Chapter 3 - We Were the Only Things Real
I got him to work somehow. He looked even more pale and vulnerable than ever
My love for him remained unexpressed. What he needed now was pal.
We met at lunchtime and back at my place he helped me pack. The girls had made themselves scarce. I grabbed my bag, my records and the sleeping bag. I could crash at his for a few days, said I'd keep an eye on him.
That evening we watched boring telly. We drank a few beers. I threw the sleeping bag on his couch and said good night. He staggered off to his bedroom, the room he'd shared with his wife. I striped and climbed naked into the sleeping bag. I was carelessly playing with myself, not thinking of anything in particular, just feeling mellow.
The bedroom door opened. Stevie naked and swaying slightly came out. He stood before me.
"I mean what's wrong with me?" He asked. He was pulling on his cock, getting it to grow, desperately trying to make it bigger.
"Nothing, it's fine, you're fine! Any woman would want you. You're a very handsome man. She's mad! Now get some sleep!" I tried to order him back to his room. He stayed in front of me displaying himself.
"Come on, big boy!" I said, climbing out of my sleeping bag. I noticed Stevie glance at my hard cock. I put my arm round his shoulder and supported his woozy body across the room and into his bedroom.
I flopped him down on his bed, his hard cock bounced against his stomach. His hand reached out for mine. "Don't go!" he pleaded. I sat on the edge of the double bed. His hand pulled mine down to his hardness. He closed his eyes and gasped at my touch.
"Just need, you know," he said, still with his eyes closed. "Just need some tenderness, just need to get off, you know."
"I know." I said. My fingers played with his hard cock. "It's a really great cock, really it is." I whispered. He opened his eyes and looked vacantly into mine while I played with him. "Any woman would love this." I said.
He watched me as I leant down toward his face. "You really are a randy little sod aren't you!" I whispered. He was pushing his backside off the bed
trying to get me to feel him some more. My lips brushed against his soft, moist, pink lips. They parted slightly and we kissed a gentle kiss. I thought I was going to die! His lips were cool, his face was like an angel's
It was wonderful.
With our lips still gently making contact and breaking, only to touch again, I swung my body over Stevie's smaller, more fragile frame. Stevie didn't try to stop me. He was the wrong side of sober, but not so far-gone that he didn t know what I was doing. He let me. Our mouths were parted now and I pushed my arms out straight lifting my body away from his.
Stevie's eyes stayed closed while he felt my silky, foreskin-covered cock wipe up and down his rougher, thicker prick. I carefully stoked my encased head over his exposed one. I could look down between us and see us both. Mine slid over his glistening knob, spreading his juice over it. Stevie moaned quietly, eyes closed savouring the sensations in his knob. He licked his tiny lips.
I could hold back no more. Slowly I lowered myself onto him. Our stomachs met, our chests met and once again our lips met. Stevie's parted wider than before, I darted my tongue just inside. It met his own tongue, which pushed back. Our mouths opened full and we kissed deep and passionately. Our faces gyrated against each other while our tongues pushed and squirmed together.
His compact body resisted the pressure from my own, suddenly the passion welled-up inside Stevie and he threw me over onto my back, before crashing down onto me and pressing his eager mouth to mine again. He pressed his body onto mine.
At last my dream was coming true, Stevie was making love to me! I knew, even as his mouth kissed mine and his tongue explored inside, even then, I knew he would be thinking of his wife, imagining it was her mouth, imagining his chest was pressed against hers, imagining his cock was seeking her entrance. But nevertheless, it was me he was on top of, it was my mouth he was kissing
it was my chest, my nipples that he was pressed against. And down there, it was my hard cock he was rubbing against. His delicious powerful prick was lying next to mine and I could feel it urgently pressing into my groin. My own was slipping around against his skin. We were both swimming in a layer of juice. Our knobs were gliding against each other's skin and slipping joyously against each other.
There was so much lubrication and motion between us that my shy cock-head had pushed out past my foreskin and was swimming in our combined juice. Stevie started to hump up and down, his mouth left mine to seek the warmth of my neck and shoulder. I placed both hands on his marble cool arse cheeks and pushed down when he pushed down and back when he drew back only to push harder when he descended again.
Stevie groaned at the contact. He was sucking frantically at the base of my neck. I wanted him to mark me with his mouth, I wanted his trophy of passion
My hands frantically clawed at his heaving bottom. I pushed my hips up against him when he pushed down and sank away from him when he lifted up, before pushing back to meet his descent.
"Oh fuck! oh fuck! oh God!" he groaned. My angel was shagging against me. For the moment, right now, we were the only things real and our passion for each other was without limit.
"Oh shit!" I rasped through clenched teeth and pushed my body up hard, holding it there against his gyrating body. Arched up like that and feeling like my cock head was dropping off, I felt my love-juice gush forth.
I fell back after the first pulse and Stevie moaned, falling onto me and wildly throwing his lower half against me. I felt his warm fluid shoot between our sweaty stomachs and mine continued to gush out, to mix with his.
Still groaning, Stevie lifted his chest off mine and pushed his hips as hard as he could against me. He was snorting and saliva dribbled out between his clenched teeth to drip onto my chest.
His normally white face was flushed bright red with passion and his neck too
The dark hair in the centre of his chest was wet and matted against his skin.
Still my cock throbbed against him and his arse was pushing slightly back up and down while he wrung every last drop of spunk out of his rock-hard cock.
At last he fell in an exhausted heap on top of me. My cock still felt like spunk was flowing out of it in rivers of delight to melt into the sea of our mixed sperm.
We had shared the most intimate thing a man can give. The product of love, lust, passion and desire. We had freely given it to each other and even now our secret fluids were joyfully flowing together, seed meeting seed, and swimming together in the microscopic gap between our stomachs.
My cock was shrinking and my glans was aching to return to the protection of my foreskin. Stevie's exposed and toughened one was, I supposed, happily sliding in our lubrication. He was panting on top of my panting body. I didn t want to break the moment, to adjust my sensitive cock. The moment would end soon enough, just a few more seconds of satisfied exhaustion.
Stevie's face was buried in the pillow next to my head. He was still groaning and gasping for breath. My hand ran through his dark curls. My lovely, lovely lover!
"Holy Shit!" Stevie said, lifting his head off the pillow.
"Well done big boy!" I sighed, as he flopped off me to lie beside me.
I quickly flipped my glans back into its protective sheath and jumped up to get a wet flannel.
Before wiping myself clean in the bathroom. I dipped my finger into the cold mixture on my belly and slipped it into my mouth. I tasted our mixed seed. The smell was strong, but the taste was surprisingly neutral. I cleaned it all off me. It had run down and coated my balls, but eventually I washed it all off.
I rinsed the flannel and ran warm water over it. If I was lucky, before the normal guys-together routine kicked back in on Stevie, perhaps I could use the flannel to wash him clean and feel and examine my lovely friend.
Back in the bedroom he was flaked out, his legs apart and his arms lifted up
the hands cupping the back of his head. Like that, he was clearly showing me the delicious armpits that I had not seen. The dark hair in them was wet with sweat and contrasted wonderfully with his pale skin.
"Some fuck!" he said smiling at me.
"Yeah, I guess we're both randy little sods." I said.
"Not so little in your case!" he nodded toward my now shrunken cock. In contrast to my protected prick, Stevie's cut one, didn't shrink back to a couple of inches like mine. It was lying floppy and nearly four inches long in a pool of spunk. His hairy balls glistened with strings of sperm.
"Let me do it." I said and lay beside him, carefully mopping his stomach. His head rested in his hands, he lay back comfortably showing himself to me without embarrassment, while I cleaned him. He seemed to enjoy it, so I lifted the base of his soft cock, the same one that had been punching into my belly like there was no tomorrow. I gently wiped the still warm flannel over the length of it, and afraid to hurt him I very softly dabbed his lovely head. It was still purple with passion and I was afraid it might hurt him.
"Careful, you'll get me going again!" He grinned at me. I let his cock go. The normal-pals together, was kicking in and despite his joke it would be a no-no to do anything sexual now.
I leapt off the bed and returned to the bathroom. Before rinsing the flannel I took one last smell of our mixed man-scent and then flushed it down the plug.
With a very wet and warm flannel, I returned with one last hope. Stevie was still in the same position, still making himself available for me to tend to
I stroked his sweaty chest with it. The dark hairs rippled in response to my flannel covered hand. Stevie moaned with pleasure at the warm cloth taking his sweat away. Down over his belly and down each leg I went, leaving a film of fresh water on his skin. He squirmed at the feeling of his skin drying and cooling and his body hair springing up as it dried. Back up his chest and onto his face. I mopped his forehead.
Finally into each armpit, my flannel went. He liked that!
He smiled at me. Then he rolled over onto his side. The double bed suddenly seemed very big. I half-heartedly stroked his back with the flannel. He moved about in pleasure at the cool moisture. "More!" he moaned. I wiped every inch of his back. Then cautiously, I went down to his arse cheeks. He let me wipe them too. Daringly I slipped down toward his bum crack. Without saying anything he parted his legs slightly, I went in with the flannel. Maybe he would let me, as a pal, maybe he'd let me put my, now hard again, cock down there. Maybe we could take it in turns to fuck each other. Not arseholes or anything faggy like that, but just between the legs. Maybe we could shag each other's thighs.
His legs clamped shut. Shit! I'd overstepped the mark! He'd never want to be friends again!
"I, I can't!" he protested. "I'm not a fag or anything. I don't like stuff like that."
"Sorry." I said withdrawing my hand from him.
"It's not you." Stevie said rolling over and looking into my eyes to reassure me. "I'm the same as you, guys like to poke it in don't they? I'd like to poke mine between your legs, hump again, maybe talk about girls and what we'd like to do with them. But I can't not, not after what happened."
Then he told me. Told me about hitchhiking in the States, about the eight-wheeler, about the two truckers, the driver and his mate. About being sat up-front between them, about the beer, the lecherous talk from the men about a good-looking kid like him fucking his girlfriend. About him feeling raunchy. About the lay-by. About them saying to go into the back on the mattress to get some shut-eye. About them both stripping off and laughing at his shyness. About one grabbing him and the other pulling his shirt off and his pants down. About his useless calls for help inside the truck in the lonely lay-by. About them feeling his naked body and their talk of him being nice to them. About one holding his arms to the mattress while the other pinned his legs under his knees. About the fat cock and the big man lying on top and shoving it against his arse. About his screams of pain as he was penetrated. About the man's bestial grunts and the quick orgasm. About the other one shoving his in Stevie's mouth. About his commands to suck like a whore. About the second prick shoved up his arse. About his cries and sobs.
We were facing each other on our sides, his story was dreadful. Despite the trauma of the memories. Stevie was hard. I stroked his cheek.