CHARLIE
When I was a kid in high school, my family lived for a while in Albuquerque where my Dad was stationed in the Air Force.
Being in the Air Force meant that we had a lot of social interaction with the other Air Force families that my Dad worked with. One of them had a son, Charlie, who was my own age, and we used to pal around some. Charlie was a real extrovert. He had a great sense of humor, and like to do wild things on the spur of the moment. I was sort of the introvert type, and Charlie was my ideal. I really had a crush on the boy.
My Dad was stationed there for three years, and during that time I kept my feelings toward Charlie a secret. I just looked but I didn't touch. In fact the occasion for us ever to get sexually involved never even arose, as the two of us didn't live near each other, and our times together were usually connected with some other social event involving our families.
Eventually, Dad was transferred to Santa Ana, Cal. and we left Albuquerque. I hated leaving there but there was no choice, so after we moved, my ardor for Charlie was soon forgotten.
But it wasn't but a year later that Dad was discharged from the Air Force and we started packing for our return to Missouri and home. Since we had all our household belongings to move home, we packed as many of our necessities in the car as we could and shipped our other belongings. But the drive back to Mo. was a long one, so we made plans to make a stopover in Albuquerque to visit our friends, and Charlie's folks invited us to spend the night at their place.
I was elated at the chance to see Charlie again, but still harbored no illusions of anything beyond a rekindling of our friendship. So imgine my delight when we arrived at their house, and upon carrying our luggage inside, I was informed that I would bunk in with Charlie!
Of course, we had dinner and the adults sat and visited for most of the evening. Charlie and I went to his room and just shot the shit, played some games, etc. till time to go to bed.
When the time finally came, everyone said goodnight and went to their rooms.
My heart skipped a beat as Charlie began to "shuck" his clothes, but it sank when I saw that he not only wore long johns, but he slept in them! Ah well, at least I got to lay next to him in the bed.
We lay and talked briefly, but in just a few minutes he drifted off to sleep, and I was alone with my thoughts and my lust.
I slept fitfully for a while, but I was always aware of his strong masculine presence next to me and I just couldn't stay asleep.
Finally, it was more than I could stand, so I decided, that he had gotten asleep deeply enough that maybe I could sort of gently tough his dick and see if it disturbed him.
I turned on my side facing him and slowly moved my hand toward his crotch, keeping it high enough above his body that I wasn't touching him, and then when I thought I was over his crotch, I gently lowered my hand until I was lightly touching his dick.
He didn't move and his regular breathing didn't change, so I figured, so far so good. I became a little bolder, and began to feel around lightly, to get an idea of how well he was "fixed". To my delight, he was nicely endowed, and not only that, but it began to stir and get hard immediately. In just a minute it was stone hard, and my heart was beating like a triphammer. I very slowly, and gently unbuttoned a couple of the buttons on his "johns" so I could pull his cock out and feel it in the flesh. I grasped it gently and pulled it free and was delighted to discover that he was hung about 7" and was uncut, just like me.
Up to now, I had only been concerning myself with his cock, but now, I decided that I had to feel of his balls, too.
I gently worked my hand inside his fly and felt of those lovely globes that hung loosly between his outspread legs. I toyed with the idea of pulling them out, too; but decided not to because if he were to awaken suddenly, and his cock and his balls were BOTH out of his underwear, he'd know they didn't get that way without some help from me.
So I returned to my primary interest, his cock. I wraped my hand around the shaft and began to slowly and gently stroke it, all the while listening closely for any change in his breathing.
He breathed on, regularly and deeply, and I stroked on, blissful in my finally achieving my goal of several years. I longed to get my head under the covers and swallow that lovely prize, but I dared not. If my movement in the bed to get into position didn't wake him, my warm mouth on his penis would, so I regretfully refrained.
I continued playing with his dick, measuring it between my thumb and little finger, and then comparing it with my own rock hard cock, to see who had the most meat. It was a tie. In fact, we were practically identical.
I developed a game. I would squeeze the head of his cock and it would reward me with a flexation. I did it again and again, and it flexed everytime.
But I liked having my hand wrapped around that wonderful hard shaft the most, so I returned to stoking him gently. I probably stroked for five or ten minutes, and then suddenly without his breathing changing, he began to cum. His cock became slick, as cum spurted out of the tip and saturated his belly.
I knew that his climax would wake him up, so if reluctantly released my grip and pretended to be asleep.
In a minute he whispered, "Hey, are you awake?"
I pretended to be groggy and said, "Huh? Wazzamatter?"
Charlie said, "Boy you should have been with me just now."
I said, "What do you mean?"
"I just had a wet dream. I was dreaming that this girl at school and I were out on a date and we were parked. We were makin' out, and I put her hand on my dick and she began to play with it. And then I came right in her hand!"
I couldn't think of an appropriate response to this devistating revelation, so I said, "Oh, yeah!"
He said, "No, I really did! Here put your hand over here and feel for yourself!"
I laid my hand on his crotch, and thrilled again to that lovely cock, which was still semi-hard and wet with cum. I didn't know whether to feel of it lingeringly or just quickly check it and withdraw my hand. If I felt of it too interestedly, he'd think I was queer; but still, he had invited me to feel of it, and he didn't seem to mind my hand on his dick. What a quandry! But I decided, discretion was the better part of valor, so I'd better just make it a quick feel and let it go at that. Besides, I'd already gotten what I wanted, and the show was over.
I said, "That must have been some dream! I wish I could have been there." (Little do you know, but I WAS there.)
I've always wondered, if he was awake through the whole thing, and he was actually telling me that it was o.k, when he told me to "feel for myself" or was he really asleep? That is something I'll never know. For that was the last time I ever saw Charlie. He and his family lived in Columbus, Ohio, and although my Mom maintained a written correspondence with them, they never came to visit us, now did we visit them.