I just want to say again that I'm appreciative of all those that have emailed me encouragement to continue writing this story. I'm hoping to keep adding chapters on a regular basis. Some of you have told me that you like the way the chapters end, not always being sure where the story will go next. To be honest, I don't always know where the story is heading either. When I first started, I had thought this would be a fairly short story, not the ongoing series that it's become. It's like Martin, Ken, Jamie (and now Daryl) are slowly revealing their story to me, allowing me to share it with you.
Anyway, please keep reading and enjoying.
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Ken and I - Part 24
"Yes", I began, hesitating with what to say next.
Daryl waited patiently until I found the rest of my words. I talked about how things had started with Ken. How they'd progressed. After I started, the story just kept tumbling out of my mouth. I told Daryl everything. I'm not sure when I stopped talking, when I'd started hugging my knees with my head pressed against them, or when I'd started crying.
"You probably don't want some fag sleeping in your bed", I managed to get out between sobs.
And then Daryl hugged me. He didn't say anything; he just held me until my tears had stopped. I was again surprised by him; it was yet another reminder that just as I had changed over the past year, he too had started to mature.
"Martin, you're my friend, my best friend."
It was all he said, and it was all I needed to hear.
"So ... you're ... I mean, you're ok with ... what we did? What I just did?"
"Are you fucking kidding? That was the best thing I've ever felt!"
"So, but ... does that mean? I mean ... are you ... like me?"
"Like you?"
"Yeah, y'know ..." I said, quietly adding, "I like boys."
It was the first time I'd say that out loud to anyone; the words had been simple, but they had seemed difficult to get out. By comparison, the decisions to be physical with Ken, Jamie and now Daryl seemed easy.
Daryl was quiet before he replied, "I don't know ... what we did ... it was cool. I don't know if I like boys. I know I think about girls."
Then he added, "And I know I like you."
I was impressed by Daryl's emotional maturity; I'm not sure I would've reacted the same way if our roles had been reversed. Maybe it was because I'd spent so much time trying to hide what I was feeling.
"Thanks ... I like you too y'know."
"Yeah, I know", he said, returning to the immature Daryl I knew in the very next breath, "you must to swallow my cock gravy like that!"
I just about choked on my spit from laughing so hard. We both laughed so hard, our sides began to hurt. We laid there until we were able to catch our breaths. Eventually our breathing settled, became slow and steady, until we fell asleep.
Early the next morning I awoke, feeling the urgent need to pee. I came back to bed after having gone to the bathroom. As I laid back down it dawned on me that we'd both slept nude. I guessed it'd been a good thing that we'd been alone in the house. I looked at Daryl as he slept. I had never felt closer to Daryl as I remembered how he had let me tell my story last night, with no judgment. I think that had been my greatest fear. I'm not sure how I would've reacted if Daryl had wanted me to leave, to get out of his bed. To get out of his life.
I also began to realize that the way I felt about Daryl was different from the way I felt about Ken. I loved Daryl, but it was different from the way I thought of Ken. Daryl was my friend, my best friend, and I'd hoped he'd always be. What I did with Daryl that night, what I did with Daryl during the remainder of my stay was fun, and it seemed like it had been a natural extension of our friendship. In looking back at the way we had become friends, the way we had been growing up together, it was almost inevitable that we'd explore our sexual curiosities. Even if turned out to be for different reasons, for me an exploration of my growing attraction to boys, for Daryl an outlet for his hormone fueled sexual energy.
Over the next two weeks we seemed to fall into an unspoken routine in which I sucked Daryl's cock at least once a day, most often twice. Once he'd experienced the pleasure of a unloading his creamy teen load in my mouth, he was anxious to keep repeating the experience. Of course, I was only too happy to comply. After the first few times of doing it in his room, Daryl's risk taking nature returned and he had me go down on him in several public washrooms, underneath the bleachers of the local baseball diamond, and behind his school. He only once sucked me, but I could tell it wasn't something he enjoyed. He had no problem with jacking me to completion after I'd swallowed his seed, and by that point I was usually so worked up from having had his thick pulsing dick in my mouth that it never took long. I never asked him to suck me again during the trip; I was perfectly content and happy with this new dimension to our friendship. It seemed to fit the dynamic that had always defined the two of us together. I never felt that he was somehow taking advantage of me and my sexual desires; he was never mean spirited or forceful about the fulfillment of his need, nor did it make anything else we did awkward. If anything, it seemed like it had made Daryl feel more comfortable with expressing how he felt through physical contact, but not just in a sexual way. He often hugged me, and I noticed that he also hugged his brother and sister several times. I think that had left them feeling puzzled with his new behavior, but they didn't seem to mind, especially Mike; he loved this new attention he was getting, I assumed because it was an improvement over the fighting that had been the previous norm.
My two week stay with Daryl came to an end quicker than I'd expected, much too quick. But leaving was different than when he'd moved away. I knew we'd reconnected in an important way. We had already started talking about when he might come to visit me; his mom said that they'd been thinking about being back during the Christmas break, and even if they didn't that maybe Daryl could come out on his own, and if not at Christmas then during one of the other school breaks.
The flight home was late in the evening, and I slept most of the way. Fortunately the plane was relatively empty so the stewardess had moved me into an empty row and given me a blanket. I had relived many of the pleasurable moments with Daryl in the dream I'd been having because when I woke, I could feel my dick throbbing inside my pants. I knew that if I didn't do something to relieve the pressure that I would end up flooding them with a hot load of my jizz. I wouldn't have been too worried about that if it wasn't for the fact that I'd have to deal with the sticky mess and wet patch; it wasn't like I'd be able to rush off the plane into my room to get cleaned up or changed! My hands trembled as I fumbled with the button and zipper on my jeans; I had barely released my erection and pulled back the skin on a downward stroke when I began to unload stream after stream of cum into the blanket.
I had barely finished when the stewardess appeared to check on me; she let me know that we'd be landing shortly and that I'd need to sit up and be buckled in. I hoped that in the dim lighting she couldn't see the flush on my face.
I disembarked with my bag and was taken to meet my mom, who had come to pick me up. She wanted to ask me a million questions about the trip, but I had only half listened and then fallen asleep during the ride. I had a vague memory of getting home and falling into bed, feeling exhausted. I'm pretty sure I hadn't even brushed my teeth, and I guess mom had taken pity on me and not made a big deal of it.
When I woke up the next morning I felt a moment of disappointment; I had half expected Daryl to be laying next to me still sleeping, deep breaths making his chest rise and fall, the fullness of his morning wood fighting against the cotton fabric of his briefs.
The moment passed, and I smiled at the good memory while adjusting my own blood engorged member. I was mentally debating between rubbing one out or getting up to take a solid piss. A knock on my door and my mother's voice immediately ended that debate.
"Are you going to sleep all day?" I heard her through the still closed door, "Breakfast is still on the table."
"Okay, okay, I'm up." I almost giggled at the double meaning of my reply.
My dick had deflated into a state of semi-hardness, enough that it felt safe to get up, open my door and head into the bathroom. After what seemed like a never ending stream of piss had splashed into the toilet, I headed to the kitchen and fell into a chair.
It was clear from the look on my mother's face that she was more than ready to hear all about my trip. I knew there was going to be no way to avoid having to give her a detailed account, obviously minus the x-rated bits and pieces. She had no end of questions, some of which I couldn't answer, not because they fell into that x-rated category, but because I legitimately didn't know. I had little idea of what Daryl's sister was up to in terms of school or work, how his parents were doing and so on. At fourteen, those things hadn't mattered; I had been focused on my time with Daryl as that had been the purpose of my trip, but somehow that didn't seem satisfactory to her. I guess I should've been more polite and shown an interest in the rest of his family as they'd been kind enough to host me for the two weeks.
At this point I'd started to tune her out; my thoughts had now turned to Ken. He'd be back from his own trip, and I wondered what he was doing. I supposed it was up to me to either pick up the phone to call him or to drop by his house since I was the one that had just come back.
"Are you even listening to me?" my mother's question brought me back to the kitchen table.
"Yes, yes, I need to be more polite. Honestly, you should've seen how Daryl and Mike act; you'd have a fu... fit."
I had been about to say 'fucking fit'; swearing liberally was one of Daryl's influences on me. Not that I didn't do it among my friends, but it was so common between Daryl and I that I usually barely noticed. I'm not sure if my mom had caught that near slip, but if she had, she didn't say anything.
"I was thinking I might see if Ken's home."
"Oh that's good Martin, you know he's called several times in the last during the past week to see if you were home yet. I'm sure I told when you'd be home the first time he called. I wish you boys developed listening skills the same way you seem to develop your ... oh, well, never mind. You should just all learn to listen more."
I almost spit out the milk I had started to drink; I guessed I wasn't the only that had a near slip. My brain did start firing sparks at hearing that Ken had been calling to find out if I was home. And he'd called multiple times! I finished my milk and made a quick exit, yelling over my shoulder that I was going to shower and then go see Ken.
Hearing that Ken had called so many times had to mean good things, and those thoughts had led to my dick starting to re-inflate.
I locked the bathroom door behind me and stripped, my dick bouncing up as it was released. Under other circumstances I might've held off until I saw Ken, but I didn't even know if he was home and I was feeling an urgent need to unload the churning brew of teen spunk in my balls. I turned on the shower and stepped in. I let the hot water run over my back as my hand flew along the length of my shaft, occasionally twisting my palm around my leaking cock head. This was no leisurely morning jacking session, and within minutes I felt the my sack contract and pulse as shot after shot of my hot spunk splattered against the tiles and ran down. I had moaned out loud at the feeling and had hoped that the noise of the shower had been enough of a cover. I'm sure my mother knew that I was a chronic masturbator, given the typical state of my underwear and bed sheets, but I saw no reason to provide her with the intimate details of how I conducted myself during my many, many times of self-pleasure.
I quickly washed my hair and my body, making sure to also clean my ejaculate from the tiles and floor of the shower. I combed my hair into what passed for my style, such as it was given that as it dried it just did it's own thing anyway; the concept of using any sort of gel or hair product had not yet occurred to me.
With a towel wrapped around my waist, I walked over to my bedroom to get dressed; shorts and a tee-shirt making up my basic summer uniform.
Mom asked me when I'd be back as I was leaving, and I replied that I had no idea since I didn't even know if Ken was home or not. I told her I'd be home no later than supper time, or that I would phone if I was going to be late or eat somewhere else.
I wasn't sure if I should take my bike or just walk over; I opted for the latter given that Ken and I had no plans. In the back of my mind I was hoping that he'd be home alone, would invite me in and we'd get all over each other. I tried to push the thought out of my mind as I could feel my dick starting to thicken in my shorts, despite the fact that I had jerked off just minutes earlier. I thought it would better if I wasn't standing at their door with an obscene bulge in the front of my shorts, in the event that it wasn't Ken, or Jamie, that answered the door.
I found myself standing at the back door of his house; I suddenly felt butterflies in my stomach, whether out of excitement at the prospect of seeing Ken or with a slight sense of fear in case he'd changed his mind about wanting to hang out again. Likely it was a combination of the two, but in either case I knew I needed to knock.
My hand was in motion just as the door flew open and Ken rushed out, hugging me as we both fell into the grass.
"I saw you coming across the street!" Ken said, excitement in his voice.
"Miss me much?" I teased.
His eyes twinkled and he grinned, "Actually? Yeah, I did."
"You did? For real? Or are you teasing me?"
"For real", he said, pausing a moment before continuing, "... I've been doing a lot of thinking ... to be honest ... I've thought about you a lot."
Ken didn't look at me, and I could see a slight flush in his cheeks at this admission.
For some reason I suddenly felt guilty for having essentially been Daryl's cock slut for the last two weeks. To be fair, I had thought about Ken, but it had been more in passing; I certainly hadn't had done any deep reflection on our relationship. And I had come to the realization that my relationship with Daryl was very different; my guilt subsided, and I reasoned that there was no real reason for me to feel that way. It wasn't like Ken and I had been in any sort of 'boyfriend' relationship, and what I had done with Daryl was just some fun between best friends.
"Soooo ... what have you been thinking?" I asked, hoping to push Ken into continuing.
"Well ... I ... look, maybe this isn't the best time or place to talk about this?"
We were still laying in the grass in his backyard, "Yeah, okay, I guess you're right. You wanna bike out to the boxcar maybe?"
Ken thought for a minute before he answered, "No. Maybe you could sleep over tonight? Then we could just talk.
All night or whatever. We wouldn't have to worry about being interrupted or anything?"
"Okay. Do you wanna ask your folks before I ask mine?"
Ken grinned, "Don't need to ... already did."
I laughed, "Okay then. So I'll ask, but I'm pretty sure my parents will say yes. Other than they'll complain that they haven't really seen me for the last two weeks and I'm already going somewhere else."
"Oh yeah, how was it? You went to see your friend, right?"
"Daryl, yeah ... it was good. I had a great time ... I guess I can tell you all about it tonight. If you want."
"Yeah ... your mom said you were pretty stoked about going to see him. That you guys were best friends and missed each other."
"My mom?" I asked, raising my voice slightly, "What did my mom tell you? Why was she telling you about Daryl?"
"She just mentioned it when I'd called to find out when you were coming home." Ken said quietly.
I felt bad for having snapped at Ken; it wasn't his fault my mom felt like she needed to make my personal business public knowledge.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound like I was mad at you. Mom just ... god, you know how moms are."
"Yeah, I know", Ken grinned, "For some reason on our trip she felt like she needed to talk about the last time I peed my pants."
"That was like what, a few weeks ago?" I teased.
Ken rolled on top of me, pinning me down on the grass, "Shut up!"
"Or what?"
"You'll be sorry, that's what!"
"Sure, sure", I teased, "just promise me one thing?"
"What?"
"Uhm ... don't piss your pants right now?"
Ken laughed, "Asshole" as he rolled off me.
I jumped up, "I'll see you tonight then? What time? Around 6?"
"Yeah, that should be good."
"Cool", I said, as I turned and started to walk away.
"Martin?" I heard Ken say.
I stopped and turned back, "Yeah?"
"I'm ... I'm glad you're back."
I smiled, "Yeah, me too ... me too."