Pistol -- Chapter 1 -- THE KISS AND THE KICK.
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Now I always call him Pistol, even if his name is Frederick, a name I also use for him, of course for he's not only my boyfriend and my human dog after so many years, but also my best friend. We're both 61 now and still live together. We really hooked each other up after the fourteen lashes scene.
Frederick Neville didn't work then. He lived on his own and his parents had died but had left him really well off.
Coincidentally his birthday was the same day as mine. We were born the same year. It was in September 2nd. And it was that day in 1980 that we were gonna celebrate the fact that we came of age. Me, his friend Scot Russ was invited to this party to celebrate both birthdays and it would be in Frederick's house and we'd invited eight of our friends, six guys and two girls. I didn't have a regular job but had some part-times mostly as a waiter.
I had first gone out to run for a couple of hours when a strong downpour began. It didn't stop, but increased and it kept on raining and raining. What could I do? I should return to my house and have a shower, but it was now three kilometers away and I didn't want to get wet more. I was sweaty but the best I could do would be heading to Frederick's after all.
So I rang the bell and he welcomed me surprised that I was so early but I told him about the downpour and he told me he'd also been running and he needed a shower too, but it was early yet and he would have it soon, although that if it didn't stop raining, maybe our friends wouldn't come.
When he opened the door I heard Anarchy in the UK, by Sex Pistols and it was sounding in his old record player, something still usual at the time. It kept on sounding now as he invited me to drink something. There was whisky in a near table and I just poured a glass for me.
We liked punk rock and were punkies. Frederick had a long red mohawk with long spikes. My mohawk was a combination of red and white, with spikes too but no so long.
There we were drinking when we were hearing now Bodies, also by Sex Pistols.
After a while and intuiting nobody else would come, I sat on the couch with him and he started chatting, telling me something that had made him happy, I don't remember what now, and in that time, he changed the record in the record player and now it was The Clash. We started hearing London's burning.
It was many things, I guess, I still cannot explain it satisfactorily to myself, but it was a combination of many things. What with the whisky; by that time I was drinking my third glass, what with the fact that his shirt was half open and there I could see some of Frederick's chest and some of his hair, what with his scarce smell of sweat and what with the look in his eyes just then, really bright as he was telling me something that had made him happy this morning... all of this combined made me suddenly go crazy, but being Frederick so close, I just approached his lips and kissed him.
Surprisingly he seemed first glad at the kiss and responded with passion and thus we were for half a minute, but suddenly he withdrew my lips and shouted angrily.
-Asshole! What the fuck are you doing?
-I don't know why I've done it, Frederick.
-Asshole -he said again.
Asshole is an ugly seven letter word but uglier would be now that he seemed so infuriated that he started to slap me and soon was punching my chest.
I'm sure by now that Frederick Neville is a good guy and even then, he could be somewhat angry but of course would never have harmed me or desire to break our friendship, he was my best friend in the punky gang. So he would never harm me, but there he was: slapping and punching me. That's why I decided to kick his balls.
He writhed in pain but I noticed something more. Something was wetting his sweatpants, he was cumming.
-Oh, forgive me, Scot, I should never have beaten you.
-It's me that should apologize for having kissed you and also for having kicked your balls.
-It's our birthday. Let's sit again and maybe we can forget what's just happened -but surprisingly now it was him that kissed my lips-. I admit that I did like it when you kissed me. We can go on.
It was so hot to kiss Frederick that I wanted to go on and as he was asking me why I had kissed him and I couldn't give him a good answer, he started stroking my crotch and seeing I allowed him, he pulled down my zipper and started searching for my dick and began masturbating me!
-I want to make amends, Scot, and I like this, you're no asshole.
Asshole, an ugly seven letter word, but now it was in the negative, so as he had started jacking me off, I decided I should also masturbate him and it was curious that there was fire in our eyes, his and mine, for what we were doing, as if this way of pleasing each other was a manly way of being friends, and we also started to be glad that our other friends were not coming. The record went on with other songs by The Clash and our masturbation continued.
As we were happily jacking each other off, I was trying to tell him how it had been a combination of many things that had suddenly aroused me: his chest, his chest hair, his sweat, his happy eyes and even his attractive long mohawk, all that... and it had suddenly entered me the desire to kiss him. He smiled at me and told me: good, for I also enjoyed it and I also like having your dick in my fist, my friend. It's our birthday, Scot, so and since nobody else will come -by that time all our friends have phoned Frederick to tell him they were not coming and why- we can celebrate like this.
I nodded and returned the smile. This way of celebration was a better way to do it than just drinking and dancing with our punky friends. But eventually we had to cum and curiously both of us came in the other's hand and it did not disgust us.
-Perfect, Scot; I have certainly enjoyed but I still remember how a short while ago I got angry at you and called you asshole. I've never believed in punishment but right now, I'd really like you to punish me, even if the punishment you chose would be fucking me. Oh, please Scot, I wanna be again your best friend but first I need to be paid back for the stupid words I addressed you. So I beg you, please: punish me, come on, Scot, choose a way of punishing me.
Freedom can move your life and it can be seen even in the hardest conditions, together with love and friendship, happiness and beauty. Have a look at the life of eight beggars who live together at: https://luces-delatierra.blogspot.com/ or in English at: https://lightsoftheearth.blogspot.com/