Invited

Chapter 9

(Heartache)

Monday, after dinner, I brush my teeth, comb my hair just right, spray a little AXE Body Spay on myself, and go downstairs to tell Mom, "I'll be at Billy Underwood's. We're going to play ping pong and hang out at his house." She's turning on the TV, "Have fun, dear."

Billy's dad is home, so we won't be able to do our usual messing around, which is very disappointing. After riding my bike to his house, I walk to the backyard expecting Billy to be on the back porch, but he isn't. Knocking on the back door, his dad answers, mumbling, "He's in his room, supposedly straightening it up. Is your bedroom as messy as Billy's?"

I go, "No, sir," and walk down the hall. Tapping on his bedroom door, "It's me, Billy." He opens the door and, with a huge smile, says, "C'mon in, Gary."

Closing the door behind me, I mumble, "You haven't started cleaning up in here yet, huh?" He's like, "Whaddaya mean? I picked up some stuff." He hasn't picked up much.

Stepping over some towels on the floor, I put my arms around his neck, then kissed his lips. He snickers, "Christ, no one has ever liked me as much as you."

Sliding my arms down his back, I hug him, mumbling, "I can't imagine why not," and kiss him again. He kisses back, then says, "If you want to do buddying up, we'll get on the bed." I try holding his hand, but he jerks it away, saying, "No gay stuff, though."

Getting our arms around one another on his bed, we make out like lovers, not that I'd characterize it that way to him. If I did, he'd say, 'Whaddaya talking about, bro? We're messing around, is all.'

I don't care what he calls it; I love doing this with him so much that I can even ignore that his dad is only one room away. Billy's scent, mouth and tongue, cute nose, slim eyebrows, shiny brown eyes, and curved eyelashes are all extraordinary and familiar to me now. No, he isn't what most people would call cute, but his looks are perfect as far as I'm concerned.

I love the feel of his soft short brown hair too, and his tight lean body, and especially his boner bumping mine. When he pulls his shorts down, he doesn't need to tell me what to do. I scoot down on the bed and put his boner in my mouth, running my tongue around it, then sucking on it.

Then, when I go down on it, I get super aroused. An unexpected squeaky sound comes from my throat, and precum drips from my boned-up penis. Taking his boner out of my mouth and holding it in my fingers, I lick his balls and the inside of his thigh, then push his polo shirt up and suck on his belly button.

Billy groans and squirms, precum drooling down my fingers. My lips tightly around it, I go down on his boner one, two, three times, sliding in his precum, the head hitting the back of my throat like a smooth wooden dowel. Up and down on his perfectly hard penis until his body gets stiff as a board. Groaning, he lifts his ass off the bed and climaxes, shooting what feels like a massive load of cum in my mouth.

I swallow his cum quickly, only a dribble running down my chin. Billy's face is scrunched as he mutters, "That was a good one. My first climax since you and I did it yesterday. Ahh, nice relief. That felt great, and you're getting better and better at doing it too."

He's still giving me compliments.

If he held off climaxing another thirty seconds, I would have shot a load in my shorts. It was that close. Wiping my chin with the back of my hand, "Yeah, well, I like doing that with you, so I try doing it the best I can." He laughs and rubs my hair, saying, "Hell, I'll let you blow me anytime you want. All you need to do is ask."

As I start snuggling against him, he says, "No, we already did buddying-up."

Oh, sure, he got his rocks off, so he doesn't need me now. Billy says, "Oh, man, there's that look you get on your cute face. Okay, I'm sorry," and he pulls up his shorts, then holds his arms out. Smirking at him, I lie against him, and he hugs me, "I keep forgetting how sensitive you are."

I mutter, "I'm not sensitive. I just, um, like you too much." I almost said... love you too much.

After a tight hug, he asks, "Is everything okay now?" I mumbled, "Yes, except your dad is in the next room." "No, not in the next room; the family room is down the hall and through the kitchen."

Whatever, I like laying in bed with him like this. Billy has too much energy just to lie here, though, so he says, "Let's have a smoke on the porch." He slides off the bed, letting go of me, "Come on, Gary."

Disappointed, I hop off the bed; we both straighten our clothes, then I follow Billy to the kitchen, where he gets a can of beer from the refrigerator. I mumble, "You don't like beer." He says, "It's mostly for you. I'll have a few sips."

We sit on the swinging loveseat, me tight against Billy as he snaps the tab on the beer can. Staring at the side of his face, I think how much cuter he is in profile. Cuter than he seemed when we walked home from high school two months ago. That's nonsense, of course. He hasn't physically changed. It's my perception of him that has changed. I'm in love with him now.

Billy takes a swallow of Coors beer, makes a face, then hands the can to me, mumbling, "If I take a few sips, I won't notice your beer breath." Well, I wouldn't say I like beer either, but I like a beer buzz.

He says, "You know what? You're the first friend I've ever had that I think about when you're not here. It's partly because of our superior messing around, but I like you even when we're not messing around."

Looking at me, he asks, "Isn't that weird?" I mumble, "No, it's not weird. It's because we're special friends, doncha think?" He says, "I don't know. Do you think about me when you're not here?" I go, "Only all the time."

Smiling his incredible smile, he puts his arm across my shoulders and mutters, "Well, okay then."

I drink most of the beer as we smoke one of his Marlboro cigarettes, sharing it as he's telling me, "Mount Everest's peak is the highest altitude above mean sea level in the world. It's 29,029 feet above sea level, which is 8,848 meters. The next highest is blah, blah, blah."

I stare at his cute profile and enjoy listening to his pleasant, almost musical, youthful-sounding voice, but without registering much of what he's saying.

If his dad weren't home, I'd put my head on Billy's shoulder. My heart is almost bursting with love for him, and love is the most unique, most powerful sensation I've ever felt. It makes me shake with fear of not being with him.

When I realize he's stopped talking, I say, "You have an amazing memory for details." He smiles, "Yeah? Well, when I read something that interests me, it sticks in my mind. Pretty cool, huh?" I mumble, "I'll say. You're some kind of genius."

He mutters, "Probably," then asks, "You've got condoms, right?" I go, "Yeah, but..." and he says, "Let's you and me wander into the garage." I gulp, "You mean, holy shit, um, we're gonna do it in there?"

Standing, he pulls on my arm, saying, "We'll check it out." Oh, God, I want to do it with him so badly, but in the garage?

His dad's car is in the driveway, and when Billy pushes up the garage door, I see why it isn't in the garage. The garage is full of stuff. There's lawnmower equipment, a snowblower, boxes, and old furniture. Billy pulls the door down, saying, "Cozy, huh?"

There's only one window on the wall facing the neighbor's garage. The fading light coming through that window allows us to see okay.

I mumble, "Your neighbor will see us if one of them goes in their garage." Billy smiles as he points and says, "Not if we're in this corner."

We go to the corner on the neighbor's side near the garage door. I'm like, "Oh, yeah, this is good." Billy snickers, "I don't want to disappoint you. I know how much you like messing around with me, especially with my dick in your ass. Give me a rubber, then pull your pants down."

Fumbling out a condom, then pulling my pants down, I'm quivering with anticipation, mumbling, "Yeah, sure, Billy."

He pulls down his zipper and takes his dick out, saying, "You don't need to suck it this time; just turn around."

When I do that, he puts both arms around the front of my neck, the side of his face against mine, and then he grinds his dick against my bare ass, murmuring, "I like you so much; buddying up with you will give me a hard boner," and he kisses the side of my face, "Umm, you smell so sweet Gary." Putting my hands on the garage door for support, his tongue licks my ear sending chills all over me as my cock gets hard.

This seems like very, very gay messing around to me, but I'll keep that thought to myself. Turning my head, we kiss and lick each other's mouths. Billy goes, "Umm, doing this with you is so much better than when Chicky and I messed around," and he sucks the side of my upper lip in between his, then licks my cheek.

Already his cock is hard as a rock against my left butt cheek. The condom packet is in his left hand, and he bumps it against my right shoulder, "Could you take the rubber out for me?"

I gasp because it's very sexy how Billy is buddying up with me today. It's as if I turn him on as much as he turns me on. What I know for sure is I'm so aroused I can barely catch my breath.

Taking the condom packet from his fingers, I rip it open and pull out the slippery condom. He takes it and, leaving his right arm around my neck, wipes the lubrication from the condom on my asshole, pushing lubricant inside me, then wipes it on his boner, the head of his boner smearing lubricant on my butt cheek.

Omigod, he's going to do it while we're standing; that's the way my favorite young male models do it. My dick is very hard, sticking up against my belly as I gasp in another shuddering breath. Billy murmurs, "Stay calm. I'm going to do you bareback so you can have my cum inside you." I gasp, "Yes, I'd like that."

He drops the prophylactic, which hits the back of my ankle on its way to the garage floor. Billy smears more lubricant on me when he moves his boner across my left butt cheek to my asshole, and "Ahh, ow, umm, Billy!" He humped his cock three inches inside me, grunting, "Shh. Goddamn, that felt good."

It hurt, but I shudder with pleasure at having his naked boner inside me again. I like this best, and Billy does too.

The hurt fades when his crotch is tightly against my ass, he humps against me, and we both shudder and moan, "Ummm." I'm pushing my ass back against Billy's crotch as he gets his right arm around my neck again and snuggles the side of his face against mine, murmuring, "I like you better than anybody, Gary."

Moving my head, I kiss the side of his mouth, mumbling, "I love being your girl/guy." He snickers, "You're funny with that girl/guy shit."

Billy's cock gets harder and bigger, or at least that's what it feels like inside me. He leaves it there and continues hugging around my neck, moaning, "Umm, this feels so good. Doing messing around with you is wicked special."

I'm dizzy with sexual arousal. It's as if we're making love instead of just messing around screwing. He rubs his nose against the side of my head, "Ooh, you smell and feel so good."

I'm floating among the stars now, full of joy at the affection and praise I'm feeling and hearing; then Billy grunts and pulls his cock back. Omigod, a staggering number of nerve endings in my rectum screams out the kind of intense pleasure I can't begin to describe.

I'm still supporting myself with both hands on the garage door as Billy pushes his engorged cock back in, making me shudder and moan; then it's fast short thrusting, "Slap, slap, slap."

Sensations explode, and my cock tightens ridiculously hard and lifts away from my belly to stick straight out. It's vibrating and throbbing with pleasure that almost matches the pleasure in my ass.

The fast thrusting gets me grunting, "Ah, ah, ah, oh, Billy!" He puts a hand over my mouth, "Shh, Gary."

"Slap, slap, slap," sounds of us fucking seemingly go on and on. But, in actuality, it's only two minutes of ecstasy before I scream into Billy's hand and climax harder than I've ever climaxed before in my life, cum burning my penis as he comes out fast, splashing against the garage door.

It's like I went blind for a second as sensations buzzed deliciously all over me, leaving me shaking with pleasure. Then, I go up on my toes as Billy does a hard hump upward, groans, and I think I feel his hard stream of cum hit against my bowels as he groans, "Ahh, ooh, fuck, yes!"

I'm still shaking when, five seconds later, it's, "Slap, slap, slap," again as Billy goes, "Ooh, ooh, umm," then pulls his dick out, his arms coming away from my neck. He steps back and bends over, his hands on his knees, groaning, "Holy shit, that was unbelievable," then, "Fuck, my foot slipped on that damn rubber. Haha!"

I turn around, and Billy holds both hands out, like stay back, saying, "No! I know you want to do some buddying up, but wait a minute, will you? Let me catch my 'effing breath first. Um, how'd you like my bareback riding?"

I say, "You know I loved it!" He nods and snickers, saying, "Yeah, I know you did, and how'd you like all the shit I was saying? I said all that corny stuff for you because I figured that's what a girl/guy wants to hear. Am I right?"

"Sure, but I knew you were only saying and doing all that affectionate shit for my benefit."

Nodding, he points at his now limp dick, chuckling and mumbling, "Dammit, I don't have any way to clean my pecker in here. Haha." He pushes his penis back in his shorts, making a face, muttering, "Ew, what a mess, but it's worth being messy to make you happy."

Meanwhile, my ass is full of lubricant and Billy's semen.

As I pull my pants up, Billy grabs a dirty rag and swipes at the cum drooling down the garage door. My hands feel around my ass as he goes, "Oh jeez, your ass is opened up like a motherfucker, and it's full of gunk. We're both a mess, but it was worth it, doncha think?"

"Definitely! That was the best messing around ever! That was out of this world messing around."

When I pull up my pants, he makes his way to the handle on the garage door, pulls the door up, and we walk out. "Yep, that was primo messing around. That's what that was."

Then, "Oh, would you get the rubber, Gary?" Going back into the garage, I pick up the condom, and Billy holds up some newspaper in the trash barrel. I drop the condom there, and he covers it with the newspaper, saying, "Thanks, we're damn good partners, plus the best messing around buddies on the planet."

When we go inside the house, Billy peeks in the family room, then motions for me to follow him. We go into the bathroom, where Billy takes out his dick and uses a washcloth to clean it, saying, "Pull your pants down and use toilet paper to wipe your ass. Maybe you won't get the jism wet spot on your shorts like happened the last time we did bareback riding."

Wiping my ass, I'm like, "There's not a lot of stuff coming out." Billy goes, "I wouldn't think so since I fired that big load into your mouth less than an hour ago. Still, it felt like Nagara Falls was coming out of my dick when I climaxed. Spectacular!"

On the back porch, we sit on the loveseat/swing again. Billy lights a cigarette as I ask, "Um, didn't you mean any of the affectionate things you were saying to me in the garage?"

He exhales and passes the cigarette to me, "Well, yeah, I guess I did. I got carried away a little; that's all I meant. Hey, you know what? I probably meant all of it because you're my best messing around buddy ever. Plus, I gotta be honest; I really get off at how you idolize and adore me. That's a rush I've never felt before."

I put my arms around his neck, careful not to burn him with the cigarette, then kiss him, murmuring, "You're the coolest and, at the same time, the hottest guy I've ever known. I feel lucky, really fortunate you chose me as your favorite messing around buddy."

He doesn't push me away this time. Instead, he smiles, looks up at the darkening sky, and says, "Is the entire Universe pointless?" I go, "I don't know, but you're not the least bit pointless," and I hug his neck, kissing him again.

Billy ignores that and says, "Physicist Steven Weinberg, who's dead by the way, said the Universe happened through some combination of chance and natural law. If there's a point to the Universe, science has failed to discover what it is."

I murmur, "I don't know what I'd do if you lost interest in me, Billy." He mutters, "I won't lose interest in you."

Resting my forehead on his shoulders, my arms still around his neck, I don't even care that his dad is in the house; I'm enjoying being Billy's girl/guy too much.

With the smoke from the cigarette in my fingers drifting up the side of Billy's head, he says, "Most people think atheists believe the Universe and everything in it was created out of nothing, while atheists say they don't know how it happened. The fact they don't know doesn't mean they believe God did it, as most Christians believe."

I mumble, "I don't know what to believe about that, and I guess I don't care either." He says, "I think we humans give the Universe meaning through our existence and our growing understanding of the Cosmos."

With my arms around his neck, I move my leg over his legs to sit on his lap, facing him. Then, I get a knee on the swing on either side of him and murmur, "You give me meaning."

He says casually, "Um, have I mentioned my dad sometimes comes out here for a smoke? And, speaking of smoking, please let me have our cigarette."

Letting go of his neck, I hop off his lap, then give him the cigarette, "Why didn't you say something about your dad smoking out here earlier? He could have seen me buddying up with you."

Snickering, he mumbles, "I was enjoying it." Christ, Billy doesn't worry about anything.

Sitting next to him again, I ask, "Ah, so you were enjoying me hugging and kissing you." He goes, "Sure, why wouldn't I? I like that you're so crazy about me."

Nodding, I mumble, "You're right about me being crazy about you. I, ah, you know." He mutters, "Don't say it! Don't you get all gay on me. Stick to the buddying up and idolizing. You do that very well."

Shrugging, which is one of my favorite things to do, I go, "Okay." He says, "Let's ride our bikes to DQ and get a soft-serve cone."

The Dairy Queen is only a mile and a half from here, so it's an easy ride. There are cars in the parking lot with guys and girls in the cars, the windows down, and music playing on the radios. Billy rides up next to a black Mustang and says, "Hey, Paulie, back from the shore, huh?"

Paulie is a large guy. I've seen him in school but never talked to him. He reaches out the window and bumps fists with Billy, saying, "Billy, dude, do you have any joints for sale?"

Two other guys are in the car, and they all have something to say to Billy. I drift over to the Dairy Queen, park the bike, and stand in the line, waiting my turn to order.

There's always a line at the DQ, but I don't mind waiting. I didn't want to be a dork sitting there on my bike being ignored. I also didn't want Billy feeling he needed to introduce me to those rough-looking guys with scraggly looking three-day growths of beards, all three guys looking much older than nineteen. I look younger than my age, while many guys look older than they are.

When I'm next in line at the counter, Billy startles me, saying, "Get me a small vanilla cone, Gary." His voice startled me because I didn't realize he was standing right beside me. I get us small cones, and we sit at a picnic table with Billy saying, "Getting in line was a good move, bro. Look at that."

I look over my shoulder and see ten or twelve people in line now. "Where did they come from?" Billy shrugs, "I think they were on the other side of the building."

Two girls come over to the table carrying sundaes. One of them, Sydney-something, says, "It's Billy Underwood! Hey, what have you been up to this summer?"

The girls sit down, and the other one, I don't know her name, says to me, "Hi, Gary. Where are you going to college?" "Oh, hi. Um, I'm thinking about that," and Billy says, "He's going to community college with me, eventually."

She says, "Oh, boy, Gary, in that case, get ready to cruise through college on a cloud of marijuana smoke." Billy says, "I haven't smoked a joint in a month! What are you talking about, girl?"

Eating their soft-serve ice cream substitutes, they joke around, talking and laughing about high school, talking about how the Pandemic was declared over and how some people still wear masks anyway. Billy interacts with the girls smoothly and easily. I think he's flirting with Sydney, and I feel jealous again.

Then the other girl touches the back of my hand, asking, "Who did you take to the prom, Gary? I knew two girls who were hoping you'd ask them." I lie, "I couldn't go to the prom because I had to go to my grandmother's funeral." She says, "Oh, I'm so sorry. Were you close with her?" "No, she never liked me very much." She murmurs, "That's so sad." I nod, "Yeah, well..."

A little later, Billy says, "Nice seeing you girls, and good luck at college." I stand right away, mumbling, "Yes, good luck." Billy pats my shoulder, saying to the girls, "Gary and I have some things we need to do. We'll see you around." Omigod, I love hanging out with him!

Getting our bikes, Billy goes, "Sydney is another twat that's got the hots for me. They'll all need to wait until you and I are through with our hot messing around before they get a shot at me, though."

They probably shouldn't hold their breath waiting for that.

It's dark when we get back to his house, and Billy says, "Dammit, we can't do it in the 'effing garage now, plus there's my Mom's van, so she's home too."

I mumble, "Oh, that's disappointing." He asks, "When are you getting that apartment?" As we're putting our bikes against the garage, I say, "As soon as possible."

He rubs my head, "Good! Hey, pretty soon, we'll need to get fresh haircuts." I'm like, "What? We got these haircuts less than two weeks ago!" He says, "Next week then. We'll go together to make sure they're the same. We don't want the magic to wear off."

Sitting in the love seat swing, I ask, "Would you go with me to my uncle's barbershop?" He smiles, then pats my cheek, "If it'll make you happy. Yes, we'll go to your uncle's barbershop."

My heart is going to burst with love for Billy Underwood. I glance at the back door, then lean over and kiss his cheek, murmuring, "I won't say the word, but you know how I feel about you."

He sighs, "Yeah, I know what you're implying. Hell, I guess it's okay to feel that way if you can't help yourself, but don't 'effing say it aloud." I put my arms around him and hugged tightly, mumbling, "I won't, but I do, um, you know... so fucking much."

Chuckling, he mutters, "Yeah, yeah. Haha. Who can blame you for feeling that way about me?" I mutter, "I agree with that," and he smiles, "Well, don't you think it's strange nobody else ever felt that way about me?" I hug him harder, mumbling, "Yes, I think it's strange that I'm the first guy to be in, um, you know, with you." I can't stop hugging him.

He mutters, "Well, it's too gay to talk about. And that's enough hugging for now too."

I let go of him, but my dick is a hard boner in my shorts. He says, "I have an idea. If you rent your apartment near the community college, it'll make sense for me to stay overnight with you once in a while. With your apartment close to the college, nobody will think anything of it." I excitedly say, "What a fantastic idea, Billy! You are a genius."

He glanced at the back door as I did, then put his hands on either side of my head, kissing me with his tongue in my mouth. My arms go around him again as a moan of arousal slips out of my throat. Breaking the kiss, he says, "Get that apartment as soon as you can."

"I'll try my best, Billy, but it probably won't be until the first of the year." I don't add... at the earliest.

He sounds excited, "That would be great, Gary! For now, though, I've got to get up stupidly early for work tomorrow. So, I need to go inside to take a shower now, but I'll have my Mom's SUV tomorrow night. I'll pick you up around seven-thirty."

He stands, so I do too. "That's perfect, Billy. It's getting dark earlier, so we can use the Sear's parking lot."

Smiling, he goes, "Exactly! I'll see you tomorrow night." Then he glanced at the back door again, smiled, and kissed me again, "You're my girl/guy, right?" I mumble, "Totally." He chuckles and rubs my head, "It's our haircuts, dude! They've magically made us into the best buddying up duo ever."

I can't stop grinning as I ride my bike home. This is no longer a one-sided gay boyfriend affair. Billy is just as committed to it as I am. I told him I was in love with him without saying the words, and he didn't get upset about it. Hell, he admitted how much he likes me too. All the cork-screw-twisting-rationalizations he wants to tell himself don't change the fact he has gay feelings in his heart for me. He might not be in love with me, but he loves doing gay messing around with me.

Plus, how about how it's become a foregone conclusion that we'll be together tomorrow night? He didn't even need to invite me; it was simply an accepted fact. It's like we're going steady, or we're engaged. Haha, okay, even I admit that's carrying things too far. Still, I'm beyond thrilled at how affectionate Billy was with me today. I mean, especially considering how hard he tries to convince himself he's not gay.

That night, tossing and turning in bed, I couldn't sleep from thinking about Billy, trying to recall what he said earlier tonight about why he likes me so much. He wasn't high on drugs or drunk, yet he told me quite a few sweet things.

He's fixated on our haircuts, pretending they're magically the reason for his growing gay attraction to me. Well, as I thought a few weeks ago, Billy getting a haircut like mine would be a bonding thing. He said he did it to show me he liked me, but I already knew he liked me because he continued calling and inviting me to mess around with him.

No, he didn't always call when he said he would, but he always eventually called. Perhaps he was trying to stop messing around with me, but he missed it too much and had to call.

Now we're messing around every night. I feel bad he was fighting his urges at first; that must have been hard for him. Being gay is hard for most guys to admit to themselves, although I accepted my gayness quickly. Huh, I wonder why?

Tuesday morning, George calls, and I almost make up a lie about why I can't hang out with him. I don't do that, though. He's a good friend, and if I didn't hang out with him, I'd be brooding all day thinking about Billy. Plus, I like golfing, which is what we plan to do today.

George picks me up at ten o'clock, "Good morning, Gary. Look in the back seat." When I do, "Awesome, George, you bought a starter set of golf clubs."

He nods, "I bought them after I dropped you off yesterday. On a whim, I went to that second-hand sports shop on 69th Street. Sure, they're last year's model and used, but in good condition. The whole set was on sale for $299.00." I mutter, "Damn good buy. They're TaylorMade clubs, which are good, I think."

We go to the Lansdown baseball field, and after George hits some good shots, I'm like, "Whoa. How'd you get this good so fast? It couldn't be just the clubs." He grins, "I watched instructional golf videos last night for two hours, swinging the clubs in my bedroom. Everything you taught me was on the video for beginners."

After he hits fifty balls with nine and seven irons, I say, "Let's go to the driving range. We'll see how well you hit the ball with the longer clubs. We're restricted here to only hundred-yard shots."

At the driving range, it's so cool seeing how excited George gets when he makes good contact using his five iron. I remember that feeling of accomplishment when I finally hit the ball straight. It's a rush because it's not as easy to do as it looks.

We bought large baskets of range balls and spent almost two hours hitting them. Between shots, we'd think about what we did right or wrong. I'm using my driver, and George uses his five iron and then his three-iron. The longer irons are tricky, so I'm impressed with how well he hits his three-iron.

We have lunch at Sal's Sub Shop and then drive to the par-three course. "You've progressed much faster than I did, George." He says, "Thanks, the instructional videos helped a lot." "Maybe, but you have a natural swing too and great eye/hand coordination."

At the par-three golf course, we go right off the first tee. The course isn't crowded at one-thirty on a Tuesday. George has a lot of problems, though. When he hit a bad shot at the driving range, it was a learning experience. When he hits a terrible shot on the golf course, that's where he needs to hit his next shot from, which can be problematic. There are sand traps, shrubbery, rough, out-of-bounds, and trees to deal with on a golf course.

We give up keeping score because I tell George to kick his ball back in bounds when he goes out of bounds, then he drops his ball in front of the tree he hit it behind, and so forth. He hits some good shots, too, though; plus, his putting is very good. We laughed a lot and had a good time, so we're coming here tomorrow.

Going to the car, carrying our golf bags on our shoulders, George says, "That was fun! The shot I hit over the water gave me a hard-on." I go, "Oh, Christ, yeah. Hitting over water is intimidating. I couldn't look, expecting the worst, and then I saw your ball on the 'effing green!" He goes, "Orgasmic, that's what that shot was."

After dumping our golf clubs in the car, we go to the small clubhouse, buy Cokes and soft pretzels, then sit at a table to talk about our favorite shots. Fuck the bad ones. At four-thirty, George drops me off at my house, both of us smiling about today.

As I walked into the house, it registered that there was no sexual tension between us. And no conversation about the messing around together we've done in the past. We had a few hugs when we'd hit a good shot and pats on the back, but it was all done the way straight friends do it.

Putting my clubs in the basement, I wonder if today's friendly casualness was difficult for George to pull off. I mean, in the past, he has said he's in love with me. I know I couldn't be as natural about turning off my love for Billy. Certainly not if he only wanted us to be friends. George is more mature than I am, though. I admire him for handling this so well and look forward to golfing with him tomorrow. Today was fun!

At my house, my mind focuses on tonight with Billy. As I'm showering, I think about jerking off but don't. I'm saving my sperm so Billy can mess around fucking it out of me.

Lying on my bed, I'm getting a boner; that's how horny I am for Billy. I never used to be horny because I was jerking off three or four, even five times a day. Whenever I felt like doing it, I'd whack off. Now, though, I only want to blow my load when I'm with him. Being in love has self-appointed rules, apparently. One of them is never messing around except with Billy. I'm his girl/guy, and I will be faithful to him.

When I think seven-thirty will never get here, I hear the SUV's horn blow outside. Damn, I should have been waiting out there. Instead, I was telling Mom and Dad about George and I golfing today.

Getting off the sofa, I go, "That's Billy. We're going to hang out with some of the guys." Mom says, "Your nose looks sunburned, honey. Use sunblock when you're golfing."

Nodding, I mutter, "Uh-huh," and Dad asks, "How are you hitting them, son?"

"Pretty good," and he says, "You need to get on a real course." I go, "Right," and hurry out the front door.

Wear sunblock, and get on a real golf course! Yeah, right. I'll be ten years old forever as far as my folks are concerned.

Getting in the car, "Hi, Billy. I thought seven-thirty would never get here."

He asks, "Did you remember to bring condoms?" Grinning, I say, "Is the Pope catholic? Does a bear poop in the woods?" He smiles, "I'll assume your answer to my condom question is an emphatic yes." I nod, "Uh-huh, I've got three in my pocket." Driving away, he says, "That's my boy!"

Turning at the traffic light, he says, "It's not dark enough for the Sears parking lot, but no problem because I scored some joints from Chicky this afternoon. We can smoke one at Kent Park." I mutter, "Cool."

Kent Park is located between Drexel Hill and Clifton Heights, a ten-minute drive from here. "Do you want me to chip in for the cost of the joints?" He says, "Nah, don't worry about that."

He smiles, glancing over at me, adding, "I gotta occasionally take care of you. Treat you to a joint now and then." I grin, "Thanks."

We cross the bridge connecting Clifton to Drexel Hill, then take an immediate left onto a narrow winding road leading down to the park. Billy says, "Wally Scarnecchia fell off this bridge and collapsed his lungs. I was there and saw the whole thing."

I'm like, "When was that?" He goes, "Five years ago. I wonder where Wally is now?"

I never heard of Wally-whatshisname.

At the park, a half-dozen guys and girls are drinking beer around a picnic table. We walk past them, continuing onto the big grass area with a creek running down the right side. In the distance, high above us, is St. Charles church. Billy lights a joint, then takes a drag and passes it to me.

Exhaling smoke, he says, "Did you know there have been 117 billion humans who have lived and died since humanoids evolved?" Shaking my head, I inhale marijuana smoke, hold the smoke in my lungs for two seconds, then exhale, mumbling, "No, I didn't." He mutters, "A 117 billion, with a B."

It's hard being with Billy this long without a hug or a kiss. I can't stop looking at him, wanting to do both things. Exhaling, Billy passes me the joint and mumbles, "You're staring at me again."

"Uh-huh. That's because yours is my favorite face and body to look at and touch. I like looking at you." He smiles brightly, "Being your idol never gets old, bro. Haha."

There's a chain-link backstop for baseball games at the end of the field, and by the time we get to it, we've finished the joint, and we're high. As Billy flicks the half-inch roach in the creek, he mumbles, "That was good shit, huh?"

I go, "Yeah, I'm flying." He mutters, "Follow me," and we go up the path that leads to the church. There are woods on both sides of this winding path, and as soon as we're out of sight of the guys at the picnic table, Billy wraps me in his arms, "I know you've been anxious for this."

He kisses me. It's a ten-second sucking kiss, my top lip ending up between his, and then his wet tongue does deliberate licks under my chin, then up and over across my lips, and up the front of my nose with lots of Billy's saliva left behind.

I'm dizzy with sexual arousal for him. Pulling his head back, Billy smiles, asking, "How was that, Gary?"

I'm leaning against him, my arms around him, "I love you, Billy. I'm so in love with you I can hardly breathe." Squinting his eyes, he says, "I know that, but we had an agreement about you not saying it out loud, remember?"

Clinging to him, I murmur, "Yes, and I'm sorry for breaking my promise. I won't do it again." He mutters, "Good," and rubs my head, "It was wicked cool hearing you say it out loud, but don't repeat it, okay?" I nod, "I won't."

I'll probably say it a hundred more times even though I'll try not to. Wow, it felt so good telling him that.

Billy pulls his zipper down, mumbling, "For some early messing around fun, I'm going to let you blow me," and he pulls his dick out. Without a word, I bend over and take his limp penis from his fingers. Stroking it, I lick up and down the shaft a few times before lipping the head into my mouth. As I slowly drop to my knees, I'm running my tongue all over and around the head.

With Billy's hands on my shoulders, I suck as much of his penis into my mouth as I can get in there, then pull it out with my lips tightly around it. Billy groans as his dick bones up. Bobbing my head back and forth on it, saliva runs down my chin. His dick is a hard boner now and easy to bob back and forth on. The fourth bob is a forceful one, and the head plugs into my throat. I'm gagging, but that was so sexy-hot my dick is poking hard at the front of my shorts.

The next bob, the whole head goes in my throat, and I do it again and again with Billy's feet shuffling on the dirt path as he groans and grunts, then gasps, squeezing my head. Two more bobs on his iron penis, and he blows his load in my mouth. Gulping down his cum, I bob up and down on his dick a few more times, then let it slide from my mouth and sit back on my ankles, looking up at Billy.

His face is flush as he nods his head, gasps in another deep breath, then says, "That was really good. You've got the technique down perfectly now. Um, you probably should get up now, Gary. This path is used a lot."

My underpants are wet with precum. I almost shot off when he did. He puts his dick away, and, as we walk back down the path to the park, Billy says, "I knew you needed that messing around to hold you over. I could see it in your eyes."

"You're right, I did, but you like our messing around too, right?" He smiles at me, one of maybe fifty smiles he'll smile tonight, "Of course, I like messing around with you. I've told you that at least a dozen times. I know you better than anybody else does. I can read your mind by observing your different cute facial expressions. Um, I'd mentioned a corrective criticism about you not being so sensitive, except I promised not to mention that anymore."

I love bodily contact with him, so, grinning, I put my arm across his shoulders, then hug him against my side. Billy says, "The assholes at the picnic table might get the wrong idea about us if they see you hugging me like this."

I shrug, "I don't care." He goes, "Well, I do," so I take my arm away, then say, "I can't wait till we're at the Sears parking lot." He smirks and smiles simultaneously, muttering, "Haha, no shit."

I'm rubbing dirt off my knees as we approach the beer party at the picnic table. I say, "I'm surprised you don't know any of those guys." He shakes his head, "They're probably creek rats from Clifton."

I'm still a little buzzed from the joint and the oral sex. In the van, I ask, "Are you okay to drive?" He gives me a look, then drives up the steep road to the bridge. I mutter, "Of course, you're okay to drive."

He mumbles, "I've smoked a lot more pot than you, so it doesn't hit me as hard as it hits you." I'm like, "You told that girl at DQ yesterday that you haven't smoked grass in a month. Is that true?" He smiles at me, "No, not exactly."

We drive around for a while, smoking and blowing the exhales out the windows. Later, we stop at the Burger King shopping center for a half hour to talk with a couple of guys there. Then, when it's dark enough, Billy nods his head at the van, quietly muttering to me, "We can see what's up at the Sears parking lot now."

During the ride there, he says, "There are 20,000 species of bees in the world, but only eight honey bee species. Did you know that?" I shake my head, "Twenty thousand, huh? No, I didn't know that."

The trailer is no longer in the Sears parking lot, so Billy parks behind the dumpster. By now, I'm squirming with anticipation of more messing around. We take off our seatbelts and, with the car idling, get out on either side of the van, then put the second and third row of bench seats down. Without talking, we do it quickly, then scramble inside, sliding the doors closed behind us.

Billy pulls his polo shirt over his head, muttering, "Get undressed." Oh boy! Pulling my sneakers off, I wiggle out of my shorts and underpants, then pull my T-shirt off, hardly believing we're going to do it naked.

Grinning at me, Billy pulls on his dick, "I still can't get over that our dicks are like twins. Can you believe that?" I stretch my penis out, "They're identical." He chuckles, "Except you have blond pubes, and mine are brown."

Letting go of our dicks, we look at one another, and then somehow, we're on the floor in each other's arms. Billy rolls me onto my back, and we do some long sloppy kisses, our hands all over each other's naked bodies. We make out in a fever, both of us with hard boners.

Billy's on top of me between my legs. When his hard cock pokes my ass, I pull my legs back, making a moaning sound of arousal. With his forehead on my shoulder, Billy keeps poking the head of his cock at my asshole, little humps against it. Soon, I feel the wetness of his pre-cum, and then my anus opens, and I pull my legs back further, spreading them, giving Billy full access to my ass. We both moan as his cock's head slides tightly inside me. With only his precum as a lubricant, the pain is more significant than any earlier time we've done this.

That being said, I've never felt as sexually aroused as I do right now. Somehow, the pain makes it better. Billy grunts and humps his hips pushing his engorged penis further inside me. Pain screams in my head, making me whimper.

Billy murmurs in my ear, "Are you okay, Gary?" I nod my head against the side of his, "Yes, the hurt is fading already." He gasps, "Good!" and pushes his boner further inside me, murmuring, "Oh man, nothing has ever felt this good. You've got an amazing ass." A final hump gets his crotch tight against my buttocks. He humps again and moans, "Ooh, mm, mm. So fucking sweet."

My rectum relaxes as I squeeze my arms around Billy's neck, kissing the side of his face, "I love you so much." He murmurs, "I know you do," and pulls his boner back as I make a screechy sound at the sparkling pleasure sensations that are making my whole-body shudder.

Billy does four slow thrusts inside me. Then another slow thrust, and this time it goes smoothly. With another gasp, he does the fast shorter thrusting, and we hear the slapping sounds of his body smacking against my buttocks; "Slap, slap, slap," sounds with both of us going, "Oh!" with each fast thrust, my body rocking back and forth on my curved spine, my feet dangling on either side of Billy.

My throbbing, hard as stone boner is between our bellies leaking pre-cum. Intense pleasure, the slapping sounds, and our moans are the only things in our worlds. I can't think of anything except the sexual pleasure I'm experiencing, pleasure beyond comprehension.

If I could think, I'd know this wasn't going to last long. It's too sexually stimulating for our climaxes to ignore, and they came roaring on us in less than two minutes. I'm not sure, but I think Billy blew his load first. I can't be sure, though, as I was squealing at the sensations of cum pumping up from my nuts to streak from my boner. It's a climax I'll remember a hundred years from now. The gooey cum had nowhere to go, though. It squished between us, pooling around the head of my cock, wetting both our stomachs.

Billy is gasping moist breaths against my shoulder, our hearts hammering in our pressed together chests, almost like one thundering heart. After some deep breathing, Billy does a pushup that pulls his cock from my ass; then, he rolls onto his back next to me.

Breathing hard, I go up on my side, looking down at him, "That was our best messing around yet." He nods, "And, you know, I never did it like that before. Wow, we did it without a condom or lubricant."

I'm like, "It was extemporaneous and thrilling. You're probably one of the best top messing around guys ever." He sighs, mumbling, "I'm experimenting along with you, Gary. I don't have a tenth the expertise you think I have."

Dropping my head, I kiss his lips, "You're my hero, Billy."

Smiling, he snickers, then says, "I know I am, and I like that you feel that way." I partially lie on him, my face against his shoulder, my arm across his stomach in a smear of slimy cum.

He casually moves his fingers up the back of my head, ruffling my short hair and murmuring, "Yeah, you and I are exceptional together. It's the biggest surprise of my life. Oh, wait, that didn't sound very kind, but I didn't mean it like that. I meant I've never been, ah, hmm. No, what I mean is I've never liked anyone nearly as much as I like you. It pretty much shocks me that I can like anyone this much."

He loves me.

I can't get enough of him, so I slowly move my right leg over his legs and lie on him, face to face. My gooey semen is squished between us, and his goopy dick is too. Billy doesn't complain.

Instead, he slowly puts his arms around me, murmuring, "You like buddying up, doncha?" I murmur, "Whatever gave you that idea?" He chuckles, then gently pushes me off him. I mutter, "Oh, damn, I liked lying on your naked body."

Crawling to the back of the passenger seat, he reaches into a storage pouch and pulls out a container of HandiWipes. Handing me one, he takes out two more. We wipe our stomachs; then Billy uses the other wipe to clean his dick.

He says, "I had no idea I would do that bareback riding without lubricant. An irresistibly, incredibly strong urge overcame me, and I couldn't stop myself. I hope it wasn't too painful for you."

We toss all the wipes out the door, then I say, "At first, it hurt, but not for long. I thought that was the best messing around we've ever done."

He mumbles, "Roger that." I feel his cum on my butt cheek; it drips down the back of my leg. Crawling over to Billy, I pull another wipe from the container. Smiling, he mutters, "Is something coming out of your rear end?"

Folding the wipe, I go, "Ha!" and wipe my wide-open anus.

Being serious. he says, "You know, Gary, you're able to take a dick up your ass better than I thought anyone could."

I'll take that compliment without mentioning that I'm nothing special. All the male porn models take it just as well as I do. He's probably self-conscious about having an imperfect rectum. Fortunately, he doesn't look at gay porn on the Internet. He couldn't allow himself to do that because that would be too gay. If he did, though, that would make him feel worse about his ass, as well as realizing my ass is nothing special.

Billy sits up, leaning against the back of the driver's seat, so I crawl over there and sit on his legs, leaning back against him. He puts his arms around me, asking, "Do you like pound cake?"

Covering his arms with mine, I mutter, "Yeah, sure. I like cake with icing better, though."

By now, I'm used to Billy's odd topic changes. He says, "The origin of pound cake dates back to the early 18th century, but the cakes didn't weigh a pound. They weighed four pounds."

Squirming around on his lap a little, I lie the back of my head on his shoulder, "Why four pounds?"

"Well, the cakes were made using a pound of butter, flour, sugar, and eggs." I go, "A pound of eggs?" "Yeah, that's what I read." I'm like, "That makes me wonder how they'd make Butterscotch Krimpets back then."

Billy mumbles, "Oh, great. Now I want a pack of Tastykake Butterscotch Krimpets!" Squeezing his hands, I mumble, "I'll happily buy a pack of them for you."

"You know, Gary, there are some who couldn't imagine a certain person capable of doing something special, and then that person does what no one could imagine." I ask, "Do you mean me?" "Yes, you can do what no one could imagine."

Hmm, I'm like, "What exactly are you referring to?" He snickers, "Oh, just every fucking thing about you; that's all. Your miracle rectum, your unbelievable naiveness, and your likability that is off the 'effing charts. Stuff like that." I mutter, "Thanks." He chuckles, "You're welcome."

We sit like this as Billy tells me much more than I need to know about how James W. Marshall, while building a sawmill, discovered gold in Coloma, California, in 1848. The word spread, and 300,000 gold-seekers eventually inundated the state. The sudden influx of gold invigorated America's economy and blah, blah, blah.

I don't care what he chooses to tell me as long as we can sit together with our naked bodies touching. I could listen to him talk forever, sitting on his lap with his arms around me.

Inevitably, the bodily contact results in our penises getting hard again. This time using a condom, Billy fucks me doggy style as we did it last night. It was five or six minutes of ecstasy for me before worlds collided in my head, and I almost blacked out from the force of my climax. Fifteen seconds later, still shuddering from the after-effects, Billy blew his load, grunting, "Ooh, God! Umm, fuck, yeah!"

We laid on the floor, and after some heavy breathing, Billy snickered and muttered, "We're going to kill one other if our messing around gets any hotter."

Putting the side of my head on his chest, I say, "No one could possibly be as good a top guy/guy as you. I just know that in my heart, and I know there isn't anyone in the world I could love as much as I love you."

He absently runs his finger back through my short hair, murmuring, "And to think I'm doing this with only a five-inch penis. What if I had an eight-inch penis, ya know?"

We laugh out loud at that. Then I go, "Your's is perfect for me." He mutters, "Apparently." Then he says, "Hey, it's your ass that's more perfect than my little five-inches." Grinning, I go, "Apparently."

We chuckle, then he says, "You and I are the coolest guys in the neighborhood. No one else has the balls to experiment with messing around to the extent you and I do it. We're taking messing around to a whole new level. It's the hottest fun I've ever had." I go, "Me too."

Billy's satisfied with a two-bagger again tonight. Two times is enough for him, while I'm a triple-play fan. He's the guy, though, so I go along with what he wants. To be fair, he gets up early for work, and that's mainly why we leave after our second messing around screw of the night. The blow job is almost forgotten.

Then, Wednesday played out the way Tuesday did, meaning George and I golfed, and at night, Billy picked me up at seven-thirty. We smoked a joint at Kent Park and later messed around at Sears, screwing in the back of the SUV. The big difference is that after our second messing around, Billy seemed moody and didn't want to do any buddying up.

He finally got around to telling me, "It's like this, Gary. Um, we're getting too, you know, too much into one another. I'm not gay, but you have me almost believing I am at times. The other thing is, you say you're in love with me too often, and that's carrying things too far. Please don't get all sad on me, but we need to take a break for a few weeks. I need to get myself in a college frame of mind too."

I'm devastated to the degree that I can't speak. He pats my shoulder, murmuring, "C'mon, get dressed, and don't make me feel guilty with that look on your face. I'm not saying we can't ever mess around again. I'm just saying we're, well, you are mostly getting too carried away with the gay stuff. You need to cool your jets with that shit. Okay?"

I nod, mumbling, "I don't have a look on my face, and sure, it's okay with me. I've got work tomorrow anyway." Whatever the hell that has to do with what he's talking about.

We dress in silence. Then, driving me home, he goes, "Dammit, you're making me feel bad, Gary. Don't you think we're getting too carried away with our messing around?"

I mutter, "No, I don't."

Outside my house, sitting in the idling van, he pats my shoulder, "I'm sorry for disappointing you, but we're still the best messing around duo in the world. After I get settled in with the college routine in a couple of weeks, I'll call you."

I don't say anything, so he adds, " I still like you better than anyone." I mutter, "Thanks," and get out of the van.

Ya know, when something seems too good to be true, it isn't true. I should have known I was overdoing it by telling him I was in love with him every five minutes. He can't admit he's gay, and it must have occurred to him that he was, so he's backing off to reload his bogus rationalizations.

I had difficulty falling asleep, vacillating between hating on Billy and loving him more than ever.

To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com.

Guys, please consider making a tax-deductible donation to nonprofit Nifty to help them cover the expenses of maintaining this excellent free story site. Easy directions for donating are at Nifty.org. Thank you!