My Buddy Andrew - Part 2 **My Buddy Andrew - Part 2
**By Joe & Andrew on AOL
I returned to Boston in the spring as I promised. The cancer was still there, but I knew I was in a good city to get treatment so I did not worry about anything.
Andrew and I picked up where we left off. One morning I had overheard him on the telephone at work, trying not to argue with his girlfriend. We had known each other almost three years by this point. He treated her well from everything I'd ever seen, but she often used him. I liked her well enough, but I didn't have the same sense of trust of her as I did of Andrew. She bragged about things to her girlfriends that I knew were not true. When I looked at her, she would rarely hold my eyes. She knew I liked her, but she also knew that I didn't like what she did to my friend. Anyway, I heard him say that they could talk about it later because he was busy. At 4:00 she called again. He told her that now was not the time and hung up.
At 9:30 p.m. there was a knock on my apartment door. It was Andrew. He had lost the argument he didn't want to have. He stood at the door and looked at me with great sadness.
I put my arm around his shoulder and guided his broken spirit to my living room. He sat on the floor, the sofa at his back. I sat down beside him and handed him a soft drink. He knew he could talk to me, anytime and about anything. Coming to my door tonight instead of going home let me know he trusted me to listen.
"It's her loss, you know."
"Yeah. And mine too."
"More hers. You're a good man. She'll miss you eventually. But I'm your buddy and I care about you. I, uh, love you. I hate knowing you hurt."
"I know, Joe. You're aces. Thanks."
I hadn't said 'I love you' to anyone in a long time, male or female. He knew what I meant, and I meant it the way he knew. He'd never made me feel awkward or different for not being straight. He told me once I was good looking for a gay guy, that it's too bad I wasted myself on other men. He liked teasing me with his sense of humor. Andrew wouldn't have cared if I were green and 3 feet tall.
I sat beside him and rubbed his shoulder. He put his head on mine and we listened to music.
"You can talk to me, if you want to."
"She wanted to argue. I didn't. I left her at her place after work. She called me at home, sounded reasonable for awhile, went off on me after a half-hour, and I hung up. She thinks I should spend all my time with her. I'm not ready to do that. I work, go to school, and need to study during the week. She gets Friday through Sunday and then again on Tuesday. Isn't that reasonable enough?"
"Yes."
"Then what gives?"
"She says you're cheating on her, in case you haven't heard that yet."
"To you?"
"Nope. She's spreading it around her office. I have a friend there who knows that you and I are close. She doesn't believe it, but Lori says so at work."
"I don't wanna fight any more. If she's going to be that way to me, after four years, I don't need it."
"Is she worth trying to talk to after she's cooled down a little?"
"No. She sounded cooled down, then she got all fired up again. I didn't do anything."
"How did you leave it with her?"
"That we're done. If she wants to talk, I'll listen, but I won't be yelled at and called down by anyone. I'm better than that."
"Andrew, you did right. If you need to hear that, then I'm glad I said it. You are better than that. You've treated her like royalty."
"I know. We're through. I'd rather put my energy on someone or something that needs it. Like you, man."
"Are you okay to sit like this for awhile? I can move ..."
"No, don't you move. I like being held. You know what I need, even if it's only someone to bitch to."
"Lemme turn down the hearing aid a little so you can bitch and I can just nod my head occasionally."
"Prick. I knew you'd do something like that."
"Rick? No I don't know him. Is he a nice guy?"
"Yeah, nicer that you are you crud."
"Mud? Did you track mud on my carpet? And I try so hard to keep my place nice. Wipe your feet next time, okay?"
"Joe, you make me laugh, in spite of myself."
"I know, I love you too, bud. We're supposed to laugh. But you can feel down too, when it fits your mood. You know I'll listen. Against my better judgement, but I'll listen."
"Stop it! Can't you be serious for a minute?"
"Lemme see. Nope."
I pulled him back onto my shoulder and touched his chest. That was my "okay, I'll be serious" indication.
We talked for three hours. Andrew had been seeing Lori for four years. He had things he wanted to talk about, so I listened. He knew I cared, because I asked questions, told of my opinion, nicely, and looked him in the eye as he talked. Friends listened to each other, were concerned for the other's well being, and spoke from the heart. If I did any less, I would be a lousy friend. He didn't need that.
I asked him to stay over.
He had a duffel bag in the truck with a change of clothes for when he stayed at his girlfriend's. He lived 45 minutes away, too far to drive in the rain when you're worn out and beaten. I asked him if he wanted the spare room. He said that the sofa was good enough, just as long as he could sleep for a few hours. I helped him stand long enough to undress. I got a pillow and blanket from the closet, covered him, told him he'd be okay, and went to bed to dream about him.
He was okay in the morning. We left his truck in my parking lot and drove to work together. I had lunch with him in the park, treating him to a sandwich from a small shop that specialized in making fresh bread. For being dumped, he was in good humor, showing me the Andrew that I knew him to be. It wasn't false. We had talked enough last night and he had gotten it all off his shoulders. He knew some of the fault in the relationship was his, but he also knew that it wasn't all his. I wanted him to hang out with me for awhile, until he found a new relationship that would work for him. Friends we were, and friends we would always try to be.
I asked him out for pizza a couple nights later. He seemed to withdraw again suddenly. I had assumed that he was okay, but found that I was wrong. His spirit was dead, and the funk was deep. He ate, but did so with little thought. He was totally preoccupied. He looked at me but barely knew I was sitting there. I brought him home, leaving his truck in the parking lot at work. Tonight was Friday. I would drive him back to work tomorrow to pick it up.
"Take care of me, huh?" was all he asked. "I don't want to go home alone."
"I will take care of you, bud, like you have taken care of me. It takes time. You'll find the love you want when it is right to. She'll be lucky to have you, too."
I picked up his 5'7 frame and carried him to my room. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I put him down on his back on my bed, carefully. I undressed him slowly -- sneakers, socks, shirt, and jeans. He was beyond tired, having told me earlier that he'd not slept for several nights. The couple of times that I'd checked on him the other night, I'd found him tossing and turning, but wide awake.
I slid him under the covers on the inside part of my bed. I lay down beside him, put my arms around him, kissed his neck, and comforted him while he fell into a deep sleep. I slept soundly all night and I slept better than I had in several weeks. I didn't like worrying this way about my friends. Their lives should be spent enjoying themselves, not fighting with bad people.
On Saturday morning, he woke before I did. He lay beside me, touched my chest, stared at me as I slept, held me, and kissed me until I woke up.
"Andrew?"
"I'm sorry, Joe. I couldn't help it. You looked so peaceful, and so handsome. I won't do it again."
"No man, I like it. I just didn't expect it. I hope you didn't do it out of obligation ..."
"I did it because I like you. You're ... my buddy. You care about me."
I lay there and looked at him, trying to make sure he wasn't just running into something he didn't understand. He looked back at me, again eye to eye, no flinching. I knew a man was being honest when he could hold my gaze and not have to look away. Maybe he was merely curious. I pulled him close and kissed him back, just our lips. I wasn't about to force myself into his mouth. I pulled back and looked at his eyes again. He smiled at me.
"Was that okay?"
"Yeah. More than okay. I decided a little while ago why you got it so good and I don't. Teach me about what you like."
I took his naked body, pulled him on top of me, and showed him what kissing another man really felt like. He didn't hold back. He let me make love to his sweet hot lips. I kissed his lips, sucked at his Adam's apple, licked his ear lobe and into his canal, and down his neck. He shivered. I played with his ass, probing lightly in between his cheeks, ran my fingers up and down his back, and held his head. He liked everything I did to him, and I loved doing it.
"So this is what you do with other guys?"
"Yes. Well, used to. I haven't seen anyone since Chris was killed."
"But that was seven years ago, Joe. No one to love since then, no one to hold on to?"
I shook my head. I hadn't wanted anyone else. Chris has been my life and I couldn't imagine being with anyone else, even though he was gone. Life with Chris had been life with love, not life with sex.
"I'm sorry, Joe. I didn't mean ..."
I put two fingers up to his lips.
"But I have you to hold now, if you want me to. And until you are okay again."
"Yeah, I want you to. No one ever did this to me. All they wanted was a quick fuck. It was one way, with me doing it and not getting much for my trouble. I thought it was more than that, but I was wrong."
"No Andrew, it is more than that, but with someone who loves you too. It's not a one-way trip. Sex without love is empty."
"Then fill me up my friend. Even if you love me as a friend, it's more than I've had."
"I'll give you anything you want. Lay back, and I'll start now."
He lay in the middle of my bed, spread his legs, and made room for me.
I grasped his cock. I worked my way down to his bellybutton, to his ass, to his balls, and to his seven inches of manhood. I went down on him, the full length, running my tongue up and down his shaft and over the head of his cut cock. I didn't just have sex with him; I made slow, passionate, eager love to his needs. He shivered again. I smiled up to him.
"You like a guy sucking your cock, don't you? Is this the first time?"
"Yeah, and not the last, I hope."
"Not if I can help it, I said as I went back down on him. "
I looked into his eyes as I sucked his hard dick. I licked it from cut head to the base of his shaft. I sucked one ball each, and then both, into my mouth. I licked the sensitive area beneath his balls and smiled to myself when he sucked in his breath. Then I gave his asshole a tongue-bath. Never had he felt anything like it. I went deep into his tender hole with my tongue. I looked at him as I ate him out. He smiled.
When I went back to his cock, he slowly but steadily pushed it into my mouth. I swallowed all I could, licking and sucking, wetting his stiff meat with my tongue. He tried to push me away, but I wouldn't let him. A second later, he shot a tremendous load of creamy juice into my mouth. It ran down my throat as I swallowed it all. He bucked his hips as he came. He moaned and writhed like he'd never felt anything so good in his life. I licked him clean and then lay beside him, wrapping my arms around him again.
"Jesus Joe, that was amazing. Never felt anything like it. If that's what you did to Chris ..."
He stopped, scared at what he had just said.
"Damn, Joe, I'm sorry."
"Finish your thought, Andrew. It's okay."
"If that's what you did to Chris, no wonder he loved you so much."
"I did. And he did too. It was more than about sex, but this was part of it too. This is what guys do together, and more if they are willing."
"I'm willing Joe. Teach me."
"I want to fuck you," I said. "Do you think it'd be okay?"
He thought about it and I could see that he was very unsure. I put the tip of my middle finger against his ass and frigged with his hole. I lubed it and put it inside him up to my first knuckle. Then I took it out and replaced it with my tongue again. When he was wet, I put my finger back in and felt all around the inner edge of his asshole.
"Okay, stop teasing me, damn it! Put your cock in me."
"I think I changed my mind though. I think you'll like it too much and I wouldn't want you leaving me, thinking I couldn't fulfill you ever again."
"Joe! Don't you change your mind. Gimme your cock. I want you to show me."
"Ah, I dunno man. What if you like it? Then you're gonna make me do it every waking moment. We'll never go to work because you got me fucking your brains out. You'll wear out my dick and I won't be able to find someone new when you walk out on me ..."
"Joe! Fuck me, now!"
"What took you so long?" I said with a smile.
I wouldn't have done this if he didn't want me to. Fucking isn't for everyone. I would be content enough to hold him. But I also proved that he wasn't the only tease in this little party of two.
"Don't hurt me, man, that's all I ask."
"I wouldn't hurt you, bud. If you don't like how it fells, I'll pull out. You tell me what's okay to do."
I lifted his legs, eased my lubed dick into his virgin ass, and probed slowly and carefully, rhythmically, and with great love into his wet, tight, pure ass. He kissed me back with equal passion, not wanting to stop. I took my time, not wanting to hurt him, wanting him to feel nothing but pleasure from my hardness. I lay on top of him and held him tight, easing inside of him, pulling out slowly, and then pushing back in. His ass gripped my cock, his lips kissed mine, and his arms held me tightly.
We were not in a hurry. I wanted, and needed, love. If I wanted sex, I could go looking anywhere. Andrew could get it anywhere as well. For now, it was being with him that was all that mattered. I felt like his big brother, watching out for him. When I looked at him, he smiled at me.
"I like this. I didn't know what this was, and couldn't have possibly imagined. You're good to me, Joe. You're good for me, too."
"I like this too, man. I'd almost forgotten how good it could feel inside a man, giving and getting, feeling good for all the right reasons. Hold me, Andrew. Don't let me go, for as long as you can hold me and make me feel good for you."
I made love to him until I couldn't hold out any more. I'd been inside him almost a half-hour, stopping occasionally so that I wouldn't come so soon. We came at the same time. I left a creamy load inside his sweet asshole. I licked his sticky cream from his stomach and swallowed every drop. I held him close to me. He gave me a second creamy load in my mouth when I sucked him an hour later.
"Would you fuck me, Andrew?"
"Yes, bud. I will fuck you. I hope I do it right."
I rolled onto my back, raised my legs and spread my ass for him. He slid into me in one smooth, lubed motion. And he made slow, steady love to my eager, tight ass. We kissed some more. Nothing he did to me hurt, in any way. He was the same size as Chris. I tried not to make the comparisons, but it was inevitable. Andrew gave me love, not just a seven-inch hard dick. He knew how to use his stiff tool to make me feel good. When I moaned, he smiled.
"You like it?"
"Oh yes, bud, I love it. I feel you inside me and I want you to do this to me forever."
After about 25 minutes of feeding me his dick, he could not hold back any longer. He pumped into me a little harder and a little faster. His seed crashed into the walls of my insides and he left his cock in me until it softened.
He kissed me deeply for an hour, knowing I cared for him.
"How long have you been ready to do that with me, man?" he asked me.
"Since I met you, truthfully. But I was scared too. I'm afraid of dishonoring the memory."
"You honor it instead, Joe. You showed me love when you didn't think you could any longer. You know that I am not Chris, and you show me that you care about me anyway."
I thought to myself -- her loss more than his, by a wide margin. I was his buddy. And he was mine. He did it right.
And that first time together only made our friendship better. He didn't shy away from me, or look at me like a queer. He wasn't confused about who he was or what he wanted. For now, however long 'now' was going to be, he wanted me. I don't do labels. If he was straight but curious, that was fine. If he was bi, okay. If he was gay, so be it. Who cared? We wanted love and we both filled a gap that had been opened. We started spending more time together. Our friendship grew strong. One day I said something to him that he liked, but made him feel a little weird too.
You remind me of my Chris, Andrew. You're are like him in a lot of ways.
"I'm sorry, Joe. I don't want to make you feel bad. I can't change who I am, but I hope you know what you mean to me."
"I do know, buddy. I do know. Look, you're not a replacement for Chris. No one, even you, could make me feel the way he did, because he was unique, just as you are. But you are important to me because we are buddies. You know what that means now. I like you for who you are, not what you could be. You're an addition to my life, friend. You're a very fine addition to my life. I will always miss my Chris, but I hope I never make you feel like you're not loved, equally. You are. If I have to tell you that every day, I will."
He was 5'7 tall, had short neat dark hair, deep brown eyes, and a small mouth with a gorgeous, friendly smile. He was trim from working out and playing a lot of basketball, the latter with me a couple times a week. He dressed in decent clothes that fit his shape and flattered his trim body. He was a little cocky to others, but I knew where that came from. He just needed to be a little more confident. Around me he was confident, but the cockiness really came out when he was around someone who even moderately threatened his ego or questioned his abilities.
Andrew was a good kid, in the real sense of the words. He didn't do anything in excess, except have fun. If he laughed, it was sincere and strong. You had to laugh with him. He liked Hitchcock thrillers, talking to me on the phone or in E-mail, pizza, and basketball. I liked what he liked. I liked science fiction and mysteries, classic Tracy & Hepburn movies, walking along the coast, and quiet Sunday's along the river with the newspaper. He liked what I liked.
One Saturday morning, we played basketball with some guys in my neighborhood. Andrew and I teamed up with two other guys and played hard against our four opponents. During the game, he twisted his knee badly. The sun was too hot so we gave it up and walked up to my apartment. He limped. I stopped to take a close look at the knee, which was swollen.
"Come on, bud, I've got an ice pack in my freezer for this."
He put his arm around my shoulder, hobbled the last hundred feet, and practically let me carry him up the stairs. He sat on the sofa as I went to the kitchen. I got a towel from the linen closet and used it to ease the icy chill of the blue gel. I knelt in front of him and doctored his knee.
He rubbed his crotch and gave me the face. I hated (well, you know) when he gave me the face. He did it on purpose, fully aware of what he was doing, and knowing what I would do. His eyes turned into deep innocence. His face turned very thoughtful. At the moment, he was neither innocent nor thoughtful, except in thinking he liked me on my knees in front of him.
"While you're down there", he said as he slipped his dick out of the leg of his shorts.
"Yes? Would you like something from me?"
"Your mouth."
"To...?"
"To suck on my dick. Stop teasing me. I want you to take care of me, and you know you want to."
"Oh? You're into mind reading?"
"No, I'm into you getting into me. Eat my cock."
"Well, I dunno. You sure this is your cock?" I said.
I wrapped my hand around it. I fondled him and took a semi-soft cock and turned it into a fully hard cock. I held it tightly, running my hand up and down his shaft like I was going to jack him off instead. I had already discovered that I could do so, with just enough effort. He was easy to please, and came in buckets.
"Yes that's my cock! Look, it's attached to my body," he said.
He took his shorts off and threw them in my face. I took them and sniffed the crotch and the ass, holding them against my face and inhaling his sweet fragrance. When I put them down away from my face, he was standing in front of me, fully hard. He pushed his cock against my face, slapping me side to side a few times.
"Suck my dick. Stop teasing me!"
"You're awful demanding for someone who needs me."
"And you're being a pain in the ass."
"No, that comes later. I dunno, I don't think I'm hungry for your cock right now. I think I need a hot shower, and maybe a sandwich."
"Joe? Please Joe. Don't make me hurt you. If I gotta rape you to make you suck me, I'll do it. Please, I'm asking nice. I need your hot mouth. No one does it better. Please?"
And of course, I did. Who would turn down a seven inch cut cock? Not me, especially when it belonged to the stud boy who gave me the face that melted me away. I helped him back onto the sofa because standing hurt his knee. I looked at his face as I sucked him, inspired by the fact that he threw his head back as I went up and down his sweet shaft. I wanted one thing right now -- to make him feel good. He had the light scent of musky sweat in his crotch, just enough to make me love sucking on his manly tool.
He shivered a couple times. I loved making him shiver, because I knew he liked what I did. In twenty minutes or so, after licking, sucking, eating his balls, and eating his asshole, he shot the creamiest load he could into my throat. I swallowed, enjoying the thick cum shooting into my mouth and down my hungry throat. I sucked him dry and then cleaned him up, leaving him shiny and clean.
I looked up at him. His eyes were closed. He was smiling. I sat on the sofa beside him and kissed him deeply. He could taste his cock and cum on my breath. I sucked his tongue into my mouth, played with it with my tongue, and kissed his lips. We hadn't made out since he was at my place a month ago. He'd gotten none in that time, so he was horny as hell, just the way I liked him. I whispered quietly into his ear. He smiled and nodded.
I picked him up and put him on the floor on his back. I rubbed lube into my dick and into his ass. Without much foreplay, I slid into his tight hole. This is only the second time he's ever been fucked. I pushed deep and let it stay there, letting his flesh form around it, swallowing it whole, letting it suck up the heat of his tender young asshole.
"Fuck me, bud. Do it like it's our first time."
I slowly slid out of his ass, to the head of my cock, and pushed back in. I did it slowly as I could the first half dozen or so times. Then I got on the balls of my feet and pushed into him at a slow but steady pace, all the way up his ass and almost all the way out. His asshole gobbled my dick, pulling it inside him and clamping down on it as I drew it out. He was inexperienced in getting laid by a guy, but he let his instinct take over.
I bent down to kiss him as I made love to his hot desire. His mouth was hot and sweet, and he kissed me while I kissed him. Nothing was one way with this kid. He loved taking and he loved giving. A tear rolled down his cheek. I stopped immediately and withdrew quickly.
"I'm sorry, Andrew. I didn't mean to hurt you."
"You haven't hurt me, man. Put it back in me. I need it. I need you inside me."
I wiped the tear away, letting it glisten on my thumb, looking into his eyes.
"I know", he said in a whisper, "but it's not pain. It's love. Now I know ALL about Chris and you. I know everything that I could possibly ever know. Please, give me your passion, for me only."
I slid back inside him, once again letting him feel my size. He nodded. I picked up right where I'd left off. He felt so good. HE felt good, not my lost love. This was Andrew in my arms, kissing me, loving me, and letting me love him. And right now, I loved only him. Not a thing in the world mattered to me except pleasing my friend. In a few minutes I exploded inside him, giving my juice to him, letting his hot moist hole suck my load out of my hardness. I moaned as I kissed him and he knew I was coming. He smiled and said 'give it all to me'.
Before I went soft, I rolled him onto his stomach and entered him again. My cock came to life again inside his ass. I humped him as I held him from behind. He turned his head so we could kiss. The boy sure loved being kissed, and I loved doing it to him. He could have all he wanted. It was fifteen minutes before I shot again. He pushed his ass into my cock and sucked out my juice.
I lay on top of him and kept kissing him. He wiped away my tears and then kissed my eyes. He rolled on top of me and kissed my cheeks, licked my lips, sucked my chin and then my Adam's apple. He licked his way to my left ear, sucking my lobe. He licked behind my ear. He entered me easily, and then moved to my right ear, sucked my lobe, fucked me, and licked into my ear canal. He put my legs over his shoulders and pushed the full length into me while returning to my lips. His tongue slid into my mouth as his cock slid into my ass. Andrew loved to make love. He didn't hurt me with his cock. He made sure I felt good, and he made sure I felt wanted by him.
He looked into my eyes from a short distance and smiled broadly. The smile was forever infectious. I gave him the face as best I could, though he still had me out-classed there. He made love to my ass and made love to my senses. I held him tight.
"Man, don't ever stop what you do, I told him."
He shook his head slowly.
His eyes said he'd be with me a long time. We weren't lovers. We were, as Chris and I had been, mates -- mates of the heart, mates of the soul. He wasn't a replacement. He was an addition. His load filling my ass was my reward for feeling the way I felt about him. But I held him as a little bit of fear held on, knowing what could happen, and never allowing me to take anyone for granted.
We packed up the office one September day and moved back to Pennsylvania. We had a substantial contract that we finally accepted. It took awhile to convince both of us that we wanted to be away from the Boston area. I would miss the city, but there were other things to see and do. We could always come back. He said yes as my friend and as my office partner. We talked about being lovers.
I told him what I thought about lovers as a word. I don't like the word, I told him. I've heard it thrown around so much that it has no meaning. I've been introduced to lovers before and then found months later that the guys split. Guys met in sex, moved in together, fucked for a few months, and then moved apart. That's not being a lover; that's being a sex machine.
Andrew and I were friends first, like Chris and me. We did not live together because we did not have to be with each other 24 hours a day to be in love, or to be friends, or to work well. When he wanted to stay over at my place, or I wanted to stay at his, we did so. When we weren't together, we were talking on the phone or sending E-mail. He'd send me mail at work and make me horny. He'd send me mail at home telling me he thought about me today. We held each other when we were together. When it was right to, we had sex. When we went out with other friends, there was no jealousy. Andrew knew that I wanted no one but him. I knew he wanted no one but me. If he wanted someone besides me, all he had to do was tell me. I didn't own him. No matter where we ended up, we would always be friends because that is how we started out.
I loved him. I trusted him. We loved working together. We'd never be rich, monetarily anyway, but we didn't struggle. I lent him money twice and he paid me back twice. I borrowed from him once and paid him back. We split groceries or dinner out. Once in a while I would treat. He'd return the favor another time. We didn't keep track. Neither one of lived beyond our means and neither one of us needed much. If I could hold him in my arms, it was enough.
I woke up one night when he happened to be staying with me. I shook in a cold chill from the nightmare I had been having. He turned on the light, propped up the pillows, put his chest against my back and held me tight.
"Tell me, bud. Tell me what it was like."
"It's too hard, friend. It hurts so much. If I have to say it in words, it'll kill me. But I don't know how to make it go away."
"It won't go away on it's own, Joe. You know too much to ever forget it. But share it with me. I'm strong enough. I know there are no secrets between us. Neither one of us should share grief on our own. You wouldn't let me struggle on my own."
"I'll scare you away, Andrew. I can't risk doing that."
"I love you, with all my heart. I know it hurts you to see the nightmare. But you're reliving it for a reason. We need to let it out. I can take it, as hard as it has to be. You're risking nothing, because I'm here for you always. Believe in me, Joe."
I turned to face him. He put his arms around me and kissed me. He pulled back and looked into my eyes, trying to see what was there that hurt so bad. He wrapped his legs around mine and held me. I was so scared. I begged him with my eyes so he wouldn't make me talk about it. He wouldn't listen to my eyes. He was listening to my heart instead.
"Where had you been for dinner?" he asked me.
"Chinatown. I don't remember the name of the restaurant. It's one of those black holes in my memory. We had dinner with some friends from work. Some worked with me, some with Chris. We had made friends over the years, so we all knew each other well. There were 14 of us all together. We had spent the day together, starting around 10:00 a.m. celebrating because it was Christmas Eve. We all met up at the Common, walked everywhere in the snow, had a light lunch, and shopped at Jordan Marsh and Filene's basement. We walked to the Children's Museum, all over the Financial District, and all over Faneuil Hall marketplace. We had hot cocoa twice during the day, once in Boston and once in Cambridge. I don't think we missed a T-station stop all day. It was our own little parade, trooping all over the city."
"Sounds like an event."
"Yeah", I said smiling. "It was. We laughed and joked and acted like children. Not one of us was older than 10 that day. Innocent kids, the lot of us."
"Dinner was at the end of the day?"
"Yeah. We all ordered something different. We were sitting at this huge round table, with a Lazy Susan in the middle. When we dished out our own, we put it up and went on to the next dish. We probably were there for three hours, maybe more. I think I tried a little of everything. You already know Chinese is my favorite take-out."
"Yeah. It's becoming mine, still second to pizza."
I touched his chest and ran my hand up his cheek. I held his cheek with my left hand and put my right arm around him. He kissed me again, encouraged me to go on.
"And on the way home?"
"Please Andrew, no more. I'm surprised enough I told you that much. It was a beautiful day but to know it was spoiled rips me up. I'm tired my love. Please let me rest."
"Joe. You need to know that I'll help you. Trust me, please."
I was quiet for a few minutes. Andrew held me tight against him. He looked into my eyes and he wouldn't release his grip on me. He wasn't going to sleep until I talked, which meant I wasn't going to either. God I was so tired. He kissed me for ten minutes, slowly and with passion. He held me in his strong arms, the warmth flowing out of his chest into mine. I started to speak but he kissed me again. Once he started, it was hard to stop. He said he'd never felt so free in a kiss.
"A young kid, barely out of his teens, was speeding down the street. He sideswiped a car, ran a red light and then hit us head-on. It was a blur, all in a matter of seconds. He wasn't wearing a seatbelt and got thrown through the windshield. He hit ours and then just lay there. Chris and I were both wearing ours, but it didn't matter."
I fell silent for many minutes. My throat was going to choke me off if I didn't stop. Tears were streaming down my face. Andrew wiped them away as fast as they fell. He kept kissing me and hadn't let go of me for the hour that it took to get this far.
"Did the kid live?"
"No. He was probably dead the minute he went through the windshield. His blood alcohol was more than twice the limit. It was doubtful he felt anything."
"And Chris?"
"Andrew, please don't make me do this."
"And Chris?", he said gently, looking me squarely in the eye.
He was not being cruel. He knew what happened from what he read in the newspaper. He was curious to get the 'inside perspective', but he did it for me, not for any other reason.
"Chris lived awhile. I was conscious enough to know that he looked at me and that he held my hand. I didn't remember that until now. Things are drifting out of the black hole."
"Let them come, man. The black hole will be empty soon enough."
"He had head and internal injuries, and had to be as broken as I was. The ambulances and police and EMTs got there really quickly. It took a few minutes to get us out of the car. I remember seeing them put the kid on a stretcher and cover him up completely. I was taken out before Chris. It took a few more minutes ..."
The tears flowed again. Andrew couldn't keep up with them this time. He held me and let them come. I saw my tears run down onto his chest. He didn't wipe them away. He held me like if he let go, I would die.
"You were badly injured. What were your injuries, bud?" he said a few minutes later.
"Both my legs were broken, the left a couple of places, four on the right. My hip was dislocated. Most of my ribs were broken, along with my left arm. My right hand too. Head injury, concussion. Back, spine, dislocated shoulder, cuts ... he sure did a number on me."
"My God, I couldn't imagine that much damage. Two years in the hospital?"
"Yeah. I spent several months in a coma. It took a long time before I knew that Chris had died, or even who he was for that matter. My brother and Chris' brother spent a long time with me. They didn't know from day to day whether I'd live or die."
"Do you know what was fatal to Chris?"
"Yeah."
"Come on Joe, you've come this far. Don't stop now."
"Andrew."
"Joe. You know you can tell me anything. Anything, Joe."
"A rib punctured his heart. An EMT held his hand inside Chris' chest for a half-hour until they got him to emergency surgery. He kept it going, but the damage was too much. He died before they got him prepped."
"Thanks for telling me, Joe. I didn't know that. I'm able to stop asking questions to myself now. My consciousness will leave me alone now. Maybe yours will too."
"Maybe. But there's a lot of guilt about this, too."
"You and me?"
"No. No, man, I feel good about you and me. I have no guilt when it comes to you. I saved you from a life of misery with a girlfriend."
"Yes, you did. I knew I loved you for a reason. So where's the guilt, man. Maybe that's what's making for the nightmare."
"We could have gone home sooner than we did, or later. We could have taken a different route. We could have taken the subway that day instead of driving. I could have made suggestions that Chris would have listened to. Lots of things."
"But you didn't need to, that you knew of. It was a familiar route? And the time was after midnight, when traffic would have been less? Joe, please don't beat yourself up. You almost died in the accident. It would have been three senseless losses instead of two. You can't punish yourself by playing what-if games."
"Oh yeah, buddy, I can. Maybe not rightly, but I can."
"Then listen to my suggestions, Joe. It happened and there is nothing that will change it. It's behind you. You have fond memories of a beautiful love with Chris. Think of that. Don't be sad for what can't be changed. You paid your dues, almost with your life. Please be kinder to yourself. Let me be your love now. You can't and won't forget Chris, ever. But live for yourself now, and for me too because I love you without condition."
"Andrew?"
"Joe?"
"How did you get to be so wise?"
"You taught me, Joe. Everything that I am, I am because of you."
I held him and let go of the tears. I didn't have to carry guilt, as he said. I knew this long ago, but to hear it from someone who knows me well is validation. I did trust Andrew, with my business and my life ... and my heart.
Andrew lay on his right side, facing away from me so that I could hold him. I pulled him against my body and wrapped my arms around him, holding on to his chest with both my arms. He loved being held like that the best. He said he could trust me behind his back and he said it was the warmest way to be hugged, knowing he was safe in my arms.
I was afraid a few times of Andrew thinking I loved Chris more, or that he wasn't important to me, or that he'd get hurt and I'd lose him ... all things that stayed on my mind. I told him of the things that I was afraid of, so he would know and so he would be careful. I still loved Chris. I loved Andrew as much, not more, not less. I had not thought it would be possible again, but he let me in and let me love him. Andrew was very important to me. He was my buddy, in all the ways that that is important to a person's life. We talked when we needed to. I made sure he knew that he could talk to me. I wouldn't shut him out. He helped me when I had my moments, or days sometimes, of sadness.
He got a fearsome cold a year after we moved to PA. The first casualty was his voice. The second was a fever from hell. He didn't want to stay with me because he was afraid I would get sick too. I was usually pretty resistant to colds, and I took the flu shot once a year. He worried about my immune system because I was doing chemo and radiation for the bone cancer. He stayed with me twice a week when I went to the hospital, making sure I got home okay and that I was not alone and sick all night. I convinced him that he shouldn't be alone either.
"At least let me keep my germs at home then, bud. Come and stay with me."
We lived about 35 minutes apart, so it was still easy for me to get home when I needed to, for mail and bills and stuff, but I wanted him to feel well again. I made sure he got plenty of soup and hot tea and plenty of TLC in general.
He woke up from a nap one afternoon, on a rainy Saturday, to find me lying between his legs. I looked up at him as I sucked on his cock. There were some days when I couldn't get enough of his dick. I think the record for sucking him off was four times in a day. He shook his head after the fourth time, calling me cock hungry. If the shoe fits... Our record for fucking was seven times in one weekend, starting Friday night on the dining room table and ending Sunday night in the shower. Love in the shower was about the most favorite place.
Love outdoors was the best. We had a favorite spot that we would bike to from his apartment. It was off the beaten path and we weren't concerned, much, about getting caught in a compromising position. We picked warm sunny days to go biking. A backcountry road led to a pond on state property. We hopped a fence and rode another two miles down an old trail. We took a blanket and laid it on the ground, right at the water's edge.
Andrew lay down. We didn't undress right away because we liked doing it with our clothes on as much as we did nude. For the most part, our lovemaking was done for hours at a time. We took our time undressing each other. On this day, it was 11:00 a.m. by the time we got here. I took a running jump and cannonballed into the water. He wasn't far behind me, although he thought I was a nutcase. We danced in the water to the music on the radio, holding each other close, kissing like teenagers while trying not to laugh. We laughed anyway. I had to laugh with him, for he sounded like a young boy when he giggled. It was infectious.
We finally got out of the pond. We kissed while lying fully dressed in the sun. Then I took off his shirt and licked his chest and his nipples. I put my hand on the crotch of his wet jeans and cupped his balls and cock in my hand. Then I put my hand inside his jeans and fondled him while we continued to kiss.
He took my shirt off and mimicked my playtime on him. I was fully hard when he put his hand into my jeans.
"Horny much, Joe? You couldn't get any harder if you tried."
"See what you do to me. Tell me you like me nice and hard for you, buddy."
"Yeah man, I love you nice and hard just for me. I'm gonna suck you until you shoot. You won't have any cum left in your balls by the time this day is over."
He took off my Nikes and socks, pulled my jeans down and off and went down on my dick. His mouth was hot and wet. He licked up and down my shaft and then diddled with my cock head. He played with my balls and frigged with my asshole while he sucked me. I managed to get him into a 69 so I could do the same to him. His cock seemed harder today than ever. It felt great to bury my face in his crotch and lick his sweet dick. I knew what my reward would be for treating him well. I would have treated him well without the reward, but I sure enjoyed it as much.
I lay beside him and looked at his cock, examining the seven inches with my eyes and then with my tongue. I looked at how the head was shaped and the just-right thickness of his shaft. I put just the head in my mouth and moved my tongue around it. Then I moved my mouth down to the base, wagging my tongue across his shaft while I held it in my mouth. He watched me and did the same on my dick. He wanted me to feel what he felt. When I swallowed him, he swallowed me. When I licked his head, he licked my head. I played with his balls and he played with mine. My middle finger was inside his ass up to the second knuckle, messaging his prostate. I moaned as he messaged mine.
He started moving like he does just before coming. I tickled his balls and opened my throat. It was only a moment more before he shot his liquid load into my mouth. I swallowed and licked, not wanting to miss a drop. In a few more seconds I shot mine in his mouth too. He didn't miss a drop.
"Thanks, Joe. That was great. I can't seem to get enough of your cum."
"Same here, bud. Yours just gets better. I know I make you feel good when you shoot like that. I almost couldn't keep up with you."
"I hear that. You surprise me, for an old guy."
"I'll slap you, you young whippersnapper! I'll out-cum you any day."
"I dunno Joe, I think we're pretty equal. You could wear me out some days. And I'd let you too."
He smiled at me and lay on top of me again. Before I knew it, his cock was hard again and inside my asshole. He had slid in with in one thrust, opening me up as he went.
"Jeez, Andrew, you didn't even go soft from what I could see!"
"Not me, bud. Not with you around."
He put my legs over his shoulders and plunged deep, fucking me in a beautiful steadiness that I could feel half way to my gut. Andrew loved to fuck me, and I loved having him fuck me. It was always good, because he knew I loved it. He says he thought of only one thing when he was fucking me -- making me feel good enough. He admits to having been really nervous the first time, thinking I would compare him to Chris and find that Chris was better. I told him, in fairness, that he was different than Chris, no better or worse. He accepted that.
"Damn, Joe, you're making me come!"
He pumped me faster and deeper as he shot into my wet asshole. I loved him loving me, and filling me up.
We rested a little while in the warm sun. There was no place to go today that we had to be in a hurry. When he wanted me inside him, he asked me if I would.
I lay on top of him and kissed him, like he had done to me, and entered him in one smooth stroke. My dick inside his warm wetness was like heaven. My cock was sensitive from coming once already, but it was as hard as a rock. I loved being inside my buddy, filling him up, making my cock tingle from head to base, down into my balls.
I fucked him for about a half-hour, first on his back, and then on my knees behind him, and then laying on my side. I paused often enough so I wouldn't shoot too soon. I just wanted to be connected to him. When I couldn't take it any more I shot a load that magically erupted from inside my gut. I must have shot for almost a minute. He squeezed my cock and drained my balls dry. There was no more to give, at least for now.
Our jeans and socks and shirts were drying on a tree branch. They wouldn't be completely dry by the time we left, but it felt sexy to have damp denim rubbing in my crotch. Our clothes would go into the washer when he got to his place and we would have an excuse, as if we needed one, to make love while they washed and dried.
"Joe?"
"Yes Chris?"
"He's good for you, isn't he?"
"Yes, my bud. He is. He's very good for me. "
"I'm happy for you, Joe. I know he loves you deeply. I know that you love him too, don't you Joe?"
"Yes, I do. He's a good man, my bud. He understands about you and me."
"Don't let him be sad, okay man? Make sure he always knows how you feel."
"I try to, Chris. We talk a lot, about a lot of things. He has my heart, like you did."
"Good, Joe. He deserves it."
"Chris?"
"Joe?"
"I miss you. And I love you. I always will."
"That's good to know, Joe. I love you too. You'll always be my bud."
"Can I tell Andrew anything for you?"
"Nope. We've already talked. He knows all he has to."
"Thanks, my bud. I'm glad you watch him, too."
"Rest easy, Joe. I'm watching out for you both."
_Note from Andrew: I wasn't going to stay up this late (it's 12:15 on the 12th of May) because I've been sleeping very poorly. Joe is having his 7th round of surgery later this morning and I guess the anxiety is getting to me. It's not like I haven't done this with him before. He happens to be sleeping very soundly, though it took drugs to do it. The surgery isn't all that major, compared to others he's had over the past 14 months. This session is to (hopefully) correct nerve damage in his left arm. He can't feel his left arm or his fingers at all.
This was part 2 of a series that has an undetermined length. Part 3 will be written by me, from my perspective of Joe. It'll be about what happened in the accident, what my life is like day to day when 90% of it is spent in one place, what Joe has been doing for these long months, and what I sorta fantasize it'll be like after he comes home. I'm not as good a writer as Joe, though I'm going to try to do our work justice. Neither of us are writers. Joe's a programmer and I'm a financial analyst by trade -- yeah, computer geeks.
Most of Part 3 is unwritten at the moment, except for words and phrases on several sheets of paper. I'd like to have it done in the next couple of weeks so there will be a lag between this posting in the Archive and the posting of my story. I'm nervous about what to include in the story, and what not to, so if you have suggestions, please tell me. At last count, and pretty accurate at that, Joe has 115 readers who have E-mailed him multiple times. No one says we suck as writers. Everyone feels deeply for what Joe has lived. Men and women both read his stories and send him wonderful encouragement. My slight fear is that you will not take to me as well as you have to Chris and Joe. This just means I'm going to have to try harder than Joe has, to see how we get along. I hope we get along just as well. Thank you for being there and for the E-mail. I read it to Joe twice a day, once in the a.m. and once after dinner. He smiles, despite the pain he feels from his injuries. He lives because you help him do so.
_
Peace ... and love, Andrew