Chapter Six Sunday morning
Never had Bill had such an erotic dream, it was one of those incredible sex-filled dreams that fulfills every desire, every fantasy. He fought to remain in those luxurious arms of sleep, coveting every sensation. Yet, consciousness began to insinuate itself. In that half second before total wakefulness, that short period of time when dreams are admitted by consciousness, Bill felt anger at momentarily being deprived of the dream. But, the sensations remained, even intensified.
He opens his eyes to sunlight and the sight of Tom's glistening, mahogany back hunching over between his thighs, curly head moving up and down on a glistening turgid cock--his cock!
It was not a dream! Tom's hands tweaks his rigid nipples sending wave after wave of delicious sensations coursing through his body. Raising his torso and supporting it on elbows, he gazes down to his crotch in joy and wonder. Tom lifts his head.
"Good morning," he pants, " Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up, but when I came back from the shower and saw you laying here, with a hard-on. . . ."
"What a way to wake up!" He falls back on the pillows.
Tom returned to his new-found sport, with relish. His hands again move to the charged nipples. Straying now and then to the chest-hairs that had always caught his attention. He recalled the first time that they had shot to his attention.
A nude volley ball team was a hilarious concept, Tom had remembered thinking that first night in the dorm. It'd probably be a trifle dangerous--jumping, diving bodies, flailing cocks, bouncing balls and the rocketing volley ball. After unpacking their things, attempting to set up some kind of order and returning from the dining hall, Bill decided to shower. He yawned, arched his back in a relieving stretch, rubbed his eyes an stripped off his T-shirt. Tom remembered being somewhat amazed at the crop of light-brown hair that grew across his still youthful chest and reappeared at his navel, trailing downward and disappearing beneath his belted jeans. Again, he remembered when those unbelted jeans were shoved down around the ankles and kicked off, looking in amazement at the lush growth of hair that covered the thighs and calves as well as the smooth hairless patch of the inner thighs.
Sucking the flared and florid head past his full lips, he again rotates his tongue around its surface. Releasing it, he traces his tongue down the under edge to he pendulous ball-sac. Deliberately, he begins to lick that soft wrinkled pouch, feeling with his sensitive tongue the ovoid forms inside. Carefully, he sucks one into his mouth and tongues its shape.
Fists are forced into the surface of the bed, a guttural, animal sound escapes from Bill. One ball is released, another is tenderly drawn into that warm wet interior. A hand strays down from one of the hair-encircled nipples to cup the just released ball. Feeling the wet residue of his saliva, he traces a stream down the crevice. As Tom reacted the night before, Bill draws his knees up to his chest, exposing his puckered hole. Erotically, he anticipates the indescribable sensations that he had witnessed in Tom.
"Oh, God."
Remembering the pattern of the steps from the past night, Tom begins to recreate the finger dance. Sitting back, he circles the opening, spreading the saliva over its surface. Slowly, he inserts his finger into that tightly closed opening, carefully monitoring Bill's reaction. Passing the first barrier--a groan, a whipping of the head, back and forth--passing the second ring--a long, very long, very low groan, the head arches back as Tom remembers his own reaction. Slowly, ever so slowly, in and out, he inserts and withdraws his shock inducing finger. Uncontrolled moans punctuate the movements. The sense memories multiply not only in Tom's mind, but also throughout his whole body, and most especially in his anatomical counterpart. He marvels how his sensual, erotic ministrations on Bill's body telegraph to his own.
Again he lowers his mouth over the pulsing, rock-hard cock, sucking it almost completely into his mouth. The reciprocating sensations become more and more demanding. Slowly, he removes his finger from its dark, warm confinement, moves it over his own erectness, dragging the cock-sheath back, exposing its sensitive crest, down its length, cups and fondles the balls, then further back to his own hole. Amazing how his own touch sends sexual charges through his body, he presses the hole and enters it. The reaction to his movement allows him to completely engulf Bill's dick into his mouth.
Removing his mouth and finger at the same time, Tom sits back, looks into Bill's questioning eyes and contemplates his next move--the next step.
Feeling strangely suspended, as if in a hypnotic state, slowly, he brings Bill's legs down and gently pressures them together, at the same time straddling them. Gazing at the hard rose-tipped cock between his bracketing thighs, he bends down and encases it in one moisturizing motion. Raising up again, deliberately and carefully he moves up over the thighs, feeling his balls brush against Bill's. Depositing a dollop of spit on his finger tips, he reaches around and rubs it over his own quivering love-hole.
In knowledge of what is about to transpire, and not sure he's prepared to allow it, comes, "Tom, no, you don't have to."
"But, I'm going to. . . I have to . . . I want to. . . ."
Both feel the galvanic charge as cock head comes into contact with the puckered button. Tom gingerly holding the spit-slippery shaft, slowly and with some trepidation lowers himself onto its rigidity. Taking one deep breath after another, he fights to relax himself. Feeling the increasing pressure, his eyes close in concentration. The outer gate gives way the cock-head is almost entirely enclosed. Tom gasps, so does Bill. Bill tries to lift his new love off the penetration.
"No, don"t," hisses Tom, "it's all right." He takes two more deep breaths and again increases the downward pressure--eyes tightly closed.
"Oh, Tom, No! I don't want to hurt you," bursts out.
"It's all right. 'S all right," comes the breathless reply. The second gate is breached. An expression of intense relief follows, "Ohhh."
Simultaneously, Bill groans. The knowledge, the implication of the action couples with its sensation sending him into a high spiraling erotic orbit. Tom, again with deliberateness slowly settles further down on the hard cock. Finally, buttocks reach thighs. The journey is complete. Eyes open, a deep breath of satisfaction escapes and he smiles down into Bill's love-eyes.
Bill lifts his hands and encloses that beautiful face. Slowly, with infinite tenderness, he pulls it towards his own and lifts his lips to touch the other's. Breathlessly he whispers, "I love you. I really love you." The affirmation is returned. Tom sits back, upright and slowly raises his buttocks an inch or two, his eyes move in short arcs mirroring his mind's analysis of the sensations. He settles down again, and again the analysis. He allows to himself that the strange, almost uncomfortable stuffed feeling that just moments ago had filled him, has now all but passed, or at least most of it. In a slow ascending-descending rhythm he institutes and refines this new dance. Slowly all discomfort passes and in its place grows sensations of pleasure. Small electric sensations infuse his body from that imbedded cock!
"Oh, it feels soooo good."
"Yeah. . . yeah," Tom agrees. Three days ago if anyone, ANY-ONE had said that this morning he would find him self in this position he would have laughed in absolute, total, uncomprehending disbelief. Yet, here he was, Tom Wright with a cock up his ass! And, what's more incredible, Bill's hard cock. Bill! His college roommate, probably his best friend. Unbelievable! "Jesus Christ!"
In ever quickening motion, these new sensations centering in the deepest part of him, taking control of his voluntary muscles, lift him to heights of unimagined pleasure. Suddenly, Bill slips his hand around Tom's unsheathed cock and begins to move the loose skin up and down its shaft in time with the pistoning ass. The heightened erotic level to which Tom had brought himself is now doubled, tripled, quadrupled. The sensations! The very center of his being is about explode in cosmic fusion. Bill senses the same.
"Ahhhhhhhhhh. . . " long, guttural, with such intensity and volume, so loud that it startles Bill. His chest, his face is flooded with volumes of spattering semen. His eyes widen in wonder at the amount and force of the ejaculation. Momentarily, he mentally forgets his own erotic state, but his cock doesn't. The quaking, pulsating ass-tube sends its message and its triggering action. He feels the rocket-mounting, delicious pressure in his balls and the length of his encased cock.
"I'm going to come. . ." is heard with almost the same intensity and volume as Tim's shouting. With, herculean concentration, he reaches under Tom's arms, lifts him off his cock. As if the action of the withdrawing coupled with the spasmodic contractions of the withdrawn ass had released a trigger, Bill's cock explodes and covers not only his chest but Tom's as well with his own hot cum. Simultaneously, "Geeeees. . . ," followed by a number of deeply punctuated throat noises. Bill's orgasmic sounds aurally parallels Tom's exclamation of released desire.
Bill's supporting arms gives way and Tom collapses on top of him. They breathe in the rapid cadence of a runner at races end. Slowly, as sensations abate and muscle energy is restored, the breathing slows to a natural rate.
Tom pushes back up to his former thigh straddling position and places his hands on either side of Bill's chest. They both look with wonderment into each other's eyes. Then, from deep inside, spasms began to well up and escape from Tom's lips in beautiful, bubbling laughter.
"What's so damned funny?" This is spoken with a smile.
"I sure as hell hope that the neighbors aren't in, 'cause between our yells they're gonna think someone's been strangled, and call the cops, for sure." He re-collapses in laughing amusement and wonder.
Bill joins in, too, laughing, "Wonder what the cops'll say when they find us like this?"
"Probably, 'Move over. You guys can't have all the fun.'"
Again, mutual laughter wracks their embracing bodies.
They began to tickle each other. Unrestrained shouts and laughter fills the room like the free, uncomplicated and innocent play of youth. Finally, again breathless, they fall apart, except for two hands, one black and one white intertwine between them.
Dozing, Bill hears the spattering of the shower, then after a while he smells freshly brewed coffee. He swings out of bed, stretches and walks to the bathroom. In the kitchen, he sees Tom at the sink his back to him, like the other morning, except now he wears no clothes. His dark body glistens in the light.
"Do me a favor. Okay?"
"Sure.What?" over his shoulder.
"Don't get dressed today."
Turning, "Why? You've seen me nude before."
"Yeah, I know, but," he pauses, "not with these eyes."
With a broad smile, "Okay, you got it. . . but, the same applies to you, too, and remember--'lookee, no touchee.'"
"Lookee, no touchee? Your a damned tease."
"I know, but , you love it."
Slowly, Bill nods and enters the bathroom.
For the second time within twenty-four hours Tom hears disjointed singing coming from the shower. A smile covers his face as he busies himself buttering the muffins and pouring the orange juice. Then from the bathroom comes, "Hey, what time is it?"
"Ten-fifteen."
"Shit," comes the reply, and then, as Bill walks down the hallway, "We've spent almost all morning in bed!"
"Yeah, but have you ever spent a better time there?"
Leaning against the kitchen-entrance, scratching his head in mock cogitation, "I don't know. Let me think. . . . !
"You bastard," Tom says with a little chuckle, walks to Bill and plants a little, loving kiss on his lips. "Hungry?"
"Yeah, for food," he answers emphatically, raising an eye brow and the corners of his mouth.
"You really are a bastard," again with a chuckle.
"I know, but you love it."
"Touché."
The light breakfast finished, the two silently sit in chairs, facing each other, and their nude bodies being bathed in the diffused sunlight streaming through the living room sheers. Each quietly sips from steaming mugs, reveling in the relaxed presence of each other's nudity. The mood: matter of fact and questioning.
Tom breaks the silence, tentatively.
"Do you mind if I ask some more questions?"
"No. What?"
"Has this been the first time?"
"First time. . .? Yeah."
"Really?"
"Well, not really," emphasizing the last word.
"What do you mean?" came, without any judgmental or accusatorial implication.
"Well. . ." he started as a slight blush infusing his face, "when I was eleven or twelve my cousin and I jacked each other off once." The reddening continues.
With real surprise, "You could cum when you were eleven or twelve?"
"No, but we tried," comes the answer, then a giggle. It's Bill's turn, "Was this your first time?"
"No."
"No?" as eyebrows arch.
"No."
"Oh," comes the answer with a tinge of disappointment, then Bill asks, "When was the first time?" Not really wanting to know the answer.
"Friday night."
Relief and then lovingly, "You asshole. You're a devil."
"I know, but you love it." Then, "Actually, in junior high, I did take part in a couple of 'circle-jerks' with a few other guys, to see who could cum first."
"And did you win?"
"I don't remember."
"Shit! Come on."
"No, really, I don't remember," he states with a plead for belief.
"I believe ya," Bill answers with a smile.
They sit for a few more moments contemplating each other and trying to further unravel the tangle of questions, impressions in their minds and construct a logical weave.
"Can I ask you . . . another . . . question?"
Not knowing where these questions were heading, "Sure."
"Did you. . . " in his mind, he reforms the question, "I assume that. . . I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask, but, . . . I assume. ."
"That Karen and I made love?" Bill quickly finishes the question, then adds simply, "Yes, of course we did. We went together for over six years. You sure as hell didn't think that we were celibate? It was great, really great. I loved her . . . I really loved her. . ." his voice trails off. This was the first time that he had openly spoken of Karen since June--there was pain--and then, " but that's all that you need to know."
"I don't, didn't want details. It's just that. . . . Oh, Shit!"
After a moment or two, "Tom, have you ever looked at another guy . . . in that way?"
"No." then shaking his head to emphasize his, "No, not really. Have you?"
"No. But, . . . but, I remember the first time I saw you nude, two things caught my attention, your body--hairless--and," he adds, almost apologetically, "your cock," then adds, " your uncircumcised cock, but . . . not sexually."
"Oh, Sure! . . . I didn't turn you on?" Tom asks flippantly.
Refusing to take the bait, he answers flatly, "No. Not really. I guess it was because most guys my age I'd seen were pretty hairy, at least their legs were. . . and your cock, uncircumcised, and so much darker than the rest of your body. . ."
"I always knew you were a bigot," he says with a smile.
Bill's icy glance communicates that this was not the time for this kind of levity. "Sorry."
"Tom, has any guy ever turned you on?"
Again, "No, but it's funny. . . your hairy chest and legs caught my attention. . . so much hair. . . and, I have to admit, I thought your firm-looking ass was. . . was . . . nice, too."
The 'ass' bit brings a smile to Bill, "I guess people want . . . what they can't have. . . ."
"I thought the saying was 'the grass is greener. . .'"
They both laughed, together.
Then, "Bill, what I really don't understand is why, or how have two guys. . ." trying to depersonalize, trying to analyze, "two guys who have been straight all their lives . . . find themselves in this situation. . . " and then taking courage to say, "sucking and fucking each other, and apparently enjoying it."
A little hurt by the word, "Apparently. . . apparently? What the fuck do you mean by apparently? Apparently you didn't realize that I, ME,. . . that I did enjoy it." There he admits it, verbally, out in the open, not colored with passion or desire. " Didn't you?"
"Of course . . . I did. . . I loved it. . . I didn't mean it that way. Bill, this is so fuckin confusing."
"Tom, such language." They smile at each other, then, "I'm sorry, . . I know," then, "You're confused? Shit, I'm so confused, right now, I don't know my ass from a hole in the ground."
This search, these answers, these conclusions with its roller-coaster emotional ride, brought them to the edges of their chairs. Now, they sit back, staring, at nothing.
Tom traces his tongue around the edge of his mug and Bill moves his fingertips over the texture of the upholstery. After long minutes both actions slowly cease.
"I know," Tom suddenly states emphatically.
"Know what?"
"The difference between your ass and a hole in the ground." The two dissolve in laughter. Tom stands up, at least most questions are dissolved--answered--and says, "Let's get dressed and go for a walk down by the river."
Bill, stands, too, also feeling some relief. He steps over to Tom, gently cupping his cock and balls, smiles and in mock-hurt says, "And, you got mad at me 'cause I wanted to pee yesterday?"
Stepping back, face in false shock--also mocking, "Remember, 'No touchee!" Then, as he walks to the hall, "Last one dressed is a rotten egg." He stops and turns around with a glint, "Naw, that's for kids, not big boys like us." His eyes rake up and down Bill's body, "I . . .think . . .it should be. . .'First one dressed gets what ever he wants tonight." Laughing, he wheels around and races down the hall, Bill in hot pursuit.
Chapter Seven Two hours later
After a walk along the White River in the crisp air, using all the analytical powers they had at their disposal. They tried to make a final attempt to consolidate their present position, to deal with their situation. They, after arriving at enough conclusions to settle their minds, for a while, returned to the apartment, doubly cleansed.
Entering the apartment, taking of their coats and gloves, Bill states, "Well, I guess that there are some things for which there are no apparent answers. But, when you hold me in your arms, everything else is unimportant, I want only you. The fact is, Tom, I love you."
Being careful, considering every option, "'Love,' Bill, or 'infatuation?'"
"No, no, I can't except infatuation. My body is 'infatuated'. . . infatuated, hell! You make me so fuckin horny I think now I'd fuck a duck, if you weren't around."
Holding up both hands in horror, "It's been difficult enough to accept the past forty-eight hours. . . I'm not about to get into anything kinky! Even with you, you horny hunk!"
"Bastard," tumbles out amidst laughter, then serious again, "No, I admit, passion, I admit desire, and I acknowledge my love for you, a priori."
"A priori?" Tom, with exaggeration, drags out the term.
With a wink and a smile, "Philosophy 104, I believe."
"Yeah, but I got the "A" and, if I remember, you got a "B+."
"You're right, you won that one, but, my sweet one, I won this afternoon. It's what I want. . . Now my beautiful, sexy, black love-toy. . ."
"Love toy! I'll show you a love toy!" he said, with smiling ferocity, feet apart, right hand hefting his jean-covered cock and balls.
"That's what I was hoping. Now go and get yourself undressed. Remember I won," Bill was all smiles.
Tom sees a tenting--tenting? Hell!--a fuckin big bulge in Bill's fleece-lined jogging pants.
Passing, Tom, pats Bill's bulging, straining, cock-dominated basket, and he says with an uncharacteristic southern accent "Yes, Massah."
"Idiot," he says and punctuates it with his finger manipulating in the ass-formed crack of Tom's jeans.
"Ooooo, nice. I can't wait."
They both chuckle and walk down the hall. Bill enters his room, "when I get to your room, I want to see you stretched out, nude."
"Oh, you are wanton," laughing.
"I'm wantin you."
Bill steps into Tom's bedroom, both are nude, Tom props up on one elbow and observes.
Moving to the bed side, Bill says, "Have you ever made love in the bright afternoon?"
"Not with you, but there's always the first time."
Bill looks down at Tom's dark body stretched out on the bed. His eyes move and down the erotic scene--centering first, on the blue-black tits with their rigid centers, and then down to the cock resting on the left thigh, its head encased in its puckered-tip sheath. "Here I am, standing nude in a guy's bedroom, looking at his naked body--getting turned on by his tits and cock! Who would have thought?" His cock begins to extend and arch out further.
"What's the matter? The winner doesn't know what to do?"
"Oh, I know what to do all right."
As with a beginning partnership, elements must be worked out--these had been accomplished. So the dance began again. This time each knew the basic steps and they carefully and without haste repeated. Now new steps could be attempted.
Breathlessly, they had easily aroused each other and took great joy in visual and tactile explorations and watching the other explore. Momentarily recovering their breath and wanting to prolong this, Tom rests on his back.
Bill on his side, one hand supporting his head, the other slowly lowers and raises the velvet cock-sheath. "I don't know, maybe it was more than just mild interest in your cock that I felt that day?" He sits up, bends over and begins again the licking and sucking movements that he knows evokes stirring passions in Tom.
Tom disengages and worms a way down the bed, pats the bed near his head, saying, "Put your ass here."
"Hey, I'm the director."
"Yeah, but you don't know what you want. Remember? Come on, Do it." Bill complies. "Now don't forget what you were doing."
"How could I?"
Bill lays down resuming his actions and Tom also sucks the ruddy headed cock into his mouth. For long minutes, they suck, and lick--fingers feeling, manipulating--they explore the classic position, finding and exploring this mutually beneficial mode.
Tom begins to move his fingers behind the ball-sac, immediately, Bill lifts his leg, its motion telegraphing his want. He anticipates that delicious pleasure.
Cock still in his mouth, Tom reaches to take the bottle of lotion he had earlier set on the bedside table. Quickly depositing an amount of the smooth lubricant on his finger, he smears it over the twitching sphincter.
"Oh, yeah, that's what I want," whispers Bill, and then he returns to suck the upright cock.
Circling the puckered edge with his finger tip, he applies a little pressure. Circling again, and then lightly raking finger nail across its surface, brings forth a mouth-stuffed groan.
With calculated deliberateness, with controlled pressure he breaks through the first line of defense. Feeling Tom's finger slipping past the first muscled-ring, Bill's leg flexes at the knee, more fully exposing the love-hole. With greater ease than before, the pressing, lotion covered finger passes through the second gate and into the quaking, dark, warm interior.
"Oh, yessss."
Slowly the finger is inserted, the whole, long finger and then withdrawn. Again it is fully inserted, in a slow but deliberate fucking motion.
Moan after moan escapes from Bill's cock-filled mouth. The finger-fucking-dance continues with deliberateness.
"Oh, fuck! Your finger feels so good."
Slowly, deliberately, Bill moves away from the pleasure-giving finger, sits up and kneels beside Tom's hips. Their eyes communicate love, need, desire and acknowledgement.
Grasping Tom's wrists Bill lifts them up, crosses them, framing his new love's head. "Leave them there," he whispers and runs his tongue down the nose-ridge. He moves to an ear and inserts his moist, hot tongue, then suck-licks the soft neck-hollow. Hisses of rapid air intake across teeth emanates from Tom. Bill, momentarily gazes at that face that he has come to love. The very tip of his tongue traces the beautiful sculptured edge of the full lips, all around. Tom's tongue comes forth and they each explores the other's tongue-tip. Bill sucks into his mouth that lush, full lower lip and tongues it.
Again he raises up to focus his visual attention on those blue-black tits, their size turns him on even further. Taking one nipple between his thumb and forefinger he gently rotates it one way then the other way. At the same time he licks the rigid twin with his tongue, then opens wide his mouth to suck the whole area into his mouth, licking again the entrapped nipple. Then he lightly takes the small erectness between his teeth and again tongues it.
"Oh, God, Bill."
Releasing both, his tongue leaves a glistening trail as it moves towards the navel-bowl. Momentarily, he tongue-circles the edge before moving further down. His tongue begins to swirl about in the tightly curled, black cock-hairs that form a thick, well-defined "V" at the base of the stomach.
Opening his mouth, he moves down to the half-length of the crest-exposed cock, gently clamps his lips over the loose skin and orally drags it back over the cock-head. He inserts his tongue into the fluted opening and encircles the encased head. Reveling in the knowledge that his tongue is now between Tom's cock-head and soft flexible covering. What joy that realization, that acceptance brings.
Sitting back on his haunches he gazes with mounting passion at the engorged love-stick noting that it was a bit longer and a bit thicker than his own. He thrills at its dark rigidness. He thrills at its prepuce covered head. He thrills at the blue-black, wrinkled ball-sac hanging from its base.
Swinging his gaze back to Tom's eyes he reaches for the bottle of lotion, so conveniently placed. Still looking deep into the love filled eyes, he pours a portion into his hand and covers the hard, mahogany, lustrous cock with its passion inducing slipperiness. His motion causes Tom's eyes to widen in unrestrained passion. Another portion is placed on his fingers, and as he swings a leg over to straddle those thighs, he re-lubricates his ass and its inner surface with his finger. It brings lustful passion to his being and causes his cock to jerk, spasmodically.
"Bill, Are you sure? You don't have to. . . ."
"Shhh, you can't have all the fun. . . . Yes, I'm sure." He lowers his spread ass down toward the up-urging, up-seeking cock.
When contact is made Tom's eyes snap shut. "Aaahhh," slips across his lips.
"Don't! Open your eyes Tom. I want you to watch me. . . I want to see your desire." He clasps the cock between his thighs and begins to exert controlled, downward pressure. "I want you to watch your cock slip into my ass." All at once the outer ring gives way to the exerted pressure. "Aaahhh. . ." explodes from his mouth--part pain, part pleasure.
"Bill. . ." The rest of the statement is closed off by fingers on Tom's loving lips.
"Shhhh." He eases up and then bears further down, breaching inward. "Your big hard cock is slipping into my ass, Watch it. . . " He bites his lower lip, in part to transfer the pain. He takes one deep breath after another, fighting to relax his ass, to get used to this invasion.
"Bill, Bill, I don't want to hurt you," floods out of Tom's mouth.
"It's okay, it's not so bad." That was a slight falsehood. "I want it." That was the truth! Slowly he settles down until half the cock-length is in the warm, dark canal. He exhales deeply, and fights to relax, to accept the massive intrusion. He sensually notes the strange, stuffed feeling. He also notes that it carries with it both pain, or maybe discomfort, and pleasure. The latter takes precedence.
Slowly, slowly the discomfort is absorbed. No pain, just a warm feeling.
After a period, Bill withdraws slightly and then descends to the former depth. The discomfort steadily recedes and pleasure begins to take its place--sending wonderful electric spasms through his being. He lifts up a short distance and descends, this time farther--less discomfort and more pleasure. This step is repeated until his becomes totally impaled, completely riven. Relaxing, resting, he gazes into Tom's eyes to gauge his reaction--wonderment and undeniable passion. He thrills at the slightly rough feel of Tom's cock-hairs as the tingle his ball-sac.
And, then in relief, "See, I did it, I took the whole thing," he admits with a passion infused smile.
"Yeah," Tom replies in wonderment.
He looks into Tom's concerned eyes, "Who. . . who would ever have thought that me. . . me, Bill Dweyer, would be sitting here, nude, with a rock hard-on, my legs spread, straddling a guy, his hard dick stuffed up my ass, and loving it--wanting it?"
"Do you want me to take it out?"
"Not on your life. . . .Don't you like the feel of your cock in me?"
"Like?. . . No, I adore it. I can only think of one thing I like better--yours up my ass," he smiled with love and passion. "There, I said it. . . . Bill, I felt the same. . . I always considered myself a pretty straight black stud. I liked to 'ball' the women as much as any other guy. But, when you finger-fucked me, I thought. . .'Here I am on my back, legs spread and up in the air like a woman, a guy's finger squirreling my ass-hole and I'm loving it!' Then when I felt your fucking-cock!" he rolls his eyes in disbelief and pleasure.
Bill begins to circle his hips over Tom's hard, dark cock. The sensations that his motions bring him sends chills up his back. He groans a breathless, "Ahh."
Slowly, at first, Bill begins to move up in down the turgid pole and then with increasing rapidity. The sensations now began to grow. His stuffed hole reacting to every minute textural difference, every engorged vein, becomes sensitized beyond what he ever thought possible.
Suddenly, he withdraws completely. His shift brings a wide-eyed questioning expression from Tom.
With one rapid motion, he lays beside Tom and says, hoarsely, "Get between my legs, and fuck me."
In amazement and sensuous anticipation, Tom obeys. He crawls between Bill's hairy thighs--his rigid, bobbing, glistening cock sticks straight out from its black thatch. Smiling at Bill, he carefully positions himself. Bill draws his knees up to his shoulders, exposing the spasmodically puckering ass hole.
"Look, my love. Watch your cock enter my love hole."
Guiding the slippery, lubricated cock to that love-tube, Tom looks down an watches his cock-head disappear. The entry, the incredible sensation of the love muscles slipping over his crest, nearly triggers his ejaculation. He slides his cock in all the way, watching it disappear into that joy giving hole, feeling its entire length being encased, clutched, engulfed in warmth.
"Oh, Jeeze, Bill, it's so fuckin hot to watch my cock stretch your ass. . . how it swallows it all up. . .so fuckin hot." He begins to slowly pump his cock in and out, in and out, watching it stretch-pump Tom's virgin-tight ass.
"Oh, Yessss. . . . God, you look beautiful, your muscled, dark body, bracketed by my spread legs. Ohhh. . . fuck me baby."
As Tom's ass pistoning begins to gain in speed, so does their mutual joy-sounds and their desire. Faster, and faster he fucks Tom's fantastic joy-hole.
The hard muscles of his ass deep-dimple and release, dimple and release as he pumps in and out. Bill's hands, clasping the luxurious, brown buns, send messages of sensual delight as the muscles' contract. The muscle movement sends erotic messages back to Bill's passion charged brain.
Tom begins to feel his climax mounting, he reaches down with his lotion-slick hand and hand-fucks Bill's jerking cock. He watches it's head appear from, and disappear into his fist as he moves it up and down. He marvels at its hardness He remembers its feeling in his mouth, its taste, its feeling against his licking, searching tongue. His fist moves it up and down and he recalls the sensations when its flared head slipped into his virgin ass. His fist moves up and down and he remembers the sensations volt-charging through his body when Bill fucked him.
"Oh, my Bill, my Bill, I love fucking your ass." He feels his orgasm surging for release. Demanding release.
How to explain it? The whole body feels warm, beautifully alive, sensually pulsing. From deep, deep inside, centered somewhere between the cock and the ass-hole, a tingling sensation begins to mount. Rapidly it infuses and insinuates itself throughout the whole body growing, growing leading on, all consuming towards that edge between pain and pleasure. Firing every nerve ending with screaming sensitivity--centering, finally in the expanding cock it is released with such suddenness--milky love juices jet forth in shock-rhythm, flooding, spattering, spewing--the whole body is wracked with ejaculating convulsions. More pearly, lustrous fluid shoots from the orifice. The release, causing uncontrollable shouts, not unlike the sensation when a knife cuts the finger, the sudden nerve-jerking realization before the pain. Creamy, viscous juices continue to jet forth. The French call it the petit mort, the "little death. The spine flexes in involuntary archings,
jolting the body. Additional cloudy fluids issue from the little slit. Muscles flex and reflex, at first uncontrollably, then lessen in intensity. Finally, everything relaxes.
They find themselves in each other's arms. Cum-glued together, they hug each other. Bill's legs are across Tom's back. Tom's softening cock now rests inside the pleasure-giving hole--the dancers take their bows--they lock their lips in a long tender kiss.
Minutes pass, Tom slowly and reluctantly withdraws. Even that motion sends aftershocks of delight through both men.
"God, These last two days have been incredible! How far will this go?"
"Tom, what will happen to us?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that now. . . it's incredible, I don't know, but . . . I've experienced these past two days something that I had simply never even contemplated. I've experienced it, and I don't want to loose it. But in three days I've got to go back. . . . Why now? I don't want to, yet I must!"
"I know, but, Bill, remember Friday, before my anger with you, I said that I wanted to tell you some good news?"
"Yeah."
"Well the good news is that I've been accepted into the Ph.D. program at Minneapolis. I didn't know whether I was going to accept it or not. Now, I think I will."
A smile filled Bill's face, "When?"
"Not until September."
"September," Bill repeated, as his brows knit into thought. "Maybe, that will be a blessing in disguise."
"What do you mean?"
"Well," Bill began, "I don't know about you, but, as I said, these past couple of days have been almost more than what I can deal with. I need time to sort things out." Tom's eyebrows raised in a non verbal question. "Oh, it's not what has happened to us that I want to question. . . although, I guess it ultimately is. But, I know that I need time alone to sort things out. That's all."
"Yeah," Began Tom, the questioning attitude was gone, "I know what you mean. You're right, I guess."
"God knows, if you were around me, I think that we'd be spending all our hours together in bed, not that I'd complain, but I think we both need time," Bill admits and softly reaches over and encases Tom's flaccid, lubricated penis in his hand, rolling it back and forth, pulling back the velvet foreskin, exposing the glistening glans.
Smiling, he acknowledges, "Yeah, you're right, I guess. But, Bill, I'm going to miss you." Saying this, he, too, reaches over and lightly runs his fingertips through Bill's chest hairs, pausing now and then at first one nipple, then the other. Their touches send warm sensations, intimate sensations through each--a bonding touch.
"Me, too. But, there'll be times for us to be together between now and then."
"There better be," Tom said with a laugh, then continued, with a smile, "I don't suppose you'd mind if I stayed in your guest room while I'm there?"
"Damned right I'd mind! Guest room? Hell! You'd better stay in my room. . . with me."
"Well, I thought for appearances sake. . . ."
Interrupting, Bill says, "You'll have to keep your clothes in the guest room's, . . . your room's closet, no room in mine."
"I think that might be arranged."
They embrace, their bodies come together in the warm after-glow, feeling each other's warmth. They languidly kiss--tongues lightly exploring, tenderly exploring--not in a passion arousing way, but as lovers who have come together, melded, satiated each other and now communicate in the tenderest way.
There are times, isolated times when two dancers are paired and very soon it is realized that the pairing is spectacular. Each separate partner somehow is able to bring out the best in the other, and, therefore, in themselves, as well--Nureyev and Fontaine, Baryshnikov and Kirkland. These pairings soar skyward, inevitably grand, on the wings of the Muse.
After a few minutes of glowing silence, a time when souls communicate, wordlessly, Tom asks, "How far will this go?"
"As far as we want."
And, they lovingly, with full knowledge enfolded each closer and smiled at the future. Their future together is bright--bright, but not without some trouble. But, then, that is life. The life of two who have come to know love after this visit.