I was visiting "the old country" back home in Indiana. It had been about three years since I'd been back. My folks had been out to see me once or twice in that time. I don't really know why I stayed away so long. Just had a lot of things I needed to forget, I guess.
When visiting with extended family got to be a bit too much, I took off on my old motorcycle (it still purred, and I smiled--Dad had kept it up for me and had stored it in the garage). I drove all around town, revisiting old haunts, finally settling at an old diner we used to hang out at between classes, just off the main college campus. I walked in and saw him...
Timmy. Rugged, handsome, smelly, fun, crazy, wonderful old Timmy! It had been just over 10 years since we last saw each other.
{FLASHBACK SEQUENCE}
It had been our last night on campus all those years ago. He was on my shoulders, trying to get into a window on the west wing of a women's dormitory. The west wing was always deserted at that time of night and was the easiest to break into; actually I should say, "safest,"--there was no one around--but it was a BITCH to climb into. I savored the feel of Timmy's bulge on the back of my neck. I couldn't show it, though. He was my best bud, and we were out putang hunting.
Okay, back to reality...
All the memories came flooding back seeing him in the diner. He smiled politely when I didn't look away (not quite there yet), then his face lit up (the spark of recognition). He jumped up from his booth in the corner, ran over, and gave me a bear hug that I think a real bear would have been jealous of. The waitress gave us a sideways glance.
We sat and talked, ate, and talked some more. We hopped next door to Tina's Tavern and had quite a few (him more than me), and continued to catch up...and then the subject turned to his divorce. He wasn't bitter about it. He was actually relieved. When I asked him why, he just smiled and took another drag off of his frosty-mugged beer (Tina didn't serve any other kind). I had the better part of the evening to puzzle that out as we played a few games of 8-ball. My best guess was that he felt a sense of relief about his divorce because he might have shared some of the same feelings I did about other guys growing up, and maybe he decided he must be gay too; however, since it could be a hundred other things, I decided that that must have been the alcohol talking.
We went back to his place, since I was in no condition to ride all the way back to Mom and Dad's, and sat on his couch--really just a beat up old love seat--small and cozy. He had grabbed us each a beer out of his old style Frigidaire before hunkering down beside me in his best impression of James Dean. He slapped my knee as he sat and smiled at me. He was still, apparently, having trouble believing I was home. I selfishly thought only of getting into my old college buddy's pants rather than sharing in the golden feeling of youth revisited.
Then I realized it wasn't a shallow feeling at all. I truly loved this man, I always had. I hadn't really realized it until now. He had been unattainable back in college, he had been impractical when I moved away, but now...
He switched on the Zenith and sat back further, relieving the longneck beer in his hand of its head. How I envied that bottle in that instant. I smiled to myself. "Just relax," I thought. "He's your best bud, and nothing is going to happen." I shook my head and tried to dissipate the beer-suds haze that allowed my imagination to run away like that.
There was an old rerun of Dukes of Hazzard on TV that neither Timmy nor I were really interested in. We downed a few more beers and talked more of what had been going on in our lives recently. After a while, Timmy pulled his shirt over his head; his face was flushed from imbibing and his apartment wasn't air-conditioned. I shifted nervously as I realized I was close to getting a raging hard-on. As I concentrated on baseball, the stock market, grandma naked--anything to get my mind off Timmy's hard pecs--I realized I had let my "straight" face down. The one I used when I was home. The one I used to reconcile my current life with my roots. No one would ever understand the depths of depravity I had sunk to. That's what my immature, irrational self seemed to think. Still, it was more comfortable just being a "normal" kid from Indiana (thank God--or Buddha or Oscar de la Renta or somebody--that I've grown up since then). Besides all that, I wasn't really on the make for my old buddy. He smiled at me, enjoying my predicament.
My face turned about three and a half shades of crimson--more red than any amount of alcohol could have turned my descended Irish visage. I was horrified.
And then Timmy did something I never would have guessed possible. The man--the kid--whom I'd helped in a goddamn panty raid our last night before moving off campus and into the rest of our lives, the guy who cried on my shoulder when his first college crush (whom he'd lusted after for months), turned him down flat (she was a cheerleader), the man who I only tonight realized held my heart in the palm of his hand leaned over and kissed me.
It was soft at first, gentle yet firm, then the passion descended. He put his hand on the back of my neck and held me steady while he worked with those perfect lips. My body melted away beneath me--all I was, and ever hoped to be at this moment in time, was a pair of lips that Timmy was bearing down on. I realized he was on top of me now, clawing at my button down shirt, removing it with expert dexterity. I loved him. I LOVED him.
I gritted my teeth in my mind's eye and set about probing his warm, wet mouth with my tongue, feeling years of life fold in on themselves and find completion. My body had come back. No longer was I just a pair of lips for Timmy to dominate, though I could have been forever and been happy; I was now, we were now, making love with our whole bodies. His bulge, last felt on the back of my neck seeming ages ago while I hoisted him up to a campus window, now rubbed furiously against my thigh. I realized, with some pride, that he was going to pop off soon. I realized, with a start, that I was too. We broke our bond long enough to finish stripping each other to a state we'd seen each other in many times before--showering at the gym, changing in our dorm room, sleeping in the heat of a summer night without even a sheet covering us--but always separate! Now we were together, and it felt so right.
With some measure of self control, I could tell, Timmy took my face in both of his hands and formed a stern, serious look on his face. He kissed me lightly and said, "I have to be inside you now." It was said so profoundly and in such an otherworldly manner, I don't think I'll ever forget that as long as I live.
His cock, I'd noticed, was wet with precum and he pushed his beautiful pole against my ass hole. He draped his body over mine and tenderly bit my ear lobe, taking me to the next level. The last bit of decorum, restraint, and sanity shed from my mind and body like a snake shedding its skin, and I moaned, "Fuck me, Timmy!"
Time stood still. I felt every inch of him slide into me, "Raw," I thought distantly. He made a deep and guttural grunt that sounded like it had been pent up for a lifetime. I felt my body start to melt away again, but it wasn't like before. Instead of becoming concentrated, distilled, into one limited portion of my body, of my passion--we were one. As cliched as that thought seemed to me, I knew we were one. I had no sense of individuality. I actually FELT what he was feeling as he drove his cock in and out my ass at a furious pace. He/we panted and our breath came in short, quick, agonizing plights for release.
He reached around and grabbed my throbbing dick. I swear he shuddered when he touched it. He began to stroke me in time with his brilliant rhythm. Whatever control he seemed to have lost in his mad panting he made up for in his expert tooling of my ass. And yet another cliche: I have never felt this way before. (Had he thought that or had I?)
And then, the second most surprising thing happened to me that night. The kid from Indiana--who'd left his family and friends to make it big in the city of angels out west, who'd come to realize his feelings and urgings in the rough, primal touch of other men, who'd been a bottom for every occasion of sex he could now remember, save for a couple of early, experimental episodes--tensed up and signaled to his lover to change positions. Timmy had a desperate look on his face as I laid him down on the floor beside the coffee table. I lovingly took a cushion from the love seat and placed it under his head, then another under his ass. He half smiled at me, though I could sense a hesitation in his manner. "I've never been fucked before," he admitted. Then he smiled, "...but I want you to do it."
My chest filled with an almost overwhelming feeling of righteousness and well-being. All at once I felt a friend to every enemy I'd ever made on Earth. I deeply regretted every wrong I'd worked against another human being. {a hand on my ass} I felt my mind go out of Timmy's apartment and across the hills of southern Indiana. {another hand on my cock, guiding me} I felt relieved like I'd finally found something I'd desperately been looking for but would never actually admit to myself that I needed. {and then the most wonderful feeling I've ever had}
Timmy's entire self was wrapped around me. It enveloped me. I felt safe, and furious, and in control, and out of control, and dangerous, and dizzy, and giddy, and sad all at once.
I was FUCKING my college buddy! He moaned that he loved what I was doing to him. Then he said he loved me, and the sadness almost took over.
The only thing that wasn't perfect about that entire magical night was that I couldn't cry at his profession of love for me in the midst of such exaltation.
I moved down and kissed him. Then drove deeper into his virgin ass. I began to lick and nibble on his ear lobe and whispered, "I love you, Timmy." We were once again one, and the feelings exhilarated us both. I took his uncut cock in my hand and played my fingers along his shaft, moving rhythmically with the beating of our one heart (which was considerably fast at this point). His cock was swelling even larger. He absolutely LOVED what I was doing to him. The head of his cock purpled, and the thickness of the shaft pulsed at my touch.
I withdrew from his body and moved down to kiss him. I held his body close to me as I lowered my ass onto his straining cock. He moaned softly as he once again entered my body. We kissed, as it should be, the longest kiss any two people have ever kissed. It wasn't long in that it lasted as long as our bodies before spilling their seed; that happened quite soon after. It wasn't long in that it seemed to tie together all the joy that our friendship had afforded us in our college years. Instead, it rang in the years we would spend with each other--thereafter and years to come after now.
He was hitting the spot in my body with his cock that told me it was all over. We broke our forever-kiss and stared in each other's eyes. I gripped his arms as he held my rising and falling hips. I moaned loudly as I threw my head back and saw God. He shot his cum up my hungry ass and left me panting. He squeezed my balls as I pounded my cock and shot spurts of jizz across his perfect chest. His cock pulsed in my ass in the throes of his orgasm as he pushed me up further and further and almost off of him, but I held fast. I moved down to engage my lover's lips again in a mixture of thanks and warmth.
I had never felt this way before, and he confided in me that neither had he. We spent all the early morning in that very spot, then showered and went to sleep in our marital bed. Though he moved back with me to Los Angeles some time after that, it is still that antique bed frame that cradles us every night in our marital bliss.
P.S. We left that Frigidaire piece of shit in that apartment. ;-)
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