This is a true story, modified to protect the anonymity of those involved and simplified to enhance the narrative's flow.
Reader feedback is welcomed, and the author will do his best to answer questions and respond to comments. Contact him at hairy.jacques@yahoo.com.
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"Anything you want," Part 6
I awoke to the sound of him taking a piss in the bathroom. The bedside clock told me it was 2:05. The light streaming in through the window told me it was 2:05 p.m. Talk about oversleeping. The good news was that neither one of us had to be anywhere for a couple of hours. When the pissing stopped, I turned over and watched him standing over the toilet. His back was to me. He stood there, unmoving. He was naked and the overhead light in the bathroom caused the light blond hairs of his muscular legs and buttocks to almost shimmer. I realized that he was trying to piss through a hard-on when I saw his ass muscles clench. He pissed and then paused. He pissed and then paused. He pissed again. Finally, he flushed.
I smiled when he turned around. He smiled back. I had worried that things would be weird between us. They weren't.
His dick still at full mast, he walked toward the bed. He got back in, facing downward with his arms outstretched. He turned his head to the side and looked at me with sleepy eyes. "My back's stiff, too," he said.
I straddled him and began my massage. There were some knots in his back so I worked his muscles tenderly and thoroughly. Not only my hands were touching his back. So was my dick. Soon I was hard and leaking. We never used massage oil but my precum added just a bit of lubrication to help me as I worked his muscles. I made my way down to the base of his back and then the top of his ass. I started to knead the muscles of his cheeks. His spread his legs just enough. I knew what he wanted, so I pulled his cheeks apart and went to work with my tongue. He sighed as I tasted him. His ass lips were swollen from last night. No doubt they were also kind of tender. I did my best to soothe him--to thank him--for what he'd allowed me to do.
I switched things up, moving my hands to the backs of his thighs and calves and then down to his big feet.
He turned over, presenting me with his erection. I started with his balls. Already, they were tight and retracted. While I sucked and tongued them I stroked the tip of my nose across the underside of his dick. He smelled really good: a little soapy, a little musky, and a lot like him.
I couldn't resist. I released his balls from my mouth and let my tongue find its way around his cock. I took him into my mouth and started to suck him. Really, what I was doing was loving him. I was loving giving him pleasure. I was loving how I couldn't get enough of him. I was loving the taste and the texture of his precum and his skin. I was loving the fact that we had finally grown comfortable sharing with each other such intimacies.
I reached up to his pecs and stroked his nipples. I dipped my fingertips into the pits of his arms, which were warm and just slightly damp with excitement. I moved my fingers down to trace the ridges of his abs and then grasp his balls, pulling down on them gently while my lips pulled up from his crotch.
He was breathing harder now. I knew the signs. I touched a finger to his ass, pressing but not penetrating. My thumb massaged his taint. Suddenly the palm of his hand landed on my head. His hips bucked. His dick throbbed. He grunted. He flooded my mouth as I swallowed and swallowed. I didn't want any of his cum to escape. And to tell the truth, I felt a lump in my throat. I knew that this would be the last time for a long time. I wanted all of him.
He collapsed on the bed. I leaned back on my knees. My dick jutted out, still hard and dripping. I waited a moment, gratified but not satisfied. For a few long seconds I was hopeful but not expectant. The seconds passed. I left him on the bed, walked to the bathroom, and took matters in hand. I came while standing over the toilet. Then, finally, I pissed and flushed.
I stepped into the shower. Mostly, I just wanted to give him time to recover. As I dried off, he presented himself to me, fully dressed and cheerful, like nothing had happened.
My parents stayed in a hotel, but my little brother and sister thought it would be fun to stay with me in my dorm. We had a big dinner the night before graduation. Of course he was there, but our time alone together was up.
Close to twenty years have passed. We've never lived closer than 500 miles apart. I visited him twice while he was in grad school. We went back to the old pattern of back pops and massages--and me sucking, rimming, and swallowing.
He was a groomsman at my wedding. Then he got engaged. We shared a room during his bachelor party weekend at Steamboat Springs. The first night, I rubbed his back and sucked his dick. The last night, I massaged him and sucked him and then he fucked me.
I haven't seen him since, but we've done a fairly decent job of staying in touch. I'm still married. My wife and I have a boy and a girl. He's still married, too. He and his wife have a girl. She's very blonde and very tall. She looks just like him. He's into Crossfit and running. He's still muscular and amazing.
I don't really regret how things turned out, but I also don't regret what we shared with each other. Usually when I beat off I think about him. I love my wife and my kids. Sometimes, however, I wonder what it would be like if he and I were a couple. We could marry now. But of course this sort of thing wasn't really imaginable back when we were in college.
I got a text from him a couple of months ago. We exchanged pleasantries, caught up a bit, and compared notes. Then, he wrote that he was "missing us. Remember 'us'? We had some crazy times. I'd relive it all. I'd do everything all over again."
"Everything?" I asked.
There was a slight pause. "Everything," he replied.
So would I. I thought for a second about how to respond. My fingers touched the letters on the screen of my phone: "Me, too," I wrote. "Everything and anything." Then I added: "Anything you want."
That's the end. And that's the truth.
Capturing all these memories has been cathartic. But I'm still not sure I've figured everything out or arrived at the point of full closure. Based on what happened, what's your take on what unfolded? Sometimes I worry that I was using him. Sometimes it's difficult to deny that he was using me. Other times, however, I think that probably we were using each other. More than that: We were enjoying each other and loving each other--as best we could given the definitions and distinctions under which we believed we needed to live.
These memories still turn me on. They also make me feel somewhat confused. Maybe you can consider what happened with more objectivity.
I'd love to hear your thoughts.