(If you're reading this section of Nifty, which consists entirely of fantasies spun by pervs for other pervs, you know what to expect -- so the whole idea of affixing a "warning notice" is totally absurd. This story is public domain -- not copyrighted -- and may be used however you want in addition to the way you usually use stories from Nifty. Fan mail and/or passwords to inspirational usenet groups may be sent to: billy_budz@hush.ai )

Randall and his Candle

Chapter 3

As it turned out, I needed more than just a little rest. Alcohol is not a drug known for keeping you awake and alert. We went into my bedroom and flopped down on the bed for a little cuddling and TV. It wasn't long before I was asleep.

I woke up a couple of hours later and saw that Randall also had fallen asleep, but first he'd been back to the guest room, rooting around in Marcia's old things. He was wearing the red silk camisole I'd bought her for Valentine's Day a couple of years before it was over between us. He didn't fill it out the way she did, but I still thought it looked better on him.

He was stretched out on his back, one arm tossed up over his head, one knee bent outward. Down where the camisole ended, his little penis was flopped up against his belly. I couldn't believe I'd been in bed with such a scrumptious boy and managed to fall asleep while he was still up for more action.

The TV was still droning away in the background, so I turned it off. He half opened his eyes, and smiled at me. "You rested now?"

In answer, I leaned over and kissed his full, moist lips, slipping just a bit of tongue into his mouth.

He giggled. "You put your tongue in my mouth!"

"That's how people kiss when they're hot for each other," I instructed him, "and you look so totally sexy right now you're making me very, very hot for you."

"Do gay guys kiss like that?" he asked.

"Uh huh."

"Good," he said through a grin. "Then let's do it some more. I like being gay with you."

We embraced, and did it some more. I suspect he still though sliding our tongues around together was pretty weird, but it didn't take long before he was kissing like a veteran. My right hand, of course, went right back to his irresistible bottom, which I still intended to nibble in short order. When I finally took my mouth off his, I moved it down to his neck, reminding myself it would be a very bad idea to leave any hickies behind. One spaghetti strap slipped off his shoulder, and I moved my face across the incredible smoothness of his chest.

Tired of the camisole, I pushed it up around to his neck, and he raised both arms so I could pull it off him entirely. Then he remained with his arms stretched about his head, offering me the full expanse of his perfect body.

"You can do whatever you want with me," he purred, then added, "as long as it doesn't hurt. Or tickle too much."

For starters, I just had to look. The position of his arms expanded his rib cage and flattened his stomach. He pressed his legs together like a shy girl, except that his little boner and hairless balls were right out on top, inviting me to play. I ran my hands down the smooth lengths of his arms, leaning over to kiss him again as my hands reached his armpits. Yes, I was careful not to "tickle too much."

As my hands moved down his sides, my lips progressed from his chin down the midline of his chest. When I reached his belly button, I swirled my tongue around its outside, then gently pressed it inside. That, though, tickled too much, so I stopped and let him regain his composure. When he put his arms back above his head, I reached for his lovely stiffie and lifted it away from his belly with a thumb and index finger, cupping his testicles in my palm.

When I bent over to put my lips gently around his glans and gave it a first lick, he pulled his knees up, pushing my head away, and exclaiming, "Hey! I pee from there!"

"Sweetie," I told him, "peeing is not the only thing a penis is good for. Haven't you ever heard of a blow job?"

"Well, yeah," he replied, "but I thought you just blow on it. I didn't know you lick it."

"Just lay back again," I reassured him, "and I'll show you exactly how it's done."

Don't think the irony was lost on me -- the man who was supposed to be teaching Randall not to be gay was, instead, teaching him how to do it right.

Well, pretty much right. You may recall I hadn't sucked a dick in decades, but it's kind of like riding a bicycle, I guess. You may be a little rusty at first, but it comes back to you.

Once again, I took his glans between my lips and tongued gently all around the very tip. It may be a matter of taste (pun semi-intended), but I've always preferred a circumcised dick. Maybe I'm just lazy. I'll eat lobster tails, for example, but I can't be bothered to dismantle a whole lobster. Well, okay, peeling back a foreskin is a lot easier than excavating a lobster, but just the same... Oops, excuse me -- back to the matter at hand. Well, in my hand, anyway. And my mouth as well.

So I ran my tongue all around the lovely head of his lovely dick, making him squirm and gasp with the excitement of brand new sensations. Then I kissed my way the short distance down his shaft to his scrotum, a delicious little scrotum with a clearly raised line running down the middle, separating his relatively large testicles. Indulging my own preferences a bit, I buried my face in his crotch and rolled it back and forth a couple of times, enjoying the sweet boy scent. I kissed him again, right where his penis and scrotum met, then rolled my head to one side and took the whole of his shaft into my mouth.

Oh, the delight of immature boys! You don't have to be a sword swallower to get four inches into your mouth, so I swallowed him easily, wetting down the entire little rod and remembering, despite all the intervening years, to keep my teeth out of the way. Moving my lips up and down his shaft, I teased the head of his delicious winkie with my tongue.

Instinct took over, and Randall began to hump at my mouth, breathing out gasps and moans that made me especially glad my neighbors lived at a safe distance away. Forgetting the submissive pose, he grabbed the back of my head and pushed it harder against himself. As he fucked my mouth faster and deeper, I moved my hand between his legs and firmly grasped his wonderful ass.

"Finger!" he screamed. "Finger! Now!"

I was thinking I ought to wet it, at least, but his hole seemed to provide its own lubrication. My middle finger slid right in, and I quickly found his "happy spot." That sent him into renewed ecstasies, and I wondered briefly if my neighbors really lived far enough away. He jammed himself as deep as he could into my mouth, and muscles I never knew people even had tightened around my finger. He shuddered, twitched, pushed my head even harder against his crotch, let out a long moan, and finally relaxed. I thought I might have tasted a tiny, salty droplet of something, but I can't be sure.

"And that, my dear," I said, pausing midway to leave a few little kisses on his slightly softened dicklet, "is a blow job. I think you liked it."

"Wow," he panted, still catching his breath, "that was incredible."

I climbed out of his crotch and pulled him into a hug. "I'm so glad you enjoyed yourself. Kiss me."

He hesitated. I laughed. "Tell me you don't want to kiss me now because your dick was in my mouth!"

He blushed. "I guess that's kind of stupid." His lips landed on mine, and out tongues swirled together. When we came up for air, he asked, "Billy, do all gay guys blow job each other?"

"It's kind of a favorite gay guy activity," I observed, "but if you're not all that interested in returning the favor, that's okay too. Just stick with what makes you comfortable."

He smiled, and climbed up on top of me, positioning his dick against mine. I'd gone a little soft, but hardened up again instantly. Then he began to rub against me as we kissed. It was an odd sensation -- something between erotic and, well, just comfortable. It probably was five minutes later when, in a quiet, relaxed way, I came.

Randall felt my juice spurt out under his belly. "Hey," he said, "you spermed, didn't you?"

"Uh huh," I replied, too content to move.

"I wanna see," he said, sitting up on me. "I never saw that before."

I just lay there, letting him satisfy his curiosity. It wasn't that big a load, since I'd come earlier in the shower, and it was mostly pooled up in my navel. He dipped a finger in.

"It's kind of thick," he announced. "And sticky. What do you do with it?"

"Me," I replied, "I mostly just mop it up with a used t-shirt or something. Some guys like to eat it."

He lowered his head to get a good close look. "Yick," he said. "I'll get a napkin, okay?"

That was it for Friday night. Randall may have been good for another couple of rounds, but when you get to be my age, the old equipment just isn't what it used to be. Anyway, it was nice just being together, doing the body contact thing. Sex just feels like sex; it's the body contact that feels like love.

Anyway, I was glad I hadn't used myself up, because I woke up the next morning to a wonderful surprise. I'd been dreaming about Randall, dreaming that he had my dick in his hand and was sucking gently on its head. Then I woke up to find Randall with my dick in his hand, and he was sucking gently on its head.

I decided to just lay back and enjoy it, pretending to be asleep for a while longer. As I may have mentioned, I'm pretty lazy, so just laying there and getting done is, in my opinion, a perfect way to start the day.

It was, indeed, a perfect way to start the day. I'm circumcised too, so there was no extraneous skin to push out of the way, and he'd wet down the top couple of inches, the section that protruded from his fist. His lips moved smoothly up and down on me, his hand squeezing in rhythm, and every time his lips reached his hand, his tongue gave me a gentle lick.

No tooth contact at all. He was a natural.

Automatically, my pelvis started moving in time to the movement of his mouth as his free hand began to rub my balls. I opened my eyes a crack to enjoy the sight of him kneeling over me, giving me exactly what he'd been unwilling to give the night before. I didn't know why he'd changed his mind, but I was glad he did. I was clear he wasn't doing it just out of some sense of obligation because his little dick was rock hard and throbbing as he serviced my knob. Randall was having himself a good old time.

Tired of my sleeping beauty routine, I reached out and stroked his leg. He kept sucking away, but turned his eyes towards me. I smiled, blew him a kiss, and signaled that he should shift around to place his crotch over my face. He did, without missing a stroke. I looked up at the perfect globes of his ass, the smooth expanse of his thighs, his jaunty, jutting cocklet with his sweet nuts tucked up tight beneath it, and that wonderfully soft and smooth strip of skin running from his nutsack to his hole.

I've always loved that little stripe of skin. I'm pretty sure it has a special name, but I never remember what it is. Named or not, though, it made my mouth water. I pushed back his knees to bring all those boyish treasures down within licking range, and licked. I took his tight nuts into my mouth and licked all around them, then followed that magic expanse of skin whose name I can't recall upward to where it disappeared between the twin mounds of his wondrous bottom.

Separating those soft and supple cheeks with my hands, I saw the destination I'd meant to visit the night before, before booze and other distractions sidetracked me. It was such a pink and pristine looking little pucker, I honestly couldn't imagine stretching it wide enough to accommodate my dick. I could hardly believe a candle would fit, whatever Randall said. It was so neat and petite, it was hard to believe it could open wide enough to drop a turd.

Be that as it may, my tongue leapt out as my head craned forward, and I nearly devoured that sweet thing, pushing those silky cheeks tight around my face as I did so. Randall must have been quite surprised, because he stopped sucking me for a couple of seconds and gasped. I was expecting him to say, "Hey, I shit from there," but he refrained, and just went back to my blow job.

Half a minute later, I was ready to explode. I guess he tasted a drop of precum, because he pulled his mouth away just in time to avoid swallowing a major wad. He wasn't fast enough to keep it from decorating his face, though, and when he rolled off me, it was still hanging there.

I couldn't help laughing -- he just looked so totally cute in his cum facial. "Where's that napkin?" he asked.

We cleaned ourselves up with his buttonless boxers from the night before, and I made some breakfast. He'd forgotten his toothbrush, so I told him to use mine -- a prospect he thought was "yucky" until I reminded him how we'd been swapping spits the night before, and warned that there would be no more kissing until teeth were brushed. Probably remembering where my mouth had just been, he agreed that brushing our teeth would be a good idea.

"No," I said a few minutes later, "we can't just stay here and fuck around all day. It's a beautiful day, and anyway, you've drained me dry. I need recovery time."

"Well, then," he said, "could we stop by my house for a few minutes? I need to get something."

"Your toothbrush?" I asked.

"No," he replied. "My candle."