Organization: NYC NET
THE FRIENDLY GAME PART 1
Please note: The Friendly Game Parts 1 & 2 constitute an erotic rendering that's been basically written with an adult male homosexual audience in mind. If you are under 18 years of age please do not download and be advised that per the law of the land you may not read or peruse this material. The dialogue herein contains strong language and is dialectically rough and real per my intention. Also contained within are verbally vivid descriptions of male to male sexual congress.
If you're of age but of the sort who's sensibilities are easily abraded I highly suggest you pass this up as well. Please note: No slight of any sort is intended with respect to any gender, race, or group through the manner of this story's unfolding.
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WARNING * WARNING * WARNING * WARNING The content of this work is essentially angled toward an adult male homosexual readership. If you're a person not yet past the age of eighteen please read no further and be advised that your reading or perusal of this material is expressly prohibited by law. A NOTE TO THE READER: Throughout this story the strong language within its dialogue and the dialect used by its characters are intentionally rough and real. Verbal depictions of sexual acts and alternate lifestyles are graphic. If you're of the sort that's easily offended or disturbed by literature of such nature read no further. Additionally, I've written nothing without reason with respect to the shaping of this piece, however no slights are intended toward any race, gender or group through the manner of this tales unfolding.
Ascending to street level at Broadway, the loud rumble of the departing subway train diluted the voices of the two young men following its rise. As well, it dulled the rasp of their heavy boots as they climbed the gritty concrete stairs leading them up out of the labyrinthlike Gehenna of the New York subway system. They surfaced into a January Saturday's dark, early hours at One Hundred-tenth Street.
"...Aw man, word up, I'm tellin you she wasn't nothin' no way. Fuck her," the darker of the handsome pair spat through a sneer. "When you can't lay a hand on a fuckin' dime you'll be stumblin' over a hundred dumb-assed females that's the spittin' image of that one."
Atop the last step, the other stomped on the unyielding concrete beneath his feet as he threw his head back, breaking out in hearty laughter. The rough edge of Mack's husky laugh ground into the cold, unglossed surface of the predawn scene around them. To anyone awake and listening behind the sparse scattering of lighted windows that surrounded the desolate intersection, the lean young man's laughter exposed affirmative evidence proving the contrary in regard to the belief of many, come the bleakness of winter. Life did indeed go on despite the bitter chill outside; life that was equally as warm and bright as the coppery cast of this comely young man's cinnamon colored skin.
"Countdown, what the hell did you think jumps off when dudes get greedy?" he asked once his amusement lessened at the farce fostering his equally handsome companion's irritation at the non-event an evening out had turned into. "Besides man, it's all bullshit anyway;" Mack said, trying to get Countdown to see the point. "You're only mad cause the woman caught you runnin' from flower to flower before you got your chance to cop a little spill of honey.
"If you hadn't been so busy playin' social butterfly with them other two broads, the girl never would have peeped your hole card and turned the corner on you -- it's just that simple."
Mack shrugged. "Anyway, fuck it CD it happens sometimes, man." He said this in more of a matter-of-fact manner than his friend, in search of sympathy, cared for. "It just happens sometimes," the good-looking young man repeated. "Shit bro', better luck next time."
A grudging acknowledgement of the truth lying within the practical wisdom his best friend amiably imparted was belied, as always, by Countdown's skeptical smirk. "Bullshit! You know damn well ..." -- the beginning and the end of an orphaned protest.
Ignoring him, Mack shoved up the left sleeve of his steel grey sheepskin jacket to eye his watch, then he took a look up and down the wide avenue. "Almost quarter after three and ain't shit happenin' here on Broadway. Yo, Countdown, we could head over to Sunny's on a Hundred-and-sixth before closin' time."
"Naw, forget it . It's too damn cold for bullshittin' in the street. Come on over to my crib."
Mack frowned as he lifted and angled the forearm bearing his wristwatch into Countdown's line of vision with a flourish. "Look at the time. It's late man! You know your moms don't play that. Miz Haskins will probably bust a cap on both our asses."
"Fool, go on! Ain't she been knowin' you since we was fourteen? That's seven years now man! She wouldn't say nothin'. Besides, she ain't around no way. Moms is still in Jersey at Aunt Verdell's."
"When's she comin' back?"
"Not til sometime Monday evenin' she said. Come on man, let's walk ..."
Once they were across Columbus Avenue, their route veered from the sidewalk. The two sturdily built, muscular young men left brief, short trails of frosted breath hanging in the air behind them as they sprinted a diagonal course across a span of snow patched ground, territorially part of a cluster of tall city project buildings. They kept on running until they'd reached the farthest.
Inside the empty lobby, Countdown slapped the elevator button on the epoxy painted cinder block wall with the flat of his gloved hand but no whining chorus came, forthwith, from the elevator's cables. Neither was the drone of its motor to be heard overhead in the shaft. In denial of the very obvious, the dark skinned young man pressed an ear hard against the cold steel face of the silent elevator shaft's graffiti covered door. "Aw shit, man, here we go again. Looks like we walk up," he groaned dejectedly. "Hell, let's go for it."
Mack and Countdown quickly broke into a trot up the tall building's dimly lit fire stairs. Racing from landing to landing, at last out of breath and their competition a stalemate they fell, laughing, against the door of Apartment 12-F ...
Half an hour later, while washing down cold leftovers of Mrs. Haskins' fried chicken and potato salad with a good amount of beer, the two friends passed the near last from the pack of cigarettes they'd shared through the night back and forth as they sat talking inside the tiny dining nook just off the kitchen. Countdown's onyx eyes were accented by a peculiar gleam when he suddenly altered the route of their conversation by asking, "Hey Mack-man, what do you say to a few hands of poker; feel like it?" "No, man; can't do it tonight," said Mack, shaking his head. "I ain't got no bucks."
"What you talkin' bout? Didn't you just get paid?"
"Yeah man, but I owed my landlady, Miz Cribbs. My rent's been backed up for the last two weeks. Payin' up to get her off my case damn near cleaned me out. Just about all my chump change got used up tonight hangin' with you. All I've got on me now is this week's carfare for the j - o - b." Mack had spelled out the word crisply, to emphasize the importance of the steady income he'd been benefiting from for the last six months. He added, "The only extra I got on me is a few bucks for the A&P." Putting quick rhythm atop the brief newly found rhyme, "A and P -- J-O-B," he chanted one time, ending the matter to the point by clearly stating, "I'm not about to fuck up my eatin' money on no damn cards, man."
"Shit! Mack, every time I see you you ain't got no money. How is it you always stay broke? I just don't understand it, man."
Somewhat irritated, Countdown tossed his head condescendingly. "Never mind, I'll play your poor ass anyway." An instant later, donning a kinder but clever face he made mention, "Poker don't necessarily have to be played for no bread, you know."
"What the hell we gonna play for then?"
Countdown gazed straight across the table at Mack. Knit-browed, his shining black eyes suddenly narrowed as though he was just about to take Mack, and Mack alone, into his confidence respecting some new and yet unpatented innovation. Sly and slow, the corners of his full mouth crept upward into a grin while his voice reshaped, suddenly soft and secretive though there was no one else in the room. "Man, I'm sayin' you don't always need to have the green stuff in your pocket to lay a worthwhile bet," he said as he reached across the table to give Mack's shoulder a gentle tap with his fist.
"Then damn it man, what the fuck are we supposed to bet with?" Mack asked, irked that Countdown was long overdue in getting to the point.
"Well, let's just say whoever wins takes all -- anything he decides he wants."
"Huh?"
"Chill bro'. Let me break it down for you. It goes just like I said," Countdown said slowly, attempting to lend apparent merit to his proposal through emphasis. "The loser does anything that the winner feels like makin' him do. It's that simple man."
Shrugging before Mack could interject the next question Countdown adopted as much feigned artlessness and innocence as he added, to aid clarification, "Yeah -- it's kind of off the wall -- like strip poker and stuff like that. Maybe the loser'll end up doin' some kind of special favor for the guy who wins -- or somethin' -- anything." Countdown's machiavellian mumble became almost unintelligible. "Could be a joke," he said in a soft noncommittal manner, "or could turn out to be somethin' real whack ... winner might even luck up on checkin' out the loser's action -- if he gets that kind of notion."
"Action? What kind of fuckin' action? CD, just what the hell is it you're talkin' bout?" Mack took another swig of his beer after this question and sat silent for moment.
Countdown said nothing more and prudently began making a useless inspection of the ceiling his mother had made the two of them paint the weekend before.
Moments passed. It took all of a full minute before Mack's body jerked upright in his chair. The tiny flecks of gold in his hazel irises almost seemed live sparks as his eyes all at once flew wide open. Shock, earth-shaking in type, knocked down the formerly pensive posture of his expression. "You mean ?"
Dark Countdown's white teeth flashed as the devilish grin Mack had come to know so well over the years of their friendship fanned wider to crown the nervous laugh he somehow could not suppress. "Well, yeah guess that's kind of what I was tryin' to get across."
Mack took an urgent suck of cold brew from the bottle clenched in his hand as Countdown's hint sunk further in. "Get the fuck outta here!" he roared across the table when his friends full intent registered. "You've got to be buggin' man! What the --"
"Like yo, you know how it be, home!" Countdown broke in. "Foolin' around with them silly-ass females up on Twenty-fifth Street went and set my whole bag of chestnuts to smokin' bro'. The broad-shouldered young black man leaned back in his chair and with a flourish, his hand fell betwixt his firm thighs. His fingers grazed the full lump in his crotch and he snatched them back, shaking them in the air as though their tips had just been scorched. Letting out a loud hoop just as suddenly, he blew air across his stubby fingers. "Man, my stuff's red hot," he said, with mock surprise though it was obvious that none of his play acting held any humor for his across the table. "Word up man, this is serious shit needin' to be taken care of. My meat's primed up for a whole lot more than just a fist pump tonight. It's time to tighten up right. You can understand how it goes bro' -- can't you?
"Besides, a stiff peter ain't got no conscience no way -- ain't got eyes either. Ain't no real snatch gonna be got tonight," Countdown said as he slowly reached down and teasingly dragged his fingers up and down the front of his pants, "but a fix-up with just about anything that could put a mean squeeze on my stuff a couple times tween now and mornin' sure would be the next best thing. You know what I sayin', man
a little bump and grind up against whatever hind parts might happen to be available could save my life I know."
Issuing his friend a sly wink, he leaned forward in his chair. "And ain't a thing for you to worry bout either Mack-man cause I'd go real easy on you." Countdown slapped his hand over his heart and pledged, "I promise," with a leering grin. "Why, I can tell you from the way I'm fired up right now, wouldn't take but a good minute for you to knock me off."
Long having abandoned the least appearance of taking Countdown's proposal seriously, Mack answered the outrageous challenge with braying laughter. The gold-eyed young man retaliated by taking a complete other tack. "You're fuckin' out of your mind, CD! Crazy I say! A poker game?" he questioned, all at once drawing himself up straight in his chair again with pretended shock. "No shit man?"
Immediately, Mack's hazel eyes leveled with Countdown's and found fire.
Even the coppery freckles on the handsome light-skinned young man's clean-shaven cinnamon colored cheeks glowed as he sprang to the offensive. Smirking with a mocking omniscience he dryly stated, "CD you're always bullshittin'. Look man, why don't you just come out with it and tell the thing like it is? Go on ahead and say you're feelin' a faggot itch and be done with it. I won't tell nobody bout it but damn man -- tell the truth."
Sardonically charitable, Mack continued. He leaned across the table to inform Countdown in a low voice, "I mean, word up now -- it ain't like me to go round doin' that kind of shit. But, since you're the dude -- partner -- if you put the question to me right I just might not see no harm in lettin' you take a lick or a slide or two on my joint ... Looks like you want to pretty bad."
Countdown was slouched and sitting round-shouldered in his chair, apparently stunned.
"But tell me this one thing CD; why you wanna give it up so easy? You mean to say you need to get dicked so bad you'd throw the door wide open for a guy by offerin' him a piece of cake like playin' poker with your lame ass? Damn man," Mack growled as his hard hand slapped his belt buckle. "Come on then, forget the game ... bend over. Turn that thing up, then turn it around this way. Let me lay a bone on it right now?"
"What you say?" Countdown snorted feistily as he stood. "Hold on now! Just you wait a goddamn minute. First -- last thing on my mind is you layin' anything on my ass other than your lips motherfucker. And next, what are you talkin' about? It's you who can't play no poker and never could. You're still nothin' but a school kid when it gets down to real card playin' -- chump," he said, dismissing Mack snottily with a toss of his head. "Ain't no way in hell for you to win if we're talkin' bout a serious game and you know it."
Equaling the arrogance being sent his way from the other side of the table, the usually easygoing Mack's nostrils flared as, caustic, he shot back, "I can't play, CD? Get the hell out of my face!" One by one, he reemphasized every bullet like syllable he aimed his best friend's way with a jab of his forefinger into the air between them. "It's you who don't know his damn ass from a hole in the ground comes time to sit at a card table -- faggot.
"Man -- man, swear to God," Mack went on, smugly twisting the knife, "I'd be the first one down on a deal as easy as this except we've been friends for too long. I know how sorry I'd have to end up feelin' for you when you lose but brother man, you've known me long enough to know -- word up -- Mack always collect on his bets. Mm, mm, mm," Mack grunted as he shook his head."
"Sure would hurt me to my natural born heart man to see your sorry self walkin' the block cryin' and complainin' bout your sore behind once I copped my ride." Tilting his chair back, Mack gravely shook his head as, "No man," he warned Countdown. "Think you better chill brother. Hold onto that sweet cherry you're sittin on a while longer cause once it's popped -- you can't get no more. Word, take a friend's advice; try playin' for fuckin' match sticks instead, punk, cause it's plain to see, sure as hell, you just don't know who it is you're messin' with."
"Suck my dick!" Countdown roared indignantly and slapped his hand down on the table. "You can't be talkin' about me. Motherfucker, you must be meanin' yourself! And I'll show you right now. Sucker, I'll play you not one -- not two -- not three -- but ten a good ten hands of Five Card Stud and you'll see you won't get nowhere near to even tyin' up the score."
Coughing and sputtering with laughter after sucking in another deep drag on the cigarette that Countdown shoved back his way despite all his blustering, Mack returned the taunt. "Man, face it; you're light stuff. I can take you over any time I want to, in no time at all. Word, I say. You hear me? Word! Maybe I didn't sign up for college but I know I can play some cards."
"Well come on then, pussy motherfucker!" shouted Countdown.
"Who you callin' pussy?" Mack exclaimed as he jumped up from the table, fists balled up.
"You heard me, man. Since you know you're supposed to be so good, put up -- or -- shut up. Winner gets it all includin' the tailend of the dumb-ass dude that goes under." Countdown's hand shot up to signal the halt of any possible further protest on Mack's part. "Nope! Don't say no more; just go get the cards."
"Okay CD, since you won't believe, I see now I'm just gonna have to show you." Mack took a drag on the cigarette, held in the smoke and then blasted it out through his flared nostrils just before he informed his friend with finality, "I ain't runnin' round here after shit. It's your house and your butthole -- you go get the cards."
"But listen up now, home," Mack advised just as Countdown was about to turn and go, "save us both some time. First thing you do, while you're in the back, is stop in the bathroom so you can grease up real good before the first deal. I don't see no reason why I should have to be wastin' time waitin' on you to slick up your cheeks when time comes for me to cop."
"Son of a bitch, get real." Countdown's bottom lip curled disdainfully as he said it. "By the way, put this junk on the table in the sink and get a couple more brews from the box." The broad-shouldered young black man paused to look back before he departed, emitting an indignant growl, "Grease up you said?," and then stomped off grumbling, "Like hell I will," the rest of the way down the hall to his bedroom.
Continuing to grumble loudly, Countdown made his way back to the table.
The commotion he stirred up as he roughly shoved aside any furniture that happened to be in his path was the percussive fanfare for his return. Once arrived, still in a huff, he held out the brand new deck of playing cards in his hand.
Mack wasted no time in letting it be known he was in no way impressed by the noisy display of would-be brawn and fury. "Home, you got me so scared, I'm just about to piss my pants." Glaring across the table, "Take this beer motherfucker and get to shufflin' the damn cards," he added curtly.
"Uh-uh, not me. You get the first deal chump," sneered Countdown to the contrary as he tossed the unopened box of cards Mack's way.
Mack easily snatched the packet of cards from midair with one hand and coolly replied, "Don't make me no never mind," indifferent to Countdown's pouting. "But ... uh ... say, tell me somethin' -- big guy;" he leaned forward, "did you do like I said? Got it nice and greasy for me?"
Countdown's jet black eyes narrowed to slits and he banged a fist on the table as he started to sputter out his objection. This bluster of outrage only served to send Mack into a fit of laughter. "That's all right," Countdown spit out, finally finding a voice, "we'll see who'd just better have his tail slick, fool!
Mack recovered himself a minute later but still couldn't help softly chuckling to himself while he shuffled the deck twice before dealing out the first hand of the game. "Five Card ... nothin' wild," he called and then added still laughing, "Later on, I don't want you claimin' I copped it the easy way homeboy."
Taking Mack quite by surprise, his longtime friend did not follow character and raise further protest as he'd expected he would. Instead, Countdown replied in a surprisingly calmer tone, "Well, well, my man don't misunderstand me, I appreciate your concern but you shouldn't worry yourself too much about it." Nastily biting out the words, he said, "Just give me one," as the forefinger of the hand he'd shoved directly in front of Mack's nose snapped upright like a soldier standing at attention to restate the mereness of the amount he'd requested. Grinning confidently, he snatched one card from the five in his hand and slapped it face down in the middle of the table. Unfazed, a flick of Mack's wrist sent another one whirling his way across the smooth white Formica.
"Dealer takes three," Mack said quietly as he placed three cards from his own hand atop the one that Countdown had lain at the table's center and then pulled an equal amount from the deck.
Countdown guffawed, "Yo bro', that was the max!" He held his sides laughing heartily. "Hell man, you can't have shit," he roared, taking the silence at the other side of the table to be a clear sign of Mack's defeat in this the first battle of their war.
"Hmph! Got somethin' for your ass right now. Take a real good look!" Card by card, Countdown laid down a pair of eights and three deuces. "Read em and weep; full house or four of a kind motherfucker. Call em anyway you want but beat em. Come on baby," he teased, instructing Mack in baby-talk to, "tell Big Daddy just how you want it -- standin' up or layin' -- " Mack swatted Countdowns hand when he made a boisterous attempt to reach across the table and tweak his cheek.
Other than bespeaking the great probability of wisdom's residence inside well-kept silence, the expression on Mack's face gave away very little. Countdown's bragging halted mid-sentence as Mack's hazel eyes set to their own smug but silent taunting. He quietly laid down one ... two ... three ... and then the last of the deck's four treys. "Well man ... is four of a kind, all naturals, good enough to keep me at the table and you off my ass?" Mack asked, mockingly innocent in tone and countenance.
Subdued by initial defeat for only a moment, Countdown rallied and then sullenly retorted, "Oh, go fuck yourself, it ain't but the first hand anyway." Throwing his hand in, "Well, what you waitin' on? Give me the fuckin' cards ... my deal."
Mack repeated his success at the table once more and then lost a hand but won the one immediately following. Countdown grew a bit more quiet and less cocky as the game moved on but ...
The table always turns at a card game and it did again, a little over an hour or so shy of dawn, and the apparent outcome, this time, wasn't in Mack's favor. His opponent won a hand and then another.
However, very next round, Luck's hand seemed to be rested on Mack's shoulder again. Countdown played on, despite the look of things, maintaining his usual bravado, though his nervousness was a slight bit too obvious to mask. All at once, Victory rudely snapped its finger in Mack's face and sassily sashayed round to the other side of the table. The illustrious history of his winning streak died during a fast fall from his own as well as Countdown's recollection in the minutes that followed. Strangely reoccupied, Mack lost again. Then came the pivotal game that would decide which of them was to win.
Countdown's turn to deal had come up again. "Hey homey, it's about time to catch up," he saccharinely advised Mack. "That sweet little ass end of yours is hangin' on this one dude."
Something was going on in Mack's mind. Lending himself to deep speculation, his hands trembled as he picked up the cards dealt to him one by one. A ten a jack then a queen a king an ace -- all in a row -- all the same suit, diamonds -- a royal flush. Not even a glimmer of elation appeared on his face as he pondered his next move in the game. "Give me three, man," he murmured as he pulled the three highest cards, the king, queen and ace, from his hand and placed them face down on the pile of those already played.
Mack first assured himself that the face he'd display to his opponent would tell nothing once he lifted his eyes from the cards fanned out in his hand. His visage was a stoic mask that had almost no detectable cracks. Absentmindedly, he reexamined the three cards that Countdown had just sailed his way a five of Hearts, a nine of Diamonds, the trey of Clubs. Nothing. There was no chance to back out by winning now. "A pair of queens," Countdown barked across from him, nearly disgusted and waiting with the expectation of hearing Mack call a winning hand. "Can't beat it," blank-faced Mack reported solemnly.
Countdown's cards flew into the air as he fell off his seat onto the carpeted floor howling hysterically. He was unable to speak for several minutes only able to point toward Mack and screech all the more with laughter.
For the next half hour Mack took an occasional pull on a cigarette and reticently bore his being the brunt of a barrage of bad jokes, taunts and "I told you so"s from his loud and boastful card partner.
Oddly, for all of his ensuing sarcastic harangue, the subject of the winner's "prize" and the time of its claiming were continually skirted though Countdown, boisterously sparring with Mack's ego, brandished his triumph at every possible angle of assault he could find. The issue had still been left unmentioned by the time he, at last, soberly took note of the hour, commenting that it wouldn't be all that long before sunrise ...
Together but cautiously silent within the tight dimensions of Countdown's tiny bedroom each surreptitiously glanced at the other as their forms were revealed while, piece by piece, they shucked the bulky accoutrements of winter.
Following the elementary rules of the street and each on his best behavior, the comely pair of suddenly self-conscious young friends contrived through laid back demeanor to keep a fence of foisted casuality standing. Each had begun looking to save his secrets by marking off an area of protective emotional distance between themselves inside the closeness of the cramped space they stood in.
Freed of their heavy shirts and sweaters, naked to the waist they began to peel down their jeans. Like most other young uptown men from the same school, each endeavored to keep the appearance of there being a proper ceiling of reserve maintained on his masculine scrutiny of the other's ways and body.
Neither tall, virile young man acknowledged his intent notice of the inordinate fullness at the front of the other's loose undershorts. "Best place to put your shit is on that chair, man," was all Countdown said, quietly offhanded, as he pointed toward a small wooden chair directly behind Mack.
Mack quickly tossed his things on top of some of his host's clothing, already draped over the chair's back. Grateful the anxiety he was experiencing had made itself an ally by throttling the thickening of his dick, well underway inside his shorts. He stood there sure he was somewhere within the aim of Countdown's eye and let his own awkwardly ramble the small room for several seconds. Still very uncomfortably conscious of himself standing there clad in just his undershorts, his arousal half complete but obvious, Mack hastily attempted to remove himself from his friend's examination. He drew back the upper corner of the covering on the bed too big for the room and laid down. Speedily, he burrowed sideways through the bedding to its far side without once turning his gaze toward Countdown again.
Countdown followed suit once he'd switched the bedroom light off and settled quietly on his back beside Mack for a brief time. He too searched for a better hold on the elements of casualness because Mack's nearness was evoking strong, undeniable stirrings inside him. Though surely not the gambler he'd boasted to his best friend, strange even to himself, Countdown truly felt no longer of a mind to attempt to conceal the erection he'd maintained since they'd come into the room.
A voluptuous aura, unseen but strongly felt, saddled the lower regions of his hard belly and tantalizingly rode it's anxious rise and fall. Hedonistic by its manner of power, magnetic by its manner of force temptingly nipped at all the sensory threads of his sexual parts. For the first time in the seven years they'd known each other he asked outright, "Mack-man, tell the truth; did you ever get down with a guy?"
A minute and then another elapsed before Mack muttered a cautious response to the question. "Shit, I don't know if it could really have been called gettin' down, man, but there was one time." He said no more.
Countdown gave his friend's ribcage a gentle nudge with his nearest elbow. "Well, what happened?"
Mack sighed. "Nothin' to speak of, man; just some funny shit that jumped off ...
"About two years ago, I was down at that playground on Sixth Avenue in the Village. Me and some guys I know had just finished up shootin' hoops. Reggie, somebody I used to hang with at Lincoln, asked me if I felt like comin' with him and these two other dudes to Washington Square Park. They wanted to look around and see if anything good was goin' on.
"Well I started to go along but the workout had got me hungry as a mother so I changed my mind and I told em, go head without me.' There's this old Puerto Rican guy down there -- you've seen him man -- he's always on the corner, sellin' hot dogs and stuff just beyond the fence so I went round his way.
"Like I said, man, I was h-u-n-gry," Mack, stretching out that last word before he went on. "I had my mind on nothin' but some eats. But, man, you know how sometimes you can feel somebody's eyes on you; how you can just tell that you're under the magnifyin' glass? Can't say exactly what it was but somethin' made me turn my head around, real, real slow, and sure enough, there was this white dude. He was standin' just a few feet back from the hot dog stand, against the fence, while I was waitin' my turn.
"Even though he was pretty cool with it he still kept on tryin' to check me out on the sly. You know, not all bad and bold like them loud-assed homos on the Deuce' but mannered and shy like. It didn't take me but a minute to figure out what the hell was goin' down. Still, I was feelin' curious man; wonderin' what he had to say."
"Old dude?"
"No man; about my age; wasn't bad lookin' either. Nice clothes ... no not bad lookin' at all -- for a guy. He had sky blue eyes and this freaky blond hair. It was almost as white as that shit you see on them models in TV commercials."
"Then what went down?"
"Just after I'd bought a couple franks off the guy with stand, I went and hung at the corner, a little ways from this guy scopin' me. Looked like he might have been scared or something, at first, cause it took him a little bit of time to make a move. Who knows but, finally, he walks over and asks me what time it is. Bein' that I'd already picked up on the bullshit and because the joker was wearin' a watch, it took almost all I could do to keep from bustin' out laughin'. But I kept cool and answered him anyway.
"Don't know why, but in few minutes or so we got a pretty good rap goin'. Said he was over here from Europe on a scholarship. Denmark, I think he said, or some place near there. Anyway, after we'd been talkin' a while, real friendly like, he asks if I feel like havin' a beer with him just before he got around to mentionin' that his crib happened to be right there in the neighborhood."
Mack's voice took on a vicarious kind of pride by way of association as he reviewed the scene, "Let me tell you man, that joint he had was somethin' else. It was over on University Place; next avenue down there east of Fifth. I never did forget it cause his place was really hooked up -- like mucho money hooked-up. It got me wonderin' where he came across the kind of bread for what his bills must have been cause, like I was sayin', Joe Blow couldn't have been no older than me then; nineteen or so.
"Anyway, after we got to his place, we kicked back in the living room, talkin' and bullshittin' in front of the TV for a while. Damn, CD, them foreigners can drink. Both of us put away three or four brews apiece in no time. Swear to God, I was needin' a boost. Chillin' was hard cause I started gettin' nervous bout what I knew had to be comin'.
"All of a sudden, he gets up from where he is and sits right down beside me on this long-ass leather sofa of his. At first he didn't say nothin', just moved in real close and started draggin' the palm of his hand up and down the inside of my leg. My dick jumped out a yard soon as he put his hand on me but I played like I didn't notice what was happenin'. I just kept my eyes on the TV; dead ahead, real cool like.
"A little bit later he looks down in my lap and then at me, like he's real surprised, and almost whisperin' he says, My friend, that's a pretty big piece of wood you're carryin' there. You can't be goin' around town with somethin' like that showin'. My goodness what would folk say?' " The bed's frame creaked as both Mack and Countdown started giggling. "Then he says, well, Yeah man, this looks like it's gonna be a real problem for you. Why not let me see if there's somethin' I can do about this?' "
"He stops what he's been doin' and looks at me for a minute like he couldn't tell if it was okay with me or not. So, I just looked at him and said, Go on man, it's your show.' The dude pulled my jeans open real slow and and then I raised up and let him draw my Levis and shit the rest of the way down. From there it was on man; it was on."
"Word, CD! He knew what the hell to do; no doubt about it. After he'd had my dick out for a while he stopped pullin' me off and leaned over and sucked the head inside his mouth kind of slow. Next thing, man, he starts lickin' on me like he's got a fuckin' lollipop squeezed in his hand and it was feelin' good. He kept it up for a while until all of a sudden, he jumps up and hurries around in front of me. He knelt down on the floor in between my knees and started runnin' his tongue up and down both sides of my joint. The dude wasn't all that big but he was a strong motherfucker. Before I knew it -- bam --he had my knees shoved up high and my balls piled up on his cheek while he started tongue jammin' way behind my nut sack, real low, lickin' me everywhere and I mean everywhere."
"Everywhere?" Countdown inquired with keen interest.
"Everywhere," Mack confirmed. "He had me sweatin' bullets. My ass danced all over that fancy leather couch of his.
"In no time I was so fired up that just one more dip in the well was all it would take for the dude to make me shoot my shot. When pretty boy moved back up on my johnson, wasn't a way in hell I could hold it back cause he locked his hand around my piece and started tongue whippin' the head all over again. Man, case closed. All that Scandinavian blond hair felt like silk in my fingers as I grabbed his head so I could throw some serious strokes up in that pretty face but the feelin' hit me strong. Two seconds later, my ass came up off the sofa and there I was standin' over him and moanin' like I'd just had my ass whipped -- bad. Damn, CD, my legs was shakin'. Keep on ... keep on,' that's all I could say. The little dude was swingin' on my thing and I was holding onto his head like a crazy man and spoutin' sauce like a motherfucker. Whole time I was lettin' my wad loose in his mouth, he just kept groanin' and lappin' at the head of my dick with that tongue -- maybe he got off too. I don't know. I only know that I'd never got off like that before, honest."
"Sounds like you really went for the it.
"Hey man, I ain't about to bullshit; I sure as hell did bug out on a good feelin'. Once that nut started comin' down on me man, seemed more like I was just a spectator at a magic act. You know, like way out in the audience but somehow still in the show. It came off like my energy and anything else, except that one part of me down there for the hook up, was absolutely unnecessary.
"The thing freaked me out in a way. Nobody had ever made me feel like I was bein' taken over like that before, CD. Shit all I had to do was just sit there; sit there and let him be the man in charge. Don't even know if it can really be described as comin'. It felt more like this guy, all on his own, just pulled that load out from deep in my gut; like he could have sucked it out of me and took it whether I wanted him to have it or not any time he wanted.
"But man, whatever it was that happened, everything in my mind fell down inside my head like bricks in a wall of an old buildin' hit by a wreckin' ball. All I remember was that what I was feelin' felt good; lips, all pink and wet clamped around the head of my dick, his head movin' in my hands and that I couldn't let go. I remember cause that blond hair of his felt soft as ...
"Shit, don't matter now no how," Mack said, pragmatically discarding the thought, "but the funny thing was that, right after right after I got my nut I mean, I started feelin' kind of weird and stupid about bein' there. It was like wakin' up after you'd gone out and got your head tore up. So, all of a sudden, I made up some shit about how I had to be uptown real quick and was out of there man. He gave me his phone number and everything but I never did go lookin' for him again."
"So what did you mean you can't call it really gettin' down?" Countdown asked.
"Because, other than the feelin', the deal was nothin' cause it meant nothin' to nobody involved. Hey man, what he did made my joint feel good -- real good -- but that's what it was all about; cold-blooded mechanics ... like tunin' up a car or somethin'. Not a damn thing else passed between us.
"We were just two guys who happened to be in the same place at the right time who didn't mind bein' used by each other. This European dude went lookin' for a dick to suck and found it; I felt like bustin' a nut and did. Other than that, it didn't mean shit to me, CD, and I'm damn sure it didn't to him. Main point is, it don't matter that I got down with a faggot. It would have turned out to be the same empty thing with a female if all I'd been out for was fuckin'."
"Aw Mack-man, why don't you lighten up; that's what's the same old thing," Countdown broke in with sudden weary exasperation at Mack's broaching of an issue that commonly constituted a large area of their many debates. "How come you've always got to start diggin' round in that philosophical shit. Forget it man! Why should everything somebody does have to mean somethin'?
"When you're hungry and you sit down at a table to eat, man, since when did a rib or a chicken leg have to mean somethin'? All it has to do is taste good. I say, ain't no need to be buggin' bro'! Do what the fuck you feel as long as you don't run up on no bad action behind it later on."
"Come on CD, that's half of it right there. You know damn well, if you go out for freak action like that more than once or twice somebody, somewhere will pick it off the wind and put the word out. Sooner of later, you'll wind up havin' to kick ass all on account of some mouthy son of a bitch. So, if you're gonna end up gettin' busted for somethin' that's gonna mess up your program in le communit, seems to me whatever you're doin' better mean somethin' real important in the first place. CD, forget the to be or not to be' shit -- What for' -- that's the big question.
"Believe me home," Mack said, going on with the lesson, "I never forgot that old dude up on Twenty-fifth Street that told me, When you go somewhere -- know why you're goin'. When you do somethin' -- know why you're doin' it and you'll never have a problem behind it.' "
"Yo Mack, you know there's been more than one dude around here that's dipped and dabbed in some homo action. It ain't like it's nothin' new," Countdown informed him with a shrug of annoyance.
"Yeah, but they kept it real quiet CD, real quiet. Who do you hear around here talkin' about it?" "Can't say your wrong about that." Countdown agreed. He paused to think for a moment. "It was just that one time, man?" he asked Mack with a searching tone.
"Yeah, just like I said. Even though, now and then some gay guy tries to make a play when I'm hangin' downtown, I always back off." Mack fell silent for a pensive moment as well and then turned his head Countdown's way to ask, "What about you CD?"
Grinning sheepishly in the room's near darkness, Countdown chuckled softly. "Look man, word up, we've been cut buddies too long for you not to know that if they've got anything out there that'll give a good feelin', CD's had his share of the shit.
"But yo man, when did we ever talk about it?" Mack reminded him.
"Never mind man ... just listen." Countdown took a deep breath. "It was that young faggot that lives up on sixteen. He was quiet bout his shit too but he'd been givin' me funny looks on the sly for a long ass time --"
Mack interrupted. "Who the hell is that?"
Countdown didn't reply immediately but groped for the plastic lighter he'd left on the floor beside the bed, found it and then searched an unemptied glass ashtray, picking a partially smoked cigarette out of it.
"You've seen him around here before" Countdown went on after he'd lit up and taken a couple of drags and passed it on to Mack. "His name is Richie." The name didn't appear to register with Mack. "You remember the light skinned kid -- not too tall, got a nice face. You have to have seen him, man, cause he always used to hang out front with Teddie Winston's mother and them? Think man, you know him. He's the kid whose mother threw that big party downstairs over in Eight-forty's community room, last year. Some big university out west accepted him. Everybody, includin' his mother knows what's goin' down but, like I was sayin', he's cool. He keeps his shit quiet. Least, I've never heard none of these nosy-assed folks around here in the projects badmouthin' him. Anyway, shut up and listen man ...
"He was comin' into the buildin' the same time as me late one night summer before last. My whole night, so far, had been pretty jacked-up.
Say, maybe just fifteen, twenty minutes before, I'd been chillin' at some girl's crib across the way. What was her name?" Countdown questioned himself. "Brenda, Linda, some shit like that.
"I'd been workin' on the woman like a champ, tryin' to get her to give up some of that thing she had. Took me some time too but I'd got her warmed up good and mamasita was just about ready to take me for a joyride when her moms walks in on us and closes down my whole fuckin' show -- in a hurry.
"Ain't no reason to say all that was said ... you got to know the story. I got put out of the girl's crib with a bone I swear I could have knocked down the buildin' with, man. Word up, far as I was concerned, when that little narrow-assed dude walked up on me down in the lobby downstairs and gave me a grin, it looked like the Red Cross comin' to my rescue.
"Like I said, I'd known all along he was wantin' me to put the thang' on him. So, real quick, I scoped out the lobby and then out in front. None of my boys was hangin' so I didn't see no harm in my takin' time for a little chat. Know what I mean?" "Next thing you know, man, one thing got to leadin' to the next and me and him wound up on the roof behind the air shaft. Never did ask where he was comin' from that night but brother man was wearin' a bad-ass lookin' black suit made out of some kind of light stuff. When I moved in on him, I got my nose full of that fancy men's cologne he had on too.
"At first, he kind of hung back when I grabbed me a good squeeze worth of butt and pulled him up against me. Maybe he was waitin' on some sweet talk. Must be used to that kind of stuff cause he's got a real good-lookin' face; the innocent kind that makes it real easy to get you started talkin' shit ...
"Anyway, my man wasn't foolin' nobody. From under his clothes I could feel his joint twitch, hard like a rock, against my leg. But, what can I say, my own shit was shoutin' out a word or two just as loud and if you mean to to cop on the QT around this fuckin' beehive -- whatever it is you want to get -- ain't never no time for bullshittin'. I wasn't ready for playin' man.
"Snap! Before homeboy had a chance to blink, I had that little tight tail of his turned my way and his suit jacket and shirt shoved up near his shoulder blades with one hand while I was snatchin' them high fashion pants down off of his cakes with the other.
"Gettin' in him was a little tough at first, but damn, a little extra spit did the trick right away on the next try. The inside of that young-assed joker's backside felt good as any pussy I've ever had. His backside was tight and small but real pretty. It was squeezin' on my johnson like crazy. I was pumpin' my boy's butt like a son of a bitch in two seconds flat.
"It was gettin' good to him too cause the little motherfucker braced himself against the wall up there with one hand and shoved the other one between his legs and started jackin' his shit off like no tomorrow man." Countdown giggled as he mimicked the swift pumping motions of hasty masturbation in the air above his belly with an empty fist. "He started whimperin' and pushing his butt back on my bone like he'd never get enough of me up in him. Then, all at once he froze up in my arms, shiverin' like he was out in the cold. I jerked him close up against me and looked over his shoulder from behind. He busted all over the tar at his feet and splashed the bricks on the wall up there in the moonlight.
"Seemed like I could feel every muscle inside his butt workin' while he shot off cause his ass tightened up on my dick even more.
It set me off too. I felt like I was fartin' gold dust when I busted-off up his ass.
"You left him up there and came home?" Mack asked.
"Hell no! Man, before I got back in the crib that night, I had to hop on that train and ride it two more times, up there at the top of the stairwell, before my shit finally would stay down.
"You know, I hear he was on the track team at Eastside. Must have been pretty good too, won a few trophies. Maybe runnin' track -- jumpin' hurdles and stuff -- is what made his tail so tight."
Trying not to appear overly curious, "You still seein' him?" Mack asked.
"No way." Countdown spat, contemptuous in his recall. "I messed around with the little dude once or twice more but, man, the deal started turnin' dangerous. It ended up with me finally cuttin' him loose cause he'd started actin' like he was in love with me and shit."
Countdown shrugged his wide shoulders seemingly writing the whole off as insignificant. "Ain't got no problem gettin' pussy no how man and gettin' with no questions is what counts. Besides, all it was anyway was just a fit of freakishness that came on me all of a sudden," he said adding with a conclusive tone, "I dealt with it."
"Regardless, I've got to admit you're right about what you said before.
Word up, if any of my boys around here had ever got the news, one of em would have tried to start up some shit and I probably would have had to throw down behind it."
Countdown gave a sudden grunt. "Damn, gotta piss man. Be back in a minute," he informed Mack in a soft voice. Throwing the sheets and blankets off himself, without lingering, he quickly padded off to the bathroom without turning on the light.
Examining himself in the bathroom mirror, Countdown absentmindedly surveyed the play of the muscle laying beneath his smooth, unflawed skin. His skin bore as rich a hue of brown as fine mahogany and took on a satiny glow under the miniature sun of the undiffused light that glared down from the white ceramic fixture high on the wall. Still waiting for his erection to diminish, Countdown slowly passed the spread fingers of his hand over the broad expanse of his dark chest. His thumb grazed a dark, sensitized nipple's crest in transit. Remaining paused to study his reflection he waited a few moments longer until the thick mass of his sex had sufficiently softened and, without hindrance, he was able to aim its head into the toilet bowl.
In the bedroom alone, Mack lay on his side staring blankly at the bare, matte white wall that the big bed was butted up against as a faint light began slowly growing behind the shade at the little room's only window. He was afraid to shut his eyes because he feared he might again think on the possibility of submission.
But, Mack did close his eyes in spite of his reluctance to look back at the warmest part of the prior summer
THE FRIENDLY GAME PART 2
My apologies to you. Having considered all things relative when I "saved" this story as "text" from the ClarisWorks application I generally use, it's about as much as my old Mac SE can bear, I assumed that it resultantly be converted to a form accessible to all. I've been informed otherwise an am reposting Parts One and Two of the Friendly Game on the advice of a most helpful someone out there whom I thank much. As always ....
Please note: The Friendly Game Parts 1 & 2 constitute an erotic rendering that's been basically written with an adult male homosexual audience in mind. If you are under 18 years of age please do not download and be advised that per the law of the land you may not read or peruse this material. The dialogue herein contains strong language and is dialectically rough and real per my intention. Also contained within are verbally vivid descriptions of male to male sexual congress.
If you're of age but of the sort who's sensibilities are easily abraded I highly suggest you pass this up as well. Please note: No slight of any sort is intended with respect to any gender, race, or group through the manner of this story's unfolding.
Thanks. Your comments will happily received by: Harry_Schultz@nycnet.com
WARNING * WARNING * WARNING * WARNING The content of this work is essentially angled toward an adult male homosexual readership. If youre a person not yet past the age of eighteen please read no further and be advised that your reading or perusal of this material is expressly prohibited by law. A NOTE TO THE READER: Throughout this story the strong language within its dialogue and the dialect used by its characters are intentionally rough and real. Verbal depictions of sexual acts and alternate lifestyles are graphic. If youre of the sort thats easily offended or disturbed by literature of such nature read no further. Additionally, Ive written nothing without reason with respect to the shaping of this piece, however no slights are intended toward any race, gender or group through the manner of this tales unfolding.
Thanks, Harry_Schultz@nycnet.com
THE FRIENDLY GAME - Chapter 2 of 2 by Harry Schultz - 1995
Near midday one feverishly hot Saturday, Mack and Countdown, both quite bored, had joined together with a group of other friends, and headed crosstown to Central Parks northern edge. The plan for the varied assemblage of young men that afternoon had been, despite the heat, to find a free court where they could play basketball. Unanimously, there was found more gutfelt worth in working up a sweat playing ball than sitting idly nested within the ring of project buildings for the remainder of the day on the worn wooden benches randomly scattered along the asphalt paths and plots of dry brown grass. However, this aim failed to pan out once the gathering of young men had reached their destination.
With the afternoon still quite young after happenstances failure to fulfill simple desires, the two separated themselves from the crowd theyd come with. Countdown had drawn Mack aside just before the motley aggregate had begun to disassemble, struck by the idea that they should leave the park and walk up to One hundred-sixteenth Street ... A girl named Clarice lived there hed informed Mack, saying no more as theyd started off. Feeling inside a pocket of his faded blue cut-off shorts, Look home, all Ive got is three bucks on me; you got another two? he asked quickly. With one of his usual sly winks he suggested they pool their funds and stop, somewhere along the way, for a six-pack of beer.
Mack faintly remembered Clarice as being a woman Countdown had made passing mention of on one or two occasions since the summers start. Though he and Countdown spent great hunks of their free time together, Mack had never met her in the flesh. Neither had he assumed her to be of essential importance in Countdowns realm of thought because his friends seldom mention of her had never bespoken any of her particular virtues but, instead, her offhandedly accommodating lack of them.
Theyd squeezed their way inside a crowded, musty bodega to pick up the beer just prior to their arrival at an old brownstones stoop. Outside the building, Countdown looked up and then handed the brown paper bag tucked under his arm to his companion.
Mack had quietly trailed after his friend and subsequently watched as Countdown picked bell number 5-H among the cluster of cracked and yellowed buttons on a panel above the rusty mailboxes inside the open vestibule. He followed him out onto the street again as, overhead, a window raised with rumble and a sharp pitched female voice loudly inquired, Who?
Cant you see its me girl? Countdown shouted upward using his hands to amplify his voice.
The plain round face of a young brown-skinned woman peered down onto One hundred-sixteenth Street from the same window. Recognizing him she shouted, Wait a minute, and then disappeared. This time without a face, the voice above alerted the pair down on the street to, Catch it, a second later. A set of keys inside a balled up piece of tissue landed loudly on the pavement at their feet.
Bout one of the fuckin laziest bitches I know, Countdown muttered disdainfully to Mack once theyd reentered the vestibule. He figured out the proper key and shoved open one of the double doors, mottled with peeling paint. He held the door and ushered Mack into the inner lobby then, stabbing a finger toward the beginning of a well worn marble stairway said, This way up.
Mack strode easily along in the wake of Countdowns exaggerated swagger toward the door at the fifth floor hallways far end. They saw a tiny flash of white light as they approached. A quick inspection of them had been made by someone on its opposite side which had caused the doors peephole to wink at them a moment before it began to swing open.
The face Mack had seen at the window came into view again; this time attached to a plump body dressed in a beige tank top and an abbreviated black skirt. The young woman half-grinned as Countdown raised an eyebrow and asked, Feel like some company today girl? Oh, he uttered, remembering and then nodding in Macks direction, this heres my boy Mack.
The woman, Clarice, guardedly greeted the stranger with a nod of her own and pulled the squeaky metal door open wider. Come on in. Mamas workin this weekend so Ive got the place all to myself.
There was a warm breeze of sorts moving about in the small living room theyd entered into which originated from an oscillating fan on the floor before the front windows. It stirred up the aroma of cooking food that emanated from a kitchen somewhere at the rear of the apartment.
The room was ordered and neat but appeared to have long been in need of fresh paint although the clean linoleum on the floor looked relatively new. Before an open corner window of the three at the front of the room, a worn, low armchair sat angled toward an old grey sofa. Situated in the middle of the room, it faced a wall covered with thumbtacked old photographs before which a color television had been left to rest on a flimsy, wheeled stand.
Clarice took a seat at one end of the long sofa and Countdown, following, hastily slid near her side. Instinctively, Mack took the armchair.
Hey home, break out them brewskys before the chills off of em! Countdown chided Mack good-naturedly. Youre havin some aint you girl? he inquired, turning his attention to Clarice.
You know I dont drink no beer CD.
Aw come on, Clarice. Shoot, one beer aint about to hurt you.
Could be youre right. She sighed then shrugged in agreement and looked in Macks direction saying, Go head, give me one then.
The loud rustling of the brown paper bag placed between his feet challenged the din from the television as Mack reached deep inside it and one by one extracted three cold cans from the foil faced cardboard holding them grouped together. He quickly sat a can beside the chair for himself and then rose, offering one of the beers he held out to Clarice and the other to Countdown.
Clarice offhandedly inquired of Countdown about his recent whereabouts and what hed been up to since last shed seen him and so friendly enough chatter began. The trio sat, for a time, with mostly Mack and Countdown making small talk across the room, drinking beer, and watching a daytime quiz show run its course on the television screen.
Eventually, the quiz show seemingly captured a greater share Clarices attention than her callers did. Her intent gaze hung on the screen in spite of the absentminded but bold, lengthening travel of Countdowns hand over her thigh and into the dark region beyond the hem of the short skirt she wore.
Countdown apparently gave no thought to the usual conventions regarding foreplay -- particularly privacy. In spite of Macks presence, he perfunctorily nuzzled her earlobe as his friend looked on and proceeded to feel for higher ground for play with his hand.
Oddly, Clarice made no effort to stop him nor did she try to return his attentions. Seemingly unresponsive, she sat near motionless and unmoved, although she let him continue to feel between her heavy thighs.
Over in the corner by a window, a soft, passing breeze came and briefly teased the back of Macks neck. The trailing finger of an unseen hand, it heightened his arousal when hed felt his own dick leap alive involuntarily in response to his seeing the outline of Countdowns begin to broaden and stretch itself out along an inside leg of the tight denim cutoffs he wore.
Mellowed out by the beer, Mack gripped the arms of the low chair and nested himself deeper down in its upholstering. He pushed his cap off his kinky red hair and tried his best to make no more than an offhanded street scholarly study the intricate flexes of the muscle in his dark-skinned friends thick forearm as his hand began to knead the flesh under Clarices skirt, well out of his range of view. Very private longing stepped up the bloom of fire below the copper freckles on Macks cinnamon cheeks.
Countdown whispered commands too faintly voiced to carry across the room to his best buddys ear but Mack noticed Clarices plump knees gradually separate more. A commercial came on but she kept her blank gaze aimed straight ahead the TV screen as Countdowns hand delved deeper. After a while, Mack heard his friend mumble into her neck, Come on girl, help me out do a little somethin for me.
Clarice did not turn her vacant eyes in Macks direction as Countdown slid away to allow her room to lift her feet from the floor and lie flat. Bolting upright from the sofa as Clarice began to settle herself, Countdown proceeded to hastily shove down his shorts and underwear once hed removed his Adidas. His dark rod sprung out straight before him and wasting no time to free his other ankle of his shorts, he gingerly scrambled onto the sofa and awkwardly straddled Clarice on his hands and knees. One hand, swift and anxious at its task reached downward and yanked the front of the short skirt as high onto her belly as it would go.
Mack was left suddenly but not surprisingly aware that, all along, the plump girl had worn nothing underneath the little black skirt. From where he sat, the view of the exposed slit between her open fat thighs was a clear field.
Countdown brought his strong, athletic frame slightly lower over the chubby form of the woman waiting under him, oddly dispassionate.
From behind -- removed to the corner where hed sat, Macks light eyes had burned bright ... half with envy, half with want as theyd drunk in the flexing musculature of his friends dark bared ass and legs. His fingers light grasp of his sex as it began to grow through his shorts was a reflex action while hed watched as Countdown centered the blunt head of his thick, cudgellike cock in the patch of sparse, tightly coiled black hairs sprouted along both banks of the vertical split at the base of their hostesss brown belly. Hand trembling, Mack took a deep drag on his cigarette and leaned forward a little to bear intent witness to the slow burial of Countdowns dick.
His own, equally hot and swollen hard, lay bound to his leg by the heavy cotton of his makeshift shorts. The prisoner in Macks lap, lunged against it bonds once, then twice when, across the room, momentum began taking hold of Countdowns full ass. Mack bit into his bottom lip to stifle a rut inspired grunt as the smooth brown orbs before his eyes, half-draped by Countdowns tee-shirt, methodically began rising and falling.
Mack guardedly allowed the straightened fingers of his right hand to congregate. Shuttling a course from its head to its base, they tantalizingly burnished the long mass of stiff, hidden man flesh lying against the inside of his muscular thigh.
Then something peculiar -- most peculiar --occurred. For sights other than the view of the apartments dingy ceiling, Clarices line of vision was blocked, especially in Macks direction, by Countdowns muscular neck and shoulder. Thus, she could have had no awareness that a slight turn of his head had allowed him to cast a backward gaze at Mack. A queer kind of free union began.
The two handsome young mens gazes instantly locked and held as Countdown caught and held a steady rhythm for thrusting his dick into the fat woman. With gusto he began a bizarre burlesque performance that seemed intended specifically for his audience of one Mack.
This one-man show would hold Mack spellbound from curtain rise. So much so, he took no notice of the ash falling to the floor now and then off the end of the lit cigarette hed left loosely dangling from his fingertips. He sat and wondered how long it would be safe to allow himself to keep looking but then discovered hed been stripped of all will to proprietously force his eyes from the scene on the couch.
However, his observation of what was going on hadn't seemed to bother Countdown at all. Hed grinned all the more mischievously at Mack and exaggeratedly set to wagging his deep brown butt before him. He gyrated it in the air each time his strong, supple back arched and lifted the full halves of it high in preparation for another plunge of the exposed ebon shaft of his dick.
Though that devils grin of his never left his face through this uncanny, mute taunt, Countdown abruptly turned his head away but let the show go on. Incredulous Mack had yet to fully comprehend his reasons.
Countdown had indeed looked away from his friend but not to peer down at Clarice. Images of fantasy unspoken danced only for his eye on the wall past the end of the sofa.
Mack sat in the near distance raptly watching the rippling play of the muscle on his best friends back beneath the tight tee-shirt as the serpentine motions of Countdowns sinewy body grew more earnest and intent in the pursuit to effect a rise to the most perfect pleasure. Yet, flashlike in the span of its occurrence, a matter of conscience momentarily severed the tan-hued young mans line of vision though hed fought it.
Mack somehow discovered himself considering what was to happen next once Countdown was off Clarice. He was worrisomely aware that he possessed not even an iota of consequential interest in the chubby woman who lay spread under his friend. He also was quite aware that he didnt want to be next in line to fuck her.
But, as suddenly as this troubling realization had darted into his mind, his consideration of it was again lost to the overpowering animal senses taking charge inside himself as well. Mack grew all the more hungry for the view of Countdowns ass as its thrashing roiled his senses. Tight-jawed, he sat stiff in his chair fighting the urge to make a tiger leap from his seat and rush to the couch to kneel beside his Countdown -- to beg him to come away with him then and there to someplace where just the two of them could be ...
Even if Mack had gathered the strength of will to follow through on this impulse, thered have been little time. All the signs that betoken a mans nearness to the brink of an intimate connections culmination became manifest within Countdown as Mack continued to watch him take his pleasure with Clarice with ravenous eyes. Knowing in the hearing, Mack easily discerned the urgent call for virile ease inside the rough pose of his friends rasping breaths and hard grunts.
Countdowns bodily expressions heightened as well. Mack sat gauging his closeness to the mark by the jerky dance and roll of the muscled orbs that composed the firm, tight span of his backside. The hem of his white tee shirt had ridden high above his waist and, fully displayed, his sable brown ass erratically bunched and then relaxed with increasing rapidity.
Macks eyes were trained on the sofa when Countdown jammed his cock into Clarices belly for the very last time. Upon the sight of his friends ass and legs tensing in those last desperate seconds before the act of sex gave him wings to fly free, it took all Mack could do to keep the deep breaths of air he took unobtrusively slow and steady.
The very next second, Countdowns sharp cry began welling up inside his ears. Still, Mack maintained a steadfast vigil from the chair though he believed it should be him there with Countdown, that it should be him holding him. One -- one second more and, at last, all of his handsome friends solid frame went stiff. Countdowns fingers dug into the plump girls bare shoulders but he lay on her motionless save for the shivers that coursed his hard, dark body as his seed shot deep into the fat girls belly.
A minute later ...
Countdown lay still and silent on top of Clarice for several moments, waiting for his racing breaths to subside. In a minute, hed found enough of a voice to whisper something to her that Mack couldnt determine until he looked his way with a sly, lazy smile.
Hey, look here man. Theres a whole lot of woman to handle, Countdown said throatily. Dont look like I can do the job all by myself. His voice acquired even more of a soft enticing rasp as he winked and said to his friend, You know what Im tellin you? Better come get some of this bro.
Countdown, meaning to make way, hastily rose to his knees and maneuvered himself from atop Clarice without much grace thinking Mack would come quickly to take his place.
From his seat perplexed Mack watched his friends long, dark flaccid sex, slick and shiny after its being thoroughly wet down by the flood of semen it had spouted, slip from between Clarices big thighs. Hed still made no move to rise when Countdown ambled toward him.
The two pairs of their eyes again met in a disconcerting search; hesitant Mack woefully looking upward to search his best friends face from the squat chair Countdown, naked from the waist down, stanced wide-legged over him and eyes also seeking to see the truth of the moment. Each young man, so consciously inquisitive as to the others true thoughts, might have pensively frozen as he posed silent questions to the other for too telling a halt had not Countdown, understanding the odd look of things, given a quick warning nod in Clarices direction. He then reissued his advisement soft and persuasively. Its okay Mack-man. Its waitin on you like it had your name on it
All you got to do is go get it.
Mack somehow sensed an underlying pleading for his compliance, without debate, in Countdowns voice and gaze. And, something did cause him to obey although he did not fully know why.
Hesitantly, Mack unfastened the chromed buckle of the dull tan leather belt at his waist and rose. Standing before Countdown, he set his jaw and briskly shoved his shorts and underwear off the rise of his ass. The abundance of his sex primed by Countdowns nearness sprang out erect, bobbing before his friends eyes. There was no doubt about his readiness to fuck, it was the specific party hed had in mind whod be left unmentioned. Although Mack didnt stand there lingering with him once hed kicked off his sneakers and stepped out of his cutoffs, he noticed in the process how slow Countdown was in making the move to put his own on again.
Clarice supine and to all appearance asleep on the sofa waited closed-eyed for Mack to take his turn to mount her. What she wanted of her next taker, reluctant and disinterested Mack, had no way of telling for she offered no sign of welcome or objection. Barometrically unreadable not only in a surface sense, the big-hipped girl perfunctorily remained flat on the couch, her arms at her sides and her short skirt still drawn up. The vagueness of expression spanning her round face gave no indication of her either harboring some unscratchable sexual itch or of her having discovered whatever strange contentment comes to one who indiscriminately gives. Neither did elation nor guilt at the manner of her use register in any degree on her face.
Looking down, nothing about the woman lying there excited Mack -- except for the sight of the slick residual of Countdowns sperm, by then smeared all about the meeting of her heavy thighs. The sight of it, his knowing from whom the smeared male essence had come held enough of a fetishistic lure to empower him to mount her. Mack knew he could only lie there with her because within her was some place where Countdown had been.
Mack swiftly scrambled astride her, not allowing himself to look directly at Clarice any longer than it took to find his position between her legs. That established and the shaft of his heavily veined dick steadied by a hands forked fingers, Mack hastily fitted the bright pink head just within the wet vestibule of the orifice between her legs. He let his lean, hard body descend to hers as he pulled his hand from between their bellies. Supporting himself on his elbows Mack speedily stretched his frame out over hers and, jamming his eyes shut, began to rock his slim but shapely ass up and down fast as he could go, fearing hed go soft if he didnt start moving inside her immediately.
His knowing that the loose, squishy feel of her insides could mainly be attributed to the earlier plentiful leavings of his cherished friend, proved to yield Mack a strange but powerful aphrodisiac. Forbidden thoughts it nurtured rocketed his sense of everything male high up into the surrounding time and carried him away, at least in mind, from the female flesh that he was using in surrogate.
Luxuriating in the private thrill of this weird ritual bathing of his swollen dick in Countdowns sticky essence, Mack gradually became generous with his thrusts. He began to plunge deep within the void of the woman he fucked, as if embarking on a probing search that could lead him to touch on the very substance of Countdowns soul somewhere below.
Mack eagerly crammed his mind with visions of Countdowns brown body, lithe and moving, in every sexy pose and attitude he could conjure as he kept dipping into the distasteful softness of Clarices slack belly.
This to ruse offset his disdain held him in good stead as far as keeping his dick at a stand was involved but he remained doubtful of becoming turned-on enough to come.
Thus, hed closed his hazel eyes and contemplated a hoax. She was still quite wet inside from Countdowns heavy load. All it should take, Mack thought, were a few more fast jabs of his dick into her as if he was beside himself with need. Then a little put-on of an urgent breath or two and a long extravagant groan would make the fraud complete. Judging from how much of Countdown was already welled up inside her, Mack figured she might not notice that he hadnt actually shoot if he could be quick about going through the motions.
However ...
For Mack, temptation continued to exact an especially magnetic pull on his gold-flecked eyes for sight of Countdown who was by then taking his turn at being the onlooker from the armchair. Yet, afraid that all would be lost, along with his erection, were he to turn and have his thoughts come falling out through his open gaze for Countdown to see and know at last, Mack resisted. Nonetheless, the urge for a look behind himself, into the corner of the room, increased. With little difficulty the path of Macks gaze was coaxed beyond his shoulder.
Mack emitted a small, uncontrollable gasp. A sudden strange electric sensation raced the length of his spine to the tight divide of his bouncing ass like a knife edge when his eyes engaged with Countdowns.
Countdowns visage identically personified all the lust Mack himself had been burned alive with every time hed priorly looked his way. Mack instantly surmised his friend was keeping as close a watch as he before. Too turned on by then to stay self-conscious, he did not turn his head away but gave his eyes permission to run free.
Of its own volition, like a fire gone out of control, a volatile sensual intoxication recklessly took mastery of the moment and set to plucking at a myriad of erogenic strings that put a fringe on the need lurking low in Macks tender groin. Every inch of his copper freckled cinnamon skin and all his sexual parts had become sensitized and alive.
Under Coiuntdowns eye, his body jerked against his will. Even the privately kept craving for probing touches that hed so often attempted to deny was roused and rampant high up in his backside.
The precursor of this flurry of the senses had been his gazes plummet from the remarkably incensing sight of Countdowns handsome, lascivious countenance to the wide-open fly of the tight shorts hed put on again.
Dark as midnight, Macks friends long-shafted black cock stood thick and upright, throbbing at the apex of his sprawled out legs. The blatant exhibition further stoked the heat source of the searing sensation already inside Macks gut and caused the last remnants of his inhibitions to be burned away.
In then out, in then out Mack moved atop Clarice, blatantly fantasizing all the while that it was Countdown lying beneath him taking his driving dick instead. He was sure, by then, that his thoughts must have been stripped as naked as his rolling ass but his stare dauntlessly held to its mark, Countdowns observant eyes, as he looked past his shoulder.
Again Countdown showed no sign of taking umbrage at Mack keen interest and sent a strange grin his way. It had appeared to Mack he might be preparing to lean forward and propose some kind of dare. Then, there in full view of his running buddy, finger by finger, Countdown slowly enfolded his upright cock with his right hand, putting a choke hold on its veined shaft. The darker young mans brow pensively lifted as Macks freckled ass reclaimed his attention. He intently watched its cinnamon brown hemispheres undulate the same as the ocean swells that sailors ride upon once set to sea.
Mack watched Countdown studying his ass as his tight fist traveled up and down his dick. The lanky young man might have blushed but the color on his cinnamon cheeks was already high from his excitement.
Eagle-eyed, Countdown sat in the distance visually probing down through the growth of kinky red hairs that lined the tight furrow cut into Macks backside. His coal black eyes gleamed at every new exposure of the puckered and red circle of entry centered between the halves of Macks ass.
Despite as wonderful and ignescent an affliction as the fever his friends lascivious actions provoked in him, Mack, yet lucid, would have given anything to know Countdowns mind as he sat in the chair masturbating spread-legged.
Before his oldest friend could deduce that answer, Countdowns gaze, hot like fire, shot past the rise of Macks ass and linked with his eyes again, ardent as a lovers kiss. The dark and comely street soldiers emotional armor altogether fell away and for the very first time he allowed Mack a small glimpse of a self hed never had the trust to truly share with him or any man before. His reason could only be read in the strange look of longing inside his eyes.
Countdowns full bottom lip quivered. All at once, the in-your-face defiance so ordinarily on display day to day waxed on his face to a sweet kind of boyish vulnerability and helplessness. In the mere instant that followed, the flurried ministrations of his dark fist plunging on the thick ebon stalk rooted in his open lap caused his straining body to jerk in his seat. It was as though hed just become a conduit for a high voltage electrical charge. Countdown turned his trembling lips inward and clamped them tight and held the last breath he snatched inside so as not to alert the girl lying under his friend of what was happening between them. Countdowns muscular legs quivered almost like a foals in its first attempt to stand when his tensed dark ass began to lift off the chair. In a silent unexplained demonstration of something hed not for a long time make known, he angled his long dick away from his body especially so Mack might see the first of the white flood of semen that came spilling out over its broad, flared head.
Both men still managing to hold their peace, Countdown and Mack silently watched his come roll off the knuckles of his trembling dark fist in warm, sticky, opalescent streams.
Madman and animal -- and all at once, Mack, taken over by the sight of Countdown spilling his nut, began fucking Clarice with a fury. Priorly, hed allowed himself to maintain no real notice of the plump girl until that moment nor really took any then except to grab at the sofas arm for support as his strong back arched and he hunkered over her to deepen the thrust of his cock. A loud slapping sound began to fill the room as he slammed his belly against silent Clarices over and over again
An escalating hiss commenced an escape through the previously mute womans clenched teeth. Mumbling something unintelligible, she drew up a knee and dug her heel into a sofa cushion hard. Gaining leverage, the portly girl pitched her lower belly up at Macks thrusting dick. Unable to see past him and removed and lost in her own world of dreams anyway, how could she have known that the man whose pile driving had just triggered the ending of her long and complacent wait for significant sensation was not following the same path? Mack was as good as a million miles away. He was caught up in an act of connection he found far more profound and tens times as sweet in nature than any hed ever have with a woman with the man just across the room.
No longer able to bolster facades of any kind before the pure, raw passion in his eyes, Mack stared into Countdowns unabashed and no longer mindful of judgement. He continued looking toward the lean, dark form in the chair as his hazel eyes went wide in the delirium of his own plunge into the swirling current of a river of physical paroxysm. It rose and rushed over him the next instant and his cock swollen to the extreme, at last, spit his semen in heated, forceful jets
Macks reverie ended ....
The toilet flushed down the hall and, an instant later, Mack heard the brisk slap of Countdowns bare feet on the tiled hallway floor grow louder as he neared. Hurrying, he wedged himself into the meeting point of the bed and wall and tried to make himself small.
Countdown slowly slipped beneath the covers again and he and Mack lay there, quiet for some time, until he himself brought tense silence to an end. He put the question to his friend. Come on Mack-man, what about it? he asked with a jittery, breaking whisper.
No answer at all came from the other side of the bed as Mack protectively snatched the covers high about himself.
Despite a rush of sudden anxiety over his seriousness being made obvious, Countdown persevered. Lets try it out. Aint nobody but us gonna know, he cajoled as he inched closer to Mack.
Next moment, under the covers from behind, Mack felt Countdowns warm fingers gently begin a journey along his side but did not pull away. Their path swerved toward a new trail along his spine and then, ever so lightly, traced the tight divide chiseled into the firm muscle of his backside.
Mack still did not push Countdowns hand away. Instead, he suspended his thoughts as Countdowns hand wedged in the crease of his ass. Macks manhood sprang alive in response and jutted out, hard, straining the limits of his boxer shorts as he still silently kept his to face the wall.
Although the hills of arousal hed climbed to were high enough to prove dizzying, Mack determinedly set his jaw and held himself perfectly still. Neither by word nor gesture did he offer allusions of his consent -- or -- denial.
Countdown was of an insatiably hungry breed of young man. Piece by piece, he habitually gulped down large chunks of life out of the heart of every day he lived. Much in that same manner, he consumed food, drink, and sensuality although, until that early dawn, the banquet had only offered very common fare.
Having grown up fatherless though not as well motherless, as his handsome bedmate, hed learned the greater part of what he believed to be manhood by rote in the rough cut world outside on the uptown Manhattan streets in which he and Mack had to exist.
Hed learned young to how to estimate heart and the weight of intent in face-offs with respect to either the politics of turf or sex. The street smart twenty-one year old had long been a skilled reader of the inherent inscriptions left on a given moment through small but telling actions and reactions as to whether man -- or -- woman was prepared to stand pat or yield and let him have his way.
This often quite skeptical young black man had yet to be shown convincing evidence of the worth in being of the kind who wait for votes of confidence before making a move. Thus, extremely nervous but extremely turned-on, he didnt pause for retrospect of his feelings as he might have had his thinking been otherwise. He followed the will of his want and forged ahead.
Every one of the handsome black urban hunters senses was whetted sharp by the ravenous urge emanating from his groin. With stealth he slid his body nearer the quarry trembling and at bay just across his bed.
All in one swift but deft maneuver, Countdown made the capture. He quickly pushed the flat of his hand into the back of Macks shorts, softly seizing a bare orb of his ass. The firm flesh immediately tensed in the grasp of his hand but Mack showed him no other indication of a readiness for flight. Countdown let his hand and fingers keep at its lazy fondling of the warm flesh in his hand for a good while.
After Mack still failed to shove his hand off his butt, the lack of resistance stoked Countdowns anticipation of a fuller meaning. His boldness amplified. Slowly his dark hand probed farther into the warm, tight cleft betwixt the downy, deep tan mounds and toyed with the short, wiry red hairs there until his fingers grazed the small pursed opening hed been searching to find. Employing persuasively gentle persistence, the straightened middle digit of Countdowns hand set to prodding the centermost point in the field of heat. It marauded until finally in surrender its plunder, the tiny, tensed ring of muscle all ablush was allowed to yield and accept the dry tip of his finger. He heard Mack choke back a whimper and felt his body jerk when his finger abruptly slipped an inch farther up into him.
Drawing his dry finger with care from the clutch of Macks rectum, Countdown agilely flipped onto his stomach and hung an arm over the beds edge, feeling about beneath it. He retrieved a plastic bottle half-full of mineral oil and placed it, upright, on the floor by the head of the bed. Rolling close to again, he eagerly murmured over Macks shoulder, Time to go for it, Mack-man. Come on, get this shit off, he said quite gently, demonstratively giving a loose leg of Macks undershorts a downward tug. The suns faint light was growing outside bit by bit behind the thin plastic shade hung before the small rooms only window as both Mack and Countdown wordlessly squirmed free of their shorts beneath the covers.
No need for us to be actin shy now too damn warm in here anyway, Countdown said as he abruptly sat upright and flung the covers toward the foot of the bed, off their bare bodies. His coal black eyes said as little as his once more stilled lips as he pored over every exposed inch of Mack body. Breathing slow but deep, Countdown wet his lips and let his inquisitive, dark eyes line of sight be dragged along in tow with his open hand across the wide span of Macks hard, hairless chest and then downward over the ridges etched in his flat belly.
Traveling on, Countdowns eyes and hand followed a thin trail of auburn hair, originating from just above his lean friends navel. It widened as it led into the dense fiery thicket of coiled coppery hair all around the root of Macks fully risen dick. He slowly took the pink capped staff, hard and warm, in his grasp and began eying it top to bottom, noting each twist and turn of the veins at its exterior. It twitched once in his fingers. Countdowns chest rose higher with each slow, deep intake of breath as his serious study of his friends cock continued. Then, without warning, Countdown abandoned his investigation and gently ordered Mack to, Roll over man give me a look at the rest. Hesitant with doubt, Mack slowly turned onto his belly
Countdown stretched himself out beside Mack and insinuated his cockhead against the warm side of a hip. Resting his stubbly dark cheek on the back of Macks smooth shoulder, he looked low; toward his friends rear. The dark-skinned young man watched the nervous play of its cinnamon brown halves had taken to beneath coaxing his darker hand and fingers. For just a while longer, apparently much enthralled, Countdown slowly massaged Macks asscheeks with widening circular sweeps of his palm and then halted. He quickly rolled away to retrieve the oil.
Countdown settled on his back. Squirming, he moved sideways and wedged his shoulder under Macks, as he caught several drops of the mineral oil in his cupped hand. He grunted softly at his own touch as he spread oil heavily over the broad head of his hardened dick. Seemingly starved for the pleasure before him, without ceremony he immediately rolled onto Macks back and proceeded to insinuate the crown of his sex into the tight crevice in Macks tail.
Macks entire frame stiffened beneath Countdown; part of the reason -- pain or the fear of it, part -- his not knowing whether fields of daisies or a legion of demons lay on the other side of surrender.
Come on man, go loose! Go loose! Countdown half-instructed, half-pleaded in a hoarse, excited goading whisper that felt like a hot wind blasting Macks ear. He insistently pried Macks lean legs farther apart with his knees.
Come on man! Im tryin to but the shit is hurtin me --, Mack plaintively groaned as Countdown forced his cock against the tiny opening that its wide head butted against.
Certainly equal both in size and strength, Mack could easily have thrown Countdown off himself and ended the matter then and there had he chosen. His calling a halt to what was going on in the little room would never have been viewed as some failure in the test of mans ability to endure. Who did he know that would have cast arrows of derision if hed decided to stop? Yet, instead, he clenched his teeth and held his spread, tightened form prone, flat and in place on the bed as Countdown persevered in the attempt to enter him.
All at once a gut-wrenching yowl from Mack ripped apart the hush inside the small apartment. Meaning to flee sudden, sharp pain, he endeavored a desperate scramble upward on the mattress, long legs and arms thrashing wildly like a swimmer in trouble over the sheets while carrying Countdowns full weight on his back.
Aint no use in you runnin man, Countdown panted most emphatically in Macks ear from behind. The deals just been done. Wherever you go -- Ive got to go. Were hooked up now bro. Unrelenting, Countdown pressed his dick harder into the firm mounds of muscle burning his hard belly for a better sample of the sensuous tightness and heat that began to sheath him.
Spiked on just part of Countdowns manhood, Mack gasped loudly as more rigid meat speared his ass. Oh shit CD! My ass is killin me. Oh shit!
Just hold on and trust me man. It aint gonna break, Countdown assured him. Itll all ease up in a little bit. Just chill ... chill.
And that did prove so after a little times passing. Mack ceased to whimper and flinch at Countdowns guarded thrusts.
See -- didnt I tell you it wouldnt last Mack-man? Countdown whispered, digging his stubble covered chin into Macks flushed cheek from behind as he lay on him. He wormed his strong deep brown arms between Macks chest and the mattress and then entwined his muscular legs with his. Starting to fuck Macks ass deep and slow as it continued to open itself to him, Countdown murmured in soft-sided desperation, Youve got to trust me Just got to you hear? even though somehow feeling the admission imprudent. Nonetheless, No matter if nobody else in the world ever does, he said, Ive got to know that you trust me. Thats square business Mack-man.
More accepting of Countdowns thick dick sliding within the stretched channel inside his ass, Mack at last lay calmer and more still within the web of Countdowns arms and legs and took note of each new thing he felt.
Countdown shivered with pleasure as all his sex traveled in and out of the oily grip and heat that lay deep in the split of Macks backside.
Damn! You give me a motherfuckin good feelin, Mack-man, Countdown swore out loud. The clear ring of the truth in his oath lay beneath the loud rasp of the words and phrases broken up by his gasps of pleasure. Its good, Countdown gasped again just before he stamped Macks long neck with a rough kiss.
The big bed which took up so much of the little rooms area, noisily creaked and swayed as Countdown began to ride Mack fast, hard and deep.
Crazed by the rising sensations that rapid jabs into Macks tight butt derived for him, the handsome dark youth was compelled to fuck his friends ass full gallop. He made no attempt to rein in his passion through an effort to slow the driving of his thick cock.
Thrill hungry, Countdown man lunged into the maddeningly tight chasm inside Macks backside that was beginning to seize up and impound his root. He grew increasingly desperate to sound the depths for a balm to soothe the burning in his groin. All at once a slave to his cock, again and again to meet its demand, Countdown slapped the low part of his flat belly all the harder against the seductively masculine light brown ass beneath him and reveled in every stroke.
Urgently, Countdowns hard hands roughly grabbed the sides of Macks hips and coaxed him to lift his ass and churn it against his heaving dark belly. As though a jockey spurring on his mount through the final lap of a hard run race, Come on with it baby -- do that thing for me -- its like I cant get enough, Countdown pleadingly growled. His full lips pressed into the kinky red curls at the back of Macks head. Come on! Throw that brown booty on me good; he feverishly babbled as Mack tried to respond to his need. Straight back at me yeah Mack-man ... the whole thing ... the whole goddamn thing ooh yeah wiggle it kill me with the motherfucker
The shaft of Countdowns manhood still prodded deep but its flared head chafed and nudged sensitive parts of Macks innerworkings as it slipped in and out of the shallows of his ass. Thus he too was moved into the pleasures of the moment. Incensed by fever replicate to Countdowns, agile bodied Mack braced himself on the bed. Uttering a sharp grunts, he repeatedly bucked his smooth down covered ass up at the scintillating scratchiness he felt from the nest of coarse jet black hair that grew thick around the root of Countdowns meat. Macks insides involuntarily convulsed around the dick, moving and pulsing deep in his ass. Not looking back, Mack screeched his unconditional surrender into the pillow. Take it CD! Go head man -- take it!
Countdown had no need of the invitation. His long dark dick caught in the sweet squeeze of Macks tail, he was already been overtaken by a driving urge that sent him rushing on toward a taste of ultimate sensation. Strong teak brown body hunched and sweating profusely over his work, he laid into the hairy furrow in Macks ass with determined breakneck haste. The girth of his cock enlarged along with this escalation of passion and stretched Macks slicked sphincter all the more. Black eyes aglitter, Countdown breathlessly stammered out the news, Im about to blow-off, Mack-man. Ooh baby, youre gonna make me come like a motherfucker -- I can feel it.
Panting Mack, willing to bear the full weight of Countdowns urgency spread his long legs wider to allow his taker all of his ass. Nevertheless, how he lay on the rocking bed and yearned for the connection theyd made not to be done yet. He wanted this moment of union to last a while longer before he was finally separated from Countdowns driving body ... and his virginity. Mack wanted it all to last ... maybe for a time too long to describe.
Moaning into the pillows, Mack churned his hard ass with each new reception of Countdowns meat which by then felt so hard it felt like unbending steel up inside himself.
Mack-man Its Its
Catlike, Countdowns back rigidly arched and he yanked Mack to himself with all his might. He whooped like a child overcome with sudden surprise at every blast of his come high up inside the warmth that caught hold of his spurting dick. The tremulous small globelike forms of his own comely dark ass-end shook and gleamed, satiny, in the brighter light of the new days sun rising beyond the window as he kept his cock jammed up cleft of Macks freckled ass.
Goddamn goddamn, Mack murmured into the pillows, incredulous at the feeling of the power potently pulsing inside him. Despite its close confines it virtually leapt inside Macks ass gut like a loose cannon each time it spat out another warm gob of Countdowns semen. Sensual fires raged so high in Mack, that moment, he believed his own seed might soon surge and spill onto the sheets, without so much as a touch of a hand to his stiff rod
... butnot long after...
Save for their barely perceptible breathing, the little room had become silent once more and the two young lovers lay sprawled atop the rumpled bed after the last of Countdowns seed was poured out. Together Countdown and Macks entwined bodies composed a light cinnamon and deep brown melange of naked limbs and male anatomy; all inert and at wholly peace.
Now and forever more past the line of friendship, they lay as theyd begun -- Countdown covering Mack while lazily nuzzling his face in his soft, woolly red hair. The two stayed that way until Macks body, of its own accord, relinquished its claim on Countdowns soft, slippery dick after holding it inside for some time. It left a thin, slick trail of oil and sperm across the back of Macks thigh as Countdown, feeling a particularly luxurious kind of contentment, at last rolled away onto his back. He adopted silence once he lay close beside him.
Though anxious and fearful inside for several moments once the link between their bodies had been broken, Mack lay still beside Countdown for a minute more but then abruptly righted himself in the bed. He flung the covers off himself and hastily lifted his legs. Using his strong arms to propel himself, he slid on his ass to the end of the bed. Keeping the suddenly melancholy and shamed countenance of his handsome freckled face turned away from Countdowns view, the tall youth nervously rose to his feet. Seconds later, his muscular frame stiffened. The warm, slippery residual mix of Countdowns semen and the mineral oil had begun to creep from between his asscheeks and down the back of a thigh. Mack did not know how to pass by Countdown and hide both the sight of opaline sperm slowly blazing a trail down the back of his leg and avoid his face too.
The deep flood of embarrassment and guilt that Mack already felt rushed higher about him. An ultimate taboo of the only society he knew he could be part of, the streets, had been broken. Another man had just fucked his ass. Worse yet, not by force but by his consent.
In excuse, their friendships appreciable size would make no difference in the opinion of others if they were found out. Nor, if allowed to come to light, would any or all of the love hed tried so long to keep hidden from Countdown be understood. He began to mourn his lost virginity.
Fuckin fool-ass faggot! he lambasted himself silently. Why didnt you just get in the wind man and got your ass out of here before this bullshit jumped off? In the mournful but fast stepping parade of his apprehensive meditations, Mack envisioned the ridicule hed face if it ever became known that hed lain down and willingly let Countdown fuck him.
Yet for better or worse, this was a day Mack had sensed would come for a long, long time. Sadly, now that it had arrived he couldnt handle it. Throwin that card game was enough of a stupid-assed thing to do, he went on in his silent tirade. What the hell did you stay for?
Why didnt you just go downtown and find some stranger? Now your shits fucked-up for good cause you went and let the nigger peep your hole card and didnt even make it hard for him man -- didnt even make it hard for him. CDs no fool. He knows damn sure you wanted to let him bust your butt probably knew it all along.
Where you goin man?
Blank-faced Mack, about to pass through the door of the tiny room, halted at Countdowns soft-voiced inquiry but did not look back. To the toilet, man, he replied flatly. Think I should be puttin' my shit on too, its about time to head home. He still did not turn about as bed sheets began rustling behind him.
Countdown sat up on the side of the bed and planted his feet wide apart. He crossed his arms then bent forward to rest his elbows atop his hard thighs and looked down past his limp dick, still shiny with oil, to his deep brown toes. Boyishly wiggling them on the cool, green tile, It aint goin down that way, he mumbled. No, not like that. His dark eyes lifted as Mack hesitantly turned to face him.
What?
In a braver voice Countdown repeated himself. I said ... it cant go down like that, Mack-man. No not that way. Come here, he summoned, vigorously beckoning toward himself Mack eagerly willing with his hands. Come on.
Countdowns gaze hung at Macks crotch for an instant before he again looked upward into Macks eyes. I know you man. I can tell already the shits got you buggin but how in hell could you forget youre my friend, Mack. Always were -- always will be. If I take from you then it means you can damn sure expect to take from me. Thats the way deals got to go down. Fucked-up as it is -- thats what makes it correct.
Leaning farther forward from his seat on the beds edge, Countdown extended a dark hand and slowly slid it up the inside Macks leg. The spread fingers of it gently dug into the firmness of Macks ass and its coaxing piloted the puzzled cinnamon shaded man, forward into the haven that lay between Countdowns opened thighs. Countdowns other hand trailed a drifting caress along the front of one of Macks hard thighs and, with tender care, gathered up the generous mass of the wrinkled sack that was swinging just behind his best friends rising manhood.
Mack, at first, stood with his arms at his side, ramrod straight, like a soldier in eager anticipation of his leaders next command. When Countdown lowered his head and quickly drew in as much of his hardened dick as could be pulled into his mouth, Mack sighed and fell at ease.
Mack fanned out his long fingers and capped his friends head as he began a slow drive into the warm, moist depths beyond Countdowns lips.
His hips lazily started to rock and sway, dancing to the music of desire.
Countdowns own cock found life again. Rapidly lifting and lengthening, it stretched out to chafe its head against the inside of Macks calf.
Tall young Mack bent his muscular body over his seated friend. He began pushing in earnest as the feeling of his ass being firmly nested in Countdowns cupped, strong hands grew more delicious to him.
Countdown, unmindful of the weight of Macks crowning hands, grew more venturesome and toyed with the sensitive area that ringed the tiny opening at the tip of his dick with erratic flicks of his tongue.
Yeah yeah, Mack gasped as he firmly hooked his strong fingers on top of Countdowns shoulders and arched backward, jabbing his cock urgently into his friends mouth. The tantalizing tongue lashing Macks cock had thus far been made to endure increased as Countdown stepped up the press of his flattened tongue against the underside of the cockhead inside his mouth.
Macks strong, lean legs trembled, thrust to thrust, as he kept on pumping his meat into the circle of Countdowns lips. The heavily musk scented hairy sack that bound his balls had ceased swinging to and fro in kinetic reaction to the frantic pitches of his pelvis. Macks nut sack had tightened to a spherical form, near solid in mass and fixed high inside the fork of his straining, muscle-etched thighs. It wouldnt be long before hed would be coming.
Chest heaving hard and fast, Mack sucked in hasty breaths of air through his flared nostrils, struggling to hold steady. All at once, his head fell back as high sensations grip wrested away every last scrap of control. Shit yeah, CD, do it to me! Go on and do it man! The command was ground out through his clenched, pearl white teeth. Im ready for it man! Dont make me wait on it, give me a nut now I want it from you right now!
Macks head fell back and he roared loud, like a young bull in rut as Countdowns finger unexpectedly slipped inside his ass and began to wag.
Grabbing Countdown by the back of head with both hands, he bent over him again. He jammed the high, dark forehead of his pleasure giver against the heaving wall of muscle on the face of his pale cinnamon belly. With one last lunge, he forced as much as could be accepted of himself into the sweet imprisonment of the lips clamped round his aching, distended dick.
A rush of sweet spasms going on in his groin bore the force to hoist Mack off his heels and onto his toes. The core of its power, lying deep inside him, caused the expulsion of the incredulous moan that carried that continually tumbled Countdowns name off Macks lips. Gone rigid an instant later, Macks lean form froze into an arced column, its every tensed muscle a telling inscription of the urgency he felt.
Trembling, Mack desperately hugged Countdowns head against himself.
Countdown himself was vicariously caught up in Macks frenzy as the cock in his mouth began to pulse. Countdown caught Mack close within a tight, protective circle by winding a dark, muscular arm about the top of his thighs, just below his shivering ass. His probing finger still played between the clenched orbs of Macks ass and beautiful dark man remained steadfast in his attendance so that his best friend might neither stumble nor fall. The handsome sable brown young man made no attempt to pull away or separate himself from Mack, hunkered over him, as the bronze-toned staff in his mouth heaved a succession of voluminous spurts of warm semen onto his cradling tongue.
Assured the orgasmic pulsations of the glans of Macks dick had at last passed, Countdown let it lay jammed between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. After but a moments hesitation, he swallowed, downing the warm liquid content in his mouth. This was his first taste of strange wine.
Fully spent and gone soft inside Countdowns mouth, another loud bull roar voiced Macks pleasure at his satisfaction. Then he winced as Countdown pulled his finger free. Mack smiled thoughtfully as his fingers gently pulled his flaccid dick free of the press of Countdowns lips; hed at last be able to speak of such things as true satisfaction with real authority. Mack bent to gently leave kiss on Countdowns forehead and then found his friends wet, glistening mouth.
Laughing softly, Mack and Countdown both tumbled backward onto the bed in a heap, suddenly tired. They slept together that way through the greater part of the day.
They rose and showered late that day and, once dressed, prepared to set out for a supermarket not very far down Broadway and find the makings of their dinner alone that night.
At the door, just as they were ready to exit the apartment, Countdown suddenly took a firm grip on the collar of Macks coat and roughly pulled him near. Come here man. Come here right now, he ordered in a whisper. Theres somethin I want to see before I leave out of here, he demanded as he snaked an arm around Macks neck and found his mouth as he pulled him his way.
Mm-mm! That sugar is sweet, Countdown groaned.
Countdown kissed his best friend full on the lips again and taking further initiative in response to Macks quick, pleasured grunt he pushed his tongue inside his mouth. They lingered at the door, just that way, for a good while until breathing hard they forced themselves apart. Soon all the stores would be closed.
The two beautiful young men held onto each other for an impetuous moment more, relishing their liking for all the virility and energized emotion they let run loose between themselves though neither appeared quite sure of what came next -- with respect to anything. It was Mack who asked, What are we gonna do with all this, CD? What the hell are we gonna do with it?
Suddenly very gentle and very tender in his way with Mack, Shh, lighten up Mack-man. Dont worry bout it, Countdown coaxed softly, placing a fingertip lightly to his friends lips. All it is anyway is just a fit of freakishness thats come on us all of a sudden, he said adding with a wise, conclusive tone, Well deal with it.