This is a work of fiction, pure and simple. It should not be taken as encouraging anything at all which is considered improper or illegal in your neighborhood. If you are under age you shouldn't be reading it anyway.
Feel free to copy or post this story provided you acknowledge that it is copyright jon60@hotmail.com.
Show time Part 2.
I don't know how long that first embrace between Phil and me went on. It felt like for ever - it felt like seconds. However long, it was too short because there was a knock on the wall and dad called
"Will you two boys stop larking about and settle down. It's late and we have to be up in the morning."
"Yes, Dad. Sorry Dad".
I could feel the bed moving. Phil had his face buried in the pillow and his shoulders were shaking with poorly suppressed laughter. Suddenly the funny side struck me too, and all I could do was join him, half suffocating in the pillow, then every time either of us began to recover the other would nudge him and we were off again.
Eventually, Phil leaned across and whispered
"I've heard it called some things, but never larking about...." and that set us both off again, especially as all we had done was to kiss and hug one another.
"Here's a lesson for life." I whispered back "Never try to have an illicit love affair in a creaky bed with your parents in the next room!"
By the time we finished laughing we were so worn out and it was so late that we just kissed and went to sleep in one another's arms. I tried, with that tender kiss, to express all the joy and wonder and care for Phil that had come to me in the last hour, since I had realised what love meant. There was all the time in the world for other things.
I hate mornings. I've never understood why we have to go to bed when we're not tired and get up when we are, and I always feel horrible until I've had time to come round. Mum knocked on the door.
"Breakfast in half an hour, boys. Bathroom's free".
As I came round, I remembered with wonder what had happened last night. There, in my arms, was the man I loved. I looked at his face with delight, and even bleary-eyed and stubbly he was beautiful. I rubbed my hand across his chin.
"You're no boy with a chin like that in the morning! And that thing poking in to my gut is all man, and I love you for it. My man; my lover and my man"
"Stop getting maudlin" was the only comment from Phil. "Come on, it's time to get up before I have to pee on the sheets". He jumped out of bed. I say it again, he JUMPED out of bed, and at that moment I wondered if I could bear to live with someone who jumped instead of crawling out of bed. Then it struck me - what was happening to my mind? Already I was thinking about what it would be like to live with this man. Oh, well, perhaps it was just his bladder that made him jump. I had another five minutes to doze.
He breezed in, bright and cheerful. "Come on dozy! I thought you'd have been up and about by now." It was almost the end of a beautiful relationship, then I looked at him and knew it would take a lot more than his being cheerful in the mornings to make me stop loving him.
He stripped and started to dress whilst I lay there for just a moment longer enjoying watching him. That gorgeous cock certainly said 'man', not 'boy' and it was all mine. He saw me watching and it began to swell.
"John, we've got to talk. We've got to get together without worrying about disturbing anybody else and talk things through"
"If we get a chance to be quiet like that, it's not talk that I want. I want that body and I want it in every way we can think of, then we'll find ways we haven't thought of yet."
"Shut up and get up" was the only response I got, but when I finally struggled out of bed, the hug I got, and the gentle squeeze of my cock said everything.
"John, don't you think you'd better put those shorts on before you go across the landing? Or did you want to give the girls heart failure?"
It probably would have done since I had a morning hard-on exaggerated by unashamed lust for Phil.
I went to the bathroom, and even there it struck me how wonderful he was - I shave about twice a week and don't really need to then, but he obviously shaved daily. Back to the bedroom and get dressed - a difficult job today since he cupped my balls so I couldn't get my underpants on, then started to tickle me in some very personal spots.
"John, like I said, we've got to talk. Can you get away this afternoon? I'll slip out of school and my parents will both be out at work"
My heart sank. "It's impossible - today's my day at college and the boss always checks up". I don't think I said that I'm training as a hairdresser, and I do four days in the shop (exciting things like washing old ladies' hair and sweeping up) and one day at college learning the theory.
"What about tonight? I'll miss my workout". It was then I knew he loved me (as if I didn't know already). His gym sessions were sacred.
"I've promised to take Sue to see a film, and tomorrow I work late at the shop. Saturday we're all four going up to London to see a show. I'm free all day Monday and Tuesday." By this time I was beginning to feel fated - could it really be this hard for the two of us to get together? Mum called to say breakfast was ready.
"Monday it is - we can have the whole day." And down we went to eat. I was gloomy again - four days before we could get together - really get together. I wanted to get my hands on his body, and perhaps even more important, to get his hands on my body.
That day at college was one of the most embarrassing days I can ever remember. When you are 16 and in love and lusting after the one you love, it's like having a live puppy in your pants. It jumps up unexpectedly, it won't lie down when you tell it and it leaves sticky patches behind. Every time I saw a blond head or a pair of broad shoulders, I was up and ready, and desperately hoping that no-one would look below my waist. It was easier at work, because old ladies with blue rinses are the world's ultimate passion killers, and my evening out with Sue made me feel so guilty that it had much the same effect. This was one thing that Phil and I would have to sort out - what about the girls?
The hardest time of all was Saturday evening. We had arranged to go as a foursome to see a show in London, and Phil and I had to spend the evening behaving as if nothing had happened between us.
During this time, I desperately wanted to wank off (good English word for you there) but I resisted because I wanted to save everything for Phil.
Monday came. I rang his doorbell. The door opened but there was nobody to be seen. I heard his voice
"Come in quick." The door closed, and there my lovely Phil was, behind the door, completely naked and looking ready for a pole-vaulting championship.
"I thought I'd surprise you!"
I was already half-way out of my clothes, but he stopped me.
"Come upstairs. I want to do that for you. I've dreamed of slowly undressing you and kissing each bit of your body as it becomes bare. I should be upstairs anyway because I told mum I had a bad head and would stay in bed"
Then the accident happened. I'd stored everything up for Phil and, his promise of stripping me slowly was too much. I came in my pants - new ones, too. I'd bought some very stylish Calvin Klyne gear specially for today. Now they were wet and sticky. I told Phil what had happened and why I was blushing, and he laughed almost as much as he had on Wednesday, then kissed me - it started gentle, but became a tongue-sharing, passionate oral rape which I loved. Only thing was, my clothes were in the way of a real body to body embrace.
He led me to his room, sat me on the bed and, kneeling in front of me, untied my Reeboks and slipped them off, then my socks, and began to kiss my feet and suck my toes.
"I've read that this is very sexy. How does it feel?"
It felt good but it wasn't what I wanted. "Toes later if you like, but that's not what I want sucked now. But please, Phil, let me suck you. Your cock is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen and I want it."
He didn't answer, just kept working on my feet, driving me mad with frustration. I started to unbuckle my belt, but he saw what I was doing and pleaded with me
"I've spent days dreaming about how I want to do this, and I want to make my dream true. Please, let me do it my way"
How could I not agree?
He left my feet and slid my shirt up and over my head and shoulders, then kissed my fingers and started to wash my hand and arm with his tongue. He pushed my arm up and buried his face in my armpit
"Even that smells good!"
"So it should - I bought some CK deodorant and it cost me a fortune"
"Next time, don't wear it" Phil begged "I want to taste you, not perfume".
By now I could reach down with my other hand to touch the cock which tormented me by having been out of reach, but Phil pulled away.
"Don't spoil it, please. This first time I want to do it like I dreamed of."
He was driving me mad. It was terrible, but it was also wonderful, and as he continued to wash my arms with his tongue, I was reaching levels of need, frustration and sheer passion I didn't know I had. He reached across and stroked my hairless chest, then began, very gently, to tease my right nipple, and almost made me come again.
The telephone rang. Why was nothing ever simple for us?
"I'll have to answer - that will be mum to see if I'm OK"
I lay on the bed - should I keep faith with his request and keep my jeans and sticky underpants or do what I wanted and strip whilst Phil was on the phone? Then I had an idea of how to get my revenge on Phil.
Part 3 soon. Comments very welcome by jon60@hotmail.com