated a bit more emphatically.
"I suppose. . ." came the feeble answer.
"You. . . suppose?" George probed deeper, "Either you did or you didn't! Which is it?"
Darren swallowed noticeably, then admitted, "I did. . . . ."
"Did you enjoyed tonight. . ." George said, more as a statement of fact than a question.
"Yes," came the quiet reply.
"You like the feel of my hand on your cock?" There was no answer from Darren. George probed, "'Yes'. . . or. . . 'no?'" he insisted.
"Yes."
"Did you like. . . Did you enjoy the feel of my mouth sucking your hard cock?"
After a half-second pause, "Yes."
"Did you enjoy the feeling of cuming in my throat?" he continued relentlessly.
"Yes," without hesitation.
"See, " George said brightly, "That wasn't so difficult. . . . was it?"
Darren, still looking into George's eyes, quietly shook his head, "No."
George decided to probe even deeper. Carefully choosing his words he formed his next question, "You were. . . . interested. . . . in the sight of my cock. . . . just now. . . in there," nodding towards the bedroom.
Darren reddened slightly. His eyes hardened slightly and he said, "You don't give up! Do you?"
Without hesitation, George answered, "Not when the stakes are so high."
"What do you mean?" Darren spat out.
"You. . . . . YOU! You're important." Emphatically, he continued, "You've been through hell. You were building a wall. A dangerous wall. . . . It had to be destroyed. . . ." Then added, "I did what I thought was right."
Darren's face relaxed. His eyes still held George's fighting for the rest of the answers.
"You didn't answer my question," George said, tentatively.
"What question?" Darren asked softly, knowing the answer, and fearing it less.
"You were. . . . interested. . . . in the sight of my cock!"
"I suppose. . ." then quickly, before he could be chided, added, "You're hung. . . . . like a horse."
George laughed fully and unselfconsciously. Darren did too.
"You're pretty well hung yourself," George admitted. The barrier had been breached. They both sat briefly, both lost in thought.
Then George, stood up, slipped on his shirt and stated, "I've got to get going."
"You've got to work tomorrow," Darren questioned.
"No, I'm off tomorrow, but it's getting late."
"You. . . could. . . stay here," Darren said hesitantly, not really knowing why he had said that.
"Could. . . stay here?" George probed. "Darren, do you want me to stay?" he asked bluntly.
Darren took a deep breath, hoisted himself to a standing position, looked straight into George's eyes and said, "I would like you to stay here tonight."
George smiled, knowing how far Darren had progressed, how hard it was for him to offer that question. "I'd love to," was all he answered.
The atmosphere had suddenly lost all its previous tension, its negative ennui. The two relaxed, a relaxation that comes from exertion. Although in their case, the real exertion was not physical. Rather it was emotional and mental--equally exhausting.
Some time later, after lighter, less probing, less intense discussion, Darren and George went to the bedroom, undressed and got into bed together. George could sense that Darren was a bit reticent as he had turned off all the lights.
"Leave one light on," he pleaded.
Darren reached over and flicked on a small bedside lamp. His reserve, his inhibition was to be expected, after all he was entering unknown territory. But, he could have had no better guide than George.
Darren lay on his left side, unconsciously masking his left half-leg with his right and placed his hand on George's smooth, satiny chest.
"I never expected to find myself in this position," he murmured, "You make me feel so. . . . horny. . . . never thought a guy. . . ."
George smiled, "Enough talk for tonight. Let's just enjoy. . ." He rolled onto his right side, encircled Darren's waist and pulled his body close.
The feeling of George's warm, naked body laying along his sent shock waves through Darren. He moved his hand around George's waist to the small of his back and then involuntarily down to his firm round ass. Carefully, he cataloged every sensation, every undulation his fingertips encountered.
George, smiled and moved closer. He had decided that tonight he would let Darren be the initiator. . . at least, up to a point. He luxuriated in the tentative touch of Darren's warm hands over his ass. His cock began to swell.
Darren sensed the growing cock next to his. His cock, too, began to lengthen and swell in jerking motions. He felt a warm hand move sensually up his back and down again, cupping a firm ass-cheek, squeezing and forcing his hips and cock even closer to George's. Darren responded similarly, 'til their groins and swelling cocks were grinding together.
George slipped his right hand under Darren's torso and hugged him closely. Then he moved away, slightly, as his left hand sought Darren's dark aureole, fingering its small nipple which quickly reacted and became erect.
Their cocks surged to aching, throbbing erection. Rubbing against the others insistently, as if they had a will of their own. Darren marveled at the size and the generated heat that This big cock engendered. He placed his hand on George's chest and forced him away until he was laying on his back. George complied, willingly, anticipating, . . . he knew not what!
Darren raised up onto his elbow and reached over to that swollen, hot, blue-black, sheathed pillar and wrapped his fingers around it. He marveled at its thickness. He could barely encircle the girth of that thing. He moved his imprisoning hand downward and marveled as the purplish-brown, glistening cock-head was revealed. He moved his hand back up and saw that purplish-brown plum disappear, covered by that soft, satiny sheath with its ruffled extension. He sat up, crossing his right leg over his left, bent forward and visually cataloged every inch of that massive, quivering, veined cock. For minutes he inspected its workings, played with its elastic foreskin, hefted the ball-sack, squeezed its girth and moved his hot hand up and down the whole length.
George savored the whole process, quietly watching Darren, reacting to his touch as well as the sight of that exploring hand. "Do you like my cock?" he asked gently.
"I've never seen such a big cock," he declared, "much less touched one before."
"You've never touched a guys cock before?"
Darren shook his head, "No. . . never."
George said no more, but continued to watch and to delight in the sight and touch of Darren's hand. Darren bent even closer observing, feeling that marvelous, that wondrous tool. His pink tongue moistened his bright lips and continued his minute inspection.
"Kiss it," George suggested.
Darren hesitated, glanced up into George's eyes, moved his hand the whole length of that cock, pulling the purplish-brown, gleaming cock-head free in one motion, gazed in wonder at its size and scope and planted a quick, closed kiss on its full form. That action caused that impressive member to spasm within the grasping fingers. George hissed in a breath, also in reaction.
"Ahhh!"
Darren planted a longer kiss on that dark, mushroom head.
"Suck it Darren," he begged, hoarsely.
Darren hesitated a second, "I. . . . I cant," came the plaintive reply, and whispered, "Sorry."
"That's okay. . . . no problem," George said with some deception.
"Sorry," Darren repeated as he sank back into a reclining position beside George. His hand remained on that treasure-cock.
"It's not required," George uttered softly as he rolled onto his side again, planted a kiss on Darren's cheek and moved his lips lower, licking and sucking one erect nipple and then the other. All the time George was stimulating Darren's tits, his hand had reached down and was expertly fondling the hard cock and hanging ball-sack. Darren began to moan, uncontrollably. George's hot tongued traced a line from one eroticized tit downward over the belly and into the lush cock-hairs. Darren continued to moan.
George repositioned himself, kneeling, perpendicular to Darren and lowered his hot, moist mouth over Darren's throbbing cock and began to suck him. Almost instantly, Darren's left hand snaked under George's torso and belly and sought out that dark, stiff, erotic implement. He began to manipulate it, receiving as much delicious satisfaction from touching that cock as he did from the hot, juicy mouth bobbing up and down on his own cock. Both men uttered low, primal, uncontrolled moans.
From George's sucking mouth, a small rivulet of saliva streamed over Darren's balls and down into that dark cleft. That sensation caused Darren to bring his knee up and spread his thighs slightly. George fondled those throbbing balls as his hand became lubricated in his own saliva. A finger traced the little stream 'til it encountered that hot, tightly puckered opening. Darren lurched at the touch and moaned even deeper. The finger began to massage that taut opening.
Darren could hardly contain himself as he experienced the electric sensations on his hard-sucked cock, his massaged ass-hole and his fingers as they were wrapped about that glorious mahogany pole.
Carefully, George insinuated his finger into that tight, muscled fortress. As his finger entered those dark, sensitized regions, Darren groaned heavily and involuntarily let loose of his cock-treasure.
Darren arched his head backward into the pillow. and began to whip it back and forth in uncontrolled pleasure. Then he sat up, grabbed George by the shoulders and lifted him of his cock and out of his sensitized tunnel.
"Stop! I'm about to cum," he gasped.
"Is that a problem?" George smiled.
"No. . . . but it's too quick!. . . Besides I've already done it once. . . . and you haven't. . . ."
George smiled, leaned over to kiss Darren on the mouth. Darren quickly presented his cheek which George kissed lightly. "He's not ready. . . yet." he admitted to himself, and then said audibly, "I don't care. . . . I enjoy making love almost as much as I like to cum. . . . It's incredibly sexy to me. . . . watching you enjoy our sex."
"I know. . . ." was all Darren could say. Again, he pushed George back into a prone position, leaning over his chest he licked those purple circles with their erect, centered, little knobs. He had reveled in George's accomplished acts of arousal and consciously replayed them in his brain as he transferred this newly found knowledge into action. The feel of George's tit in his mouth, against his tongue was sensually delicious. While his tongue played with the tits, his hand returned to that other, lengthy treasure and began to fondle it. He lifted his head, regarded the upright, powerful, throbbing cock with its head glistening, denuded of its velvet sheath and leaned over it
George watched as Darren licked his lips, took a deep breath, opened his mouth and lowered his mouth onto that cock-head. His lips slid over the flaring head. Just as it disappeared into his mouth, Darren retreated suddenly. He sat back quickly, gagging uncontrollably.
"Sorry, " he breathed after the spasming stopped.
"It happens," was all George said as he laid his hand on Darren's shoulder.
Then he added, "Relax. . . lay down." Darren complied, and George resumed his former action, lowering his head onto Darren's cock and began to suck it again. His finger, too, sought out that already lubricated opening and reinserted itself.
Darren groaned, anew and savored the feeling. His passion began to mount to its previous high when Darren loosed his mouth's grip and removed his finger.
"Do you have any lotion, Darren?"
"Lotion?" he questioned.
"Yeah, hand lotion, like Vaseline Hand Lotion."
"There's some in the bathroom," he answered, wondering at the reason for that request.
Presently, George returned with the bottle in one hand, squeezed a generous portion of the pink lotion into one hand, crawled back onto the bed, grasped Darren's cock with the lubricated hand and began to jack him off. He twisted and torqued his hand as it moved up and down its hard, quivering length.
"Jeeze. . . that feels great."
George just smiled and continued. After a few moments, Darren's head began to whip back and forth in erotic excitement. George let loose of that burgeoning cock, straddled Darren's hips, grasped his stiff dick and brought his already lotioned ass downward. Darren stopped his thrashing and starred up at George.
A brilliant, licentious smile spread across his face as he said, "I want to feel your cock inside me."
The lowered his body created a pressure on Darren's cock-head. He raised his hips off the mattress.
"Don't move," gasped George. "Let me do it at my pace. . . . You're pretty big. . . . I'm not too used to this."
Darren relaxed but the pressure continued. Suddenly, that tightly guarded opening gave way and the considerable cock-head popped in. George gasped and froze. After several deep breaths, he lowered himself still further. Again he froze and Darren could see beads of perspiration break out on George's already glistening fore-head.
"You don't have to do this," Darren said, nearly pleaded with concern.
"Oh, but I want to."
He lowered himself further, 'til nearly all of Darren's substantial cock was embedded in his ass. He raised up slightly and then lowered himself. . . . raised up again and lowered himself. . . . raised up a third time and then lowered himself all the way down. As he sat there impaled, that cock buried deep in his gut, George grabbed his own throbbing dick and began to play with it as he began to rhythmically raise and lower his body on that florid axis which penetrated his entrails.
Darren reached down and removed George's hand from his ebony poke and replaced it with his own. With delicious vehemence he moved his hand up and down that surging dick while his own was being fucked by that tightly muscled opening.
George moved even faster up and down luxuriating in the double sensation of his cock-invaded ass-hole and his finger imprisoned dick. He groaned as he plunged up and down.
Darren felt that thick, massive cock swell even more beneath his ministering hand as he kept time with the fucking movement on his own cock.
George groaned even louder. "I'm going. . . to. . . cum!" he stated. "I'm going. . . to shoot. . . my load!" came forth louder. "I'm going to cover you. . . WITH. . . . MY. . . . CUM!" he shouted as his cock-head swelled even more.
Jet after jet of pearly liquid shot from that tiny slit and showered its lustral, viscous contents over Darren's chest and belly. Darren was amazed at the sight, at the amount of ejaculate. Simultaneously he felt a spasming about his imprisoned cock.
"UH. . . . Uh. . . . uh. . . ." George grunted as the cock-seizures, which had rocked his whole being, lessened and then ceased. His head dropped and Darren could sense his whole being relax.
Darren sat up, placed his arms around George's slack shoulders and whispered, "That was fantastic. . . ." Gently he twisted Darren off his body and eased him down onto the bed beside him.
As George felt Darren's still erect cock slip past his sphinctered hole, sending a post-orgasmic shock bolting through his body, he asked quietly, "Did you come?"
"No," came an equally soft answer, "But it was wonderful, too." Saying this Darren bent over and placed a light, tentative kiss on George's moist lips.
"Mmmmm. . . . that was nice," he purred as he put an arm over Darren and felt the same response.
The two snuggled closer and George fell into deep sleep. Darren lay there, his cock growing progressively softer and he marveled. Quietly, he questioned the recent happenings, his responses and their reasons. With quiet logic he analyzed, not only this days events, but also a number of experiences that had gone before. Soon, he too was sleeping contentedly.
The next morning George awoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. He opened his eyes. Momentarily he was disoriented. Then the memories of the past evening flooded back and he started to become aroused. Quickly he swung out of bed, grabbed his towel from the night before and went to the bathroom. He smiled as he noticed a brand new toothbrush still in its package laying on the sink. He brushed his teeth, showered, dried off, went back to the bedroom where he found his clothes neatly folded on a chair, dressed, and walked into the living room.
Darren was sitting in the chair reading the morning paper, looked up as George came in and said, "Would you like a cup of coffee?"
"I'd love one."
Darren began to raise up.
"Hey, I can get it myself," George interrupted. He entered the narrow kitchen saw a mug resting near the coffee maker, poured the steaming liquid into the mug, and returned to the living room where he sat down and sipped the coffee. "Mmmmm. . . . that hits the spot," he admitted.
Darren smiled, "How're you feeling this morning?"
"Fine. . . and you?"
"Great, just great."
After a couple minutes and several sips of coffee, Darren said, "I need to thank you. . ."
"For what?"
"For everything. . . If it wasn't for you. . . I'd probably be in some psyche-ward by now. . . You knocked me out of my. . . . my state. . . ."
George smiled, "Darren, that's not altogether true. You would have recovered. . . in time. All you needed was a little push. . ."
"Yeah, but you initiated. . . that push. . . . Nobody else did. . . ," saying this, Darren smiled. "Or is getting someone to cum some kind of new. . . kinky therapy?" he laughed.
George laughed, too. "Good, clean, uncomplicated sex has always been a healthy activity," he admitted.
"Yeah, I guess you may be right. . . but it was you who pulled the trigger. . ."
"Trigger?" George questioned, "I thought it was something else I pulled!"
They both laughed. It wasn't that George was being purposefully flippant, or sarcastic. He had been aware of Darren's need to talk, to mentally explore his situation. He also was aware of the dark depression into which Darren had fallen barely two months ago and innately felt that now, at this moment, light, pointed humor was the better way of dealing with his concerns.
"Well. . ." he began, then continued, "it wasn't just. . . the sex. . . It was what you said too. I think by now you know I enjoy sex. . ." George's eyebrow arched. Noting this, with a smile, Darren continued, "But what you said was important too. . . . . Your actions were right, your words were right. . . for this. . . this. . . . ," Darren glanced down to his half-leg, "this disabled person."
Quickly, George said, "I'm sorry Darren, but your last remark is a bit too negative for me. . . and. . . I think. . . for you."
Darren's brows knitted in confusion and George continued, "'disabled' is entirely too negative! I'm beginning to hate that word. . . Too many people hide behind it. . . Or, try to force other people into its negative category. . . its connotation. If you want to be 'disabled,' then that's up to you. If you want to be 'disabled' it's your mind that will place you in that category, not your missing limb. My God! Look at F. D. R. --he couldn't walk. Look at Pauling--he could only move his hand! Look at Toulouse Lautrec--his legs were stunted! Look at Beethoven--he was deaf! Look at. . . ."
"Enough!" Darren said, raising his hands in surrender. "I get your point. . . . But, George, the fact is. . . ."
"The fact is. . ." George interrupted, "The fact is your mind's intact. The fact is that all that's really been effected is your ability to walk. That too, will be changed. . . somewhat. . . when you're fitted for a prosthesis."
Darren considered what George had said and inwardly, logically he knew he was correct, "But. . . it's so damned hard. . . I get so depressed sometimes. . . . Hell, a lot of the time, if the truth's to be known."
Leaning forward and placing his hand on Darren's knee, "And, Darren, if the truth's to be known, your depressions are not unusual. . . . and. . . they will continue. . . for a time. But the pain will lessen and fade to almost nothing."
"I know, that's what Dr. Lewin says. . . ."
"Just don't push so hard. Relax! Let life take its course. . . . It's a great healer, ya know."
"Yeah. . . . I know. . . I know your right. . . . It's just. . . . HELL!" he exploded, "It's so damned hard!"
"Already?"
Darren knitted his brows in confusion and befuddlement. He felt a light squeezing on his knee and glanced into George's smiling face, his brows raised mockingly.
Darren laughed deeply, understanding the double entendre. Lightly he lifted George's hand off his knee and said with a smirk, "Enough therapy. No more!"
They both laughed lightly, relaxed back into the soft cushions and began again sipping their coffee. Quietly they ruminated.
After a few minutes George looked up into Darren's peaceful, thoughtful eyes and quietly said, "Darren. . . Can I ask you a serious question?"
Darren glanced back, concern was mirrored in his eyes, "Yes, what?"
"Did my actions bother you last night?"
"Nooo," came the considered reply. "Why do you ask?"
"Well. . . it's just that from what you said. . . what you told me. . . My actions may have offended you."
"Offended me?. . . . What do you mean?"
"Weellll. . . you're not really experienced. . . in. . ."
"Same sex activities?" he finished George's sentence with the questioning phrase. "No, I'm not experienced, And, no, I was not and am not offended. . . . . If I hadn't wanted you to continue, I would have stopped you. But. . . I didn't. I really don't know why," he hesitated, "I only know that last night. . . and the few other occasions, I physically responded. . . even enjoyed the experiences." Again he paused, "I don't know why."
"I didn't mean to upset you. . . ."
"No. . . no, I'm not 'upset. ' I just don't know the reasons for my reaction. . . . Maybe. . . . like you. . . . I'm bisexual," the last word came out in a near whisper, and he finished quietly, unassured, "I don't know!"
"I have upset you!"
"No, you really haven't," he asserted with some force, then with a knowing smile, "You just pulled my trigger. . . ."
George chuckled and decided that he should say no more. "Well, I really think I've gotta go," he said, standing up.
Darren raised himself, secured the crutch under his left arm and walked George to the door. "George," he extended his right hand, "Really, I have to thank you. . . . for everything."
George shook Darren's hand, "All in the line of duty!"
"Thanks anyway," Darren said.
They briefly looked into each other's eyes. Then Darren embraced George. Not an embrace that presaged anything else other than genuine friendship. "Friendship does offer many possibilities," Darren thought.
"Thanks," they both said.
Darren saw George at least twice a month when he returned to Dr. Soderberg's office for his check-ups. Her office was in a building that was attached to the hospital. Sometimes the meetings were brief, other times, at the right times, they had lunch together. They also called each other frequently and three times in a four month period, they ate dinner together--twice in a local restaurant and once at Darren's. They did not have sex again!
Some friendships develop into sexual relations. Not Darren's and George's! Some friendships dissolve after sexual relations. Not Darren's and George's! Darren's and George's association began in the neutrality of the hospital, developed into a brief, torrid night of mutually satisfying erotic delight and emerged into a deep and lasting friendship. There was no need, no question of delving into the erotic any more for either of them.
About five weeks after 'that night,' George quietly announced at lunch, "Darren, I'm seeing someone."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I met her three weeks ago at 'Ashbee's. ' She's. . . . she's quite special."
"A soul-mate?" Darren asked, happy for his friend.
"I don't know, yet. . . . Maybe," he said, then repeated, "She's really special."
Six months after the accident, Dr. Soderberg announced, "Darren, you've healed quite well. I think it's time for you to consider a prosthesis."
Darren nodded calmly, "Okay. . . . Can you recommend someone?"
"Mid-West Surgical Appliances is quite good. There are others. . ."
"So far your advice has been great. Mid-West it is. Do you need to make the appointment, or do I?"
"You can, but, I'll contact them too, just to fill them in on your case."
"Sure, thanks. . . . . Do I need to see you again?" he asked.
"I would like to see you sometime after the prosthesis has been fitted. . . say a month?"
"Okay, again thanks."
"My pleasure," she answered.
A few minutes later Darren met George in the hospital cafeteria.
"What did Soderberg say?" he asked.
"I'm going next Monday to see about a prosthesis."
"Great. . . . Say, have you gotten the tickets for Saturday, week, have you?"
"No, I was going to stop by tomorrow on my way home. Why? Are you canceling?" Darren asked. Earlier they had decided to go to a jazz concert that the university was sponsoring. They both liked jazz, although Darren preferred big-band jazz, whereas George like small ensembles somewhat better.
"No. . . no I'm not, but would you mind getting three tickets?" he asked, and added, "I'd like to take Linda, if that's Okay with you?"
"Of course, I was wondering when you'd let me meet her?" Then he added with some sarcasm, "I promise, I'll behave myself."
"You'd better," George snorted.
They both laughed and began to eat.
"George, can I ask you a question? A personal question."
"Sure," he said glancing up from his food to Darren.
"Does Linda. . . know? Have you ever told Linda about yourself?"
George smiled softly, "Yeah, I have. . . . a month ago," he paused, then continued, "things are getting pretty serious, and. . . . I felt she had the right to know. . ."
Darren said nothing, just nodded his head as he chewed his food.
"She was a bit surprised. . . I guess. . . but. . . it didn't seem to matter. . . . At least I don't think it did. . . . . . All she wanted to know was if I was involved with anyone now. . . . Of course. . . I'm not"
"She sounds quite special," Darren said.
"She is!" George affirmed.
"A soul-mate?"
"I. . . . . . think so. We'll see."
"You're lucky. . . . George, I'm really happy for you," he stated honestly. "I'll get the tickets tomorrow."