At work, I found myself in the zone on the project, and managed to pull all aspects of the page together, and have it ready for my boss to review.
"Great job, Paul," he said, shaking my hand. "Glad you got to feeling better, got this done, and now you can have a long three-day weekend. What are your plans, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Going to do some camping with a friend," I replied, and thought that, `yes,' Jeff was a friend.
That night, I went to Jeff's place with my stuff, and we got his truck all packed. The only thing we would have to add in the morning was the cooler. He brought out a beer for each of us, clinked bottles with me, and said, "We're going to have a great time!" He was standing there, glistening with sweat. As usual, he was only wearing shorts and a pair of trainers.
I got a whiff of him, and the musky smell was heady. I wondered if I was going to be smelling that in the truck all the way to the cabin.
He put his hand on my shoulder, looked me in the face, shook me just a bit, and said, "Yeah, we are going to have a GREAT time!"
"Okay, gotta go grab a shower and get some sleep. You, too," he said. He turned and went into the house. I followed him, and, as we got to the steps to the house, he pushed his shorts down and walked out of them. "Too stinky to bring into the house. I got to start a load of wash, anyhow," he said over his shoulder, as he walked into the house.
I looked down at the sweat soaked crack of his ass and wondered what did THAT smell like? Inside, he took me to the front door, opened it, and said, "See you at 5 am." He clapped me on the shoulder. "Until then, amigo."
It kept running through my mind how nonchalantly he was about standing in his open doorway naked and talking to me.
Back at my house, I stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the shower. I spent sometime soaping up my dick and playing with it. It wasn't long before it was hard, and I was moving closer to that great moment when my body would feel amazing, and my mind would be momentarily blown, as I blew my load on the walls of the shower.
I dried and headed off to bed. I decided, purposely, this time, to sleep naked. I humped the sheets a couple of times, and was soon asleep.
4:45 am came awfully early, but I was up, brushed my teeth, dressed, and over at Jeff's by 5. He handed me a cup of steaming coffee. "Anything in it?" he asked. "Some cream, milk, or creamer, or whatever," I said, savoring the aroma of the coffee.
"Hmmm, wonder what `whatever' is," Jeff said, handing me a bottle of creamer.
"Huh?" I said, as I stirred in the creamer.
"Never mind, let's head on out!"
I asked about the cooler, after the first sip had kickstarted my brain. "Already loaded, but thanks for checking." He tousled my hair, as we headed out to the truck.
Once on the road, he put on some music from his iphone. "This is an eclectic mix, and you have to identify each song, and the person or persons performing it."
"What do I get, if I get the answer correct?" I asked.
"You get a truth or dare. You can ask me a question, that I must answer truthfully, or you can dare me to do something. If you get it wrong, then I do the same to you." He looked at me and smiled. "Are you game?"
I thought for a moment, and decided that I needed to be more outgoing and open, if I was going to break out of my shell. "Yes, I am game."
"Okay, let's start." He pushed `play' on his iPhone, and the music came through his truck speakers.
The first one was really easy; it was `Homeless,' by Ladysmith Black Mambazo. Jeff laughed and said, "Got it! So is it truth or dare?"
I thought about that. I couldn't think of a dare, so I went for a question. He had basically found out my answer to this, so I figured I could ask him. "So how old were you when you lost your virginity, and describe the circumstances?"
He laughed, "That was almost 2 questions, but I will answer it." He took a quick look at me with a grin. "I am assuming you mean with a girl." That made me wonder more about his sexuality.
"I was 14, and one of my brother's had his girlfriend over. They were joking with me about being a virgin. We were in our bedroom, and I was sitting on my bed, and my brother was sitting with his girlfriend on his bed. He was making out with her, feeling her up, and kissing her. She was squeezing his dick through his shorts." Jeff was just recounting the information without any embarrassment or blushing.
"She looks at me and says, 'Do you want to do something about that?' At first I didn't know what she was saying, but my brother said, 'Hey, dodo, she's asking if you want to have sex with her,' and I thought about that for a moment."
It hit me that his brother hadn't used 'fuck' in his statement. "I asked him, 'Are you going to watch?' and he laughed and said, 'Do you want me to?' and his girlfriend laughed."
Jeff had paused the playlist while he continued the story. "So he got up and left the room, and left me with her. She really was nice. She undressed, and then undressed me. She guided me through the process, and showed me what felt good for her, and what she could do to make it better for me."
I thought how amazing that would be, compared to the fumbling attempt I had had in a car. "And that's the story. Next song."
He started playing the next song. I knew that it was a song that I had heard, but I had to figure out where. It sounded like it might be from a Glee show, but that wasn't it. Then I got it, at least part of it. "It's from a Grey's Anatomy episode."
"Yeah, but who's singing, and what's the name of the song?"
I racked my brain. "It's the lesbian woman. The bone doctor. The one with the dark hair. She has that strange first name. It's like some kind of weird circus instrument. Her dad is cool with her lifestyle, but her mom isn't. What is her name?"
Jeff laughed, and said, "Calliope Torres?"
"That's it, and she's called Callie." I was excited. "And the song is, `I was Made for you!'"
"Wrong!" Jeff pounded on the steering wheel, and laughed. "That's the line that's repeated often in the song, but the name of the song is ... ," and he paused, then finished, "The Story!"
"Fuck!" I said, and he bellowed his laughter.
"Okay, so tell me about your experience with a woman. I mean, you told me you are a virgin, but you also mentioned you had had a bad experience. So what happened?"
I took a deep breath, and tried not to feel ashamed, as I related the story. I did it quickly and succinctly.
"That's a bummer," he said, and then added, "too bad it couldn't have been nicer." I wanted to say that I didn't want it to be nicer with a woman; I wanted to do it with a man.
So he started the next song. It was an easy one from the 50's. "That's too easy," I said. "`Poor Little Fool,' by Ricky Nelson."
"Damn. You're good!" he said, with a smile.
"Okay, so you have told me about having circle jerks with guys. And you have told me that your brother's taught you how to jerk off. So the question is, `how did you feel about that, and what else have you done?'"
He laughed again, "That IS two questions. So I'll answer the first one. You'll have to win another one to get the second answer!" He looked at me and smiled.
"Sex is sex. If it feels good, and doesn't hurt anyone, then it's great! I mean, it has to be consensual, meaning you both want to do it, and if you like how it feels, then go for it."
"Wow! Really?" I said, not believing what I was hearing.
"Yeah, isn't it that way for you?"
"No," I started to answer, and then switched to, "No, you will have to get one right to get an answer to that question."
He laughed, and pounded the steering wheel again. "You are catching on!"
So he started the next song. I knew the song, but wasn't sure who was singing it. "Bridge over Troubled Water," I said.
"Yep. Now who's singing it?"
I couldn't tell if it was the Clay Aikens version, or someone else singing. I went with the most obvious. "Clay Aikens."
"Wrong!" Glancing at me, he says, "Deja Vu!"
"Bullshit!" I said.
He picked up the iphone and showed me the screen, and, indeed, it did say that. "But you could have changed it!" I said defensively.
"That's true of everything on here, but I can assure you that I don't cheat! And I don't lie! I may not say everything I know, but I will not lie if you ask me a question." He was very serious.
I felt I had to respond. "I believe you." And I was confident that I did believe him.
"So, okay, the question is, what other sexual encounters have you had?"
It was my turn to laugh, and respond with a concise answer, "None."
His mouth dropped open, and he looked at me. "Seriously?"
I felt my ears heat up, but I answered by quoting him, "'I don't lie.' I will answer truthfully anything you ask me." I swallowed hard after that statement. Would I really?
"Wow," he said, and looked like he was deep in thought.
He started the next song, and I knew this one. "'How's the world treating you?' by James Taylor and Alison Kraus!'"
"Damn, thought sure that one would stump you!" He had a chuckle in his voice. "Okay, hit me."
Did I really want to ask this? I was dying to know the answer. But would it change how I thought about him or how he thought about me? I tried to swallow, but my mouth was so dry. "So what have you done with guys?"
He looked at me, and asked me seriously, "You really want the answer to that question?"
I thought a minute and said, "Yes, I think so." Why was he being so serious?
"Okay, you asked for it. I guess you could say that I've done everything." Then he got a mischievous look on his face.
"What do you mean by everything?" I asked. Did it really mean what I thought it meant?
He laughed. "You'll have to win another song!" Fuck! I thought. No wonder he had that mischievous look on his face.
He started the playlist again, and jumped to another song. "Mummers Dance," I said quickly. But I was stumped on who sang it. I thought I might as well take a stab. "Enya?"
"Is that a question or the answer?" he said, smiling. "Nope. Sounds like her, but it is Loreena Mckinnitt."
"Fuck!" I said. "Who the hell is that?"
He laughed again. He was enjoying this way too much. "The person singing `The Mummer's Dance!'"
"Asshole!" I said, laughing, and getting into the mood he seemed to be in.
"That's me! Now for a dare." He turned and looked at me. "I dare you to take off your t-shirt."
That was simple enough. So I pulled my t-shirt off over my head. I looked at him, and he was looking up and down my scrawny body. "Cute," he said.
"Yeah, right," I replied. Sheez, he was the one that was cute, more than cute.
"No, really, you're cute." He reached over and tweaked my left nipple.
"Ow! That hurt!" I said, but his touch had electrified me.
He started another song, and I knew it right away. "'Beautiful Day,' by Lee DeWyze - American Idol version!"
He laughed, and said, "Got it!"
"I dare you to take off your shirt!" I shot back.
He laughed. "That's way too easy." He pulled his shirt over his head, and worked his arms out. He tossed the shirt in the back seat. Damn, he was hot! I reached over and tweaked his nipple like he had done mine; but he just moaned and said, "Yeah, harder!"
I withdrew my hand. The electricity I had felt touching his body was causing my dick to stir. He turned and looked at me.
"So who originally did the song?"
"U2," I fired back. He smiled, and hit the next button on the playlist.
"House of stone and light," I said immediately, but couldn't remember the artist. I kept listening, hoping it would come to me. I didn't want him to have a turn. I wanted to get the answer to what everything meant.
By the time the song ended, he said, "Give up?"
"Yeah," I said dejectedly.
"Martin Page."
"Asshole!" I said, laughing in spite of myself.
"Take off your shoes and socks," he said, in a mischievous manner.
"No biggie," I said, and brought each foot up across the other knee, and removed the shoes and socks.
"Cute feet," he said.
"Weirdo!" I said.
"What? You never had a foot fetish?"
"Nope, you have to stump me on another song before I answer that one?"
He laughed, and started the next song.
"Not fair," I said, after it started. "This song has no words!" Of course, I knew the song from the opening notes. No mistaking this one.
"No, I just said you need to identify the song, and the artist or artists performing it." He looked at me, and said, "Too bad."
"Ha, ha! Gotcha! It's Yanni and the `North Shore of Matsushima!'"
"Wow, that's great! Didn't think you would get that one at all."
"Okay, lose the shoes," since he wasn't wearing socks.
He laughed, "Way too easy!" then tossed his sandals in the back seat. I took a moment to look at his feet. They were perfect, and the little blond hairs on the top of each toe was very masculine looking, and I figured, he was right; that was a gimme. I had wasted my win.
He touched the iPhone again, and it was a jazz song. I recognized the sax player as Najee, but had no idea what the name of the song was. I kept listening to see if there was a clue. By the end of the song I said, "Najee, but I don't know the song."
He laughed. "Gotcha! It is, `Come what may.'"
"Asshole!" I said, again.
"So how many times a day do you masturbate?" Fuck! I thought he was going to ask about the foot fetish thing!
My face did heat up this time. "Come on, every guy does it. So I am just curious; how often do you spank the monkey, choke the chicken, beat the meat, slap the salami, beat the bishop, butter the corn, or pull the weasel?" I couldn't help but laugh, after this long list of terms, some I had never heard before. Who says, 'butter the corn?' I wondered.
"Ah, about one or two times a day." I said, trying to just go with it, like he was.
"And, what is the most you have done it in one day?" he asked.
But I snapped back, "Stump me again!" He laughed, and hit the play button.
I smiled, "Ah, an oldie from your parents' generation," and then said, "Richie Havens, `Peace Train.'"
"More like my grandparents' generation; but good one!"
"So how often do you butter the corn?" I asked, feeling my dick straining against my shorts.
He laughed, and said, "At least once a day. I like it every night before I go to bed; it helps me sleep better."
I laughed, "Like the guy in `Due Date!'"
He laughed, and said, "That was one funny scene."
He hit the play button again. This one was tricky, but I had heard this version, and knew he was going to think I was going to blow it.
"`Knockin' on Heaven's Door,' by B ..., no, it's Warren Zevon!'" I said.
"Fuck! I thought sure you would say Bob Dylan. That's who everyone assumes it would be."
I thought about what I wanted this time. I wanted to ask the everything question, but looking at his body was driving me crazy. I started to say it, then had to clear my throat, so I could get it out. "Lose the shorts," I said, in a hoarse whisper.
He laughed, and said, "Another easy one!" He lifted his ass off the seat, took both hands off the wheel, and scooted his shorts down to his thighs. Then he worked them off one leg, and then the other.
He sat there naked, just a couple of feet away from me. Damn! He looked so fucking hot! His dick lay flaccid across his balls. His all-over tan looked so much the better now. And that thick pubic bush. Nice!
He obviously saw me looking, because he said, "Like what you see?"
I blushed a bit, but said, "Stump me on another song first." I moved my eyes away from his crotch, but kept wanting to stare, and memorize every inch of it. Why didn't he have any hair on his balls?
So he hit play, and I tried to focus on the song. After I listened for just a bit, I said, "`Spamalot! - You Won't Succeed on Broadway!' Do you shave your balls?" I couldn't believe I just blurted that out.
He laughed, and reached down and fondled his balls. "Yeah, I do." I was watching him roll his balls back and forth in the sack.
"Why?" I asked.
He laughed and said, "Song?" He hit play.
I didn't hesitate, "Cat Stevens, the `Theme from Harold and Maude!'"
"Wrong!" He laughed. "Yes, Cat Stevens, and yes, it was in the movie, but it is `Tea for the Tillerman!'" He looked at me, smiled, and said, "Lose the shorts."
Fuck! I thought, I have a boner and I can't do this. "What happens if I don't do the dare?" I asked.
"Let's see, I can put you out here and let you walk to the cabin, or home, as the case may be." I looked around and saw we were in the hills, with some oaks around, and fields of hay.
"Or we can quit playing the game, and you don't get to ask any more personal questions." I thought about that; there was so much I wanted to find out about Jeff, and the whole `everything' comment.
"Or, when we get to the cabin, I catch you unawares, and tie you up to the posts on the porch, and strip you bare!"
Fuck! My dick was throbbing at the thought of that. "But you said both people had to agree!" I pleaded.
He laughed so hard, tears came to his eyes. "That was for sex!"
He looked over at me, and then down to my lap. "Look, if it is because you have a stiffy, that's no big deal. I have seen stiffies before!"
I know I had to be as red as Angelina Jolie's lipstick! I thought, what the fuck! He was sitting there naked in the truck. So I unbuttoned my shorts, and managed to get them off, and keep my crotch covered with one hand.
"Move the hand," he said, smiling at me. Why I did, I don't know, but I moved my hand, and my obvious tent and wet spot were visible.
"Tightie whities; I should have known. I used to get hard any time I had to be naked, or nearly naked, around someone else." He looked at me, and laughed good naturedly, and added, "But then I turned 12."
I had to laugh at that one. He had gotten me good. It did feel cool, sitting in his truck in my underwear, with him naked, and driving down the road.
He reached over and tousled my hair, "Glad you took that the way it was meant. That doesn't look like any 12 year olds' boner, though." I blushed, and he turned back to watching the road.
He started the music again. I was looking at his crotch as the music started. He shaves his balls! I was so enthralled in staring, that I just said the answer in a monotone, like some kind of lobotomized idiot, "'Early Morning Rain,' Gordon Lightfoot."
Then I said, "Why do you shave your balls?"
He laughed, and took hold of them again, and rolled them around. "I like the way it feels. Haven't you ever shaved your crotch and balls?"
I raised my head from looking at his balls, and saw that he was looking at my crotch. I looked, and saw that my wet spot had grown. "Ah, sorry about that," I said, covering up again; "And, no, I never did."
"Uh uh, no covering up. Do you see me covering up mine? He laughed, and said, "And you answered the question without me having to stump you!" He hit the play button again, and I was still looking at his uncovered crotch. Were his balls breathing? Did they expand and contract?
Again, I knew the group, but wasn't sure of the name of the song. I was sure he was going to make me take off my underwear. Fuck!
"Hiroshima," I said.
"Right; now the name of the song." His hand went back to playing with his hairless balls.
"Uh, something Hawaiian?" He laughed.
"Have to do better than that."
"The Electric Hawaiian?" I said, guessing again.
"Close, but it is Hawaiian Electric. They used it as a theme song for the Hawaiian Electric company's commercials."
He paused, and said, "Which hand do you jerk off with?"
That took me by surprise. "Uh, with my left hand."
"But you are right handed, right?" he asked, with a bit of humor in his voice.
"Yeah, is that supposed to make a difference? Which hand do you use?"
"Ah, time for another song." He hit play.
"'The Closer I Get to You,' Beyonce. Which hand do you use?"
He laughed. "I switch off; left or right; it doesn't matter. But I use different grips with each hand."
My cock lurched. Fuck! I had seen that, at night, when he was jerking.
He hit play again. Fuck! I had no idea, and I desperately wanted to know more about his sex life. He was driving me crazy. I had to answer this!
I listened intently, even taking my eyes off his amazing crotch to concentrate, but nothing came.
"Nothing?" he asked, at the end of the song. I shook my head. "`Act Nice and Gentle,' by the Black Keys!"
"Who the fuck are they?" I said, in exasperation.
"Lose the underwear," he said, with a tone of great mirth!
"Jeff, please. I can't do that!" I was really scared. "You know I am hard!"
"Yeah, and it's not like you aren't seeing me totally naked over here!" he said, gesturing to his crotch.
"But you are not hard!" I said, pleading with my voice.
"Win a song, and maybe I can be," he said, with gentle humor in his voice.
"Shit!" I said, and, with trembling hands, put my thumbs into my waistband to push down my shorts.
I was just getting them down to my pubes when he said, "Hold up for a second; I need to get some gas." He was pulling off the road into a gas station. Shit! I was nearly naked!
He saw me frantically pulling up my briefs, and scrambling to find my shorts, and chuckled, "Don't bust a blood vessel. No one can see you."
He opened his door and, with shorts in one hand, stepped out, and then stepped into the shorts. I couldn't believe how cavalier he was about being naked in front of this gas station!
I got my shorts on over my boner, and found my t-shirt. I got out of the truck, pulling my t-shirt down, trying to cover my bulge.
Jeff looked at me and laughed. "Your shirt is inside out." He got the gas started, as I quickly turned my shirt inside out, without exposing my body very much. Then I remembered I had said I would pay for gas.
When I mentioned that, Jeff said, "It's okay; I'll just take it out in trade."
"Oh, Okay," having no idea what he meant.
"I have to take a leak, and I don't think they would approve if I did it out here."
I realized I had to go as well. I followed him around to the side of the building, and the mens' room. Inside there was a toilet, a urinal, and a sink, but no dividers. I said, "You go ahead. I'll wait out here."
He laughed. "You know I am not piss shy. You can use the urinal while I use the toilet."
I stepped inside, and the door closed. He moved over to the toilet, pulled his shorts down to his thighs, grabbed his dick, and started pissing.
I was still rock hard, and knew I couldn't go like this.
"Yeah, it's tough trying to pee through a stiff dick. So look; you can either jerk off to get it down, or you can give your balls a quick squeeze, and you'll be all set."
I kept looking straight ahead, and thought about what he said. I reached my hand into my fly, and grabbed my balls. I applied a little pressure, but nothing happened. "Give them a good, hard, quick squeeze; like someone kicking you in the nuts."
He was obviously watching me. He had finished pissing. I did as he said, and felt the pain and sickness run up to my stomach. I groaned, and he said, "Sounds like it worked."
Yeah, my dick had gone down for sure, but I couldn't pee with him standing there. "Ah, now you are piss shy. Let me flush the toilet, and, no matter what, just stand there until you start. It will happen."
He flushed the toilet, and shortly the sound of the water had the effect of relaxing me, and I started pissing. "Way to go, champ!" he said, as he washed his hands. He was now standing just a couple of feet away from me.
I finished, flipped my dick a couple of times, and moved to wash my hands. He stepped back, and let me, and then handed me some paper towels.
He topped off the tank when we got back; returned the gas cap, and closed the cover. Before getting into the truck, he kicked his sandals off, and threw them in the back. I hadn't even seen him get them out. Then he pushed down his shorts, tossed them in the back, and climbed into the truck. "Your turn now."
I looked at him. I got into the truck, pulled off my shirt, shucked my shorts, and looked at him before removing my briefs. Was he really going to make me do this?
"Yep, tightie whities, too!" He didn't start the truck, but just kept watching me. I figured, what the fuck, and pushed them down and off. I covered my crotch with my hand. I wasn't hard any more, but I wasn't exactly soft either.
"Nope, no covering up," he said. I moved my hand away. He stared at my crotch a bit, smiled, and said, "Cute!"
"Asshole!" I said. He laughed and started the truck. Once back on the road, he started up the playlist again.
He was really going for eclectic now, but I knew it. "Benny Goodman, `Stompin' at the Savoy!'"
"Oh, you can get a song from the 40's, but not the Black Keys that is just over 10 years old!"
He looked over at me and smiled, "So what will it be; a question or a dare?" He was flipping his dick back and forth.
"Can you get it, ah, hard?" I said, in a whisper, staring at it.
He laughed and began to play with his dick. It grew and grew, until it was hard, and he was gently stroking it. My mouth was dry again, and I realized I was now rock hard, as well.
"Ready for another song?" he asked quizzically. I looked up at his face, and he was smiling that gentle smile of his; not one hint of malice or subterfuge.
"Sure," I said, looking down at his wonderfully hard dick.
He hit the play button, and it took me a full 30 seconds before I realized there was a song playing.
"Bobby Darin," I said, not knowing where that came from. I listened to the words and said, "'Reason to Believe.'"
He laughed, "I knew you could figure out the song, but didn't think you would know the singer. Damn, you're good." He paused, and said, "Cute, too!"
"Jeff, you keep saying that, like it's true or something. I know I am this scrawny, geeky, nerdy, kind of a guy, and you don't have to keep saying that." I thought, and then added, "I mean, you are so handsome, and you have such an amazing body!" Fuck, had I said too much?
He laughed, took his hand off of his dick, and tousled my hair again. I liked it when he did that, especially when I thought about where that hand had just been. "Look, Paul, I don't know where you got this lack of self confidence thing, but I think you are a cute, handsome dude; and not in some, `Oh, look at the geeky guy over there; isn't he cute?' kind of way."
That made me blush. So I jumped to a question, "What's the craziest place you have jerked off?"
He laughed, "Let's see, with my crazy brothers, there are probably lots of them." He thought for a moment. "Let's see; in a restaurant while my brother's were sitting around daring me to do it. I creamed all over the bottom of the table and my pants!" He laughed, remembering that.
"One time, at a friend's pool party, I got a little bit drunk, and jerked off for a bunch of people sitting around the hot tub. And, yeah, before you ask, it was guys and girls." My dick was twitching, and I was sure it was oozing precum.
"There was the time in the parking garage downtown, when my brothers dared me to stand outside the car naked, jerk off, and cum on the car next to ours; and the time we were all at a rest stop, and sitting around a picnic table. I had to pull out my dick and jerk off, because I had lost some bet or something. There were people walking around us, and I swear one guy was sitting in his car watching me."
"Yeah, but I guess the craziest was in church. We were sitting up in the choir loft in the back row, and my brother's dared me to strip from the waist down, and jerk off. One of them had to clamp a hand over my mouth, because I was just getting too turned on, and started to moan. I shot all over the back of the pew in front of me."
He had been stroking his cock during the story telling, and there was a pearl of precum just appearing at the piss slit. "Yeah, that had to be the craziest."
He looked at me and down at my crotch. He smiled, and said, "What's your craziest?"
"Mine are all pretty tame, compared to that. I once jerked off in my car while it was parked in a parking garage."
"Were you naked?" he asked, stroking his cock slowly.
"No!" I said, quickly, and then said, "I just had my fly open, and my dick out." I really couldn't believe I was telling him all these things.
We turned off on a bumpy road, and he said, "Got to keep both hands on the wheel now, as I drive this last stretch up to the cabin. It's about 30 minutes, and then we'll be there."
Thanks to all of you that have written with comments and suggestions. I know most of you talk about the tension, is it getting to you yet? e-mails are always welcome harryrod575@yahoo.com
have fun
harry