We Met in Kindergarten

This is a work of fiction/fantasy. Any resemblance to real people is accidental.

This is an original work. The author retains all rights.

This is an update on "Eddie," previously published on Nifty in Adult Friends. Part One is revised to be less brutal. And, Part Three is added. If you read Eddie, feel free to skip to Part Three.

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If you have questions or comments, please email me at jdhauthor67@gmail.com

We Met In Kindergarten

Part One

My mom walked me to my first day of kindergarten at Powell Gardens Elementary and introduced me to Mrs. Joyce, the teacher. Hair piled high on her head in a tight bun, Mrs. Joyce changed my life forever that very first day, at nap time. We were a crowded kindergarten, so we all had to have "nap buddies" with whom we shared a nap mat. My nap buddy was Eddie Estes, the youngest of the five Estes boys and the only kid in our class who did not actually live in Powell Gardens, a cinderblock multi-family compound looked down upon by the rest our town. The only people lower on the pole than "PGers" were the "river rats" (they lived on the river side of the train tracks in shacks on stilts) and the "frogs" (they lived in the north end of town, unaffectionately referred to as "frogtown"). Before "movin' on up" to Powell Gardens, we were the worst of the worst, "river rats" from "frogtown."

Eddie came from what people in our town called a "good family," which meant his parents were not divorced (mine were) and his family was not poor (we were). Eddie was also Mrs. Joyce's favorite kid, probably because he was clean, well-mannered, and adorably cute. Where I was a shaggy, white-haired waif, Eddie was a tight little 5 year old, brown hair cut tight above his ears and off his neck.

From opposite ends of the spectrum, Eddie has been my best friend since our first day sharing a nap mat. It was unlikely to turn out that way. After we spent the 1972-1973 school year together the way only 5-6 year old boys can, Eddie headed to St. Thomas's, the Catholic grade school for the south, wealthy end of town. I stayed at Powell Gardens. Not because I was not Catholic. I was. Everyone in our town was, at least as far as I knew. If you could afford to tithe, then you went to one of the Catholic grade schools. If you could not, then you went to one of the public schools. We could barely afford to live, much less tithe, so I stayed at Powell Gardens. At different schools, it was unlikely our friendship would endure.

Illness intervened. During second grade, I got the measles, the mumps, and the chicken pox all in the same year. Needless to say, I missed a lot of school. In fact, I missed so much school they refused to pass me to third grade, even though I was well-ahead of where a second-grader should be. The younger brother to a domineering older sister who liked to play teacher, I knew how to read even before I started kindergarten. So, while other kids were learning the alphabet through the Letter People, I was reading, doing simple math, and otherwise moving ahead. I was so far ahead that my first grade teacher, Mrs. Littlefield, suggested I skip from first to third grade. My mother refused

Because of my illnesses, the school that did not want me in the second grade in the first place was now insisting that I repeat it. My mother would have none of it. Bullheaded, she marched me down to St. Thomas's, told them my birth date, and asked if I could enroll in the third grade there. When they said yes, I was taken to Sister Susan's third grade class and put in a desk directly behind - you guessed it - Eddie Estes. By the time they found out we could not tithe, it was too late.

I had no idea at the time that I was gay. But, I knew that I had rediscovered Eddie. We beamed at each other. And, we picked up right where we had left off, the way children do so easily. Mostly, that was because Eddie was one of the most genuine humans I would ever meet. Raised well, he did not look down upon the "PGers" like most everyone else at St. Thomas's did.

As I grew up, Eddie was the brother I never had, and we were friendly rivals. While I was smartest boy in our class, Eddie was the most athletic. He was the pitcher on our baseball team, the striker on our soccer team, and the point guard on our basketball team. He was also the first person picked at recess, whether for kickball, dodge ball, or whatever we would spend those breaks playing. He was a star.

He was also the best looking kid in our class all the way through high school. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and an electric smile that made him sexy, and he knew it. He carried himself with the confidence that came with that knowledge. Our senior year, he was voted Best Looking and Best Personality. Me, Most Intelligent. I was not bad looking, but I was also not good looking. From a white haired waif, puberty turned me into a "dishwater blond" teenager. And, I was still little, easily the smallest boy in our class. While Eddie grew to 6 feet, I stopped growing at 5'6", a full half foot shorter. And, while Eddie developed his lean frame with the muscles of an athlete, I remained mostly shapeless.

By high school, I knew I was gay. While my friends fixated on the girls' developing breasts, I fixated on their developing chests, butts, legs, and, of course, crotches. But, gay was not something you could be in a backward town, much less at our conservative, conformist High School. I was so deep in the closet that I was friendly with whatever monsters hid there.

I also knew I was in love with Eddie. At least, once I figured out that love was the source of the euphoria I felt when I was around him and the heartache I felt when I was not.

But, nothing ever happened between us. I stole looks, especially when he changed in front of me. And, I stole touches whenever I could. Like when we were at the movies, and it was not too obvious for me to rest my arm against his on the arm rest. Or, when we were in the backseat of his parents' car, and it was not too obvious for me to rest my leg against his.

Eddie was definitely not gay. He never stole looks. And, he never stole touches.

And, I do not think he had any idea I was gay. After all, we both had girlfriends through middle school and most of high school, and we were sexually active with them when we did (although I suspect we were both exaggerating the depth and breadth of that activity; I know I was).

I crossed the line with him a couple of times. Once, when I was staying at his house and we were sharing his full bed, I licked his nipple. He was asleep on his back in boxers and without a shirt, and I was watching him breathe, unable to sleep or to take my eyes off him. We were 16, and Eddie had a small patch of hair in the middle of his sinewy chest and a "path to paradise" that disappeared into his boxers. He also had hairless, small nipples. That night, I could not stop staring at them. And, I could not stop myself from licking his right nipple. It was an overwhelming impulse. So, I did it. And, it was awesome, sending a little jolt through me all the way to my toes. Luckily, it did not wake him up.

Another time, we were playing putt putt golf in his basement, and he was standing right in front of the chair I was sitting in, getting ready to putt. He was wearing jeans, and they beautifully outlined his bubble butt. As he crouched over the putt, his ass was inches from my face. Unthinkingly, I leaned forward and licked the crack of his jeans. Startled, he asked me "what the hell was that?" Panicked, I could only choke out "keep your ass out of my face."

As I said, I never thought anything would happen with Eddie (with his mother, I was one of two people who continued to call him Eddie; upon starting high school, he became "Ed" to the rest of the world). Although, there was one occasion in high school where there seemed to be at least the hint of a possibility. It was New Year's Eve of our senior year, and Eddie and I had gotten a hotel room in St. Louis to further our plan of picking up two girls and sexing them to welcome in 1986 (we used sex as a verb and a noun).

Our plan failed, although not for a lack of trying. I suspect I cock-blocked Eddie, as he was far more talented at the pick-up than I was. He came across as the confident, sexy guy he was. I came across as the insecure runt I was.

After striking out, we drove to the hotel and tried to decide whether to stay in St. Louis or head back to our respective homes. As we sat in the hotel parking lot, Eddie said "we could go in and just sex each other." Stunned silent, I just sat there like a dumbass, wondering if I had just heard what I thought I heard. Then, Eddie put his car into drive and headed back home. I still have no idea if I missed a chance that night or not.

Graduation came and went, and we headed off to different colleges, Eddie to study engineering at the state University, and me to study history before heading to law school at Northwestern. Like most high school best friends, we saw each a lot during our early visits home, but our contact tapered off as our visits home did. Too soon, we were out of touch.

After law school, I moved west to clerk for a judge. Once the clerkship was over, I planned to spend 6 weeks backpacking from Rome to Lisbon, the last two of which I would spend going from Madrid to Lisbon with my girlfriend Caroline (unable to deal with being Catholic and gay, I was still pretending to be Catholic and straight).

When visiting home during the summer before the trip, I stopped by the Estes house. I had spent much of my childhood with the Esteses, and I considered myself part of their family. So, it was not unusual during a visit to home for me to stop by and at least say hello to David and Susan, Wardo's* mom and dad (*toward the end of high school, I felt increasingly silly using "Eddie," but I also did not want to use the "Ed" that everyone else did, so I started calling Eddie "Wardo" instead, using the last four letters of his formal "Edward" and adding an "o" to the end).

During that visit, I told David and Susan of my plans to backpack from Rome to Lisbon starting Labor Day Saturday. Susan responded, "You are not going to believe this, but Eddie is flying to Rome the Saturday of Labor Day weekend to backpack to Paris. How is that for a coincidence?"

I laughed. Wardo and I had not talked for about a year, but here the two nap buddies were - 20 years on from kindergarten - traveling by coincidence to Rome on the same flight.

Susan gave me Wardo's updated contact information, and I immediately reached out to him. In short order, we had plans to go from cheap hotel to cheap hotel in Rome, Florence, Venice, Cap d'Ai, Nice, and Paris. Our separate solo trips had turned into a Crosby/Hope road movie.

And, we had a blast, eating and drinking our way through Europe. We were constantly in motion. When possible, I stole looks. And touches.

The looks were not tough. We shared rooms the whole trip, and most of them were so low-end they did not have private bathrooms. So, we bathed together in locker room style showers. Wardo looked terrific in the shower. His brown hair was longer than usual, and he kept it tucked behind his ears, even in the shower. Backpacking, he stopped shaving, so he had a developing beard under his roman nose (I loved his Tom Cruise-y Roman nose). With long hair and stubble, he looked like a rock star.

His chest hair had thickened since high school, but was still concentrated mostly in the middle of his muscled chest. He was still lean. His path to paradise was framed by a perfect V and led to a thick bush of straight hair. His soft dick was pretty, thick, and hung against large, balls, framed by thick, soccer thighs. His bubble butt was almost hairless. And, he had great arm pits and feet. I had developed over time a fetish for both; Wardo's arm pits were thick with the same dark, straight hair as the rest of his body, and his feet were athletic and arched.

The touches were tougher. Every night, we were in separate twin beds, and all day we were on the go, walking miles and miles to avoid missing anything we were "supposed" to see. So, I had to be satisfied with an occasional clap on the shoulder or a grab of the arm.

That is, until the last night of our trip. That night, the hotel we chose in Paris put us in a room with a full bed, a fact we did not discover until we had paid for and checked into our room. We had shared his full bed during many sleepovers growing up, so it did not seem like a big deal to either of us.

After a great "end of trip" meal and two bottles of wine, we headed back to our room to sleep before Wardo's early morning flight home the next day. Once there, Wardo stripped to his boxers and climbed into bed. I did the same, although I left my undershirt on. I hate sleeping without a shirt on.

As always, I was on the left side, and Wardo was on the right. Just like we had slept when we napped in kindergarten and, after that, all those nights I stayed at his house.

Quickly, Wardo's breathing changed, signaling he was asleep. He was on his back, with his arms tucked behind his head. So, I could see his arm pits. Since our room was not air conditioned, the window was open. And, we were uncovered.

I was not in the mood to sleep. I was too keyed up, having Wardo shirtless - with armpits exposed - next to me.

Without touching him, I leaned over and sniffed his arm pit. It smelled the way a man is supposed to smell at the end of the day. Not stinky, but also not clean. Musky. A hint of odor. It was intoxicating.

I remembered licking his nipple all those years before. I thought about doing it again. But,I did not want to wake him and ruin my fun. So, I sniffed his arm pit some more. And stared at his chest, as it rose and fell with each breath.

Before long, I noticed that his boxers were tenting a little. He had a nocturnal hard on, pointed up and to the left.

I had seen Wardo soft, but never hard. He was definitely a grower. I wanted very much to know how long and thick his hard dick was. Leaning on my left elbow, I reached my right hand over. Trying not to touch him, I formed a backward C with my hand and tried to estimate his girth. He was thick. Definitely thicker than my wrist.

Using my thumb and pinky, I then tried to estimate his length. He was almost exactly as long as my handbreadth, which is just over 8 inches.

I was not careful enough. As I was "measuring" his length, my thumb touched the head of his dick through his boxers. I froze as his dick twitched. I could not tell if he was awake, and I did not dare lift my head to look at his face. Instead, I started slowly to pull my hand away. As I did, he grabbed my right wrist with his left hand. Dread and panic flooded through me. I was about to be held accountable.

To my surprise, Wardo did not yank my hand away. Instead, he pressed it to his hard dick and held it there. I gripped him through his boxers. He was rock hard.

I was still frozen. I was completely still, my right hand wrapped around my nap buddy's hard dick through his boxers.

Wardo then raised his hips, slipped his hands into the band of his boxers, and pushed them down to his knees. Raising his knees toward his face, he pulled them completely off, laid back flat, spread his legs, and tucked his arms back behind his head.

I lay there, dumbfounded and helpless. So, Wardo reached down, took my right wrist again, and moved my hand back to his dick.

As I gripped him again, he slowly moved my hand on his dick. I was high as a kite. I could not believe what was happening. I felt like I had just done a line.

When he let go of my wrist, I continued to jerk his pulsing dick. As his breathing slowly picked up, so did my pace.

I moved my head toward his arm pit and sniffed. Between his smell and the feel of his dick filling my hand, I almost came. As his breathing deepened and became more ragged, I gripped tighter and jerked him harder. Soon, he was bucking his hips in rhythm with my hand.

I leaned over and took his nipple into my mouth, licking and sucking as hard as I could. His moan told me he felt it this time. As I sucked his nipple and jerked his dick, I felt his body tense. He was getting close. I sucked and jerked harder. He exhaled loudly and moaned as cum moved through his dick and shot out in arcs on his chest and stomach. As I kept sucking and jerking, I came in my boxers without touching myself. Wardo stayed hard in my hand. I kept jerking, and he came a second time, which I had not thought before that moment was even possible. Spent once, this load ran down his dick onto my hand. He grabbed my right wrist with his left hand, which told me it was time to stop. I let go of his dick and abandoned his nipple, moving my right hand to my mouth so I could eat his cum. It tasted better than I dreamed it would, and I ate every drop I could. As I did, he used the sheet to clean his chest and stomach. This disappointed me, as I had hoped to lick the cum off him. Once cleaned, he tossed the sheet away and closed his eyes. Before long, he was back asleep, not having uttered a word.

I tried to sleep but could not. I had jerked my nap buddy's dick, devoured his nipple, and eaten his cum. I was flying as I relived it over and over in my mind.

I feel asleep at some point. When I awoke, the sun was streaming into our room, I was on my right side, Wardo was pressed up against my back, and his left hand was hooked under my chest. I had started lifting weights after high school, so he was holding onto more than loose skin.

His dick was hard and pressed against my ass. He was still naked, having neglected to replace his boxers after I jerked him the night before. I was still wearing my boxers, the front of which was now crusty from my spontaneous orgasm.

Without saying a word, Wardo pressed his body hard into mine, driving his dick into my covered ass cheeks as hard as he could. The force of the press moved me onto my stomach. He was quickly on my back. He raised up, grabbed my boxers by the band, and tugged them down to my knees. He then moved back up, pressing his hard dick into my bare crack. He was trying to fuck me. Actually, he was trying to dry fuck me. I had never been fucked before, so there was no way that was going to happen. No matter how much I wanted it.

He realized the same thing. He moved off me, grabbed something off the sink, and hopped back on the bed. He squirted something in my ass crack (I later found out it was hair conditioner) and then used his dick to smear it around. He started to push into me again. He was hard as a rock, so there was no give there. He should have loosened me with his fingers, but I do not think either of us knew that or, if he did, that he was willing to go that far.

I wanted so much to open up for him. But, it hurt like hell. He definitely did not have a "starter dick."

He was relentless, pushing harder and harder, trying to force his way in. I was certain he would not fit. As I took a deep breath, he pressed in, and I gave enough that the head of his dick slipped inside me. He pushed again, and I started to yield to him. My body was immediately covered in a cool, soft sweat. As he pushed more of himself in, I bit down hard on the pillow. I may have whimpered. I am too proud to say I did, and too honest to say I did not.

He was needy and not to be deterred. He pushed in deeper and deeper until I could feel his pubic hair against my ass. I was holding my breath. My ass was on fire, and it felt like his dick was in my chest.

When he pulled back, I finally exhaled. I had almost passed out from holding my breath too long. When he pushed all the way back in, I held my breath again. I was still biting the pillow, my ass was still on fire, and my chest seemed full again. But, I was also thrilled.

I had read enough to know that I was supposed to relax, but I had no idea how that was possible. It's was like trying to relax when you are about to get an injection.

Seemingly oblivious to what he was doing to me, Wardo quickened his pace and started slamming his dick into me. He was fucking me hard. I was helpless against him. Even if I had wanted him to stop, I could not have forced him to.

I did not want him to stop. I was uncomfortable, but this was Wardo.

The discomfort started to yield when it dawned on me that Wardo was making a dream come true. I had spilled most of my teen seed in my own hand imagining just what was happening at this moment, in this Parisian hotel room. But for the discomfort, it would have been difficult to convince me that I was not dreaming.

Wardo started breathing faster and louder. Then, he started panting in rhythm with his thrusts. As he continued to pound into me, a pleasurable sensation emerged. His dick was sliding against what I would later discover was my prostate. I relaxed, turning my head to the side.

Wardo had been raised up on his arms so that little of our bodies were touching. He slid his hands inside my undershirt, raising it up, and he then hooked his arms under my shoulders and lowered his head so his face was next to mine. His breath was in my face. He started to sweat. As he continued thrusting, he dripped sweat. Quickly, we were both soaked with it.

The moment was too much for me. His smell, his sweat, and the feeling of his dick driving into my ass overwhelmed me. I came again without touching myself, grunting as I did.

Wardo whispered "oh, God" as his body stiffened and he buried his load deep inside me. He pushed into me as far as he could and pulled my body against him as tightly as he could. We were both covered in sweat, my stomach was covered in my own cum, and my ass was full of his.

His breathing slowed, and he relaxed on top of me, still covering me with his sweat and his breath. Neither of us moved or spoke. His dick went limp, and he slipped out of me. Then, he moved off me and the bed, wrapped himself in a towel, and headed down the hall to the bathroom.

While he showered, I tried to decompress and figure out the last 8 hours. I was worried a friendship had come undone, yet I could not stop smiling. I was elated. Again, I felt like I had just done a line.

When Wardo got back to the room, I was still sprawled on the bed, my boxers still halfway down my legs. Without saying a word or even looking in my direction, he packed his backpack, and headed toward the door. "Great trip," he said as he left for the airport.

With him gone, I showered, packed my own backpack, and headed to the train station. I needed to get to Madrid in time to meet my girlfriend, Caroline.

Part Two

Until today - almost 21 years later - Wardo and I have never spoken of Paris. But, we have remained best friends.

Tomorrow is my wedding day. At 47, I am getting married on the coast of Maine. Wardo, my best friend of 42 years, will be my best man. His wife is coming in tomorrow for the ceremony. His three children are not.

My future husband and I agreed not to see each other for 24 hours before our wedding. So, Wardo and I are having a last "boy's night out" tonight. We are starting with dinner. The night out was Wardo's suggestion. It's on him, as his wedding gift to me. After dinner, we are going on a pub crawl, before spending the night in a two room suite at the wedding hotel.

Over scotch at our last pub stop, I finally raised the last night of our 21 year old trip. "Other than me, have you ever been with another guy?"

"No. Just you. Just that once. Just that night."

"Twice. Night and morning."

Wardo blushed and added quietly, "Right. Twice. Night and morning."

We sat quietly and sipped our scotch. I looked directly at him. He returned my look. It was as intimate as a look can be.

Wardo broke the silence, "I suspect you have been with others."

"Well, I am marrying a man tomorrow, dumbass."

"Right."

"But, that morning was the first time I did that."

"Really? I am not sure why, but that makes me happy. I think it's the only cherry I have ever taken."

"I was saving myself for you," I joked.

Wardo looked into me again.

To break the look, I said, "I'm kidding. I never expected that. I had fantasized about it since I was old enough to realize sex was a thing, but I never expected that fantasy to come true."

"Me, either. I did not even know you were gay. I felt your hand on my dick that night and something just came over me. When you finished, I expected to feel shitty and dirty. But, I did not. I felt happy, and I slept so soundly and so peacefully and so . . . joyfully. The next morning, I had no idea what I was doing. I woke up wrapped around you, and I just did what I felt like I should do. It just seemed like I was supposed to do what I did. It seemed natural. And, then I went back to my life, you went back to yours, and here we are. It's been 21 years, and we have pretended for 21 years it never happened."

"I never pretended. It was the best 8 hours of my life. I have reveled in it."

"I'm not gay."

"I know."

"But, I do love you."

"I love you, too. So, so much."

"Your friendship has meant the world to me. I think am closer to you than I am to my own brothers. I think am closer to you than I am to anyone but my wife and kids."

"Your friendship has meant the world to me. I took a lot of pride from the fact you were my best friend growing up. You were Eddie Estes, and you were my best friend. I had to be someone or something, or you would have had better sense."

The conversation ended. We drank another scotch and headed back to the hotel. It was past midnight. We were both drunk, and we both needed to get some sleep.

When we got back to our suite, Wardo went directly to his room without saying goodnight. I was surprised and disappointed until he returned in his boxers with a bottle of champagne. While Wardo had less hair on his head than when we were 25, he was still lean and muscled. He had always hated fat people, so he had obviously kept to a pretty strict regimen. If he had any body fat, it was not evident.

His body looked as it had 21 years before. He had a small mat of hair on his chest, small nipples, and a delicious path from his navel into his boxers.

"It's past midnight, let's celebrate your wedding day," he said as he popped the bottle of Veuve Clicquot.

"Let me change first," I said as I headed to my room. I stepped out of my jeans, pulled my sweater over my head, and pulled a pair of gym shorts on. I had transformed my body in the last 20 years (as many gay men do, I had spent a lot of time lifting weights and otherwise "honing the temple"), but I still did not like not having a shirt on. So, I kept my undershirt on.

When I returned to the common area, Wardo was sitting on the couch with a glass of champagne in one hand, while the other rested on his crotch. I picked my champagne flute up off the table and sat down next to him, pressing my leg to his as I used to do in the backseat of his parents' Buick. He did not pull away. Instead, he looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. It was the most natural thing when he leaned over and lowered his mouth to mine. I pushed my tongue into his moth. He pushed his tongue into mine, moving his hand to my face. We kissed longer than I had ever kissed anyone. It was the best kiss I have ever kissed. It robbed me of my breath.

When he finally pulled away, Wardo smiled at me. "I have wondered for 20 years what it would feel like to kiss you."

"Well?"

"It's definitely different than kissing a woman. Firmer. More powerful. Aggressive."

"Women are mushier."

"That they are."

We finished our champagne in silence, still leg to leg on the couch. The atmosphere was charged, fraught with possibility, at least for me. Neither of us spoke. Neither of us moved.

Wardo broke the silence.

"I have also wondered what it would be like for you to blow me." My dick twitched. I was pretty sure his statement meant he wanted me to satisfy that wonder.

I took the bait. "I have blown a few straight guys, and they all agreed getting blown by a guy was was way better than getting blown by a girl. They said most girls do not like giving blow jobs, so they do not try very hard to do it well. I like doing it. I try hard to do it well. And, I do."

"My wife hardly ever blows me. When she does, it's not very good. And, I have never come in her mouth. She says it's disgusting."

"It's not."

"You want to show me? I mean, it's your wedding day, so this may be your last chance to take a walk on the wild side before you are constrained by marriage. You do not want to cheat on your husband."

Wardo's logic was unsound. My man and I had been together 18 years. I did not want to cheat on him, married or not.

But, this was also Eddie, my nap buddy and the object of my affection for years and years, ever since I can remember. Although it was, it did not feel like cheating.

I did not answer his question with words. Instead, I leaned over and took hold of his dick. He immediately stood up, stepped out of his boxers, and stepped in front of me. Sitting, I took his dick into my mouth and his ass in my hands. I opened my throat and swallowed him until my nose was buried in his musky bush. As he inhaled sharply, his hands went to my head, and he started to fuck my mouth. As he sped up, his legs started to shake.

"Hold on a second. I think I need to sit down." He lowered himself to the floor, putting his hands behind his back as a brace. I kneeled in front of him and lowered myself to his throbbing dick.

As I used my left hand to extend my mouth and suck his dick, I moved my right hand to his balls and gripped them. Then, I moved it past his taint and toward his asshole.

His "don't do that" stopped me. I moved my right hand back to his balls as I accelerated my pace with my mouth and my left hand. He started to pant and buck back against my mouth. When I felt his balls start to clench, I backed off. I suspected this was the only time I was going to have his dick in my mouth, and I was going to savor it. I edged him.

When I thought it was safe, I started circling the head of his dick with my tongue. Then, I licked the shaft.

"I need to come."

I pulled my mouth off his dick. "You need to be patient."

I returned to my work. I worked his dick like I had never worked another. He was leaking a lot of precum, and I drank it all.

His dick twitched. His balls clenched. I felt bad for teasing him, so I started sucking his dick in earnest. My mouth and hand worked in perfect unison. He bucked his hips. When I felt his balls clench again, I removed my hand and swallowed the length of his dick. I felt the first blast of Wardo's load smash into the back of my throat. As I sucked him harder, Wardo shot over and over into my mouth. I swallowed it all and kept sucking until Wardo could not take it anymore and grabbed my head with both hands.

He flopped back flat on the floor. "Jesus Christ, that was unbelievable. I think that is the biggest orgasm I have ever had."

I sat up and looked into his face. "So, better than from your wife?"

"Not even close. Thank you."

"Thank you"

"For what? I am the one who just got a great blow job."

"For fulfilling another fantasy I have had since I first realized sex was a thing."

After a few more moments of staring into each other's faces, Wardo broke the silence by pulling me toward him, and planting his mouth on mine. I am sure he tasted himself on my tongue, as the kiss was just as deep and long as the one was had shared earlier. When we broke, he said "We better get to bed. You do not want to be exhausted for your wedding."

I got up and walked toward my room. To my surprise, Wardo followed and climbed into bed beside me. As always, he fell asleep on his back with his arms over his head. I fell asleep right next to him, just as I had in Mrs. Joyce's kindergarten class 42 years before. When I woke up, I was on my right side, and he was wrapped around me, clutching my chest, just like that morning in Paris 20 years before. I pulled his hand to my mouth and kissed it. He responded by kissing the back of my neck.

Part Three

The room was bright, the sun bouncing off the water and into it. I rolled over to face Wardo, my anxiety about what had happened the night before quelled by the kiss to the back of my neck. I said good morning and moved my lips to his, testing whether sobriety would influence his response. Wardo kissed me back, briefly. I moved my lips back to his, and pushed my tongue into his mouth. He pulled back a little, but then slowly opened his mouth to mine. As we kissed, I moved my hand to his ass and pulled his hard cock to mine. Releasing his ass, I grabbed them, his cock on top of mine, and started slowly stroking them together. Wardo broke the kiss.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking advantage of my last chance with you."

"I'm not sure about this."

"I am," I insisted, kissing him again. His response confirmed, at least to me, that his diffidence was feigned. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me. I stared back at him as I continued to work our cocks together. Our noses were touching, and our breath was mixed.

"I want you to fuck me again."

The stroking had had the desired effect, breaking down whatever resistance might otherwise have been. Once you start a straight guy toward an orgasm, it is hard for them to back down.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I didn't enjoy the last time as much as I could have."

Wardo tried to move me onto my back.

"Not like that . . . . like this," I said as I moved him onto his back and hovered over him, bringing our cocks together again. I braced myself with my arms and lowered my lips to Wardo's. I kissed him as deeply as I could. Our tongues danced. I hoped Wardo would resume the stroking I had started, but he did not. He still had never touched my dick.

I moved to his neck. I smelled his armpit. I sucked his nipple. I licked his chest and his side. I tongued his navel. I covered his dick with my mouth. I had intended only to soak his cock so I could sit on it, but the thrill of again having Wardo in my mouth was too much. I flicked at his head and then swallowed him until my face was in his sweaty bush. I slowly worked his cock with my throat. I could tell from the twitching that he was enjoying being deep throated. I worked him until he panted "I'm getting close." I did not want him to come yet, so I pulled off and moved my mouth to where his groin met his thigh. He adjusted his hips and spread his legs wider. I pressed the issue, pushing his legs up, exposing his taint to my tongue. Cognizant of his reluctance from the night before, I decided not to give him a choice. I pushed his legs up a little farther and moved my tongue quickly to his asshole.

He tensed. "Hold on."

I ignored him, pushing his legs up a little farther and licking as deeply as I could. He remained tense, so I pulled back and whispered, "Just relax and enjoy this."

"I'm not sure I want you to do that."

"You will be," I said as I resumed the rim job. After a bit, I suspected from the squirming that Wardo, in fact, wanted me to continue. The fact he grabbed his legs and pulled them to his chest confirmed my suspicion.

I loved eating ass, and I let him know it, both with my enthusiasm and my skill. I went at him as hard as I could. As he relaxed, I pushed my tongue into him. He moaned from his chest. I decided to go for the kill, bringing my hand to his hole and pressing a finger into him to the first knuckle. He was too far gone to stop me, so I pressed the rest of the way in as I moved my mouth back to his cock. As I swirled a finger in his ass, I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock again. As I felt his balls clench, I pushed a second finger into his ass. As I did, he bucked and filled my mouth with a load of thick cum. I eagerly swallowed it and then took him as deep into my gullet as I could. His dick twitched. As he filled my throat directly with cum, he let go of his legs, arched his back, threw his head back, and grunted. I worked my fingers in his ass as I continued to work every drop I could out of his twitching cock. I was not going to stop until he could not take any more. He finally signaled he was there by pulling me off him.

I looked up at him, my fingers still in his ass. Sweat was pooled on his stomach, his eyes were closed, and his eyebrows were arched. As I pulled my fingers out of his ass, he went limp. I licked sweat off his stomach and his chest. As he exhaled, I grabbed his legs under my arms and moved my cock to his ass. He opened his eyes, but he did not say anything. I stared into his eyes as I tried to enter him. When he opened his mouth, I pressed mine to his so he could not to tell me to "stop."

When I pulled my mouth off of his, I whispered, "Guide me in."

He touched my cock for the first time, using his right hand to direct me to his opening. I pressed my way in as slowly as I could. It took work, but I got all the way in and then held perfectly still. Wardo had winced a few times, but had not uttered a word of resistance. When I thought he was ready, I slowed pulled out. He moved his hands to my hips so he could control the rhythm. I let him dictate the pace as I slid back and forth. Overwhelmed by the turn of events, I was not going to last long. I lowered my mouth to his as I felt my orgasm build in my balls. I sucked Wardo's tongue hard into my mouth as I erupted in his ass. I almost passed out from the pleasure of the orgasm. I broke out into a crisp sweat as I dumped load after load into him. I kept sucking his tongue until I went limp, letting lose of his legs, slipping out of him, and collapsing onto his chest.

I was spent. But, Wardo had obviously enjoyed what had happened -- I could feel his hard cock against my stomach. I glanced at the clock as I collected myself. We had time.

I raised up, spit in my hand, and smeared as much of it as I could on his cock. Before he knew what I was doing, I moved over him and pressed myself down on his cock. I had been fucked a lot since Paris, so his entry was much easier and far more pleasurable. With one smooth glide, he was buried in me. I clenched his cock with my ass muscles as I rocked back and forth on it. I put my hands on his chest, both for leverage and because I loved the feel of his muscles.

Hard, I took my cock in my hand. Doing so, I lost some of my rhythm and leverage. To my surprise, Wardo said "let me do that" and took my cock in his hand. I put my hand back on his chest and matched my pace to his as he jacked me. We were staring into each other's eyes as our pace and breath quickened. We were in perfect rhythm, and I knew we were going to come together. It was not long before we did. I felt Wardo's dick expand in my ass as I shot an arc of cum over him and onto the headboard. Wardo grunted and raised his head as he came. His head off the pillow, he was now in the line of fire, and my second shot hit him in the face. He raised his head as he shot again, filling me with warmth. The rest of my load landed on his chest and stomach. He started to leak out of me as I again collapsed onto him. I was exhausted as I lay on him, mixing my sweat and cum, catching my breath. He clamped his arms around me and held me and we just laid there, soaking each other in.

He broke the spell. "I need to clean my face."

I raised up and looked at him. My second shot was clearing and running down his cheek. Instinctively, I lowered my face and licked it off of him. He grimaced and turned to the side as I did. I no longer knew where our line was, but his reaction suggested there still was one. I rolled off him and tried to gather myself. He caressed my side with the back of his hand.

"We need to get going," he said, looking at the clock. Indeed, we did. His wife was due to arrive in half an hour.