Matthew & Lonny & me
Chapter three: What Gay Guys Actually Do
Let me take a moment here while the Billy who was me back then wondered about a couple of things -- like if he would be spending the rest of his retirement in jail, for example, not to mention how long it would take a guy his age to get hard again. As I take that moment, I would like to point out that, contrary to what you have come to expect of stories like this, neither Lonny nor Matthew was in any way inclined to gobble down the puddle of cum that had accumulated, mostly, in my navel. Lonny, who had enjoyed a very lovely orgasm indeed, thought it really should have had his first squirt, and lost interest upon learning he still hadn't tossed a load. As for Matthew, he touched a finger to my love juice and announced that it looked and felt pretty yucky to him.
I'll also take this opportunity to mention that the previous chapter describes the first sexual contact I'd had with a boy in roughly half a century -- that is, since I'd been a boy myself. In those days, you see, younger boys could jerk each other off, or even give each other head, without ever considering the possibility that one or both might be a "homo." Hardly anybody actually knew a real "queer" (or so we believed), but we figured we could spot them by the fact that they were dancing around in pink panties and singing songs from Broadway musicals. We were just being boys, getting our rocks off together because, in those days, girls our age almost never put out. If you were lucky, you could grab a little underdeveloped tit, but girls who went all the way (or even halfway) were just too scary.
So I messed around with the other Boy Scouts, first as an uncomplaining plaything for the older boys, and later as a "mentor" (apologies to Hillary and Amanda) to the younger ones. I remember teaching Freddy, our Assistant Scoutmaster's son, how to build a fire, recognize poison ivy, suck a dick, and tie a bowline on a bight. Then, after a few pleasant years, I went to high school, where being a Boy Scout was very uncool and you could get girls to suck your dick.
I grew up, smoked pot, screwed hippie girls at love-ins, got married twice (once for almost twelve years), and paid little or no attention to what Matthew called "gay stuff." Then, shortly after I retired from my extremely boring government job, I tried online dating. I went on a series of very unsatisfactory dates, the last of which was with a woman who had a thirteen-year-old son -- and while I was banging the mother, I found myself thinking about the boy.
The next day, back home, I was still thinking about the boy -- who reminded me of Freddy. Or maybe he reminded me of Ricky, or Mark, or Danny. I pictured him in a Scout uniform. "Oh, shit," I thought, "imagine that. All these years I've been a perv, and I never even knew it."
I put it off for a year, but finally I volunteered for Metro Mentors, which brings us around to chapter one -- but now it's time to go on.
Matthew was complaining. "No fair. It's all limp now, and I didn't get to see it hard."
"Give me some time," I complained right back at him, as I mopped up with my discarded t-shirt. "Most guys my age can't get it up at all without Viagra. And anyway, you still have your shorts on."
"Take 'em off," cried Lonny, making it sound like another line from Gypsy. "I wanna see your dick."
Matthew blushed again. "No, it's too little."
"Fair is fair," I said, and grabbed him. I held his arms against his sides and his back against my chest as Lonny grabbed for his boxers. He wiggled and kicked, which, of course, made it all that much more fun. When Lonny managed to catch his waistband, he crossed his legs and pulled his knees up to his chest. Lonny got Matthew's butt uncovered, and from his perspective must have had a good view of Matthew's little pucker, but the baby boner remained hidden.
"Matthew," Lonny warned him, "if you don't uncross your legs I have a way to make you do it."
Matthew was giggling too hard to respond, but his legs stayed crossed and his knees stayed up near his chin. Lonny put an index finger in his mouth, wetting it, then lowered it to Matthew's hole. "Here goes," he said.
I don't know if Lonny's finger actually penetrated Matthew's ass, but Matthew's feet shot out straight, nearly pushing Lonny off the bed. Lonny recovered quickly, though, and Matthew was naked a second later. He tried to cover himself with his hands, but I grabbed his wrists and Lonny sat on his legs, so his miniature stiffy stuck up in plain sight. Actually, it wasn't all that miniature. It was about as long as Lonny's three-incher, although not as thick, and his balls were still quite a bit smaller than the older boy's. For anybody interested in such details, all three of us were circumcised.
"You bastards," Matthew exclaimed, although he was laughing as he exclaimed it. Grasped in the cleft of Matthew's naked bottom, my dick was beginning to stiffen up again.
"Oh, take it easy," said Lonny, "it's really a nice one." He held Matthew's boner with his thumb and first two fingers, and worked it up and down a little. "It's nice and straight, and there's no big veins, and it's just the right size for you." Matthew's eyes closed, and his buns clenched at my dick as Lonny manipulated his adorable little hardon.
"You know," Lonny went on, "I bet I know what my mother is doing to Craig right now." Lonny slid himself a little further down Matthew's legs and bent his head down. "Probably this," he intoned as he took his friend's entire package, cock and both balls, into his mouth. Based on the way he rolled his head as he sucked, emitting slightly theatrical sounding moans of pleasure, he'd had opportunity to watch as his mother delivered a few semi-professional blow jobs. Despite the theatrical sound effects, though, I'm sure he genuinely enjoyed the feel of that thrusting little cock bumping against his soft palate, and the taste of those cute little balls on his tongue.
I released Matthew's wrists so he could grab Lonny's hair and push his friend's face harder against his crotch. "And that, my boy," I thought, "is a pretty good sample of what gay guys do."
"Wow, Billy," Matthew panted, "you wouldn't believe how good this feels."
"Oh," I said, "I believe it," meanwhile thinking "If you think he's good, you should have known my second wife."
However good it felt, a couple of minutes later Matthew was back to thinking about his primary source of pleasure. "Lonny," he asked, "can I play with your ass some more?"
"You guys have fun," I said. "I think I need another drink."
Back in the kitchen, I pulled the vodka bottle out of the freezer. It was half empty. Those were some very large drinks I'd poured myself earlier, which went a long way towards explaining how I'd managed to go all the way to orgasm and then some without thinking about how I'd occupy my time in jail after Matthew blabbed to Hillary and Amanda. My glass was still sitting there on the counter, so I filled it again, adding another squirt from the plastic lime. I took a long swallow.
When I lowered my glass, I was not alone. Bam Bam, awakened by the opening of the freezer door, was standing there hoping for a snack. Just behind Bam Bam was Matthew. I got a dog biscuit out of the cabinet and gave it to Bam Bam. "Are you hungry too?" I asked Matthew.
"No," he answered, "but do you have a carrot? Lonny says if you have a carrot he'll let me put it up his ass."
I took another long swallow of my drink, then topped it off from the vodka bottle. "Just a minute," I said to Matthew, "let's see what's in the crisper drawer."
I didn't have any carrots, but there were a couple of "baby" cucumbers I'd bought at the upscale produce store. Each cost as much as a full-sized cucumber, but was only about an inch in diameter and about six inches long. If you saw one, you might think it was specially bred for anal insertion (and maybe it was.) I handed one to Matthew. "Try this."
He bounded back to Lonny with his prize. I followed, carrying my drink and half a stick of butter. I didn't have any lube in the house, so we would have to improvise. By the time I got to my bedroom, Lonny was up on his hands and knees, and Matthew was brandishing the cucumber. "Wait a second," I said, holding up the butter. "This ought to make it slide in a lot easier."
The butter was still hard and cold from the refrigerator, so I bit off a chunk and softened it in my mouth, forming it into a bullet shape with my teeth and tongue. Then I sat on the bed and bent my head down to Lonny's beautiful round ass. I used my tongue to spread his hole a bit, and then to push in the butter. "Wow," said Lonny, "I didn't think you would do that too."
I placed a finger over his hole to hold the butter in, and pulled my head back. "Why not?" I answered him. "Matthew already made sure it was nice and clean. Now we'll just give it a minute to melt the rest of the way."
Matthew bounced on the bed beside me, impatient with his vegetable dildo in hand. I moved my fingertip around Lonny's rosebud, buttering the buns, so to speak. "Have you put things up there before?" I asked him.
"Mostly just my finger," he replied, "but I've been using carrots for a couple of weeks ago. They get me really, really hard."
He adjusted his position -- folded his arms, put his face down on the bed, and spread his legs apart, so that his balls and his stiff cocklet were on full display from behind. I reached between his legs and milked his boner as I massaged his hole. I felt him push to open his sphincter as I slid my finger inside him, then worked it in and out to make sure he was properly greased.
"Okay, Matthew," I said, "now it's your turn. Go easy. We don't want to hurt him."
Matthew lined up the cucumber carefully, and pushed. It slid into Lonny's ass as if it were meant to be there from the first day it started growing on its vine. "Oh, wow," Matthew exclaimed, "it went all the way in!"
"Slide it in and out gently," I instructed him, "and I think you'll make Lonny feel really really good." Lonny, I'd concluded, was a natural born bottom. With my free hand -- that is, the one not milking Lonny's dick -- I grabbed my drink from the nightstand and gulped down most of what was left. My cock was harder than it had been in years, I figured I'd be good for one more orgasm that night, and I was hoping it might be inside Lonny. Hell, if I was going to jail for the rest of my life, it ought to be for something really worth it.
"Do it faster," Lonny commanded. "Harder!"
Matthew obeyed, working the cucumber in and out of his friend's hole with a quick, steady stroke.
"More," Lonny gasped. "Faster! Harder!"
Again, Matthew complied.
"Oh, God!" Lonny cried, probably emulating his mother again. "Oh, God!!!"
As I saw the spasm pass through his body, I gave his cock one final, hard squeeze, hoping to make his climax more intense. His breath came in gasps, and shudders enveloped him. Then he crumbled onto the mattress sideways and just lay there. The expression on his face was one you might associate with someone who had seen God.
Matthew sat there, looking back and forth from Lonny to the cucumber he still held in his hand. "That must have been really something," he said. He stared at the cucumber some more. "No," he said, "I think if I tried it it would probably hurt."
Then he looked over at my still raging hardon. "Oh, there it is! Hey, you know, it's really not that much bigger than this cucumber. Maybe later we can try putting it up Lonny's ass. Can I touch it?"
"Sure," I said, draining the last of my drink and lying back on the mattress. "Have fun."
Matthew went straight to my crotch, and proceeded to measure me against the cucumber, concluding that I wasn't all that much longer, but that I was thicker. Then he tossed the greasy cucumber on the nightstand and continued his examination of my cock. He held it in his hand, sniffed it, and rubbed the head against his face. He stuck out his tongue and tasted it. It was all kind of clinical and scientific, but it still felt pretty nice.
While Matthew was occupied, I reached over and stroked Lonny's head. "Hey," I said, "come on over here. I feel like giving you a hug."
He didn't need any more encouragement. He crawled over to my side and folded himself into my arms. It felt very good to hold him, and when I kissed his forehead and his nose and his eyelids, he smiled and cuddled in closer. In the meanwhile, Matthew had lain down on his side with his head on my stomach, the shaft of my cock in his hand, and its head in his warm little mouth. His tongue played me gently, and it was very pleasant indeed.
"Oh, damn," I thought, "if I come now I can forget about getting it up to fuck Lonny. For tonight, at least. And by tomorrow, I'll probably be in jail. Oh, fuck it."
I gave in. I stopped resisting, stopped imagining my first wife, stopped holding back. I just let myself go. Matthew probably tasted some pre-cum, because he suddenly pulled his head away. He was a little late, though, because I pretty much covered his face with my sticky old man juice.
"Eeewww!" he exclaimed.
Honestly, I don't get it. Here was a kid whose tongue was recently snaking up another kid's asshole, and he was freaked out by some fresh, clean man-spunk. There is no accounting for the peculiarities of human nature.
All that vodka finally had its effect. The last thing I remember was Matthew aggressively wiping his face with that same jism soaked t-shirt. Then, it seems, I must have fallen asleep. Passed out? Whatever.