For the Love of David
 by: Charlie

© 2005

 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 3
First Alternate Reality
Part Two

Morning brought phone calls back and forth, but we couldn't really talk about what we wanted to talk about. Phones in teenagers' rooms were pretty rare then, guys. Cell phones didn't exist. We weren't able to find a time for our next "date."

We met at school, but things were different. Our conversations weren't so casual. Since we couldn't talk about what we wanted to talk about, talking about anything was awkward. But a couple of weeks later I was able to invite David over on a Wednesday night to "study" as my parents would be away. We didn't have classes together, but our parents knew we helped each other with some of our work, David helped me with math and I helped him with history. Study wasn't study that Wednesday night.

We decided that we didn't need strip poker. We would undress each other, and that added a new thrill and experience. I suggested that David should experience licking my dick, and he did. But neither of us was up to sucking the other to climax. For the second time we made a complete mess of ourselves with cum. And we stayed that way for about a half hour-talking about nothing much-and brought ourselves all over again, for a bigger mess. We loved rubbing each other's faces in our stomachs and chests. But licking or eating it was not considered.

That described several sessions, until finally one afternoon at my house David said, "It's time to suck each other."

I reluctantly said, "OK" because I wasn't sure I wanted to go there. But we had pretty much come to the point where neither turned down the request of the other. Thus my agreement.

I lay on the bed and David slowly took my dick into his mouth. God, it felt good. He licked and sucked, and started moving his head up and down in a jacking off motion. A couple of times his teeth hit my dick and I yelped. But it was wonderful! I came quickly and he deposited my cum on my stomach. No swallowing. I cleaned up, which wasn't our custom. But if I was going to be on my knees over him, it was going to drip all over my bed! I took him into my mouth-God, there was that smooth head skin again-and sucked, licked, and did every other damn thing I could think of-eventually moving up and down and urging him to orgasm. I wasn't really aware of when he reached it, but his feelings were soon so intense that he pushed my head back and said to stop.

My mouth was full of cum, but it didn't have much taste. I was surprised that I didn't gag or find it distasteful. But I wasn't ready to swallow it. Following our practice that mess is where it's at, I spit it out slowly all over his face and chest. Then we hugged and rested, showered and dressed.

Later David said, "Who is going to try swallowing cum first?"

I said, "Maybe we should go back to the poker game."

"OK, Let's do that next time. Strip poker. First one naked gets sucked and the other guy eats it up."

"Winning is losing, it that it?"

"Yep. And then we can talk about whether both of us eat, or just one. Maybe that is decided by a second game of poker."

"Deal, I hope I'm ready for this."

"Me, too."

The next time came a couple of weeks later. I was very unlucky at cards that day and found myself pushing down my underwear while David still had a tee shirt on. I was hard as a rock and grinning from ear to ear. "You know this was your idea, don't you."

"Yes."

"Take your clothes off, I want you naked while we do this."

"That wasn't in the rules."

"Fuck the rules, take your clothes off." He did.

I laid back on the bed and let him take his time. I came pretty quick; the excitement of what would follow hastening the event. David held my dick in his mouth and wouldn't let go. Finally, I relaxed and began to go soft. He slipped off my dick and held it all in his mouth. He slowly swallowed it as I watched and grinned. He was a good sport about it and ate it all. We were back at the elementary school strip poker game in which there were winners and losers! But it was fun-and David admitted it was fun to be the loser as well.

We played another poker hand and I won again, meaning that I didn't have to swallow his cum. I sucked him dry, but decided to try the cum as it flowed into my mouth. It didn't taste bad and eating it was no big deal. Eating cum proved to have been a mental block, not a physical one! David couldn't believe I had swallowed the cum, and he thanked me. It was clear to each of us that having our cum eaten after we came heightened the sexual experience.

The next time we were together we didn't suck each other. We used our hands and made our usual mess. But this time we licked each other's body clean. We loved it. It was wild. And that was what we did most of the times we were together for the rest of that year.

I was a Senior and David a Junior. And the year was coming to an end. We didn't talk much about where this all would lead. I think we both were afraid to. We didn't want it all to end, but we really didn't have any idea how we might keep it going.

For years I had been a camper and then a counselor trainee at a camp in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. This was to be my first summer as a Counselor. It would also be my first paid job. I couldn't pass it up, and there was no way that David could join me. David didn't have many plans for the summer; I think he hoped to get some sort of job, as he had the summer before.

The fall would bring college for me-at Columbia University. He was planning a semester in an exchange program, living and studying in Germany. Not much sex for either of us in the near future. Finally, we began to talk about the future, but without many specifics. We agreed that it had been fun, and that we would love it if our lives worked out that we could be together again. We would visit when we could and "enjoy" ourselves whenever we could. No commitments, and no agreement that we would not have sex with others.

Ah, but that was the problem. David and I had stumbled into each other. We knew no other homosexual boys (or girls), and didn't have a clue where to find them. As far as we could see our future at that time, if we were going to have sex with another boy, it was going to be with each other. That made the idea of separation pretty painful. David was going off to Germany, the land of blond beauties. I was going off to summer camp with boys ranging from my age when I had started playing strip poker to my contemporaries' age-in a situation when I would frequently see them naked. And ALL off limits. It made for a bleak future.

David and I had talked around all of these issues, but never really confronted them in our conversations. And we didn't that spring. Separation would be my departure for camp. As that approached, we looked at the calendar and knew when our last night together would be. It was the Tuesday before my Friday departure. I came to his house. It should have been wild, wild sex with no tomorrow!. But it was a sad time. Separation wasn't what we had bargained for the previous fall when this all started. But here it was. I sucked him. He sucked me. We didn't talk that evening about why we chose to suck each other. We both seemed to sense that it brought us closer together. A little later we did hand jobs, made our usual mess, and slowly licked each other clean. We both realized that that was really our favorite sport. We hugged goodnight standing there naked. We neither of us felt up to a shower, and I slowly dressed, hugged him again, and left. As I walked out the door, with him standing just inside I said, "Fabulous!"

He responded, "Ditto."

Summer was a pain. Literally. My groin almost hurt as I both thought about David and the fun we had had and the beautiful boys of all ages spread out before me like a smorgasbord from which I was forbidden. And I didn't try to eat. I knew the rules, and I easily obeyed them. But I didn't have to like obeying them. Honestly, I had a good summer. I was good at being a counselor; the boys liked me; the staff liked me; the directors liked me. It was the best summer at camp that I had ever had-and I had been able to say that same thing, honestly, each summer for the past eight years and hoped it would continue for a few more. But David was never far from my mind.

The end of summer came. David and I had time to get together exactly twice before I was off to New York and he was off to Germany. The first time was wonderful. We both had missed each other, dreamed of what we would do to each other, what would be done to us, and the only problem was that we had more ideas than we had capability for orgasms. I think we had three each, but I can't be sure. I like to think we did.

The second time was again a time separation. It went much like the previous separation. We both instinctively knew that we wanted to suck each other, and we did. But that ended it. We lay there long after each climax and held the soft dick in our mouth, swallowing while the dick was still there. Neither of us wanted to let go. This time we did shower together, washed and dried each other, hugged for a long, long time, headed out the door with...

"Fabulous!"

"Ditto!"

My first term at Columbia was a bust. Not because there was no sex (there wasn't) but because I found that in the sink or swim atmosphere of a large university, I sank. I loved New York, but it totally distracted me from my studies. By the end of the semester I was lost. Dropping out was about the only alternative. David and I wrote each other a little, but I think that we found writing painful. I do know that he had a good time in Germany, improved his German a lot, had no sex, and came home.

We missed each other at the end of the term. By the time I was home from New York David had arranged to go to college, without finishing high school. He had taken sufficiently advanced classes (there was no such thing as Advanced Placement then) that he was ready for Freshman college work. Northwestern University, north of Chicago, was willing to admit him, and he went. He did very well that spring term that should have been his last semester of high school, but was his first semester of college. But no sex.

That summer he worked in Chicago, and I worked at camp in Michigan. No sex. It wasn't that we didn't want it. It wasn't that we were saving ourselves for each other. It was simply that we didn't know where to get it. We had talked a little, and knew about men's rooms, parks, and such places. But we were totally afraid of encounters like that. Both of us had been approached once or twice by older strangers-me once when I was hitchhiking-but had been afraid to say, "Yes." We knew that some of our friends had to be homosexual, or bi-sexual to use a term that we didn't use then but understood anyway. But we didn't know who, and we didn't know how to find out who. So we were lonely without each other.

That fall, I entered Rockford College in Rockford, Illinois. David was still at Northwestern. We were about three hours apart by car, but neither of us had a car. But there was a train, and early in the fall I planned a trip to Chicago to see David. He would meet my train. We would spend the day, get a hotel room in Evanston-where Northwestern University was located-and spend the night together for the first time.

And we did!. We toured around downtown Chicago, hardly saw what we looked at, and soon boarded the train for Evanston. There was a small hotel (motel chains hadn't moved into the cities then) near the station and I checked in. David came up to the room with me and clothes flew all over the place as soon as the bellhop had his tip in his pocket and the door closed. Naked, we stood and looked at each other. Actually we looked at each other's dicks. Both were a little larger, a little longer, and were surrounded by a little more hair. Slowly I looked at David's whole body. He had added about an inch, and was now a little taller than me at 6' ½". He was still a little heavier than perfect, but looked good. More hair on his chest than before, but not too much-I was never into body hair. As far as I was concerned no poet had ever conceived a more handsome Greek God.

If David looked at me the same way he would have seen a blond, who had really turned to light brown, but who still insisted that he was blond. Pubic hair dark brown. Belly a little larger than David's, but OK. Not an athlete, but very strong for not being an athlete-in fact I had won a number of bets beating "jocks" at arm wrestling which, for some reason, I was very good at. I hope David thought I competed with the Greek Gods, but neither of us spent much time telling each other how handsome we were (or weren't). We just liked being together.

And together we were that night. I suggested to David that we ought to try sucking each other at the same time. Yeah, I know it's called 69. I don't know how widely the term was used back then, but neither of us had heard it at that point. While we are talking about vocabulary let me tell you about the word gay. We never used it until we were in college and began to hear it used by others. We both had read the term, and knew that it was coming into vogue to mean homosexual. But the society was still in the era in which people were saying that the word gay meant something else and wasn't it terrible that those damned homosexuals were taking over the word. While the usage of the word to mean homosexual dates to the 1930's it wasn't common before the 1960's. At this point David and I were in the late 1950's, and we didn't use gay. Or 69, but that was because we didn't know that term.

But we decided we would try "sucking each other at the same time" to celebrate coming back together after being separated for almost fourteen months. The room had two double beds which we pushed together. Laying across the beds at an angle we had enough length for me to suck his dick while he sucked mine without our feet sticking off the bed. We did everything to each other that our tongues could imagine. Licked, sucked, teased, kissed, sucked harder, and finally we both came, fairly close in timing-but I beat him by about fifteen seconds. We both swallowed hard and lay there enjoying the other's penis. Finally we laid back and reflected on what we had just done.

Neither of us were very satisfied with the whole business. I said, "That doesn't work right."

"You're right it doesn't. Why?"

"The tongue is on the wrong side of the penis."

"I think I know what you mean."

"The most sensitive part of my penis is the little patch of loose skin just back from the head on the bottom of my dick. When you suck me from down between my legs your tongue sits right at that most sensitive spot. When you come from the other direction, as when we are both sucking at once, the tongue is on the top of the dick-the least sensitive part."

You uncircumcised guys may not understand the anatomy of all that, just as we don't really understand the way the end of your dicks function. And us cut guys are all cut a little different. But David and I found we were cut quite similarly, and what seemed to work for him worked for me. 69 simply didn't work for us. We tried again a few times over the years, but never enjoyed it. But, God, did we like sucking each other one at a time.

I think that for the whole night one of our dicks was in the other guy's mouth. I think we slept that way, or tried to. Then we started all over again the next morning. While at one time in our relationship talking got in the way of action; this time action got in the way of talking.

Finally we walked around Evanston, found a place for a late breakfast/early lunch, and started talking-trying to pick up where we had left off more than a year before. And we found that we could do just that. And we decided, above all else that we wanted to be near each other-preferably college roommates.

But we were at different schools. They were near, but not nearly near enough to suit our desires. So we agreed, that morning, that I would apply to Northwestern for the second semester and he would apply to Rockford. My track record at Columbia wasn't going to get me far, but I was doing well at Rockford, had done well my Senior year in high school-especially in math, science and history-and I hoped that I might get in. I know now, but didn't then, that I had college economics going for me. Private colleges know they are going to have a certain number of drop-outs at the end of the first semester. This creates spaces in classes and in dorms. Spaces do not bring in tuition, nor room and board fees. People to fill those spaces are economically important. I got in. And David got in to Rockford (that was almost a given, he record was so good they almost drooled over his application).

So we had to decide where to go. My track record in a big city (New York) at a big university (Columbia) didn't look good for trying Northwestern. On the other hand, my grades had improved so much my Senior year when I was involved with David, it made me feel secure in the idea of moving in with him at a big school. David assured me that he would see to it that I did well. He was a year younger, but was now a semester ahead of me in college, and was telling me that he would take care of me. I knew he would. There were two factors that made us want to choose Northwestern: First, Rockford really wasn't going to be the challenge that David needed. More importantly, however, Chicago was going to be much more friendly to two gay boys-we were beginning to use the term. David had met one or two others, and things were not nearly so closeted as we had experienced in high school or I had experienced in little Rockford. So we were ready to settle into the big university in the big city.

My parents weren't too happy about a third school in three semesters of trying, but they did like the idea of my being David's roommate-little did they know, or even suspect. In any case, all was planned, and all we had to do was get through the first semester separated by two train rides and a total travel time of about 3 ½ hours.

We did make it through the semester. My grades held up: David's letters, phone calls, and lectures when we did get together, gave me no choice but to study hard. And when I studied hard I got all A's. David got A's without studying, but he studied anyway???

We managed to get assigned as roommates, and that first night in the room, our first home, was bliss. We had single beds, and one of them was never used from the first day of the semester till the last. David was known in the dorm as the guy with the messy bed, and I was the guy who always made his bed in the morning. The fact that only one person ever tumbled to the idea that one of the beds was never used should tell you how clueless everybody was in 1960 regarding gay sex!

We thought of ourselves as the messy boys, because of the way we treated our cum. The shower was down the hall, so that meant that we really had to clean up the "mess" before we could shower-but that was the second best part. If you thought I was going to say it was the best part, then you may still be a virgin. We often showered late at night when no one was likely to be around. It was a big communal shower with about six shower heads. You could hear the bathroom door open before anyone could see you, so we could wash each other and dry each other late at night. And we did. In fact, we got in the habit of afternoon naps, sometimes with and sometimes without sex, so that we could enjoy ourselves in the middle of the night.

We loved to talk. That was what had brought us together in the first place, and it sustained us then. We fell into the habit of talking while one of us lay on the bed with his head near the other's penis and gently stroking it. Not with the intention of an orgasm, but just because it felt good. Often we didn't even get hard-ons while we did this. We talked about science, classes, dicks, 69 (we had learned the word), circumcision (we never could decide whether we were glad or sorry we had been "cut"), and about us. "We" were a problem. Were we committed to each other? Did we have lifelong intentions or plans? We began to use the word "love," but in a clinical way, not as in "I love you." Slowly we realized that the circumstances of our high schools years had pushed us together. We hadn't sought each other sexually, we had just been lucky that we had pushed the envelope with each other that night and found that we both were gay (or bi-). And neither of us was clear whether we were gay or bi-. We both looked at girls with pleasure, but we didn't date. Was that because we didn't want girls, or simply because we were comfortable with each other? Questions, questions, but we didn't find answers easily.

But we did agree that we had no claim on each other that would prevent our experimenting. We both dated a few times. David decided he was gay, period. I found that having a girl's hand in my pants was pretty damn exciting, and having my tongue in her cunt was too. But I never went beyond that, and the girl I had experimented with made it clear that she was going farther, with me or someone else. I had to tell her that I wasn't ready and it would have to be someone else. It was.

Then Michael knocked on our door and changed our lives. We knew him from a couple of classes. He lived on another floor in the dorm. We had talked a little. Eaten dinner in the dorm dining room with him a couple of times. Nice guy. Hadn't thought much more about it. One evening he knocked on our door. We were surprised that he knew which was our room, but he obviously did. We let him in. He sat down on my very well-made bed and got right to the point.

"If I have it wrong, tell me, and I'll go away-and please forget this conversation. But I am pretty sure that you guys are a pair, and that Charlie never uses this bed."

You could have pushed both of us over with less than a feather. No one had ever been that bold with either of us-even if they suspected. And as far was we knew, people didn't even suspect. I looked at David and he looked and me, and we tried to figure out how to answer.

Mike didn't give us a chance. "I see you guys looking at each other trying to figure out whether you can be honest with me. You'd like to step out in the hall and compare notes. Go ahead. But I know I am right. You know I am right. Nobody needs to say it. I'm gay too, and I need a friend-maybe two friends.

We became instant friends. A dream come true-someone we could talk to. And did we talk. Two years worth of only being able to talk to each other about some of our most important feelings and thoughts. And Mike had been even more frustrated than us. He had had a friend in high school that he jacked off with. They grew to jacking each other off. They never put their dicks in each others mouths. Never got close enough to plan to go to the same college. He hadn't heard from him since graduation a year and a half ago. It was jack off city since then, and with his current roommate he had to pretend he didn't jack off and do it very quietly at night, or when his roommate had class. He had no idea whether his roommate jacked off-though he assumed he did-as he was equally secretive. His balls were ready to explode.

We talked long that night. Finally David stood up. He said, "We all know where this is leading. Charlie, if you don't want to play, stop me. Otherwise, here goes. He had been barefoot when Mike knocked, and now he unbuttoned his shirt and pants, and sort of threw them all off together. He stood there nude, dick sticking straight out at Mike's face. Mike turned beet red, and didn't know what to say. David wasn't fazed. He said, "Charlie, grab his pants while I grab his shirt, he won't need them for the next hour." Mike let us undress him and push him down on the bed. "Charlie, take your own Goddam clothes off. Then let's give Mike the time of his life."

I guess we did. We took turns sucking him, and doing everything else we could think of. We tried to keep him from coming too fast, but that didn't work long. We weren't sure about what to do with his cum, but David looked at me and said, "What the Hell?" and started spreading it all over poor Mike. Then he jacked me off, and added my cum to the pile. Then he jacked himself off and added that to the pile. Mike just lay there and switched from being embarrassed to laughing and back again. Then David said, "Walk down the hall and take a shower."

Mike turned pale. "You're k-k-kidding."

"No, go on."

"God, no."

"Come on, Charlie, lets push him out in the hall."

Mike got paler, and I wondered how far David was going to push this.

David relented, "Sorry, Mike, I couldn't resist. Here is a towel, clean yourself up, and then we'll start over."

He did. And we did. And he came two more times that night. And the three of us spooned into the single bed and slept-with cum all over us, the sheets, everywhere. We left the mess for the morning.

Mike became our best buddy. He never got used to making a mess out of his cum, or ours. But he liked everything else about our sex. He loved having a dick in his mouth, and liked to put ours together so he had two in his mouth.

He was in our room a lot-finally we gave him a key. But he didn't often spend the night, going back to his room about 2:00 a.m. so that his roommate didn't get suspicious that we were more than "friends." It was still 1960.

As in all stories, time passed. David was a semester ahead of me. David was going to make it through in 3 ½ years taking advantage of summer school. I was going to need the entire four years, without counting the semester at Columbia. That meant that David would graduate a year ahead of me, gaining two full years on me since high school. When that first semester for me at Northwestern finished David and Mike had two years to go each. We parted that summer as we all went different directions.

We reassembled that fall, and Mike had been able to find an understanding roommate. Phil was a ladies' man (though this was the early 1960's and he couldn't bring them to his dorm room). But he was a great guy and Mike had felt comfortable telling him about the three of us. He reaction alternated between "Great!" and "So?" and was really a little of both. He didn't give a flying fuck whether Mike spent the night in our room, and he never told a soul. He simply noted that it was great to have the whole room to himself for jacking off after a hot date. Once Mike walked in on him while he was jacking off and he simply finished while Mike watched. Phil's response was, "Hand's off the merchandise. It reserved for me and girls-you don't qualify." But he wasn't embarrassed or upset. A rare guy for that time. A good friend. He got screwed by a bad marriage, but did well on the second try. He is still a good friend of all of us, but lives too far away to see very often.

Two years of bliss for the three of us. Lots of repetition in the sex department, and you don't want to read it over and over again. But three events are important to this story.

Mike introduced us to kissing. That may sound strange, but David and I had never kissed each other very much. We hugged, and certainly we kissed a little as we passed cum around (our favorite sport), but we didn't KISS. Mike did. He loved to grab one of us, hug us, and then kiss with long deep kisses, with his tongue moving all around our mouths. We liked it, and quickly became addicted. I have never known why that wasn't part of whom David and I had been, but it wasn't.

One day Mike asked, "Don't you guys ever fuck?"

David, poor naive David, answered, "I'm not into girls."

Mike was too kind to laugh. I wasn't sure whether I understood what Mike had in mind, but it clearly wasn't what David did. I was as naive as David.

"Guys, what do you think you have assholes for?"

"Shitting."

"And I supposed you have dicks for peeing."

"Yeah. And more."

"Well, there's more to assholes as well."

"Mike have you been holding out on us? You said when you met us that you had only jerked off with some kid in high school. You haven't been messing with either of our asses. Where does this 'fucking' come from?"

"Shit, I don't know. No, I've never done it. But I sure as Hell know that gay guys do it, and I think we ought to try."

"New game in town," I said.

David said, "Let's play strip poker."

Mike looked at David like he had lost his mind. "What?"

I said, "I know what he means. You have heard our story of it all starting with strip poker. Well we only played two games before we moved on. But we got the cards out one other time-when we wanted to try swallowing our cum, and needed to decide who went first. I am pretty sure that David is thinking back to that. Right?"

"Yep. Get the cards. First guy naked gets.... Gets what?"

"Fucked," said Mike.

David said, "I think we need to start a little slower than that. First guy naked sticks his ass in the air. We'll see where it goes from there."

David was the first guy naked. He pulled off his pants with his back to us and bent over.

I said, "Lay down on the bed and let us put your feet up. That really exposes your ass."

Mike got on his knees in front of David's hole and looked, poked, and tried to enter. He said, "This isn't quite as easy as I thought."

David chimed it, "And your poking around hurts a little, but it also feels good. You need lubricant."

"I knew something was missing. What have we got?"

Vaseline was the only thing I could think of and I suggested it. Nobody had any better ideas so I gave Mike the jar of Vaseline. That proved to be the "open sesame" for David's ass, and Mike found his way in with one and then two fingers. Then he let me try, and I sort of pushed one, two, and then three in. David was moaning a little, but seemed neither to be in pain nor unhappy.

Mike said, "Can I fuck you?"

David said, "It's your game. You won. You shove. That is the way we have always played strip poker, and look where it has gotten us."

Mike used the Vaseline liberally, lined up his dick, and slowly pushed it in. Mike was ready for it to hurt David. He had done more reading than we had, and that was what he had been led to expect. David said no, it felt fine. It didn't take long for Mike to come. He slipped out and he and David hugged mightily. I kind of felt left out. I was soon invited to fuck David as well, and I did. I came, I hugged, I enjoyed. But, frankly, sucking and being sucked turned me on much more.

Mike turned out to be excited by asses. He wanted to fuck David. He wanted to fuck me (he did). He wanted to be fucked. We did. Over the months, that was his favorite pastime. I could take it or leave it. David liked it, but nothing like Mike. But we all respected each other's preferences, and we saw to it that I got sucked a lot, Mike got fucked a lot, and David got both,. Most important, I told Mike that if he wanted my ass, he was going to have to join into our cum messes with more enthusiasm and more cum. It wasn't his favorite thing to do, but he was game.

To be continued...

 

Posted: 04/18/08