Friends' All
by: Will B
(Copyright 2007 by the Author)

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

Chapter 6
July 24
 

Pete covered Joe’s mouth with kisses.

“I love you, Joe.” He then kissed Joe’s cheeks and his nose.

“Aaaaahhhhh,” Joe sighed.

Pete kissed Joe’s neck, and licked his ears.

“Ooooooohhhhhhh,”

Pete tore the first layer of cellophane off his lover’s body and began to nuzzle Joe’s nipples. He licked the brown nubs until they stood upright. He kissed the little mole below Joe’s left nipple.

Joe began moaning with pleasure.

“UUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Pete tore the second layer of cellophane off and began to tongue the fine black hairs that surrounded each nipple, and then he started to work on the darker chest hairs that led from Joe’s pecs downward.

He laved Joe’s chest hair down to his navel, and swirled his tongue in and around the navel.

He ripped off the last layer of cellophane and threw it on the floor. There, finally, was Joe’s long, veiny, precum leaking  penis.

“Ooooooooooohhhhhh,” moaned Joe.

Pete buried his nose in Joe’s bush and smelled that wonderful man-smell of sweat, musk, and precum. Then lifting his head, he smiled at Joe and said, “Get ready for my hot thirsty mouth. I’m taking your rod and your shaft . . . RIGHT NOW!”

Pete swirled and slavered and stroked Joe’s helmet and ridge. He drew his tongue up Joe’s organ from the base to where the ridge and the vein met and the little remains of his foreskin met in a tab. Pete gave this spot special attention.

Joe began bucking his hips and groaning in lust. “I’m cumming, Pete, I’m cumming,” he said with a sigh, and then aaaaahhhhhh!”

One shot burst into Pete’s mouth.

“OooooooooooooHhhhhhhhhhh, Aaaaaaaaaaa,” a second eruption followed.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH,” came the third shot.

“Oh, love, I’ve captured it all. Let me return some to your mouth,” Pete said with a grin.

They French kissed, and cum-kissed basking in the joy of love given and love returned and love shared.

“Now it’s your turn. Your pole, my hole. NOW!” Joe said with a grin.

He put a pillow under his own hips, and hugged Pete, saying “OK, my loving fucker, I want you to invade my pucker, my rosebud, and let me clamp my sphincter on your rod.”

Pete kissed Joe again, and then began to guide his shaft to that wonderful cave of earthly delights.

Pete was so aroused that after only a few strokes, his hot creamy cum coated the inside of Joe’s love chute. He shot, he came, he ejaculated, and then kissed Joe again and again, and Joe returned his kisses with passion until they fell asleep in each other’s embrace.

* * * * *

SARAH GETS AN INVITATION

July 24: It was going to be another miserably hot, humid, day in Baltimore. The Bermuda highs would have everybody feeling washed out.

Sarah had told Matt she would give him an allowance of $10.00 a week, but he would be expected to help with some of the household chores, one of which was mowing the lawn. Matt decided he would do anything to help Sarah -- allowance or no allowance.

That morning he decided to mow the back lawn early, before the sun got too hot. After a light breakfast he went out in the back yard wearing only a pair of shorts and a pair of sneakers.

As he pushed the electric mower up and down the yard, the sun shone on his bare, broad back, sending drops of sweat coursing down his back and into his butt crack. When he turned the lawn mower around, the sun shone on his bare chest with nicely defined pecs, and the beginning of a six-pack. Drops of sweat rolled down his chest and abdomen. Some of it collected in his “innie” navel, just visible above the waste band of his shorts. More sweat rolled down his lower abdomen, following a light treasure trail down beneath his shorts, where it collected in his pubic bush. The sun glinted off the downy hairs on Matt’s legs, and little rivulets of sweat ran down his legs and into his shoes.

Just as he finished the last part of the lawn, Sarah came out on the back porch, and said, “You’ve done a good job, Matt. Now come inside. I’ve just made some nice cool lemonade, and I have a question for you.”

Sarah smiled as the dripping wet young teen came up the back steps. She handed him a wet washcloth and told him to wipe his face.

“Matt, do you a know a Mr. Dixon?”

“Uhhh, yeah. He’s the guy who works at Steve’s store who helped me pick out my new clothes. He seemed really nice. Why do you ask, Mom?”

“I’ve just had a phone call from Mrs. Dixon. Her husband told her about us, and she has invited us for dinner on Friday evening. Would you like to go?”

“Sure, Mom. Mr. Dixon was really nice to me, and he told me he had a son my age, named, uhhh, Gary, I think.”

“That’s good, Matt. I thought you would probably say yes, so I accepted. Mrs. Dixon--Joan her name is--gave me directions on how to get to their house. They are only about a mile and a half from here. Now, do you have any plans for today?”

‘I’m not sure. I may go to The Senator Theatre on York Road, to see ‘Jason and the Argonauts,’” Matt said.

Sarah rolled here eyes and said, “That will be nice I guess. Now I’m going to go downtown to get my hair done, and I may get a new dress to wear Friday. You have money, right? Since I will be out at lunchtime, here’s an extra five dollars so you can eat lunch out if you like. You have a key? If you leave the house be sure to lock up carefully.”

“I’ll be fine, Mom. Before I do anything I’m going to go upstairs and take a cool shower.”

“You have fun an o see that movie. I should be home about five o’clock. If it is hot as I think it will be, we’ll go out for supper.”

“Bye, Mom, I’ll be OK. Get yourself a nice dress, and have fun at the hairdressers.”

Matt went upstairs and lay on his bed, relaxing after his exertion in the yard. In a few minutes he heard Sarah call goodbye, and he heard the front door close and then Sarah’s car start up and drive away.

MATT HAS MEMORIES

Matt got up and kicked off his shoes, and then dropped his shorts. He lay back down on his bed and thought about all that happened in the last few days, about how Sarah was so good to him, about Pete and Joe taking him and Sarah to the Division of Social Services, and about Steve taking him to get new clothes.

He lay on the bed naked, his flaccid five-inch cut cock, with its pink helmet lying across his abdomen.

He began to remember some of his adventures on the road. Sure, some of his “clients” had been real schmucks, but some of them had really been nice.

Almost without realizing it, he began to finger his balls, rolling them back and forth between his fingers.

He remembered one guy who wanted them to jerk each other off.

Matt’s penis started to fill with blood, and rise up in a semi-erect state.

He kneaded his balls some more, and then felt his penis becoming more fully erect. Slowly he began to stroke it.

He thought of another truck driver who wanted to 69 with him.

Did he want to go back to that life, with all of its dangers? Of course he didn’t, but right at that moment he had to get his rocks off.

He remembered one great twenty-something guy who was driving from Pittsburgh to New York. He had invited Matt to have supper with him and then stay over night at a motel.

When Matt came out of the bathroom he saw this hunk lying on the bed smiling at him. The guy’s body was completely hairless below the jaw line. Not a single hair on the guy’s chest, in his armpits or around his uncut seven-inch penis, which the guy was slowly massaging. The guy had smiled at Matt and said, “Eat me!” and Matt did.

Then he circled his cock with his thumb and forefinger, and began to stroke it harder and harder. He used his other hand to play with his testicles, and then pinch his nipples.

He remembered a businessman who gave him a ride, and took him to a park at dusk, where they got out of the car, stripped, and ground their cocks into each other’s crotch.

Matt’s cock grew to six and one-half inches in length; it was thick and standing at full attention. The veins in his shaft stood out. Matt’s helmet turned deep purple and was beginning to leak pre-cum.

Matt’s memory dredged up that traveling evangelist who wanted to grope Matt’s package, but couldn’t get erect himself, so paid Matt to spank his naked butt as hard as he could, “to drive out the sinful thoughts.” Matt remembered the tattoo on the minister’s lower back: An arrow pointing to his ass crack, and the words “Gateway to Paradise.”

Faster and faster Matt stroked his member and then he felt his toes begin to curl, and his legs start to go rigid.

Thrashing his head from side to side, and bucking his hips up and down, he began to moan, and then . . . hot white ropes of teen-cum shot out of his cock, shot into the air, and fell back on his chest, his abdomen, into his navel, and onto his pubic hair.  In one last burst of sexual lust, he put his fingers into his navel, scooped up some of his man-milk, and stuck his fingers into his mouth.

* * * * *

July 27: SARAH AND MATT GO OUT TO DINNER.

At 5:30 Matt came down stairs wearing a white short sleeved sport shirt, a blue tie with a gold design, black slacks, and new loafers. Sarah was waiting for him, wearing a new green silk dress, with a simple necklace.

“Matt, you are the handsomest man I have seen in some time. I am proud to be going out with you,” Sarah said.

“Mom, you are the most beautiful lady I have ever gone out to dinner with,” replied Matt.

Sarah and Matt got into the car and she drove to the Dixons’ house. It was a lovely single dwelling with a wide veranda (porch) around three sides of the house. The street was shaded by towering elm trees, which fortunately had thus far escaped the “Dutch elm” disease.

Four figures were seated on the porch. Wen Matt and Sarah got out of the car and walked up the sidewalk, the four stood up, and a man and woman came down the steps to greet them.

Joan Dixon, in her 40s, said, “Hello, Sarah, I’m Joan. Welcome to our house. And you must be Matt. I’m so glad you could come.”

Tom Dixon, also in his 40s greeted his guests, and then said. “Come up on the porch where it’s shady, and meet the rest of us.”

The “rest of us” turned out to be a tall slender man in his late 50s or early 60s, with gray hair, blue eyes, and a firm handshake. The other “us” was a boy about Matt’s age, with black hair, hazel eyes, and a shy manner.

“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Let’s sit here and get to know each other, and then I’ll go in and dish up,” Joan said.

Tom said, “This is Jake Fishbein. He’s just moved to Baltimore, and has started to work at our store.”

“How do you like Baltimore, Mr. Fishbein?” Sarah asked.

“It is a beautiful city, and I find the people so friendly, just like my native Utrecht.”

“Are you from the Netherlands, too?” Sarah asked in surprise. “So am I.”

“I’m just Gary,” the shy boy said.

“I’m just Matt, and I just arrived in Baltimore, and I see you’re wearing a Baltimore Colts tee-shirt. I thought the Orioles were Baltimore’s team.”

“Oh,” Matt said, laughing, “The Orioles are our baseball team, but the baseball season will soon be over. The Colts are our professional football team, and the season is just starting soon. I think Johnny Unitas is one of the greatest football players in the world and we are lucky to have him on our team. Lenny Moore is great too.”

As dinner progressed, the talk was of this and that until someone mentioned the upcoming civil rights March on Washington, to be held in August.

“I read that some members of Congress want President Kennedy to call off the March,” said Tom. “I think as long as it’s orderly, people have a right to congregate and to protest what they see as injustice.”

“That’s right,” said Gary. “We studied the Bill of Rights in civics class and we learned that the people have the right to express themselves in the press, go to church as they please, and assemble peacefully.”

“You’ve got a smart boy there, Tom,” said Jake.

Joan added, “I heard a song recorded by Billie Holiday. It was called “Strange Fruit,” and it wasn’t until the song was half over that I realized it was about black people being lynched by mobs.”

“I am a new citizen in this country, and I am proud to be an American, but I think that we should all be aware of cruelty and injustice whenever it appears,” said Jake, perhaps with a little more fervor than is quite proper at a dinner party.

Excessive fervor or not, Sarah looked at Jake and nodded her agreement.

Jake did a strange thing. He unbuttoned his shirtsleeve and showed his forearm. “Matt, do you or Gary know what this tattoo means?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, it means you were in a . . .  a concentration camp,” Matt said, with a catch in his voice. “We learned about that in school, too.”

Sarah looked at Jake again, and reached over the table and took his hand and squeezed it.

“Ach! Mrs. Schultz, have you….?” Jake asked?

“Yes, I’ve lost . . . someone too,” Sarah said and dropped her eyes.

Everyone at the table was silent until Matt got up and gave Sarah a hug.

To break the somber mood, Joan asked “Is everyone ready dessert? Gary, why don’t you and Matt take your dessert upstairs, and you can show Matt your room?”

“Good idea, Ma, just what I was thinking. Would you like to see my room, Matt?”

“Sure, Gary. That dinner was delicious, Mrs. Dixon. I think you and my Mom must have studied at the same cooking school!”

“Ooooh, you’re smooth, that was nicely put,” Joan said.

Sarah just looked at Matt and smiled and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

Gary and Matt took their dessert and went up to Gary’s room.

To be continued...

Feedback always welcome:        Your comments, as DD says, fuel the writer’s imagination.

Author's note:

Readers: this was one of the most difficult chapters I think I have ever had to write.  I have never come out to my family, so I don’t know if I got it right.  Tell me what you think.

As usual, my thanks to DD and E for their help, advice, support and encouragement. DD, Gerry, and Henry made some very pertinent suggestions, which I have tried to incorporate in this chapter. Thanks, friends. 123 to all of you.

Posted: 08/17/07