This is a true story by Michael Stewart, written for NYC's Pier BBS in 1988. Copyright (c) 1988, all rights reserved; permission granted to the "Nifty Andrew" archive for online "publication" and distribution.
Comments and lewd propositions may be sent to Michael at brooklyn@yorick.ny.cybernex.net
"With A Friend...."
The Diary of Michael Stewart: Friday, July 29, 1988 -
For what seems like forever, Henry has been my friend...my best friend. We would do everything together...hang out, go bike riding, talk, drink, cruise (sometimes), talk (frequently), live and laugh and cry together. The only thing we never did together was mess around. Oh, it wasn't that I wasn't interested - quite the opposite! Henry is a couple of months older than I...6'1", 190 pounds, brown hair, green eyes, cleanshaven, a spectacularly hairy chest - and what I'd always heard was a spectacular endowment (I used to stare at his basket hoping to catch discern something whenever I thought he wasn't looking) - and the rarest commodity of all, a brain! Yeah, I was interested alright, but the timing or the mood was never right. That was important - for someone like him, the mood, the setting, the timing had to be just perfect. Of course, I never believed anything would ever come of it. He was more my type that I was his, but...well, hope springs eternal.
As a result, when I went over to his house, sex was really the furthest thing from my mind. He knew I was coming over, so I was kind of surprised to see his apartment so messy. I was even more surprised to see Henry in such a state of disarray. He's one of those lucky ones that great in anything he wears, but a pair of shorts and a t-shirt was a little out of character for him. He obviously hadn't shaved in a day or two, but rather than making him look scruffy, it made him look...hot, and sultry.
As it turned out, he was just having a rough day after a rough week at work. I tried hard to ignore the effect he was having on me as we talked, but I'm only human. As we were chatting, I found myself moving my chair closer and closer to his and looking into his eyes more often. Finally - as if it was a mutual decision - we "broke the spell," and went into the kitchen to get something to drink. As he was pouring me a soda, his back to me, I said something, trying to be sympathetic and supportive...I think I said, "Well, you can always count on me. I care." He put down the bottle, turned around and came over to me, crushing me into a bear hug. "Thank you." He was my best friend - so sincere, so caring, so vulnerable - what else could I say? I returned the hug, squeezing him tight.
What happened next was the stuff dreams are made of - my dreams! His grip on me changed, almost imperceptibly, and the entire tenor of the hug was changed. He looked into my eyes with those gorgeous green eyes of his, and slowly, ever so slowly, lowered his mouth to mine. Although we'd done the usual stuff like kiss each hello and goodbye, this was light-years beyond that. For that instant, that all-too-brief instant, my soul was centered in my lips. I returned it, at first tenderly...and then, as we held on to each other in the dim light from the refrigerator, something seemed to snap, and we both "let loose." One second his lips would be brushing mine, lightly; the next minute, I'd be trying to suck his tongue into my mouth. I could have died then, happy.
Finally we broke, and both stepped back a little, catching our breaths, just looking at each other, slightly embarrassed. I said to him, "I love you." He nodded, enigmatically. He closed the refrigerator door, leaving the soda forgotten on the counter, and we went over to the bed. "Are you sure?" I asked. He answered by taking me in his arms again. No kiss this time...we just held each other, as if for dear life...that said it all. As we stood there, I ran my hands up and down his back, gently. I loved this man more than any on earth.
Slowly we pulled away from each other again, not far, just enough, and stood there with our hands on each other's shoulders. I squeezed, feeling his muscles, then moved them down, slowly, feeling the contours of his chest - that magnificent chest! - through his t-shirt. I think he was doing the same to me, but I'm not sure...I was so wrapped up in finally feeling and touching Henry the way I'd always dreamed of that his was the only body on my mind! I do know that when I'd reached the bottom of the t-shirt, at his waist, I started to hike it up, to take it off, and he helped me out, whipping it up and over his head and tossing it off to the side.
God, what a chest...dark, furry swirls of hair from top to bottom, highlighting the gold chains at his neck, spreading out all over the top, nearly hiding his nipples...than stampeding downward, bushing out again around his navel, then finally, swooping down past the elastic waistband of his shorts. I ran my hand over it, almost reverently, enthralled by the beauty of my best friend.
I dropped one hand, finally, down to where I could see his cock bulging in his shorts, grasping the his thick, hard cock in my hand, massaging it through the material. His reputation wasn't exaggerated. With the other, I moved from nipple to nipple and back again, caressing, teasing, flicking the suddenly stiff nubs gently with my fingers. I took a step closer, still with one hand grasping his dick through his shorts and the other teasing his nipples, and molded my body to his. I cradled by head in the crook of his neck, and lightly began touching his earlobes with the tip of my tongue.
I nipped, a little, than began to drag my tongue down to his neck. I kissed him there, first softly, then with an increasing hunger, darting back and forth between neck and shoulder. He gasped, shivering a little, and I felt his stiff rod get even stiffer. Then I went lower, drawing a path with my lips down one side of his chest, then licking and kissing around his nipple...I was still massaging his other nipple with my hand.
Then down further, down the treasure trail to his navel. I nipped around there, gently, in a circle, darting my tongue in the fuzzy recess from time to time. Then down a little more. I ran my tongue a little under the waistband of his shorts, then straightened up.
He started, then, to unbutton my shirt, but I reached up (letting go of his hard bulge), and stopped him. I shook my head, and then, taking his hand, moved it up to face. I stared him in the eyes and, one by one, sucked his long, tapering fingers into my mouth. All I could think of was tasting him, every inch of him, and I'd long been fascinated by those fingers of his. Like a pianists, they were.
I let go then, and with a deep breath, reached down and tugged his shorts loose, still staring into his eyes. There was a momentary hold-up as they caught on his dick, but a sharp yank and I felt them fall free. His eyes were interesting...hooded with lust, and yet looking almost as nervous and scared as I was feeling inside.
Finally, I looked down, seeing for the first time Henry's magnificent dick. Nothing could have prepared me for it. It wasn't abnormally large or humongous or anything...just beautiful. A beautiful cock on a beautiful man. Henry's dick...and for now, it was mine. I pushed him back a bit, toppling him over onto his bed. He was so handsome, laying there, his furry chest heaving up down with his heavy breathing, his tanned legs spread wide with his rod standing straight at attention. I moved then, between his legs, climbing onto his bed on my knees.
I lowered myself down a little, wanting a closer look. From his big balls up, a work of art...stiff and hard and proud, the epitome of every dick I've ever wanted. And it was his. It was my friend's. I licked then, around his fuzzy thighs, working my up and up till my tongue grazed his nuts. I tongued them too, first one at a time, then I tried together, to no avail - they wouldn't fit. I bathed 'em though, and moved my hand to his shaft, stroking lightly. I looked up at him.
"Feel good?" He nodded.
I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the rubber I usually keep there, looking into his eyes all the while. I tore it open, carefully, and reached put it over his dick, unrolling it slowly, enjoying the warm stiffness in my hand. Once it was on, I stroked it a few more times, then slithered a little further up the bed.
I kept my eyes locked on his as I lowered my face to his dick. I watched his eyes, in the dim room light, as I took his prick into my mouth. I hardly noticed the rubber sheath. Deeper and deeper I took his dick, till the whole goddamned thing was buried in my throat - and still my eyes were locked on his. I came up, slowly, working it with my lips and tongue, and as my mouth started vacating his shaft, I moved a hand in, wrapping it around the bottom of the shaft. In a short moment, only the head of his cock was still in my mouth, and I worked it, putting everything I felt about my friend Henry into it, while I fisted the shaft. Slowly, at first, then faster and faster. From time to time I looked up, and I could see his eyes were closed now, and the muscles in his stomach tensing and jumping.
Henry's breathing was getting more and more ragged, and his gasps (and my slurping), were the only sounds in the room. I felt his legs spread wider, and his back begin to arch up, raising his off the bed. I finally took my other hand, and, balancing on my elbows, reached down to his balls, fondling them for a second, then moving under them to run a finger lightly across the hairs at the rim of his ass. I fingered his butthole, just a little, and that seemed to do it.
With a convulsive gasp, I felt his rod stiffen in my hand and mouth, and felt it jerk as he blew his load into the rubber. Several times he shot, strong and hard, and I felt so...complete, watching it, causing it, making him feel that way.
Finally it ended, and suddenly he was limp. There was a smile on his face; I didn't have to ask if he enjoyed it. I stood, still fully dressed, painfully hard in my shorts, and looked down at my best friend. As his breathing slowly returned to normal, I gently removed the rubber from his softening dick and carried it into the john, dumping it and getting a damp cloth to clean him up. I did, lovingly, washing him down, cleaning him up - and when I finally asked him how he felt, he said nothing. He had fallen asleep.
I put the cloth into his laundry hamper and went back to the bed. I looked down on him, seeing the sweat on his body glisten softly in the dim light, watching his soft, regular breathing and the strange remnant of a smile on his beautiful face. I looked hard, committing everything my eyes could gather to memory. My friend. My handsome, smart, sensitive friend. The man I could easily love, if things were a little different.
I kissed him gently on the cheek and let myself out.