Invited

INVITED

Chapter 25

( Temptation )

We're standing in Pat's bedroom with me holding my shirt and him undressing down to his jockey shorts. Now, his face right in front of mine with his eyes looking down, he unbuckles my belt, mumbling, "I've lost the boner from our fabulous make-out, so you'll need to suck another one on me, but that won't take long."

He's grinning, still looking down, my buckle loosened, and now he's trying to unsnap my jeans, saying, "It'll be an almost instantaneous boner because just imagining your lips on my cock is almost enough to get me hard."

I'm having trouble breathing, so I gasp in a deep breath, then mumble, "I'm sorry, Pat, but no! Please stop doing that."

His eyes come up to look into mine, "Too soon?" he asks.

He's so 'effing attractive with his smooth pale complexion, cute facial features, green eyes, and dark brown hair. Taking another deep breath, I quietly say, "Too soon has nothing to do with it. You and I are never doing sexual messing around."

Looking confused, he mutters, "Messing around? Does that mean...?

I cut him off, saying, "I need to apologize for leading you on, making out so enthusiastically downstairs. I shouldn't have done that, and I didn't expect to do it. Anyway, it was wrong kif me, so I'm sorry."

He nods, then buckles my belt back up, shrugs, and murmurs, "Nah, that's okay; it's my bad for trying to take advantage of your innocence."

I mutter, "I'm not all that innocent."

Picking his khakis up from the floor, then stepping into them, he says, "Yeah, you are kind of innocent. Look, how about if I get dressed, and maybe we can have another beer, smoke a cigarette outside, and talk? Could we do that, please?"

I'm super impressed at how easily he accepted rejection. No arguing; he simply put his pants on. Putting on my shirt, I'm relieved, murmuring, "Sure, I'll do that."

On our way downstairs, I'm feeling like crap for getting myself into this awkward situation; I mutter, "If we were in different circumstances, um, I'd be..."

Continuing our habit of not allowing each other to finish sentences, he interrupts, "Yeah, I know. Hey, as I said, I feel like shit for attempting to take advantage of a terrific young guy like..."

I interrupt, "No, it was me who should never have teased the situation."

In the living room, we put on our sneakers, then get our coats, and go into the kitchen, where Pat takes two more beers from the refrigerator, saying, "I should have known better; been more considerate. I mean, hell, I was in your circumstance when Leonardo was my man. Guys tried hitting on me too."

I nod and, with nothing more insightful to say, mutter, "Oh, uh-huh," and he says, "Then, I resented the guys tempting me like that, hating on them for tempting me to be disloyal. I hope you and I can avoid those bad feelings and chalk this up to my horniness and bad judgment. I'm hoping you'll give me a do-over. I'd like very much for us to be friends."

Going outside through the back door to the deck, then leaning against the railing, Pat mumbles on, "As you can see, we have no outdoor furniture. We didn't have a deck like this in Delaware."

Shrugging, I go, "That's okay."

Pat lights two Marlboro cigarettes from the pack he bought the night Billy and I smoked pot and drank beer with him. We smoke and drink for a minute without talking; then Pat asks what he asked earlier, "Can you show me around town tomorrow, and then maybe we can hit some golf balls at the driving range?"

I nod, "Uh-huh, sure," and he goes, "I've got the rest of this week off, then I start classes on Monday. Um, did Billy tell you our class schedules are kind of fucked. We can only ride to classes together Mondays and Fridays. I need to use public transportation for my classes on Wednesdays and Thursdays."

I mutter, "That sucks," and he says, "Yeah, well, I thought I could use Mom's car, but there's no school bus stop close enough, so she needs to drive Jena to and from middle school every day. That kinda blows."

After swallowing some of the fourth beer we've had tonight, I say, "The middle school bus stop is only two blocks from my house. I took the bus all through middle school."

He blows three smoke rings and mumbles, "But your house is six blocks from here. Heh-heh, eight blocks are seven too many for our little princess to walk. That's according to Mom and Dad. If it were me, I'd be walking eight blocks."

Snickering, I mutter, "Do I detect a little resentment there?"

He grins his cute grin, "Yeah, a little, heh-heh."

We finish our beers while Pat tells me some cute examples of how differently his parents treat Jena compared to the treatment he got at her age, and he tells it with enthusiasm in a humorous manner, making us both laugh. Even though his sister gets special treatment, I can tell he and Jena are close as brother and sister.

I shiver a little, and Pat wraps both arms around me, murmuring, "Yeah, it's cold. I can't wait for spring." He rubs my back and then kisses my cheek, asking, "Is this warming you up, or do you want to go inside?"

The sides of our heads are together as he rubs up the back of my head, murmuring, "There's something about you that makes me want to take care of you," and a tight hug follows.

Yeah, well, he has that mysterious something I'm helplessly attracted to; whatever it is, he's got it.

When I didn't try pulling away, Pat kept his arms around me and swayed me slowly, side to side, as Billy did last week. Billy and I ended up slowly dancing together as he sang a song quietly in my ear.

That memory makes me come to my senses and gently pull away, murmuring, "Yes, it's cold; let's go inside."

We do that with Pat leaving his arm across my shoulders. I don't complain because he's been incredibly understanding about, um, everything. He gets two more beers, handing one to me, asking, "Do you know where I can score some grass? Where does Billy get his?"

I've got a reasonably significant beer buzz going for me by now as I shrug, "I'm not sure. Sometimes he buys it from his neighbor. Last week he scored pot from Chickie. That's what Billy, you, and I were smoking. Chickie's gone back to school someplace, though. You can ask Billy where else he gets it."

We swallow our beers; Pat puts his arm around my waist and guides us back to the living room, where we sit on the sofa. He drinks from his beer, then says, "My mission now is to gain your trust in believing I won't repeat that clumsy attempt to get in your pants."

I mutter, "I vote for pretending nothing happened because nothing did when you get right down to it."

I've become so used to having Billy's arm around me in some manner almost constantly these past months that I don't give much of a thought that Pat's arm is across my shoulders most of the time as well.

I'm snuggled comfortably against his side, and I like it. As I've mentioned, he has that certain confidence, that mysterious something I gravitate to. Even though Pat and I will never do serious sexual messing around, I still feel as if I'm the girl/guy to his guy/guy. I thought that way when we made out, for example. It's because he's much more mature and experienced in, um, relationships and everything else than I am.

He turns his head, looking at me, grinning; then, he uses his fingers to flatten the front hair on my head, murmuring, "You would look even cuter with your hair pulled back in a ponytail like mine. Jeez, as if you're not hard enough to resist as it is," and he lowers his head kissing me on the lips.

He asks, "Was that okay?" Staring into his incredibly green eyes, I feel my dick getting hard again. I nod, and he kisses me again, and I kiss back this time.

"Please tell me if I'm out of line, Gary," and his hand comes off my shoulders to pull my head toward him, and we do a wet sloppy kiss. Sucking in air, he slides his lips off mine, moving them wetly across my cheek; then, he holds the sides of our heads together as he gasps in another deep inhale.

Another gasp from Pat, then he said, "Christ, I'm desperately trying to keep my promise."

He got up abruptly, picked up his beer can, and stood there gulping down the remaining beer. The whole front of his skinny khaki pants is pushed out with what has to be a huge boner, while I've got a slightly undersized boner in my pants.

I say, "Yeah, I didn't show a lot of willpower myself just now, but you said it's normal for gay friends to have a kiss once in a while. I'm hoping that's a fact."

He pulls at the front of his pants, chuckling and muttering, "I need to get my boner to the side."

Still standing, he goes, "This is shocking to me, but I never got turned on this much from making out with Leonardo, who I was in love with. Damn, this is going to be hard."

I can still taste his lips, and his scent is in my head as I ask, "What should we do; do you think?"

He rubs his face, chuckling again, then says, "Damned if I know. Um, could you be less irresistible? That would help."

Strangely, no one thought I was irresistible until I realized I was gay for Billy. Since then, three or four guys have claimed I am. It could be that my Shirly Temple hair was hiding my irresistibility all those years. No, I'm not serious about that; I'm being a little crazy with that nonsense. I don't understand any of this, which isn't a new condition for me.

Pat and I don't do any more making out. Instead, we get a little drunker having another beer and smoking on the deck, joking around about our penchant for making out. Finally, Pat glances at his watch and says, "Oh, fuck, it's nine o'clock! They'll be home from the movies any minute. Come on, help me, Gary."

Following him inside, then down the cellar, he hands me two six-packs of beer from a couple of cases. We replaced the beer we took from the refrigerator, both chewing Juicy Fruit gum as Billy giggled, spraying air freshener on us, saying, "My mom can smell cigarette smoke on my clothes that's a week old. That's if I don't mask the smell." He sprays a little more on me, and me waving my hands at the spray.

His Mom and sister come home. Mrs. Summers is very friendly, then Jena says, "You're the cute one," to me. I shrug, then a minute later, Mr. Summers comes in, hugs Jena, kisses his wife, then asks, "Who's this?" nodding at me.

After the introductions, Jena insists on riding with Pat and me as he drives me the six blocks to my house. When Pat pulls up to the curb, Jena from the back seat asks, "Are you going to kiss him goodnight, Patrick?"

Pat says, "We're not into that sort of thing, brat," then he leans over and kisses me. I can't help but chuckle as Pat says, "I'll call you tomorrow, Gary."

Getting out, I mumble, "Goodnight, Pat, and you too, brat."

It was confusing at times tonight, but kind of fun too. I enjoyed being with Pat. In bed that night, I realize I'm highly horned up after all that making out. Damn, I need to do something I haven't done in months; jerk off into a sock.

Tight steady stroking on my dick, stroke, stroke, stroke, and, oh man, this feels good. "Um, um, um," stroking my dick, thinking about how hot, attractively cute, and sexy Pat is. His kissing, um, it was so cool doing that with him. "Ah, ah, ah," my body gets stiff, my legs stretching out hard as, "AH!" I blow my load partially into the sock and partially on my fingers. Whew, that was a damn good climax, and I needed the relief.

Breathing hard, I lie back, shuddering a little. Do you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to take a page out of Billy's book of rationalizations and not feel guilty about being hot for Pat tonight. Billy wants me to be more sociable. That's what I'm doing; being sociable with my gay friend Pat Summers.

No, I'm never going to be doing serious messing around with Pat, but making out isn't serious messing around. That's my second rationalization. My first one was rationalizing not being guilty of thinking Pat's super cute, attractive, and desirable.

Fully aware that both rationalizations are irrational, I go to sleep.

The following day, Pat calls as I'm eating breakfast. He tells me he has his mom's car and will pick me up in twenty minutes. Then adds, "Um, sorry, but my sister will be with me. She'll only be with us for a quick trip to the mall, though."

That's curious, but I merely say, "Twenty minutes, right. I'll be outside. See you then," and hurriedly finish my breakfast, then brush my teeth and spend too much time fixing my hair.

Yep, I'm just now realizing that what Pat did with his call was an example of something Billy does. He'll tell me what he's going to do, assuming it's what I want to do. In this case, Pat expects I wanted to be picked up in twenty minutes.

Huh! Well, I guess It's up to me to correct misassumptions. Yes, except what Pat did is an excellent example of what I like about both guys. It's their guy/guy personas; their confident take-charge attitudes that give a girl/guy like me a woody in my pants.

That's a slight exaggeration, but I respond to that kind of subtle guy/guy thing of telling me what's happening. They don't even realize they're doing that. It comes naturally to them.

Wearing my puffer coat and birthday Florida resort hat, I'm outside waiting for Pat, thinking about Billy in his college class with his new friend Ron-something. It makes me smile, picturing Billy being attentive in class even though he's bored shitless of the subject matter. His conscientiousness is something I should learn from when we go to community college together in the fall. If he thinks we're not going to be in all the same classes, though, he's got another 'think' coming.

Pat drives a grey late-model Jeep Cherokee to the curb. Sitting in the passenger seat is his sister, who, sitting side-by-side with her brother, looks like a girly younger version of Pat; cute!

He's looking at me, rolling his eyes, nodding at Jena, then shaking his head and making a face like, 'Can you believe this?'

Jena is smiling brightly, wearing a Phillies baseball cap with her ponytail pushed through the back opening between the cap and the size-adjustment strap below. She gets out, saying, "Good morning, Gary; you can sit in the front with your boyfriend. I'm merely the little sister you and Partick are stuck with for an hour or so."

She's very precocious, and I can't help but grin, mumbling, "Oh, um, good morning, Jena." Pointing at her hat, I ask, "Are you a Phillies fan?" Getting in the back seat, she says, "Heaven, no! I just like wearing my brother's hat."

Pat says, "Gary, I'm so sorry about this, but the only way I can use the car today is if I take the brat to the mall. She needs a new backpack for some obscure reason."

I get in the passenger seat, and Jena says, "It's because my current backpack has all kinds of trivia about my old school written on it, plus too many memories of friends who, realistically, I'll likely not see again."

She makes me chuckle. Pat drives us away, saying, "Can you give me directions, Gary? We'll go right to the mall, buy the damn backpack, and then deliver the brat back home."

Jena says, "Patrick calls me 'brat,' but we're very close. It's his term of endearment for me." Snickering, I mutter, "Oh, I see."

Pat grins at me, "I need to deal with this every day!"

I direct him to the 69th Street Mall. It's a fifteen to twenty-minute drive. Jena says, "Mom wouldn't let Patrick use her car unless he took me to the mall."

I go, "Yes, he just told me that a minute ago."

She says, "Well, because of me, you missed out on a kiss hello from your new boyfriend. I'm sorry about that, but that's on him. I would have enjoyed seeing you swoon when he kissed you like you did last night."

Looking back at her, I go, "What? I didn't swoon!"

She smirks at me, and Pat says, "You just need to ignore whatever she says, Gary."

She ignores what Pat said and tells me, "Patrick was in the bathroom for twenty minutes getting himself as perfect for you as possible, which I think is pretty perfect. Don't you, Gary?"

Before I can answer, she asks, "What's your last name? Pat won't tell me."

Before I can tell her, she says, "I think it's marvelous that he found a new boyfriend so fast because he was moping around about his lost love, Leonardo. It was a sad thing to see."

Pat glances at me shaking his head as Jena talks nonstop all the way to the mall. Since she never gave me the chance to answer her question about my last name, I adopted Pat's advice and ignored her, although I found her entertaining.

After parking at the mall, Jena holds Pat's hand as we walk to the entrance, with Pat telling me, "I've got my golf clubs in the trunk and meant to tell you to get yours, but that got lost in translation; with the brat babbling nonstop."

She grins at me mischievously but, for once, doesn't say anything.

I think it's sweet that they hold hands. Pat didn't seem to think anything of it. I suppose, as the much older brother, he's been holding her hand routinely for years wherever they go together.

The backpack purchase goes amazingly quickly. Pat pays for it, and we're out of the mall in ten minutes. During the drive back to the neighborhood, from the backseat, Jena reads aloud everything from the information tags on her new backpack. Pat rolls his eyes at me three or four times but is obviously used to his sister's constant need to talk out loud.

At their house, Jena says, "It was fun hanging out with you guys. Thank you, Patrick." She unhooks her seatbelt, leans over the front seat, and kisses Pat's cheek. He smiles, then says, "No problem, Jena. Now get out!"

Jena smiles at me and says, "As I already told you, Pat and I are very close, but he pretends I annoy him when he's with a friend. I'm so glad you live in the neighborhood, Gary. It takes a lot of pressure off me trying to get Patrick to smile."

In a bored voice, Pat goes, "Thank you for filling Gary and me in on that, Jena. Now, get out!"

She says, "When I get to know you better, Gary, I'll give you a kiss too."

Pat abruptly turns to face her, and she giggles, "Well, I'll be getting out now." I say, "Bye. Good luck with your backpack."

She gets out of the car, puts her backpack on, skips to the front door, unlocks it, and disappears inside. Pat goes, "Sorry. Pretend that never happened." I say, "She's cute as a button. Whatever that means."

Back at my house, I get my golf clubs, then direct Pat to drive around, pointing out what our town has to offer, which isn't a helluva lot, frankly. He seems happy about it, though. He mumbles, "There aren't any slum areas, which we had some of in our town. Everything is a bit on the old side here, but it's nice overall, don't you think?"

Shrugging, I go, "After living here for so long, I never think about it. It's alright, I guess. We can drive around parts of Philly if you'd like to see some bad neighborhoods."

He mutters, "No, I'll pass on that."

At twelve, we have lunch at McDonald's as Pat tells me about some of his golf matches on his high school golf team. Then we hit two baskets of golf balls at the driving range.

The weather cooperates, hovering around fifty degrees and sunny. Pat gives me a few more tips about what I'm doing wrong by standing behind me, his arms around me, and his hands on my hands, demonstrating how I should be gripping the club, then taking the club back.

The third time he does that, he kisses my cheek, saying, "Pay attention because if I need to do this much longer, I'll be dealing with a throbbing boner."

We get to my house at three-thirty, and while my mom has left for work, I still can't invite Pat in because I'm expecting a text or call from Billy. I say, "That was fun, Pat. Thanks. Um," and then I come right out and explain about Billy.

Pat smiles, "I understand, but how about tonight? Um, let's go to the movies. Billy's studying tonight, so..."

I'm hesitating, but according to Billy, I'm supposed to be more sociable, so, "Ah, yeah, but could you call after dinner? I mean, there's always a chance he'll change his mind and want to do something with me."

Pat grins, "Hmm, I wonder what that something might be."

For some odd reason, I blush, stammering, "No, um, I mean, I don't know."

Pat takes my hat and puts it on his head, mumbling, "I'll have this to remind me of you. I hope I can return it tonight. I'll call you after dinner."

I hesitate again, not sure if he's going to kiss me. Then, realizing he isn't, I nod, "Yep, see ya, Pat," and get out. He gets out, too, and opens the trunk so I can get my clubs, which I'd forgotten. If he didn't get out, I would have gone inside without my golf clubs. Duh!

Whew, he's in my head a little.

Inside, I stash the clubs in the basement, then think about jerking off. No, I'm not doing that. Instead, I get undressed, take my phone to the bathroom with me, and take a shower. Yeah, a shower because Billy noticed I showered before he came over yesterday, and I think he liked that I wanted to be clean and fresh for him.

As I'm drying myself after a ten-minute shower, Billy texts that he'll be here in five minutes. Ha-ha, five minutes my ass. He's not a slave to time, so more likely; it'll be fifteen or twenty minutes. I take my time brushing my teeth and getting dressed, then comb my hair and go downstairs. It's been more than five minutes since his call, so I put my coat on and went outside to wait for him, and I still needed to wait five minutes before he drove up.

Seeing him smiling at me, I almost get a tear in my eyes because he's so perfect, and I'm now feeling guilty for being attracted to Pat. It's Billy who has elevated my life from merely existing to one of constant excitement and thrills. He gets out of the van, and I meet him halfway for a hug, murmuring, "Hi, Billy. I've missed you."

He smiles and gets his arm around the back of my neck, mumbling, "Goddamn, nobody has ever been as glad to see me as you. What are you doing waiting out here, though? Let's go inside, and I'll let you suck me off. Doing it out here might upset the prudes in the neighborhood."

Nodding and grinning, my arm around his waist, we go inside. I kiss him, murmuring, "Lick my face, Billy."

He snickers, "You like me, doncha?"

We do a really good kiss, then he licks across my lips, my chin, then up the front of my nose. I stand here grinning like a fool as he goes, "There, are you okay now?"

Wiping at the spit on my face, nodding, "Yep, I'm good now that you're here. My man."

Chuckling, he mutters, "You're still on that 'effing my man shit, huh? Whatever, do you have a Coke for me? I just drove through Philly, and the traffic was ridiculous. It took me almost an hour to go from Ron's house to here if you can believe that. It should be a forty-minute drive at the most."

Getting two Cokes from the refrigerator, I hand one to Billy, asking, "Did you stay very long at the trivia guy's house?"

After taking a long drink from his soda, he says, "His name is Ron, not trivia guy. We hung out for an hour or so. Classes were over at one o'clock today. Um, never mind that, though; let's smoke a cigarette on your back porch."

We still have our coats on, so we walk out the back door with Billy asking, "Did you buy that pack of Marlboro yet?"

I mutter, "Um, no, not yet," and he chuckles, "I didn't think so."

Putting his soda on the porch railing, he lights a cigarette, takes a drag, and exhales, then holds the wet filter to my lips. I take a drag and ask, "So, what did you guys do for an hour? Did you make out?"

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head slowly, he says, "No, and what a dumb question. I told you yesterday that Ron is in a relationship," and then he ruffles my hair, then squeezes the back of my neck, adding, "And I guess so am I, so why would you even ask that question?"

I get the shivers from that squeeze, then tell him what I said yesterday, "Sociable gay friend can kiss, right? That's no big deal."

He holds the cigarette to my lips again, mumbling, "Didn't we have a very similar discussion yesterday?"

Exhaling smoke away from Billy, I put my arms around him, mumbling, "I forget. All I know is I love you so much my heart and soul ache for you."

He smiles, "That's nice of you to say, hee-hee, you're one of a kind, Gary. You make me feel good, and, as I already promised you, I'm going to let you suck me off."

Still hugging him, I chuckle, "You're too good to your girl/guy boyfriend."

He's smiling and hugging me back, "Yeah, I'm a pushover, always letting you have your way with me."

We both know it's ludicrous to pretend that letting me blow him is only done as a favor to me. Still, in a way, it is kind of a favor because I love doing it for him. Also, when he left yesterday after messing around fucking me twice, what I most wanted to do if he came over after supper was sucking him off. He didn't come over after dinner, but here he is now.

After finishing the cigarette and Cokes, we go to my bedroom and get undressed. He sits on the side of the bed, then lays back with his feet on the floor, "There you go, Gary, I'm all yours."

Getting on my knees between his feet, I rub up and down his legs, then up and down his stomach. He's an inch or so shorter than me, and he's slim as me, but he has a tighter body. He has some modest muscle definition, and his skin is smooth, his nipples smallish pink little things, cute nipples. Useless but cute.

No, not totally useless because when I suck one nipple, then the other, they get hard, sticking up at attention like little pink soldiers. Sucking on them made Billy squirm on the bed and snicker. His skin smells boyishly sexy, and there's a faint salty taste to it. As I lick down his breastbone to his stomach, little goosebumps appear. Billy rubs my head, then my shoulders, murmuring, "Feels good."

Mostly avoiding his neat pubic patch, my tongue moves across his belly and down the inside of his left thigh. Continuing to lick down to the side of his knee, then around to the top of it, then my tongue moves up to where his leg connects to his torso. By now, saliva is running down my chin; I lick all over his roundish scrotum, then up it to the base of his fairly firm penis.

Anxious to taste it, I hold his dick up straight and lick up and down its slight cone shape, wider at the base, narrowing to just below a normal mushroom-shaped head that's wider than the shaft. His penis is quite an attractive organ, a twin of my penis. Billy likes to mention how there's nothing particularly unusual about either one of our dicks, except this one is Billy's, which makes it very special to me.

Stroking it into a boner, then my lips suck on the head with an initial taste of urine, but almost instantly, that's gone. My lips suck the head as my tongue probes the piss slit, feeling it quivering against the tip of my tongue. Going down on it until the head poked my gag reflex area at the top of my throat, then I tightly dragged my lip-covered teeth back up the shaft.

My dick is a steel poker by now, my balls feeling hard but active as I go down on his hard penis again, going down harder this time which gets the head to plug into my throat, then do it again as I stroke my hard dick. Bobbing up and down, deep-throating his boner again and again and again, Billy's feet lift off the floor, his body stiff as a board, his torso lifting slightly off the bed. With a squeak, he blows his creamy load in my mouth, then flounces around, shooting off another squirt of cum, some of it drooling out both sides of my lips to join my saliva, drooling down my chin.

Holding Billy's softening dick, I swallow just in time to squeal as I climax, shooting off a tight stream of cum that splatters against the side of the bedspread, just missing the inside of his left leg. Shaking and shuddering, I swallow again, feeling dizzy but wonderful simultaneously as his sloppy dick flops out of my fingers.

Taking a deep breath, picking his dick up again, I put the head back in my mouth to suck off drooling cum residue as Billy sits up, saying, "Awesome, Gary! That was premium oral messing around. Oh man, I needed that."

Reluctantly, I let his flaccid but clean penis flop from my mouth again. Sitting back on my heels, I grinned at him, mumbling, "I loved doing that for my man."

He mutters, "Your man, huh?" Pulling out some Kleenex from the box on the nightstand, Billy leans over, wipes my mouth, then murmurs, "According to you, I'm your boyfriend, and that was some special messing around. Thank you."

Ah, what's better than praise from your lover?

He's leaning over as I give him an awkward hug, mumbling, "You're the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me, Billy."

Kissing the side of my forehead, "That's probably an understatement, heh-heh," then we kiss on the lips. He says, "C'mon, get up. Let's get in bed, and you can snuggle against me the way you like."

We do that, and when we're comfortable in our normal positions, he says, "I read that the Voyager spacecraft has now been in space for 47 years, traveling at 38,000 miles an hour, and is currently 14.6 billion miles from Earth! Can you wrap your head around that?"

With the side of my head against his shoulder, his arm behind my neck, I mutter, "No, not really, but remember that thing we were talking about earlier? The thing about gay friends kissing."

He goes, "Yeah, I guess. Um, what about it?"

"Oh, nothing, except Pat and I were doing some kissing this afternoon, mostly initiated by him, but I didn't especially resist."

He makes a snorting sound, then says, "Yeah? So that's why I'm hearing all your kissing gay friends' questions. So, how did you like it?"

I go, "He's pretty good at it but not as good as you. He told me I'm irresistible."

Billy's awfully blase and calm about what, to me, seems like startling news.

He chuckles, "Huh, I've read that you need to be wary of a person on the rebound from a lost love affair."

I'm like, "Aren't you going to ask me if we messed around?"

"No, I don't care if you did, but if you did, that's between you two; I don't want to hear about it."

Emphatically, I say, "Well, we didn't, and why don't you care that Pat was making out with me?"

Chuckling again, he says, "Oh, so it's making out now, not doing a few kisses, huh? And somehow, you're trying to turn this into a failure of mine because I'm not getting all jealous and pissed off at your flirting around with the new guy. That's pretty sneaky of you. What did you think I'd do; punch out Pat?"

"No, I was just working on being sociable, making out with a friend. He seems pretty strong, too, so don't start a fight with him."

Billy laughs and says, "Jesus, thanks for the heads up. Wow, that Pat is a quick mover, alright, but then, he's been at this for a lot longer than me."

Giving my neck a squeeze, he adds, "Gary, as much as you'd apparently like to turn this situation into an afternoon teen angst TV movie, I can't help you with that."

I go, "No, I'm not doing that. It's just that Pat says it's a common thing for gay friends to kiss. You know, make out. George sort of said the same thing, and, like Pat, he's been out as gay for years."

Actually, George may not have said that; not exactly. I may have suggested it to him, now that I think back on it.

Billy mumbles, "Whatever, I'm not concerned. I'm your idol and the love of your life, and I don't think Pat or anyone else will change that. If I'm wrong about that, then I'm wrong. Plus, the fact that you just had to confess about your so-called sociable making out further strengthens my conviction that I'm stuck with you."

Hmm, that isn't exactly an endorsement of me doing so-called sociable kissing with gay friends, but it will do for relieving my semi-guilty conscience. When George and I kiss occasionally, I never feel guilty, so that's the kind of kissing I'll be doing with Pat from now on. Case closed.

But to close out this topic with Billy, though, I mutter, "Hmm, I wonder if animals other than humans kiss?"

Billy says, "I don't know, probably not. In fact, the origin of humans kissing remains a mystery. The earliest references to a form of kissing were found in India. Um, it was back around 1500 B.C. They had a custom of pressing noses together or something like that."

I go, "Nose kissing? You made that up!"

He snickers, "No, I didn't; I read it! Then, in about 1000 B.C., the epic poem Mahabharata, which you're undoubtedly familiar with, contains references to lips kissing. It wasn't until 326 B.C. that kissing spread from India."

I'm like, "How in the name of God can you remember all this stuff? And when you said the name of that poem, it sounded like you were gagging."

Chuckling, Billy mumbles, "In between your madly making out bouts with Pat, I bet he never informs you about facts of the Cosmos and history the way I can. So, keep that in mind."

Snuggling in tighter against him, I chuckle and mutter, "Let's press our noses together."

We do that, snickering and then kissing, which turns into us nakedly rolling around on the bed, making out like mad, and rubbing bodies until we both have hard boners. Gasping, Billy murmurs, "Get a condom."

We've rolled right next to the bedside table with me on my stomach. Reaching over, I open the drawer and fish around inside until I find the last of three condom packets I put there a couple of nights ago. Billy takes it and, sounding out of breath, mutters, "If you'll push your ass up a little, I'll take care of your messing around needs."

I can't describe how excited and thrilled I get about Billy and me messing around fucking. He's such a perfect guy/guy top, and the fact that he wants to do this with me gives me chills. Turning my head, seeing him rip open the condom, I gasped, "Would you bareback me this time, Billy?"

Oh man, I can't 'effing catch my breath.

He nods, "Sure, I can do that for you," and I move my head back to lay my face on the pillow as he's wiping lube from the condom at my asshole. It makes me shudder with anticipation.

Billy was totally correct when he said nobody in the world could do this with me nearly as well as him; I believe that. It'd be impossible for anyone to satisfy me to the degree Billy does. Pat was right about one thing, though, and it's that Billy is my man, and he always will be.

Dropping the ripped-open packet on top of the bedside table, Billy pushes the head of his hard penis against my asshole. I shudder again as his hands, the fingers slippery with lube, take hold of my hips, and shivering with anxiousness, I feel my anus spreading open for the swollen head of his boner.

When my anus spreads open barely wide enough, Billy's hard sex organ tightly slides inside my body. Part of Billy's body is inside me now, and the emotional reaction, the immense surge of excitement and pleasure, is immeasurable. I moan, "Oooh, umm, Billy."

He takes a noisy deep breath, then pushes in further, opening me up more, and when it's all inside me, I feel shivers of ecstasy. Nothing will ever compare to the joy and pleasure I feel sharing this sex with Billy Underwood.

His body tight against my butt cheeks, Billy takes another deep breathy inhale, then murmurs, "Feels so absurdly good," and pulls his dick back, then pushes it right back in, setting off a million pleasure vibrations from my prostate, and we both moan, "Ahh, umm."

Billy does a dozen steady, almost lazy thrusts, each one bringing on more pleasure than the one before it. I'm pushing my hips up, squirming on the bed in a near state of delirium. Swarms of sexual pleasure as inch by inch, his hard cock passed by and against uncountable nerve endings that were only too happy to provide pleasure the same way they were only too happy to provide a bit of initial pain. I sucked up that initial pain and spit it out, loving it. It barely lasted long enough to notice.

The second dozen or so thrusts are still steady, but they're picking up a bit of speed as Billy's breathing gets louder. It's four or five minutes of deliciously building pleasure before our climax buttons get punched. Then it's like riding down the biggest hill on a rollercoaster, with the thrusting getting faster and harder, the slapping sounds in our ears, "Slap, slap, slap," as Billy's body smacks against my ass.

There's a roaring in my ears, almost like the screams from those riding down that big rollercoaster hill as sexy pleasure sensations build and build, the pleasure screaming at me now and then a supernova BOOM! of sensations as my climax explodes, cum roaring up from my iron balls to blow out my petrified dick. That creamy goo has no place to go and nothing to do when it gets there. The warm creamy cum pools under my belly button, leaving me shuddering with pleasure. Sirens ring in my head as fireworks go off behind my eyes, then it all quickly calms down as I do a few involuntary shivers as this latest magic carpet ride is over for me.

Billy is trembling against my buttocks, filling me up with his creamy hot goo. Then there's some thrusting in my sloppy rectum before Billy collapses on my back, his dick still snuggly in me.

A quiet moan from Billy, then, "How was that, Gary?"

I murmur, "Do it some more, please," and he chuckles, adding, "That felt so good. Oh man," and he does a push-up, lifting off me, his dick pulling out of my ass, leaving me wide open back there.

Flopping on his back next to me, he asks, "Are you okay?" I grin, "I'm awesome! That was special."

His head sharing my pillow, Billy moves on to practical matters, asking, "When does your mom get home from work?"

"Between five and six. It depends on if she needs to grocery shop, and sometimes she'll socially hang around talking with her friends who work with her."

Billy pinches my nose, grinning and mumbling, "You're going to drop the word social on me every 'effing chance you get, aren't you?"

Grinning back at him, I go, "It's on my mind; being more social, like you."

He makes a face, "You didn't use to be such a smart ass, but now that you've got me wrapped around your little finger, you figure you can get away with anything, huh?

I'm like, "Nooo! You're my man; I'd never be a smart ass to my man."

Smiling, shaking his head, he mutters, "What have I got myself into with you?"

Our heads turned on the pillow, looking at one another; then we talked about his college workload this semester and how, after a bitch of a start, it'll lighten up in a week or so.

He tells me, "Some college professors like to pile it on at first with new students in their classes. They want to weed out those students who aren't serious."

I'm rubbing his arm, mumbling, "All your freshman year experiences are going to be a big help for me getting off on the right foot this fall."

He goes, "It will be cool having an apartment. Mom said between her and dad, plus my aunt and uncle, they have enough furniture in storage to almost furnish a small apartment. We'll need to rent a few things, of course."

What thrilling fun it is to plan future things we'll do together. I can feel his love for me whether he gets around to saying it or not. He looks at his watch and says, "Jesus, I've got to get going, Gary. I have a five-thirty appointment at Lens Crafters on 69th Street."

I go, "An eye exam? Why?"

He shrugs; Mom set it up because she says I can't see things in the distance worth shit. Well, she didn't say shit, but my brother, Mom, and Dad all wear eyeglasses, so maybe I'll need to as well. How about that 'effing ball buster?"

"You'll be handsome with or without eyeglasses. Um, I hope you don't need to wear them, though."

He goes, "I think I'll need them. Mom was testing me when I drove her to the drugstore one of the days I didn't see you last week. She asked me,

what's that sign say? She could read the sign, but to me, it was only a blur of color. I'm gonna be a four-eyed geek, Gary!"

"No, that's impossible, Billy. You'd never be a geek."

He smiles at me, "I think I'll look distinguished."

We talk about that for a while. Then, we're barely cleaned up and dressed when Mom gets home early. Billy's stuck going through his smiling, "Nice to see you, Mrs. Wallingford. Gary and I were just discussing the fall semester at community college and...," and blah, blah, blah.

I walk to the front stoop with him as he quietly says, "Dammit, we need to plan better. I should be gone when your mom gets home."

Nodding, "Yeah, okay, but she never gets home this early. Ah, good luck at the eye doctor, and, um, can you get out tonight?"

He gives me an exasperated look, "For Christ's sake, we 'effing talked about that twenty minutes ago. This is the beginning of the semester, and I need to get through the heavy workload for a week or two. Jeez, don't you listen? Don't you know anything?"

Nodding again, I'm like, "Yes, I know, but can you get out for an hour at least?"

He laughs and says, "Well, I guess for an hour or so. I'll pick you up at seven."

We have twin inferior willpower. "Great. I'll be at the curb waiting."

That worked out great! After dinner, when Pat calls, I say, "I'm sorry, Pat, but Billy's going to be hanging out with me tonight; maybe tomorrow you and I can hang out, but not..."

He interrupts, "Can I hang out with both you guys? We had a good time together the other night; all three of us."

Pat doesn't abide by my idea about needing to be invited. But, wait, I didn't wait to be invited when Billy and I were at the door. I nagged him and invited him to come out for an hour or so tonight. Hmm, that's interesting; my first time doing the inviting. Billy would call it nagging, I suppose, but that has little to do with this conversation I'm having with Pat.

In a bit of a whining manner, I mumble, "But Billy and I are only going to hang out for an hour, so, you know?"

He goes, "Oh, Jesus, how dumb of me. Sorry, of course, I understand you want privacy. Um, how about later tonight, though? After the hour, you and I don't have to be anywhere tomorrow. We can stay out late and sleep in as late as we want tomorrow."

That sounded like he meant sleeping as late as we wanted together. No, what's wrong with me? I'm sure he didn't mean that. I feel bad for Pat. He just moved here and didn't know anyone, and he's obviously, a social guy used to hanging out with friends.

I can't think what to say, so Pat takes over and says, "Nine o'clock, Gary. I'll text you then, okay? We could see a late movie or just drive around and talk, get something to eat. Or, I can get us some beer. Please."

Being sort of popular is so new to me! "Um, okay, Pat, text me. I guess we can do something."

He sounds excited, "Great! Thanks, we'll be just a couple of gay friends hanging out. You're awesome. I'll text you."

Nodding, I go, "Okay, yeah, text me."

We disconnect. Hmm, there isn't anything wrong with me hanging out with Pat; is there?

To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com

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