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.
Mrs. Joyce paired me with 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 (it had been built as inexpensive housing for soldiers returning from WWII, but -- in the intervening generation -- had become a sort of "project" for our town's poor families). The only people lower on the totem pole than "PGs" were the "river rats" who lived on the river side of the train tracks in shacks on stilts." We were "river rats" who had "moved on up" to PGs.
Eddie came from what people in our town called a "good family," which meant his parents were not divorced (mine were) and owned their own home. Eddie was also Mrs. Joyce's favorite kid, probably because he was clean, well-mannered, and adorably happy. Where I was a shaggy, stern white-haired waif, Eddie was a smiling, tight little 5 year old, brown hair cut tight above his ears and off his neck.
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 (playing kick the can, climbing
trees, catching crawfish, and spending hours bringing Hot Wheels to life),
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. Since Eddie and I were at different schools and at different ends
of our town's social spectrum, it was unlikely our friendship would endure.
Illness intervened. During second grade, I got the measles, the mumps, and
the chicken pox. 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, if for no other reason than to be obstinate, as was her nature
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. Public school
bureaucracy stood athwart common sense. 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 none other than Eddie Estes. By the time they found out we could not
tithe, it was too late.
Eddie and I 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 "PGs" like most everyone else at St. Thomas's did.
Sister Mary looked like a giant, wizened penguin. She seemed ancient, and
she wore the full habit. The only visible parts of her body were her fat
hands and her chunky, wrinkled face.
She was also a tough old broad. She put up with little of the bullshit
third graders dish out.
I was still ahead of my classmates, so I was an ongoing distraction for my
classmates and source of frustration for Sister Mary. One day, she grabbed
me by my right ear, "led" me to the hallway, and forced me down on a bench.
Taking my chin in her right hand, she raised my face so I was look her
directly in her horn rimmed eyes.
"Jeffrey Redding, you're the smartest kid in that classroom," she
admonished me. "Start acting like it."
I stared at her, dumbstruck and scared. She seemed to expect an answer, but
I had none to givej.
"If you aren't going to say anything, then I will," she continued. "When we
go back in there, you move your desk to the front of the room. And, you
raise your hand every single time you know the answer. I'll bet you an ice
cream cone you know the answer every time. If you do, then I'll buy you an
ice cream cone."
I did. When school was out, Sister Mary walked me down the street to the
Corner Dairy. I was surprised when she got an ice cream cone. St. Thomas's
nuns were mythic figures to all of us. I couldn't imagine one could eat an
ice cream cone.
While we walked back, Sister Mary gave me a pep talk, reiterating that I
was the smartest kid in the class and encouraging me to act like it. I got
little positive feedback at home. I became addicted to the positive
feedback I got in school. Sister Mary had set me on a path. I may have
found my way on my own, but I may not have.
*****
The summer after third grade, I biked the six blocks to Eddie's house every
day. We played outside all day, every day, shirtless and barefooted. There
was no such thing as sun screen, and we turned dark brown. We looked dirty,
even when we weren't.
On the Fourth of July, I had my first sleepover. At Eddie's, of course. We
put up a small tent in his backyard, and we shared a sleeping bag. We awoke
wrapped in each other. We were little boys, and it was no big deal.
We went on like that, moving through fourth, fifth, and sixth grades. I was
embarrassed about where I lived, so I never had Eddie over. I was always at
his house. His mother joked that I was her sixth son.
When I stayed at the Estes's, Eddie and I either shared his full bed or the
living room floor. We always slept in our little white underwear. We almost
always awoke wrapped in each other. We were best friends, and we acted and
loved each other like identical twin brothers.
*****
In middle school, we were friendly rivals. I was smartest boy in our class,
and I won most of the academic awards. Eddie was the most athletic boy, and
he won most of the athletic awards. He was the pitcher on our baseball team
(I played shortstop), the striker on our soccer team (I played fullback),
and the point guard on our basketball team (I played "last person off the
bench when the game was completely out of hand"). 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 also always got the girl. In seventh grade, we each wanted Diane Austin,
who was the female "Eddie" of our school. He got her first. I got her only
after he decided he didn't want to "go steady" with her anymore. I lost her
when I tried to french kiss her at the end of year party, which was in
Eddie's basement.
Throughout middle school, Eddie and I were the ying and yang of our class.
The male social circle surrounded us. Others moved in and out, but we were
the center. We arrived at school together, sat next to each other, and left
school together. We did our homework together. We spent our weekends
together. We were "the boys." When anyone said "the boys," everyone knew
who they were talking about.
As we moved into high school, Eddie and I got split up for the first time.
I tested into advanced classes. Eddie tested into average classes. For the
first time since third grade, we didn't get to spend the day together and
next to each other.
I got my driver's license first. Once I did, I went out of my way to pick
Eddie up for school every day and to drop him off after. I liked starting
and end each school day with him.
Eddie was by far the best looking kid in our class. He had dark hair, dark
eyes, and an electric smile that made him sexy, and he knew it. He looked a
little like Tom Cruise in Risky Business, but he had a better smile.
He carried himself with the confidence that came with the knowledge he was
hot. 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. It's tough to build muscle with your
nose in a book.
By our Senior year, I knew I was gay. While my friends fixated on getting
laid, 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.
When I slept over, we still often awoke wrapped in each other, 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 most of high school.
I crossed the line with him a couple of times. The first was the night we
celebrated his 18th birthday (I was exactly one week older). I was staying
at his house and we were sharing his full bed. 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. 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 small, hairless nipples. That night, I could not stop
staring at them. And, I could not resist the impulse to lick his right one.
So, I did. 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.
Once golf season started that Spring, we were practicing putting 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). However,
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 freshmen year of
college. We were both home for break, and Eddie and I had gotten a hotel
room in Indy to further our plan of picking up two girls and sexing them up
to welcome in 1987.
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
bookish nerd I was.
After striking out, we drove to the hotel and tried to decide whether to
stay in Indy 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 had, and, if so, what I should do. If there was a chance, my
indecision foreclosed it. Eddie put his car into drive and headed back
toward our town.
Part Two
After high school, Eddie headed off to Purdue to study engineering, and I
headed to Notre Dame. Like most high school friends, we kept in touch, but
less and less as more and more time passed. While I was in law school,
Eddie started his engineering career in Indianapolis.
After law school at Stanford, I stayed west to clerk on the Ninth Circuit
Court of Appeals. 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,
and Caroline wound up collateral damage in my delusion).
When visiting home during the summer before the trip, I stopped by the
Estes house. I still 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 [After graduation, I felt
increasingly silly using "Eddie," especially for someone so much bigger.
But I also did not want to use the "Ed" that everyone else did; as college
wore on, I started calling Eddie "Ward" instead, using the last four
letters of his formal "Edward." Quickly, Ward became Wardo.].
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 months, but here the two nap
buddies were – 20 years on from kindergarten – traveling by coincidence to
Rome on the same day and on same flight. I would be in Europe six weeks;
Eddie would be there the first two.
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 starring the
nap buddies from Ms. Joyce's kindergarten class.
And, we had a blast, eating and drinking our way through Europe. We were
constantly in motion. When possible, I stole looks. And touches.
We settled easily back into our friendship. For me, Eddie was like a
favorite book. Not matter how long I had neglected it, I always found
happiness when I picked him back up.
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. With long hair and stubble, he looked like a
hipster musician. He was Michael Huissman.
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
pubic 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 well cared for.
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 our
whole lives, 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 wore a crucifix, so I had to
sleep with 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 was hard,
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 me.
Using my thumb and pinky, I then tried to estimate his length. He was
almost exactly as long as my handbreadth, which is just about 8 inches.
Definitely longer than me.
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 feared I was about to be held accountable. I also feared curiosity
had just killed the cat, ending twenty years of friendship.
Rather than yank my hand away, Wardo pressed it to his hard dick and held
it there. I was not sure what to do. I thought he wanted me to take it, so
I did. 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. I couldn't help myself, so I gently squeezed it.
Wardo responded by raising his hips, slipping his hands into the band of
his boxers, and pushing 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. I couldn't or wouldn't believe what
was happening. Before my indecision foreclosed another opportunity, 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 felt like I had just done a line.
When he let go of my wrist, I continued stroking him. 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. Spent once, his
second 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 floating as I relived it over and over
in my mind.
Part Three
I fell 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 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 been fucked before, but there
was no way I could take him dry, even if I wanted to.
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 should have loosened me, but
I'm sure he didn't know that, and I didn't tell him.
I wanted so much to open up for him. But, I had not been fucked for awhile,
and I was having trouble. Wardo's size made taking him a challenge.
I didn't want him to stop trying, and he didn't. 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 may have
whimpered. I am too proud to say I did, and too honest to say I didn't.
Eddie was needy and not to be deterred. He pushed in deeper and deeper
until I could feel his pubic hair against my ass. My ass was on fire, and
it felt like his dick was in my chest.
I asked him to hold still while I relaxed. I took deep breaths. While I
did, Eddie laid flat on my back, intertwined his hands in mine, and lowered
his head to mine. "I really want this," he whispered in my ear.
I turned my face to his. "Go as slow as you can," I said.
Eddie slowly pulled out and pushed all the way back in. My chest seemed
full again. But, I was also thrilled.
He did not go slow. He quickened his pace and started pushing into me
harder and faster. 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. One of my lifetime fantasies was coming true. I
had spilled most of my teen seed in my own hand imagining what was
happening at this moment, in this Parisian hotel room, in the bright light
of a beautiful morning. But for the physical sensations overwhelming me, it
would have been difficult to convince me that I was not dreaming.
Wardo started breathing faster and harder, panting in rhythm with his
strokes. 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 toward his face so I could catch his breath.
The moment was too much for me. His smell, his sweat, and the feeling of
his dick filling me 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 out the door and down the hall to the
bathroom.
While he showered, I tried to decompress and figure out the last eight
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 Four
Wardo and I did not speak of Paris for the next ten years. But, we remained
best friends. While he coached me to stop acting twice my age, I coached
him to stop being the youngest child, always waiting or everyone else to
take care of him.
Six weeks before Wardo's wedding, I organized a bachelor's party for him in
Vegas, as best men do. On Saturday, we went on a pub crawl. Wardo and I
were the last two standing. We decided to have a final final in the hotel
bar.
Over scotch, I finally raised Paris. "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.
"I never expected that," I said. "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. When you touched my dick,
something just came over me. When you finished jerking me off, I expected
to feel shitty and dirty. I didn't. 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 desire just took over.
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 ten years, and we have pretended for ten years it never happened."
"I never pretended. It was the best eight 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," he said. "I am closer to you
than anyone else, and I love you more than anyone else."
"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 two. 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 vodka.
Wardo's body looked as it had ten years before. He had a small mat of hair
in the middle of chest, small nipples, and a delicious path from his navel
into his boxers. He was still lean and muscled. He had not let himself go.
"Let's have a final 'final final'," Wardo said, dropping ice into two
tumblers and adding vodka.
"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 ten years. As many gay men do, I had
spent a lot of time lifting weights and otherwise "honing the temple."
When I returned to the common area, Wardo was seated on the coach, with a
tumbler in one hand and the other resting on his crotch. I picked my
tumbler 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 his leg
away. Instead, he looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. It seemed like
the most natural thing when he leaned over and lowered his mouth to mine. I
pushed my tongue into his mouth, and he pushed his into mine. There was no
urgency in the kiss, just intimacy. It robbed me of my breath.
When he finally pulled away, he smiled at me. "I have wondered for ten
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 drinks 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 finally 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 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."
"Jenny hardly ever blows me," he said. "When she does, it's not very good.
And, I have never come in her mouth. She says it's disgusting."
"It's definitely not."
"You want to show me?" he asked.
Of course I did. I answered him with actions, not words. I reached between
his legs 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," he said. "I think I need to sit down for this." 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," he urged.
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 him 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've ever had. I could feel it in my feet."
I sat up and looked into his face. "So, better than Jenny?"
"Miles. Thank you."
"Thank you."
"For what? I'm the one who just got a great blow job."
"For fulfilling another fantasy I've had since I first realized sex was a
thing."
"You fantasized about sucking my dick?"
"I did."
"Seems like an odd fantasy."
"It's not. I like sucking dick. A lot."
"It seems like an odd thing to like."
"It's not."
After a few 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 we had shared earlier. When we broke, he said "We better get to
bed. We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow."
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 behind his head. I fell asleep right next to him, just as I had in
Mrs. Joyce's kindergarten class thirty or so 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 ten years before. I pulled his hand to my
mouth and kissed it. He responded by kissing the back of my neck.
Part Five
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
dick to mine. Releasing his ass, I grabbed them, his dick on top of mine,
and started slowly stroking them together. Wardo broke the kiss.
"I'm not sure about this," he said.
"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 dicks together. Our
noses were touching, and our breath was mixed.
"I want you to fuck me again," I said.
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's 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 dicks 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 dick 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 dick 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 do," 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 dick. As I swirled a finger in his ass, I swirled my
tongue around the head of his dick 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. 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
dick. 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
dick to his ass. He opened his eyes wide, 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 dick 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 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 filled 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 dick against my stomach.
I raised up, spit in my hand, and smeared as much of it as I could on his
dick. Before he knew what I was doing, I moved over him and pressed myself
down on him. 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 dick 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.
I got hard as I rocked back and forth. I took my dick in my hand. Doing so,
I lost some of my rhythm and leverage. To my surprise, Wardo said "let me
do that" and took over. 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. My second shot hit him in the face,
and the rest landed on his chest and stomach. 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 thinning and running down
his cheek. Instinctively, I lowered my face and licked it off of him. He
started to laugh.
"Why are you laughing?" I asked, my head still next to his.
"I was thinking 'I think I just got my cherry popped' and Neil Diamond's
'Cherry Cherry' popped into my head, and it all just struck me as surreal
and laughable. I mean, I just let a guy fuck me, for Chrissake."
"Not a guy," I said. "Your nap buddy." Then I started laughing, too.
"Why are you laughing?" he asked, hitting the "you."
"Because, I just took your cherry, and you're thinking of Neil Diamond, and
it is surreal and laughable. You just let me fuck you."
Part Six
As we waited for our flights in the airport (I was headed to Chicago and
Wardo was headed to Indy), we shared a drink. We were at a small table, and
I pressed my leg to his. He pressed back and smiled. When it was time to go
to our gates, we embraced.
"If I don't see you before, I'll see you at the wedding," I said.
"Let's try to get together before that," he said. "Just you and me, two nap
buddies having one last weekend together as bachelors."
"Sounds great," I said. "How about this weekend? I can drive down or you
can drive up."
"I'll drive up," Wardo offered.
Wardo rolled into Wrigleyville about 8 p.m. on Friday night. After we
stowed his bag in my second bedroom, we headed out for dinner and drinks.
We ate at a local joint, then headed to my favorite neighborhood bar. We
bought a bottle of vodka and filled our own glasses while we watched the
Cubs and Pirates spar and talked.
"So, are you excited for the wedding?" I asked.
"I guess. I think I'm more excited for it to be over. It's a lot of cost,
effort, and time for a single day."
"I've never understood that."
"Me, either. But, Jenny's been dreaming of this day for years."
Changing the subject, I asked "What do you want to do this weekend?"
"Anything you want," he said. "I'm here to see you, not Chicago."
I wondered if his answer was loaded. I am not a naturally patient person,
but I decided that patience was a virtue at that point.
After another vodka, Wardo asked me about my personal life. He wanted to
know if I was dating anyone (I wasn't) and if I had ever seriously dated
anyone (I had). He also wanted to know about when I "turned gay."
"You're such a rube," I said, a little disappointed. "I didn't 'turn gay,'
Dipshit. I was born gay. No one would 'turn gay.' It's not fun being
different from most everyone else, especially when you grow up Catholic and
are told over and over that what you are is against God's will and will
lead to eternal damnation."
"Were you gay in high school?"
"Yes, Dipshit. As I just indicated, I was born gay. So, I had to be gay in
high school."
"I mean, did you know you were gay in high school?" he clarified.
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me? I was your best friend. You could have trusted
me." He seemed wounded as he talked.
"I didn't trust anyone. Being gay in our high school would have been the
end of me. Can you imagine how Jim and Matt and Bill would have treated me?
It was bad enough I was a brain. I'd have been run out on a rail, if I was
a gay brain."
"Still, I wish I had known," Wardo offered.
"Why?"
"I don't know. It's weird. It wouldn't have mattered, but I guess it might
have mattered."
I didn't understand his answer then. I did eventually.
"Can I tell you something?" I asked.
"Sure."
"When we were in high school, I licked your nipple. I was staying at your
house. You were asleep. I couldn't help myself." I paused, realizing I
sounded creepy. "I'm sorry."
"So, you wanted me in high school?"
"Wanted you? I more than wanted you, Wardo. I was madly in love with you."
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.
"What would have been the point? Other than to ruin our friendship? How
would you have reacted if I had pledged my love for you? You'd have run,
leaving us in ruins."
"Well, you're telling me now, and I'm not running."
"That was then, this is now," I offered.
"I wish I had known."
"Why?" I asked. "So you could have asked me to the prom? Or asked me to go
steady?"
"I don't know. I just wish I had known."
We drank on, as I wondered why. We talked and talked, talking endlessly
about nothing. We were six again, playing long past the time reasonable
people would have gotten bored. As we walked back to my condo, Wardo put
his arm around me and pulled me into him. A passerby would have taken us
for lovers.
Home, we clumsily said good night and headed to our separate rooms. I
stripped down and climbed into my bed, a little frustrated and wondering if
I should have invited Wardo to share a bed with me, as we had so many times
before. As I wondered, Eddie appeared in my door, wearing only boxers.
"Are you awake?" he asked.
"Sure."
He moved to the edge of the bed and sat down. "Can I sleep in here?"
"Sure. But, I'm naked."
"I'll get naked, too," he said, sliding his boxers off and sliding in next
to me. His mouth was immediately on mine. "I didn't drive three hours to
sleep alone," he whispered in my ear when our kiss ended. "I drove here to
be with you."
We made out as we rolled back and forth on the bed, each of us trying to
get the upper hand. Eddie won and pinned me down. "I want to fuck you," he
said.
"There are condoms and lube in the drawer," I said.
"Do I need a condom?" he asked.
"To be safe."
"We didn't use them last weekend."
"We didn't have any."
"I don't like them. If you're sick, then it's already too late for me."
He pulled the lube out of the drawer and coated himself. I raised my legs
and guided him into me. Wardo closed his eyes as he fucked me. I wanted him
to slow down and make it last, but he seemed too lost in it already. I
focused on his face as I jacked myself to the brink. I held off until I
felt him swell inside me. We came together, noisily.
After we cleaned up, Wardo settled on his back, and I laid with my head on
his shoulder, his arm around me while I played with his chest hair and
traced his collarbone.
"I like fucking you," he said.
"I like when you fuck me."
"I'm not surprised by that," he responded. "You're gay. But, I'm surprised
I like it. I'm not gay."
I almost responded "the evidence suggests otherwise," but I thought better
of it. I kissed his nipple instead.
"When did you figure out you were gay?" he asked.
"I don't know. I think I always knew. I always liked looking at men more
than women. When we were little, I really liked watching Mike work out."
Mike was Eddie's oldest brother, and he lifted weights long before it
became a thing to do so. When he was in high school, he had a sculpted
body, and he used to lift weights shirtless in the Estes basement while
Eddie and I played with his Hot Wheels. I had stared at him while he did.
"Can I ask you something?" I asked.
"Sure."
"Do you remember the New Year's Eve when we got the hotel room in Indy in
hopes of getting laid?"
"Sure."
"When we struck out, you drove to the hotel, and said 'we could go in and
just sex each other.' If I had said 'okay,' would you have gone through
with it?"
"I dunno. I was horny. I might've. But, I probably would have gotten off
and then left you hanging."
"Did you think I was gay?"
"Not at all."
"Then why did you say it?"
"I dunno. I was horny. And, you were my best friend. If I was ever going to
sex a guy, I'd have wanted it to be you. . . . Why didn't you say anything?"
"Are you kidding? I was paralyzed with fear. I worried that you were joking
and, if I said 'okay, let's go,' you'd have freaked out."
"I might've. I definitely would have freaked out if we had gone in and gone
through with it. It's probably best we didn't."
"You haven't freaked out since."
"I have. I totally freaked out in Paris. I scrubbed myself raw in the
shower and tried to figure out a way to get my stuff without seeing you
again. It took me a long time to get over the fact that I had fucked you. I
tried for a long time to blame you, but honesty won out. It wasn't your
fault. But, I couldn't accept that I had done it."
I moved my hand to his crotch as he played with my hair. I tickled his dick
and his balls. He opened his legs for access.
"Did you have last weekend planned?"
"It was in the back of my head. I suspect I'd have let it pass if it
weren't for all the vodka. I'm not very bold, left to myself."
"Did you like it when I took your cherry?"
"I'm not sure I liked it. I was more surprised than anything else. I was
surprised you trying to do it. I was more surprised I wanted to let you.
And, I was even more surprised it didn't hurt more than it did."
"I liked it."
"I could tell. And, I liked that you liked it. I usually fuck with my eyes
closed. I liked that you fucked with your eyes open."
"The next time you fuck me, assuming there is a next time, you should do it
with your eyes open."
"Oh, there'll be a next time," Wardo promised. "In the meantime, how about
a blow job?" he asked, pushing my head toward his dick.
I needed little encouragement. I took him in my mouth as my head rested on
his stomach. I stroked him as I swirled his head in my mouth. I swallowed
all he had when he came.
When we were done, we laid face to face and talked some more. I wish I
could tell you about what. Likely, we talked about nothing. But, we talked
and talked, neither of us wanting the day to end. We weren't together when
we slept.
Part Seven
Wardo fucked me with his eyes open the next morning. I was on my back, and
I overcame my timidity and talked him through it, slowing him down so he
could fuck me properly. We stared at each other as I held his sides and
hips. I came before he did. I was surprised when, after he came, he lowered
himself onto me, smearing my cum and our sweat between us and kissing me. I
wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him into me. He dozed off as I
tickled his back. I dozed off after he did.
When we woke up, we showered together. I washed him first, barehanded. I
wanted to feel every inch of him.
He washed me when I had finished washing him. I wasn't sure what he would
do when he got to my crotch, but he didn't hesitate, soaping me completely.
I got hard as he did.
"Come up here," I said. "Let's jack each other off while we make out."
Wardo took me in his hand and lowered his mouth to mine. We came as we
kissed, spraying each other.
"That was hot, Jeffrey," he said. Wardo had always used my full Christian
name.
To be continued...
