Date: Sat, 21 Mar 2015 08:42:22 -0500
From: jdhauthor67@gmail.com
Subject: We Met In Kindergarten

This is a work of fiction/fantasy. Any resemblance to real people is
accidental.

This is an original work. The author retains all rights.

This is an update on "Eddie," previously published on Nifty in Adult
Friends. Part One is revised to be less brutal. And, Part Three is
added. If you read Eddie, feel free to skip to Part Three.

Please donate to Nifty at donate.nifty.org.

If you have questions or comments, please email me at jdhauthor67@gmail.com

We Met In Kindergarten

Part One

	My mom walked me to my first day of kindergarten at Powell Gardens
Elementary and introduced me to Mrs. Joyce, the teacher. Hair piled high on
her head in a tight bun, Mrs. Joyce changed my life forever that very first
day, at nap time. We were a crowded kindergarten, so we all had to have
"nap buddies" with whom we shared a nap mat. My nap buddy was Eddie Estes,
the youngest of the five Estes boys and the only kid in our class who did
not actually live in Powell Gardens, a cinderblock multi-family compound
looked down upon by the rest our town. The only people lower on the pole
than "PGers" were the "river rats" (they lived on the river side of the
train tracks in shacks on stilts) and the "frogs" (they lived in the north
end of town, unaffectionately referred to as "frogtown"). Before "movin' on
up" to Powell Gardens, we were the worst of the worst, "river rats" from
"frogtown."

	Eddie came from what people in our town called a "good family,"
which meant his parents were not divorced (mine were) and his family was
not poor (we were). Eddie was also Mrs. Joyce's favorite kid, probably
because he was clean, well-mannered, and adorably cute. Where I was a
shaggy, white-haired waif, Eddie was a tight little 5 year old, brown hair
cut tight above his ears and off his neck.

	From opposite ends of the spectrum, Eddie has been my best friend
since our first day sharing a nap mat. It was unlikely to turn out that
way. After we spent the 1972-1973 school year together the way only 5-6
year old boys can, Eddie headed to St. Thomas's, the Catholic grade school
for the south, wealthy end of town. I stayed at Powell Gardens. Not because
I was not Catholic. I was. Everyone in our town was, at least as far as I
knew. If you could afford to tithe, then you went to one of the Catholic
grade schools. If you could not, then you went to one of the public
schools. We could barely afford to live, much less tithe, so I stayed at
Powell Gardens. At different schools, it was unlikely our friendship would
endure.

	Illness intervened. During second grade, I got the measles, the
mumps, and the chicken pox all in the same year. Needless to say, I missed
a lot of school. In fact, I missed so much school they refused to pass me
to third grade, even though I was well-ahead of where a second-grader
should be. The younger brother to a domineering older sister who liked to
play teacher, I knew how to read even before I started kindergarten. So,
while other kids were learning the alphabet through the Letter People, I
was reading, doing simple math, and otherwise moving ahead. I was so far
ahead that my first grade teacher, Mrs. Littlefield, suggested I skip from
first to third grade. My mother refused

	Because of my illnesses, the school that did not want me in the
second grade in the first place was now insisting that I repeat it. My
mother would have none of it. Bullheaded, she marched me down to
St. Thomas's, told them my birth date, and asked if I could enroll in the
third grade there. When they said yes, I was taken to Sister Susan's third
grade class and put in a desk directly behind - you guessed it - Eddie
Estes. By the time they found out we could not tithe, it was too late.

	I had no idea at the time that I was gay. But, I knew that I had
rediscovered Eddie. We beamed at each other. And, we picked up right where
we had left off, the way children do so easily. Mostly, that was because
Eddie was one of the most genuine humans I would ever meet. Raised well, he
did not look down upon the "PGers" like most everyone else at St. Thomas's
did.

	As I grew up, Eddie was the brother I never had, and we were
friendly rivals. While I was smartest boy in our class, Eddie was the most
athletic. He was the pitcher on our baseball team, the striker on our
soccer team, and the point guard on our basketball team. He was also the
first person picked at recess, whether for kickball, dodge ball, or
whatever we would spend those breaks playing. He was a star.

	He was also the best looking kid in our class all the way through
high school. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and an electric smile that made
him sexy, and he knew it. He carried himself with the confidence that came
with that knowledge. Our senior year, he was voted Best Looking and Best
Personality. Me, Most Intelligent. I was not bad looking, but I was also
not good looking. From a white haired waif, puberty turned me into a
"dishwater blond" teenager. And, I was still little, easily the smallest
boy in our class. While Eddie grew to 6 feet, I stopped growing at 5'6", a
full half foot shorter. And, while Eddie developed his lean frame with the
muscles of an athlete, I remained mostly shapeless.

	By high school, I knew I was gay. While my friends fixated on the
girls' developing breasts, I fixated on their developing chests, butts,
legs, and, of course, crotches. But, gay was not something you could be in
a backward town, much less at our conservative, conformist High School. I
was so deep in the closet that I was friendly with whatever monsters hid
there.

	I also knew I was in love with Eddie. At least, once I figured out
that love was the source of the euphoria I felt when I was around him and
the heartache I felt when I was not.

	But, nothing ever happened between us. I stole looks, especially
when he changed in front of me. And, I stole touches whenever I could. Like
when we were at the movies, and it was not too obvious for me to rest my
arm against his on the arm rest. Or, when we were in the backseat of his
parents' car, and it was not too obvious for me to rest my leg against his.

	Eddie was definitely not gay. He never stole looks. And, he never
stole touches.

	And, I do not think he had any idea I was gay. After all, we both
had girlfriends through middle school and most of high school, and we were
sexually active with them when we did (although I suspect we were both
exaggerating the depth and breadth of that activity; I know I was).

	I crossed the line with him a couple of times. Once, when I was
staying at his house and we were sharing his full bed, I licked his
nipple. He was asleep on his back in boxers and without a shirt, and I was
watching him breathe, unable to sleep or to take my eyes off him. We were
16, and Eddie had a small patch of hair in the middle of his sinewy chest
and a "path to paradise" that disappeared into his boxers. He also had
hairless, small nipples. That night, I could not stop staring at them. And,
I could not stop myself from licking his right nipple. It was an
overwhelming impulse. So, I did it. And, it was awesome, sending a little
jolt through me all the way to my toes. Luckily, it did not wake him up.

	Another time, we were playing putt putt golf in his basement, and
he was standing right in front of the chair I was sitting in, getting ready
to putt. He was wearing jeans, and they beautifully outlined his bubble
butt. As he crouched over the putt, his ass was inches from my
face. Unthinkingly, I leaned forward and licked the crack of his
jeans. Startled, he asked me "what the hell was that?" Panicked, I could
only choke out "keep your ass out of my face."

	As I said, I never thought anything would happen with Eddie (with
his mother, I was one of two people who continued to call him Eddie; upon
starting high school, he became "Ed" to the rest of the world). Although,
there was one occasion in high school where there seemed to be at least the
hint of a possibility. It was New Year's Eve of our senior year, and Eddie
and I had gotten a hotel room in St. Louis to further our plan of picking
up two girls and sexing them to welcome in 1986 (we used sex as a verb and
a noun).

	Our plan failed, although not for a lack of trying. I suspect I
cock-blocked Eddie, as he was far more talented at the pick-up than I
was. He came across as the confident, sexy guy he was. I came across as the
insecure runt I was.

	After striking out, we drove to the hotel and tried to decide
whether to stay in St. Louis or head back to our respective homes. As we
sat in the hotel parking lot, Eddie said "we could go in and just sex each
other." Stunned silent, I just sat there like a dumbass, wondering if I had
just heard what I thought I heard. Then, Eddie put his car into drive and
headed back home. I still have no idea if I missed a chance that night or
not.

	Graduation came and went, and we headed off to different colleges,
Eddie to study engineering at the state University, and me to study history
before heading to law school at Northwestern. Like most high school best
friends, we saw each a lot during our early visits home, but our contact
tapered off as our visits home did. Too soon, we were out of touch.

	After law school, I moved west to clerk for a judge. Once the
clerkship was over, I planned to spend 6 weeks backpacking from Rome to
Lisbon, the last two of which I would spend going from Madrid to Lisbon
with my girlfriend Caroline (unable to deal with being Catholic and gay, I
was still pretending to be Catholic and straight).

	When visiting home during the summer before the trip, I stopped by
the Estes house. I had spent much of my childhood with the Esteses, and I
considered myself part of their family. So, it was not unusual during a
visit to home for me to stop by and at least say hello to David and Susan,
Wardo's* mom and dad (*toward the end of high school, I felt increasingly
silly using "Eddie," but I also did not want to use the "Ed" that everyone
else did, so I started calling Eddie "Wardo" instead, using the last four
letters of his formal "Edward" and adding an "o" to the end).

	During that visit, I told David and Susan of my plans to backpack
from Rome to Lisbon starting Labor Day Saturday. Susan responded, "You are
not going to believe this, but Eddie is flying to Rome the Saturday of
Labor Day weekend to backpack to Paris. How is that for a coincidence?"

	I laughed. Wardo and I had not talked for about a year, but here
the two nap buddies were - 20 years on from kindergarten - traveling by
coincidence to Rome on the same flight.

	Susan gave me Wardo's updated contact information, and I
immediately reached out to him. In short order, we had plans to go from
cheap hotel to cheap hotel in Rome, Florence, Venice, Cap d'Ai, Nice, and
Paris. Our separate solo trips had turned into a Crosby/Hope road movie.

	And, we had a blast, eating and drinking our way through Europe. We
were constantly in motion. When possible, I stole looks. And touches.

	The looks were not tough. We shared rooms the whole trip, and most
of them were so low-end they did not have private bathrooms. So, we bathed
together in locker room style showers. Wardo looked terrific in the
shower. His brown hair was longer than usual, and he kept it tucked behind
his ears, even in the shower. Backpacking, he stopped shaving, so he had a
developing beard under his roman nose (I loved his Tom Cruise-y Roman
nose). With long hair and stubble, he looked like a rock star.

His chest hair had thickened since high school, but was still concentrated
mostly in the middle of his muscled chest. He was still lean. His path to
paradise was framed by a perfect V and led to a thick bush of straight
hair. His soft dick was pretty, thick, and hung against large, balls,
framed by thick, soccer thighs. His bubble butt was almost hairless. And,
he had great arm pits and feet. I had developed over time a fetish for
both; Wardo's arm pits were thick with the same dark, straight hair as the
rest of his body, and his feet were athletic and arched.

	The touches were tougher. Every night, we were in separate twin
beds, and all day we were on the go, walking miles and miles to avoid
missing anything we were "supposed" to see. So, I had to be satisfied with
an occasional clap on the shoulder or a grab of the arm.

	That is, until the last night of our trip. That night, the hotel we
chose in Paris put us in a room with a full bed, a fact we did not discover
until we had paid for and checked into our room. We had shared his full bed
during many sleepovers growing up, so it did not seem like a big deal to
either of us.

	After a great "end of trip" meal and two bottles of wine, we headed
back to our room to sleep before Wardo's early morning flight home the next
day. Once there, Wardo stripped to his boxers and climbed into bed. I did
the same, although I left my undershirt on. I hate sleeping without a shirt
on.

	As always, I was on the left side, and Wardo was on the right. Just
like we had slept when we napped in kindergarten and, after that, all those
nights I stayed at his house.

	Quickly, Wardo's breathing changed, signaling he was asleep. He was
on his back, with his arms tucked behind his head. So, I could see his arm
pits. Since our room was not air conditioned, the window was open. And, we
were uncovered.

	I was not in the mood to sleep. I was too keyed up, having Wardo
shirtless - with armpits exposed - next to me.

	Without touching him, I leaned over and sniffed his arm pit. It
smelled the way a man is supposed to smell at the end of the day. Not
stinky, but also not clean. Musky. A hint of odor. It was intoxicating.

	I remembered licking his nipple all those years before. I thought
about doing it again. But,I did not want to wake him and ruin my fun. So, I
sniffed his arm pit some more. And stared at his chest, as it rose and fell
with each breath.

	Before long, I noticed that his boxers were tenting a little. He
had a nocturnal hard on, pointed up and to the left.

	I had seen Wardo soft, but never hard. He was definitely a
grower. I wanted very much to know how long and thick his hard dick
was. Leaning on my left elbow, I reached my right hand over. Trying not to
touch him, I formed a backward C with my hand and tried to estimate his
girth. He was thick. Definitely thicker than my wrist.

	Using my thumb and pinky, I then tried to estimate his length. He
was almost exactly as long as my handbreadth, which is just over 8 inches.

	I was not careful enough. As I was "measuring" his length, my thumb
touched the head of his dick through his boxers. I froze as his dick
twitched. I could not tell if he was awake, and I did not dare lift my head
to look at his face. Instead, I started slowly to pull my hand away. As I
did, he grabbed my right wrist with his left hand. Dread and panic flooded
through me. I was about to be held accountable.

	To my surprise, Wardo did not yank my hand away. Instead, he
pressed it to his hard dick and held it there. I gripped him through his
boxers. He was rock hard.

	I was still frozen. I was completely still, my right hand wrapped
around my nap buddy's hard dick through his boxers.

	Wardo then raised his hips, slipped his hands into the band of his
boxers, and pushed them down to his knees. Raising his knees toward his
face, he pulled them completely off, laid back flat, spread his legs, and
tucked his arms back behind his head.

	I lay there, dumbfounded and helpless. So, Wardo reached down, took
my right wrist again, and moved my hand back to his dick.

	As I gripped him again, he slowly moved my hand on his dick. I was
high as a kite. I could not believe what was happening. I felt like I had
just done a line.

	When he let go of my wrist, I continued to jerk his pulsing
dick. As his breathing slowly picked up, so did my pace.

	I moved my head toward his arm pit and sniffed. Between his smell
and the feel of his dick filling my hand, I almost came. As his breathing
deepened and became more ragged, I gripped tighter and jerked him
harder. Soon, he was bucking his hips in rhythm with my hand.

	I leaned over and took his nipple into my mouth, licking and
sucking as hard as I could. His moan told me he felt it this time. As I
sucked his nipple and jerked his dick, I felt his body tense. He was
getting close. I sucked and jerked harder. He exhaled loudly and moaned as
cum moved through his dick and shot out in arcs on his chest and
stomach. As I kept sucking and jerking, I came in my boxers without
touching myself. Wardo stayed hard in my hand. I kept jerking, and he came
a second time, which I had not thought before that moment was even
possible. Spent once, this load ran down his dick onto my hand. He grabbed
my right wrist with his left hand, which told me it was time to stop. I let
go of his dick and abandoned his nipple, moving my right hand to my mouth
so I could eat his cum. It tasted better than I dreamed it would, and I ate
every drop I could. As I did, he used the sheet to clean his chest and
stomach. This disappointed me, as I had hoped to lick the cum off him. Once
cleaned, he tossed the sheet away and closed his eyes. Before long, he was
back asleep, not having uttered a word.

	I tried to sleep but could not. I had jerked my nap buddy's dick,
devoured his nipple, and eaten his cum. I was flying as I relived it over
and over in my mind.

	I feel asleep at some point. When I awoke, the sun was streaming
into our room, I was on my right side, Wardo was pressed up against my
back, and his left hand was hooked under my chest. I had started lifting
weights after high school, so he was holding onto more than loose skin.

	His dick was hard and pressed against my ass. He was still naked,
having neglected to replace his boxers after I jerked him the night
before. I was still wearing my boxers, the front of which was now crusty
from my spontaneous orgasm.

	Without saying a word, Wardo pressed his body hard into mine,
driving his dick into my covered ass cheeks as hard as he could. The force
of the press moved me onto my stomach. He was quickly on my back. He raised
up, grabbed my boxers by the band, and tugged them down to my knees. He
then moved back up, pressing his hard dick into my bare crack. He was
trying to fuck me. Actually, he was trying to dry fuck me. I had never been
fucked before, so there was no way that was going to happen. No matter how
much I wanted it.

	He realized the same thing. He moved off me, grabbed something off
the sink, and hopped back on the bed. He squirted something in my ass crack
(I later found out it was hair conditioner) and then used his dick to smear
it around. He started to push into me again. He was hard as a rock, so
there was no give there. He should have loosened me with his fingers, but I
do not think either of us knew that or, if he did, that he was willing to
go that far.

	I wanted so much to open up for him. But, it hurt like hell. He
definitely did not have a "starter dick."

	He was relentless, pushing harder and harder, trying to force his
way in. I was certain he would not fit. As I took a deep breath, he pressed
in, and I gave enough that the head of his dick slipped inside me. He
pushed again, and I started to yield to him. My body was immediately
covered in a cool, soft sweat. As he pushed more of himself in, I bit down
hard on the pillow. I may have whimpered. I am too proud to say I did, and
too honest to say I did not.

	He was needy and not to be deterred. He pushed in deeper and deeper
until I could feel his pubic hair against my ass. I was holding my
breath. My ass was on fire, and it felt like his dick was in my chest.

	When he pulled back, I finally exhaled. I had almost passed out
from holding my breath too long. When he pushed all the way back in, I held
my breath again. I was still biting the pillow, my ass was still on fire,
and my chest seemed full again. But, I was also thrilled.

 	I had read enough to know that I was supposed to relax, but I had
no idea how that was possible. It's was like trying to relax when you are
about to get an injection.

	Seemingly oblivious to what he was doing to me, Wardo quickened his
pace and started slamming his dick into me. He was fucking me hard. I was
helpless against him. Even if I had wanted him to stop, I could not have
forced him to.

	I did not want him to stop. I was uncomfortable, but this was
Wardo.

	The discomfort started to yield when it dawned on me that Wardo was
making a dream come true. I had spilled most of my teen seed in my own hand
imagining just what was happening at this moment, in this Parisian hotel
room. But for the discomfort, it would have been difficult to convince me
that I was not dreaming.

	Wardo started breathing faster and louder. Then, he started panting
in rhythm with his thrusts. As he continued to pound into me, a pleasurable
sensation emerged. His dick was sliding against what I would later discover
was my prostate. I relaxed, turning my head to the side.

	Wardo had been raised up on his arms so that little of our bodies
were touching. He slid his hands inside my undershirt, raising it up, and
he then hooked his arms under my shoulders and lowered his head so his face
was next to mine. His breath was in my face. He started to sweat. As he
continued thrusting, he dripped sweat. Quickly, we were both soaked with
it.

	The moment was too much for me. His smell, his sweat, and the
feeling of his dick driving into my ass overwhelmed me. I came again
without touching myself, grunting as I did.

	Wardo whispered "oh, God" as his body stiffened and he buried his
load deep inside me. He pushed into me as far as he could and pulled my
body against him as tightly as he could. We were both covered in sweat, my
stomach was covered in my own cum, and my ass was full of his.

	His breathing slowed, and he relaxed on top of me, still covering
me with his sweat and his breath. Neither of us moved or spoke. His dick
went limp, and he slipped out of me. Then, he moved off me and the bed,
wrapped himself in a towel, and headed down the hall to the bathroom.

	While he showered, I tried to decompress and figure out the last 8
hours. I was worried a friendship had come undone, yet I could not stop
smiling. I was elated. Again, I felt like I had just done a line.

	When Wardo got back to the room, I was still sprawled on the bed,
my boxers still halfway down my legs. Without saying a word or even looking
in my direction, he packed his backpack, and headed toward the door. "Great
trip," he said as he left for the airport.

	With him gone, I showered, packed my own backpack, and headed to
the train station. I needed to get to Madrid in time to meet my girlfriend,
Caroline.

Part Two

	Until today - almost 21 years later - Wardo and I have never spoken
of Paris. But, we have remained best friends.

	Tomorrow is my wedding day. At 47, I am getting married on the
coast of Maine. Wardo, my best friend of 42 years, will be my best man. His
wife is coming in tomorrow for the ceremony. His three children are not.

	My future husband and I agreed not to see each other for 24 hours
before our wedding. So, Wardo and I are having a last "boy's night out"
tonight. We are starting with dinner. The night out was Wardo's
suggestion. It's on him, as his wedding gift to me. After dinner, we are
going on a pub crawl, before spending the night in a two room suite at the
wedding hotel.

	Over scotch at our last pub stop, I finally raised the last night
of our 21 year old trip. "Other than me, have you ever been with another
guy?"

	"No. Just you. Just that once. Just that night."

	"Twice. Night and morning."

	Wardo blushed and added quietly, "Right. Twice. Night and morning."

	We sat quietly and sipped our scotch. I looked directly at him. He
returned my look. It was as intimate as a look can be.

	Wardo broke the silence, "I suspect you have been with others."

	"Well, I am marrying a man tomorrow, dumbass."

	"Right."

	"But, that morning was the first time I did that."

	"Really? I am not sure why, but that makes me happy. I think it's
the only cherry I have ever taken."

	"I was saving myself for you," I joked.

	Wardo looked into me again.

	To break the look, I said, "I'm kidding. I never expected that. I
had fantasized about it since I was old enough to realize sex was a thing,
but I never expected that fantasy to come true."

	"Me, either. I did not even know you were gay. I felt your hand on
my dick that night and something just came over me. When you finished, I
expected to feel shitty and dirty. But, I did not. I felt happy, and I
slept so soundly and so peacefully and so . . . joyfully. The next morning,
I had no idea what I was doing. I woke up wrapped around you, and I just
did what I felt like I should do. It just seemed like I was supposed to do
what I did. It seemed natural. And, then I went back to my life, you went
back to yours, and here we are. It's been 21 years, and we have pretended
for 21 years it never happened."

	"I never pretended. It was the best 8 hours of my life. I have
reveled in it."

	"I'm not gay."

	"I know."

	"But, I do love you."

	"I love you, too. So, so much."

	"Your friendship has meant the world to me. I think am closer to
you than I am to my own brothers. I think am closer to you than I am to
anyone but my wife and kids."

	"Your friendship has meant the world to me. I took a lot of pride
from the fact you were my best friend growing up. You were Eddie Estes, and
you were my best friend. I had to be someone or something, or you would
have had better sense."

	The conversation ended. We drank another scotch and headed back to
the hotel. It was past midnight. We were both drunk, and we both needed to
get some sleep.

	When we got back to our suite, Wardo went directly to his room
without saying goodnight. I was surprised and disappointed until he
returned in his boxers with a bottle of champagne. While Wardo had less
hair on his head than when we were 25, he was still lean and muscled. He
had always hated fat people, so he had obviously kept to a pretty strict
regimen. If he had any body fat, it was not evident.

	His body looked as it had 21 years before. He had a small mat of
hair on his chest, small nipples, and a delicious path from his navel into
his boxers.

	"It's past midnight, let's celebrate your wedding day," he said as
he popped the bottle of Veuve Clicquot.

	"Let me change first," I said as I headed to my room. I stepped out
of my jeans, pulled my sweater over my head, and pulled a pair of gym
shorts on. I had transformed my body in the last 20 years (as many gay men
do, I had spent a lot of time lifting weights and otherwise "honing the
temple"), but I still did not like not having a shirt on. So, I kept my
undershirt on.

	When I returned to the common area, Wardo was sitting on the couch
with a glass of champagne in one hand, while the other rested on his
crotch. I picked my champagne flute up off the table and sat down next to
him, pressing my leg to his as I used to do in the backseat of his parents'
Buick. He did not pull away. Instead, he looked at me and smiled. I smiled
back. It was the most natural thing when he leaned over and lowered his
mouth to mine. I pushed my tongue into his moth. He pushed his tongue into
mine, moving his hand to my face. We kissed longer than I had ever kissed
anyone. It was the best kiss I have ever kissed. It robbed me of my breath.

	When he finally pulled away, Wardo smiled at me. "I have wondered
for 20 years what it would feel like to kiss you."

	"Well?"

	"It's definitely different than kissing a woman. Firmer. More
powerful. Aggressive."

	"Women are mushier."

	"That they are."

	We finished our champagne in silence, still leg to leg on the
couch. The atmosphere was charged, fraught with possibility, at least for
me. Neither of us spoke. Neither of us moved.

	Wardo broke the silence.

	"I have also wondered what it would be like for you to blow me." My
dick twitched. I was pretty sure his statement meant he wanted me to
satisfy that wonder.

	I took the bait. "I have blown a few straight guys, and they all
agreed getting blown by a guy was was way better than getting blown by a
girl. They said most girls do not like giving blow jobs, so they do not try
very hard to do it well. I like doing it. I try hard to do it well. And, I
do."

	"My wife hardly ever blows me. When she does, it's not very
good. And, I have never come in her mouth. She says it's disgusting."

	"It's not."

	"You want to show me? I mean, it's your wedding day, so this may be
your last chance to take a walk on the wild side before you are constrained
by marriage. You do not want to cheat on your husband."

	Wardo's logic was unsound. My man and I had been together 18
years. I did not want to cheat on him, married or not.

	But, this was also Eddie, my nap buddy and the object of my
affection for years and years, ever since I can remember. Although it was,
it did not feel like cheating.

	I did not answer his question with words. Instead, I leaned over
and took hold of his dick. He immediately stood up, stepped out of his
boxers, and stepped in front of me. Sitting, I took his dick into my mouth
and his ass in my hands. I opened my throat and swallowed him until my nose
was buried in his musky bush. As he inhaled sharply, his hands went to my
head, and he started to fuck my mouth. As he sped up, his legs started to
shake.

	"Hold on a second. I think I need to sit down." He lowered himself
to the floor, putting his hands behind his back as a brace. I kneeled in
front of him and lowered myself to his throbbing dick.

	As I used my left hand to extend my mouth and suck his dick, I
moved my right hand to his balls and gripped them. Then, I moved it past
his taint and toward his asshole.

	His "don't do that" stopped me. I moved my right hand back to his
balls as I accelerated my pace with my mouth and my left hand. He started
to pant and buck back against my mouth. When I felt his balls start to
clench, I backed off. I suspected this was the only time I was going to
have his dick in my mouth, and I was going to savor it. I edged him.

	When I thought it was safe, I started circling the head of his dick
with my tongue. Then, I licked the shaft.

	"I need to come."

	I pulled my mouth off his dick. "You need to be patient."

	I returned to my work. I worked his dick like I had never worked
another. He was leaking a lot of precum, and I drank it all.

	His dick twitched. His balls clenched. I felt bad for teasing him,
so I started sucking his dick in earnest. My mouth and hand worked in
perfect unison. He bucked his hips. When I felt his balls clench again, I
removed my hand and swallowed the length of his dick. I felt the first
blast of Wardo's load smash into the back of my throat. As I sucked him
harder, Wardo shot over and over into my mouth. I swallowed it all and kept
sucking until Wardo could not take it anymore and grabbed my head with both
hands.

	He flopped back flat on the floor. "Jesus Christ, that was
unbelievable. I think that is the biggest orgasm I have ever had."

	I sat up and looked into his face. "So, better than from your
wife?"

	"Not even close. Thank you."

	"Thank you"

	"For what? I am the one who just got a great blow job."

	"For fulfilling another fantasy I have had since I first realized
sex was a thing."

	After a few more moments of staring into each other's faces, Wardo
broke the silence by pulling me toward him, and planting his mouth on
mine. I am sure he tasted himself on my tongue, as the kiss was just as
deep and long as the one was had shared earlier. When we broke, he said "We
better get to bed. You do not want to be exhausted for your wedding."

	I got up and walked toward my room. To my surprise, Wardo followed
and climbed into bed beside me. As always, he fell asleep on his back with
his arms over his head. I fell asleep right next to him, just as I had in
Mrs. Joyce's kindergarten class 42 years before. When I woke up, I was on
my right side, and he was wrapped around me, clutching my chest, just like
that morning in Paris 20 years before. I pulled his hand to my mouth and
kissed it. He responded by kissing the back of my neck.

Part Three

	The room was bright, the sun bouncing off the water and into it. I
rolled over to face Wardo, my anxiety about what had happened the night
before quelled by the kiss to the back of my neck. I said good morning and
moved my lips to his, testing whether sobriety would influence his
response. Wardo kissed me back, briefly. I moved my lips back to his, and
pushed my tongue into his mouth. He pulled back a little, but then slowly
opened his mouth to mine. As we kissed, I moved my hand to his ass and
pulled his hard cock to mine. Releasing his ass, I grabbed them, his cock
on top of mine, and started slowly stroking them together. Wardo broke the
kiss.

	"What are you doing?"

	"Taking advantage of my last chance with you."

	"I'm not sure about this."

	"I am," I insisted, kissing him again. His response confirmed, at
least to me, that his diffidence was feigned. I opened my eyes to find him
staring at me. I stared back at him as I continued to work our cocks
together. Our noses were touching, and our breath was mixed.

	"I want you to fuck me again."

	The stroking had had the desired effect, breaking down whatever
resistance might otherwise have been. Once you start a straight guy toward
an orgasm, it is hard for them to back down.

	"Are you sure?"

	"Yes. I didn't enjoy the last time as much as I could have."

	Wardo tried to move me onto my back.

	"Not like that . . . . like this," I said as I moved him onto his
back and hovered over him, bringing our cocks together again. I braced
myself with my arms and lowered my lips to Wardo's. I kissed him as deeply
as I could. Our tongues danced. I hoped Wardo would resume the stroking I
had started, but he did not. He still had never touched my dick.

	I moved to his neck. I smelled his armpit. I sucked his nipple. I
licked his chest and his side. I tongued his navel. I covered his dick with
my mouth. I had intended only to soak his cock so I could sit on it, but
the thrill of again having Wardo in my mouth was too much. I flicked at his
head and then swallowed him until my face was in his sweaty bush. I slowly
worked his cock with my throat. I could tell from the twitching that he was
enjoying being deep throated. I worked him until he panted "I'm getting
close." I did not want him to come yet, so I pulled off and moved my mouth
to where his groin met his thigh. He adjusted his hips and spread his legs
wider. I pressed the issue, pushing his legs up, exposing his taint to my
tongue. Cognizant of his reluctance from the night before, I decided not to
give him a choice. I pushed his legs up a little farther and moved my
tongue quickly to his asshole.

	He tensed. "Hold on."

	I ignored him, pushing his legs up a little farther and licking as
deeply as I could. He remained tense, so I pulled back and whispered, "Just
relax and enjoy this."

	"I'm not sure I want you to do that."

	"You will be," I said as I resumed the rim job. After a bit, I
suspected from the squirming that Wardo, in fact, wanted me to continue.
The fact he grabbed his legs and pulled them to his chest confirmed my
suspicion.

	I loved eating ass, and I let him know it, both with my enthusiasm
and my skill. I went at him as hard as I could. As he relaxed, I pushed my
tongue into him. He moaned from his chest. I decided to go for the kill,
bringing my hand to his hole and pressing a finger into him to the first
knuckle. He was too far gone to stop me, so I pressed the rest of the way
in as I moved my mouth back to his cock. As I swirled a finger in his ass,
I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock again. As I felt his balls
clench, I pushed a second finger into his ass. As I did, he bucked and
filled my mouth with a load of thick cum. I eagerly swallowed it and then
took him as deep into my gullet as I could. His dick twitched. As he filled
my throat directly with cum, he let go of his legs, arched his back, threw
his head back, and grunted. I worked my fingers in his ass as I continued
to work every drop I could out of his twitching cock. I was not going to
stop until he could not take any more. He finally signaled he was there by
pulling me off him.

	I looked up at him, my fingers still in his ass. Sweat was pooled
on his stomach, his eyes were closed, and his eyebrows were arched. As I
pulled my fingers out of his ass, he went limp. I licked sweat off his
stomach and his chest. As he exhaled, I grabbed his legs under my arms and
moved my cock to his ass. He opened his eyes, but he did not say anything.
I stared into his eyes as I tried to enter him. When he opened his mouth, I
pressed mine to his so he could not to tell me to "stop."

	When I pulled my mouth off of his, I whispered, "Guide me in."

	He touched my cock for the first time, using his right hand to
direct me to his opening. I pressed my way in as slowly as I could. It took
work, but I got all the way in and then held perfectly still. Wardo had
winced a few times, but had not uttered a word of resistance. When I
thought he was ready, I slowed pulled out. He moved his hands to my hips so
he could control the rhythm. I let him dictate the pace as I slid back and
forth. Overwhelmed by the turn of events, I was not going to last long. I
lowered my mouth to his as I felt my orgasm build in my balls. I sucked
Wardo's tongue hard into my mouth as I erupted in his ass. I almost passed
out from the pleasure of the orgasm. I broke out into a crisp sweat as I
dumped load after load into him. I kept sucking his tongue until I went
limp, letting lose of his legs, slipping out of him, and collapsing onto
his chest.

	I was spent. But, Wardo had obviously enjoyed what had happened --
I could feel his hard cock against my stomach. I glanced at the clock as I
collected myself. We had time.

	I raised up, spit in my hand, and smeared as much of it as I could
on his cock. Before he knew what I was doing, I moved over him and pressed
myself down on his cock. I had been fucked a lot since Paris, so his entry
was much easier and far more pleasurable. With one smooth glide, he was
buried in me. I clenched his cock with my ass muscles as I rocked back and
forth on it. I put my hands on his chest, both for leverage and because I
loved the feel of his muscles.

	Hard, I took my cock in my hand. Doing so, I lost some of my rhythm
and leverage. To my surprise, Wardo said "let me do that" and took my cock
in his hand. I put my hand back on his chest and matched my pace to his as
he jacked me. We were staring into each other's eyes as our pace and breath
quickened. We were in perfect rhythm, and I knew we were going to come
together. It was not long before we did. I felt Wardo's dick expand in my
ass as I shot an arc of cum over him and onto the headboard. Wardo grunted
and raised his head as he came. His head off the pillow, he was now in the
line of fire, and my second shot hit him in the face. He raised his head as
he shot again, filling me with warmth. The rest of my load landed on his
chest and stomach. He started to leak out of me as I again collapsed onto
him. I was exhausted as I lay on him, mixing my sweat and cum, catching my
breath. He clamped his arms around me and held me and we just laid there,
soaking each other in.

	He broke the spell. "I need to clean my face."

	I raised up and looked at him. My second shot was clearing and
running down his cheek. Instinctively, I lowered my face and licked it off
of him. He grimaced and turned to the side as I did. I no longer knew where
our line was, but his reaction suggested there still was one. I rolled off
him and tried to gather myself. He caressed my side with the back of his
hand.

	"We need to get going," he said, looking at the clock. Indeed, we
did. His wife was due to arrive in half an hour.