Here's part 4 of Paul calling John, written by Joe Ferns and proofread by myself (not that I could find much to criticize). If you do find something something to criticize, please send your comments to Joe at martalgran@yahoo.co.uk. Nice compliments, on the other hand, you may send to me, kanopeer@checkjemail.nl
Paul Calling John 4
... and back to how John sees things
It was like I'd gone to heaven! OK. Exaggeration. More like I was dreaming, like my fave fantasy was coming true. Paul thought I was trying to distract him, take his mind off the game. Me? You'll have gathered that the last thing on my mind was the bleeding video game. In fact mind didn't really come into it - unless penises think.
I was running my hands all over his body. Reaching behind him with my left hand I caressed his back, slipped under his arm to tickle him in his armpit, stretched on to run my middle finger around his left nipple. He squirmed at this and giggled slightly. With my right hand I palmed his right breast, squeezed before sliding down onto his stomach and rippling my fingers along his tight boy-flesh. Moving my left hand down to his tummy I took my right hand away and placed it on his knee. Shifting in the chair as if to discourage, Paul glanced at me, grinning.
In a pincer movement I began to advance from stomach to navel and down towards his groin. At the same time I moved my other hand off his knee and, fingers leading, ran my palm along his inner thigh. The objective was clear.
Blast! He snapped his knees together. Retreat? Withdraw? I hesitated and was lost. The chance had gone. I'd forced him to lose the video game but I'd lost the war.
"Your turn," Paul said. "And look out, mate!"
Promises.
Paul, unfortunately, chose a different distraction tactic. Sharp blow to the left biceps was followed by a rabbit punch (gentle, by his standards) below my ribs.
"Hoy! That's painful!"
"All's fair in love and war, you said."
"What about a bit less of the war," I retorted. "And a bit more of the love."
He blew a kiss in my direction and laughed.
Well, that was it. Swoony time. A warm flush ran through my body and that was me blown away in the dragon fire.
His turn, again.
My mind was certainly on the 'love' thing as the dull ache in my balls kept reminding me. Paul? 'War', worse luck, had taken over with him; my tickling just brought on that competitive streak of his and he bent into the game with a vengeance and before my very eyes his lovely tumescence subsided, shrank and was no more. Damn!
Sometimes I just don't get people. We were squashed together, naked, in a chair and our boy-bits as exposed as the limited space on the chair would allow. I was as hard as I've ever been. And what was Paul doing? Suddenly all he seemed to be bothered about was winning the video game. Me, I couldn't have given a stuff about the game. I had just wanted to be close to him. I'd hoped that my antics would provoke a response, that he'd make a grab for me or something. But I sure didn't want to lose him as a friend so I didn't want to push things, move faster than he wanted. As I planned what to do next, my attention wandered.
"I sure am whooping your ass now!" he gloated.
I turned to stare into his face. His eyes were wide, fixed on the screen. His lips were parted as he pouted a little and I could see his tongue move behind his teeth. Then, leaning forward into the game, he began slowly to lick his lower lip. I wanted to grab the back of his head, feel the softness of his dark fair hair, turn his face to mine so that I could gently place my lips over that mouth. And I knew I wanted more than sex from this guy. Make love, not war.
He turned towards me.
"You ain't even trying," he muttered, accusingly.
"That right, bud? Watch out then!"
I gave the game my full attention after that jibe. Plenty of time after all, I reckoned. We would have the house to ourselves till five at least. And how could I complain? A couple of hours ago the pair of us had not even acknowledged to each other that sex existed, that we had cocks and balls and pubes, that we got boners. Even when we were very young, when we first were friends, we had never even taken a piss together. And there we were ass to ass, bare ass to bare ass, and all that gorgeous bod of his set out on display.
Even with my renewed concentration, he still won easily. In my defence I must say my concentration was still not 100% on the Mario Brothers.
"Wanna coke or something, Paul?"
I rose from the chair and set off for the kitchen. He expanded into the space I had vacated and spread his legs. Flopping backwards, he threw his arms wide.
"Yeah. Coke would be great, Johnny boy."
Although we had both lost our erections in the excitement of the contest neither of us had shrivelled into tiny ice-water wrinkles. I took a last glance at his impressive boy-tool and headed off to the kitchen.
"Cock it is," I said.
I was reaching into the fridge for the cans of coke when I noticed that dad had stocked up on beer. In a quick change of mind I pulled out a couple of bottles of Bud. Well, what's wrong with plying your best bud with alcohol? Buds for my bud? If you want to think there was another motive, then fair enough. I'm taking the fifth on that one. I returned to the family room with the loot.
"Paul, you OK with these instead?"
He hesitated. For a moment I thought we were going to get one of Paul's 'teenagers not allowed to' lectures but instead he just nodded and held out his hand. After I had handed Paul the beer I squatted on the floor beside his chair copping myself a splendid view.
"Paul "
"Yeah? What?"
"You jack off?"
It seemed reasonable now to take the bull by the horns or the boy by the prick. He frowned and looked down at the floor. I could see his cheeks flush a little and I began to worry that I was pushing it again. I decided not to press the point. But I waited anyway, ready to change the subject quickly. After a long pause, he finally looked up at me.
"You?"
"Me? Jack off? A helluva lot, sorry to say," I admitted, with a grimace.
Paul's face lit up into a broad smile and he laughed.
"What's with the sorry, you chump! You ain't sorry."
I laughed then, too, and shrugged my shoulders in reluctant admittance that he was right.
"So? You?" I questioned him again.
"Yeah. It's cool."
I nodded and from my place at his feet I gazed directly at his cock, the patch of trimmed hair above it.
"Like the pubes, Paul. It's nifty. Sexy. You know "
"Thanks."
Paul laid his hand over his penis, curled his fingers under his balls and cupped them gently before he continued.
"I overheard a mate of my brother say that if you shaved down there the hair would grow back in thicker and faster. I just kinda trimmed it when it did. D'you like it? You don't think it's stupid?"
"No," I said quickly. "It's brilliant. I'm gonna do mine."
Paul grinned again.
"Your brother, has he done his ?" I probed.
"Shit, John, I don't know. What you take me for? Some kind of perv?"
"Well, I thought you must've seen, you being brothers an' all "
Paul shrugged his shoulders as he replied.
"I don't think I've seen my brother nude. I mean, you just don't do that."
He looked at me, his head a little to one side, and his hand squeezed on his boystuff.
"John," he went on, seriously, "I hadn't seen anybody else's cock, I mean not actually seen, till today. Till I saw yours."
I grinned at him and, leaning back, opened my legs wide.
"Enjoy, then!"
Laughing, he took his hand away from his groin and spread his legs. As we sat here eyeing each other's genitals we both began to swell again, blood pulsing in, hardening, thickening our members
"I'm getting another stiffie, pal," he said.
"Snap!"
The doorbell rang.
"Oh, damn." That was Paul.
"Fucking hell!" That was me.
Cautiously I went to the door leading into the hallway. From there I could see down to the glass panel on the front entrance.
"Shit," I called back to Paul. "It's Ben."
The bell rang again, longer, louder. There we were, buckass naked, trapped in the family room, with Ben peering through the glass panel like a ferret at the warren. Luckily I remembered that mum had a bag of old clothes behind the sofa. She was getting them ready to take down to a charity shop. I dived in, grabbed a pair of my old jeans.
"I'll get rid of him," I told Paul as I pulled them on over my ass.
"John! What about me. I mean I'm naked, crissakes! I mean, dammit, guys don't do this in other people's houses!"
"Keep out of sight. See if there's something else in the charity bag."
My immediate worry was that Ben would come round into the yard, see the bikes and start peering in through the windows. He's a nosy bastard.
"Hi, man. Didn't know you was back," I said as I opened the door.
Ben, hands thrust into his pockets, swaggered in.
"Got back last night, man. Wanna hang out? I'll fill you in on my hot vacation. All the action!"
He swivelled his hips, gave a bit of a thrust as he said this. He was part of the school crowd Paul and I hung out with. Me, I thought he was a bit of a laugh but I knew Paul was wary around him. Ben could be a bit well, uninhibited. No, that's mild. He was just plain crude, to be honest. Paul, on the other hand, was the kind of guy who'd use a cubicle if he needed a piss and he'd lock the door.
"Can't, man. Parent problem," I explained. "She's put me on domestics and she's got me on a warning."
Ben looked me up and down.
"Yellow carded and domestics," he drawled. "Heavy. So that'll be why you're half naked in the middle of the morning. Hey! You got some tart up there?"
"No such luck," I said, laughing, desperately stalling while I thought. "I'm just up, so I'm running real late with these chores."
Then inspiration struck.
"Wanna help me, man?"
This might sound risky but you don't know Ben as well as I do.
"Oh shit, no. No fucking chance. Couldn't be arsed with that crap, Jonno. Think I'll give that the body swerve if you don't mind."
"Bell me later, then?"
Ben nodded. He raised his hand to high five me and I reciprocated, stretching up. It was then that he started back and grinned at me.
"Whoa, man. If the window's open you might at least close the curtains."
He was looking directly at my fly. I hadn't zipped up and in stretching up the fly had really opened out. As I hadn't had time to slip on any underwear, the show was pretty graphic.
"Fuck."
I zipped up.
"You could give a guy an inferiority, man," he said as he turned to go. "Enough meat there to fill a fucking butcher's slab."
He was about to leave when suddenly he turned back.
"Hey, dude, you wanna fool around some?"
He started to unbutton his fly.
"Chores," I reminded him.
"Fuck that for a lark."
He buttoned up and was gone.
Paul was waiting behind the family room door. He'd crushed himself into an old pair of denims that were way too small for me and another size too small for him.
"Ben's off," I reassured. "And, by the way, you look hot in these. Really shows off your package, bud."
I leaned forwards, hand outstretched to cup his boy-bulge. He backed away from me, avoiding contact and holding up his hands.
"Whoa! Hands off."
But his smile seemed to say different words.
"These things are killing me ..." he said as he started to fiddle with the waistband.
"D'you want a hand, Paul?"
"Aye, that'll be right. I know where your hands are headed."
Nodding knowingly, he smiled again and gripped his boy-bulge.
"Am I right or am I right?"