Tales from the Weight Room
by K. W. Bennett
Chapter Eleven: Football Party
The next two days went by rather quickly. I
returned to school and explained the condition of my face with a story
about rushing to the bathroom and colliding with the door. I don't
think anyone really believed it, but no-one challenged it either.
Dan, Jordan, Ian and I spent our free time together during the day. Thursday night, Jordan and Ian went on a date which ended up with them deciding they wanted to try being a couple within the framework of our existing arrangement.
We put off discussing the parameters of the relationship until after Gil's party. Friday night, Dan picked us up at our respective houses and we travelled to Gil's house together.
Gil lived in an upscale neighbourhood near the bluffs. The houses there were all set back from the road by large wooded frontages, the houses not visible to passers-by.
We drove down the tree lined drive and parked the van in front of a four car garage. There were a few cars already there, indicating we were not the first ones to arrive.
There was a sign on the front door directing us to the backyard. We walked down a passage between the house and garage to a high wooden gate. The sounds of music and splashing drifted over the gate.
Dan pulled the latch, and the gate opened to reveal a large stone flagged patio surrounded by a lattice work fence. There were long wooden tables loaded down with food and beverages directly to the right of the gate. Comfortable chairs were peppered liberally around the patio, arranged in groups for conversation or singly for those who might want a quiet moment alone.
The chairs were all empty, and there was no-one milling about. Beyond the fence at the rear of the patio there was a large swimming pool, and the figures of five or six young men could be seen engaged in a variety of aquatic endeavours.
One figure detached itself from the group and moved onto the patio. It was our host, Gil. He was clad only in a dark green Speedo bathing suit, and was dripping water onto the stone flags.
Gil was a fair-haired boy about five feet eight inches tall. He had a slim, swimmer's build, with a light dusting of blonde hairs on his chest, abdomen and legs. There was a line of darker hair trailing down from his navel, disappearing into the top of his Speedo. His musculature was well developed, but not bulky. His pecs stood out from his body, and the indentations of a burgeoning six-pack were evident on his stomach. His Speedo bulged in all the right places, but not with any indications of more than an average endowment of genitalia.
He took a towel off the back of one of the chairs and stepped forward as he dried himself off.
"Glad you guys could make it. A few of the guys are already here, and we decided to have a dip before it gets too crowded. Did you bring your trunks? The water's just right. We have a heater, so you won't freeze your nuts off."
Dan, Jordan, and Ian indicated they had brought their swimsuits.
"Great!" said Gil. He indicated a small building on the far side of the pool. "That's the change room over there. There's a shower and sauna in there as well. I only just turned on the stove, so the sauna won't be ready for a while. There are towels in a cupboard off the changing area in case you didn't bring any."
The three of them headed off to get changed, and I was left alone with Gil. He finished drying off, then flopped onto one of the chairs, indicating a seat next to him for me to sit in. He reached under the chair, pulled out a package of cigarettes, lit one, then asked,
"Don't you swim Keith?"
"Yeah, but I'm not comfortable around other people wearing nothing but a swimsuit."
"I don't think other people want to see me like that, and I think they'd be disgusted."
"That's horse-shit man! Who gives a fuck what other people think?"
"I know. I'm working on it, but I've spent my whole life being put down for my size and it takes a while to get out of that habit of thinking. Dan and Jordy have helped a lot, and I'm much more comfortable with myself than I used to be. Maybe later, when I get to know everyone a little better, I'll be able to go for a swim."
"That's cool. I think I understand where you're coming from. I'm not asking for details, but this problem you have, is it related to the shiners on your eyes?"
"I got them from the same place, if that's what you're asking."
"That's what I thought. Believe me buddy, I can relate to it. Boy oh boy can I ever. You and me gotta have a talk sometime. Maybe later when the party gets its groove going."
"I'd like that Gil. There aren't many people I know, none in fact, who can understand what I've been through."
"Me too. Hey! Looks like the boys are all changed and ready. Let's go around to the pool and I'll introduce you to the guys. By the way, don't worry about the gay thing. Everyone who's coming knows about Dan and Jordy so it's cool."
"Am I the only one who didn't know?"
"Naw! It's just hard to keep a secret like that when you're on a team. Most of the guys are pretty cool about it, there's only a few assholes and I never much liked them anyway. C'mon."
We moved into the pool area to shouts of greeting
from the six guys splashing around in the water. Dan, Jordan and
Ian were standing on the edge of the pool waiting to jump in.
Gil introduced Ian and I to the group, and while I heard the names, they didn't register immediately.
Jordan and Dan were wearing black Speedos, and even though I had seen them both naked, felt the beginnings of an erection at the sight of their muscular bodies on display in the skimpy bathing suits. Ian wore a pair of Navy blue trunks, but he still looked sexy.
Speedos seemed to be the order of the day though, as all the young football studs in the pool were sporting suits of varying colours.
I found a place to sit, away from the water, and the rest of the guys went back to horsing around, drawing the three new arrivals into the fun.
Over the next hour, people drifted in until there were fifteen nearly naked teen boys splashing around and making a racket.
Their body types ranged from muscular to slightly flabby, and a couple of them had bulges in their Speedos which hinted at more than the average natural allotment of sex flesh.
Two hours after our arrival found the party at full swing on the patio. The footballers had exhausted the aquatic possibilities for fun and had moved to dry land to continue the party.
Even though there was a bit of a chill in the air, no-one had changed from their bathing suit. The collective warmth of sixteen bodies took the edge off the chill.
Someone rolled two joints, and they were in the process of being handed around. There was a convivial atmosphere on the patio with small groups of people spread out, drinking, eating and talking.
I noticed Gil speaking intently with Dan on the opposite side of the patio from where I was talking with Greg, one of the teams full backs. Gil moved off, and I excused myself to go talk to Dan.
"What's up?" I asked when I reached his side.
"You and Gil were having quite the animated conversation a minute ago. I was curious and came over to see if everything was OK."
"Oh. yeah. Everything's fine. We were just talking about the game last week. He mentioned something about having a talk with you later."
"We discovered we have something in common. We both have assholes for Dads."
"That's true, though I don't think Gil's has ever hit him."
"There are all kinds of abuse, Dan. Some of them don't involve hitting. He seems to need to talk, and I'll admit I could use a conversation with someone who can relate on the same level. You cool with that?"
"Of course. It would do you both good to share your experiences. Gil's a great guy, one of my best friends. I'd be happy if the two of you could be friends too."
"I'm glad. It's just that you looked a little put out. I thought you might be jealous."
"Not at all! Short of you dumping me for him, there's nothing you two could do that would make me jealous. I trust your judgement babe, and he's my buddy. Neither of you would ever try to hurt me."
"I'm glad you understand that. But hey, it's just a little friendly conversation. It's not like I'm gonna bone him or anything."
"I know, but I wouldn't care if you did."
"That's not likely, he's as straight as an arrow. Anyway, where'd he disappear to?"
"He went up to his room to get something. There he is now."
Gil was approaching with a book in his hand. As he got nearer, I could see it was an old book.
"Hi Keith. Dan was telling me about your interest in books. I thought you might like to see this."
He held out a slim, worn volume about the size of a modern day paperback. I took it from him then nearly dropped it when I saw what it was.
"I have this exact same book at home!"
"You're joking! That's the first book I ever read by myself."
I looked down at the small book in my hand. "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" was emblazoned in an arc on the cover and the Tenniel illustration of Alice holding the flamingo at the Queen of Hearts croquet game was below the title.
"Me too. This was published in the twenties. Where did you get it?"
"It belonged to my Uncle. He used to live here until he died. He left it to me because he knew how much I loved it."
"My copy belonged to my Great Grandmother. She used to read it to my Grandpa when he was a boy. When my Grandparents moved into their apartment, I got all their books."
"What a coincidence! I just thought you'd enjoy seeing it because it's so old. I never thought you'd recognize it."
Dan chimed in,
"I'm gonna go get something to eat. You guys look like you might be at this for a while."
He gave me a little hug and moved over to the food table. I turned to Gil.
"I'm no expert, but I love old books. Got any more hanging around?"
"Sure. I've got all my Dad's old books in my room. None of them are as old as this one, most of them are from the forties and fifties."
"Same here, but there is one exception in my case. I've got a copy of Dickens' "Pickwick Papers" from nineteen-ten. It's beat all to hell, cause it belonged to my Great Grandfather who kept it on the merchant ship he captained. It's probably not worth anything, but I wouldn't sell it for the world."
"You wanna come and have a look?"
He led me into the house and up a flight of stairs which led to a panelled hallway. At the end of the hall was another flight of stairs flanked by a small wrought iron door.
"Oh. That's the elevator."
"You have an elevator in your house!?"
"Doesn't everyone? Seriously. My Dad had that installed for my Uncle. In the last years of his illness he couldn't handle the stairs. We never use it. Just run it once or twice a year to make sure it doesn't break down. Would you like to try it?"
"Sure. I've never been in one that small before."
"It's a tight fit for three, but two people can fit in nicely."
He unlocked and opened the door. I could see
it was roomier than the smallness of the door implied. The inside
was lined with wood panels, and there was a brass plate with three buttons
beside the door.
Gil closed the door and pushed the second button. The lift began to ascend and the movement upwards was quick, but gentle. The interior of the shaft was visible through the opening of the door, moving just inches away.
The ride took no time at all, and when the elevator stopped, there was another doorway at the opening. Gil opened the door and we exited into another hallway.
We proceeded down the hall and stopped in front of a door with a poster of Farrah Fawcett on it.
"Welcome. Enter freely, go safely, and leave some of the happiness that you bring." said Gil.
"Dracula. The scene where Jonathan Harker first arrives at the castle!"
"Right. I love that line. I just never have anyone over who can appreciate it. I tried it on one of my dates and she almost ran away screaming!"
We both laughed and Gil opened the door to his bedroom.
I thought I had reached an accurate appraisal of the size of the house,
but when I saw the size of the room, I had to revise my estimates upward.
The bedroom was larger than my living room and kitchen combined. There was a fireplace against the outside wall between two bay windows that overlooked the pool and patio. A pair of comfortable chairs flanked the hearth, and there was a couch facing the chairs with a coffee table in between.
The bed was against the opposite wall. A four-poster with curtains and canopy. Beyond the bed were two doors, both open. One led to a bathroom, and the other was the entrance to a walk-in closet.
I was flabbergasted at the enormity of the place, and I guess it showed in my face.
"Everybody reacts that way!"
"This is all yours? You don't share it with anybody?"
"My little brother has a room down the hall. His is smaller, but it's laid out pretty much the same. My parent's rooms are on the third floor. They're much bigger than this."
"Your parents don't sleep in the same room!? I thought that went out with the Edwardian era."
"It did, they just forgot to tell my mother. She was raised in this house, and as the only child it passed to her when her parents died. My Dad doesn't like it, but then he doesn't like much these days."
"Was your Dad raised with all of this?"
"No. His family came from Ottawa. They were shopkeepers who moved to Toronto in the thirties just after he was born. Mom and Dad met at University and fell for each other. When he proposed to her, her father gave him a position in the family business. They moved in here after they were married and took the place over when her parents died. My Dad's not big on all the trappings. He likes the comfort, but not all the formality."
"I think I can understand that. There are a lot of things about this lifestyle that don't make a great deal of sense to those who weren't raised with it. Being a fish out of water can make some people change in strange ways. They can go for years without any reaction, taking it all in their stride, then, suddenly, they snap. Things they used to like, bother them. Things they took for granted seem bad, and they feel guilty. Other things they've pushed inside finally reach the breaking point and come bursting out. You hinted at some problems with your Dad. Have they always been there, or are they more recent?"
"It's only been in the last few years, since I got into high school. He changed. He used to be a great Dad. We spent hours together watching hockey, playing cards, chess, other games. He always pushed me athletically, but now it's different. I can't seem to do anything to make him happy. He criticizes every move I make on the ice or on the field. He calls me weak, soft, a lazy rich boy. He never wants to spend time with me. He gets home from work and shuts himself up in his den. At dinner he doesn't say a word, then he holes himself up until bed time. We haven't had a decent conversation in about three years. I wish I knew what I did to make him change!"
Gil clenched his fists and raised them in the air
with a look of pure agony on his face. I could see tears welling
up in his eyes. He opened his mouth, but no sounds came out.
His arms moved up and down, pummelling an invisible enemy that had taken
his father away from him.
Eventually, the impotent pounding stopped and he let out a low cry. Like a child seeking comfort. I couldn't stand there unmoved by this display.
Regardless of the consequences, I stepped forward and took the tortured boy in my arms, wrapping him in a comforting embrace.
He must have needed such a gesture, because he threw his arms around me and began quietly sobbing onto my shoulder.
I held him tightly, and quietly said,
"It's OK Gil. Let it out. I understand. You've kept this bottled up long enough. You're not to blame for what's happened. It's not you he's upset with."
"B-b-b-but h-h-h-h-he-e-e-e's suh-suh-suh-so mean!"
"He's afraid and angry. He's hurt. He's lashing out with his anger and you're the focal point. I'm no expert, but it sounds to me like he's afraid you'll become a soft, spoiled, rich little snot, so he's doing the only thing he can think of. He's trying to make sure you don't take anything for granted. He grew up in a less affluent home, all this luxury has probably changed him enough that he's begun to notice it. Have you tried to talk to him about what's happened?"
"Y-y-y-yeah! Sure I h-h-h-have! H-h-h-he-e-e-e just k-k-k-keeps pushing me away!"
"I know. I know. But you should keep trying. Instead of just trying to please him, try showing him you're in no danger of turning into the thing he fears. Do you get an allowance?"
"Tell him you don't want it anymore. Get a job somewhere and make your own pocket money."
"I wanted to, but my Mom said I couldn't. She doesn't like the idea of me working when we have more than enough money."
"Then instead of cracking skulls on the ice or the football field to try and impress him, convince him you're sincere about the job and pulling your own weight. Do you have groundskeepers?"
"Why not suggest doing part of what they do to earn your allowance?"
"Mom would never go for it."
"I suspect her relationship with your father isn't exactly a bed of roses right now. Maybe if you approach her and explain what you're trying to do, she'd go along with it. I take it you still have a decent relationship with her?"
"Nothing's changed between us if that's what you mean."
"Are you close?"
"Then I think you should try to get her to understand your point of view. You've got a much better with her if you don't have anything to prove."
Gil moved back a step, breaking the embrace. He stood deep in thought for a moment then smiled.
"I never thought of that. It might work! It sure couldn't make things worse! Thanks Keith! I think I might see a little light at the end of the tunnel now."
"No problem. Glad to help if I can. Remember, I don't have all the facts, and it might not work."
"It's got a better chance than anything I've been able to come up with. But I know what you're saying. I won't get my hopes up. Before you leave, give me your number. If it's OK with you I'd like to be able to call you and talk if I feel the need."
"Sure. But you can call anytime. Not just when you have a problem."
"Of course. You want something to drink?"
"That'd be nice. Shall we go back down to the party?"
"If you want, but I've got some sodas and stuff in my fridge."
"I don't see a fridge."
"It's in the closet. Saves padding around the house in the middle of the night."
"I guess it does! Well, I wouldn't mind a soda."
Gil pointed to the closet.
"Help yourself. I'm just gonna get out of this wet suit. It's starting to chafe."
I went into the closet, and found a small bar fridge
at the back. I took out a ginger ale and returned to the bedroom.
Gil was sitting in one of the wing chairs wearing a terry bathrobe. He was bent over the coffee table, rolling a joint.
"Everybody looks like they're doin OK down there, so I figured we could mellow out up here for a while."
"Fine by me. That weed smells different from the stuff Dan and Ian have."
"It is. It's something new. They call it hydroponics. Instead of growing it in soil they use some kind of liquid medium."
"I've read about it. It's supposed to retain more of the plant's nutrients instead of bleeding them out into the earth. I don't know if I see how that would benefit pot though, but I'm not big on Science, History's my field of interest."
"I don't exactly understand it myself, but wait till you try it! It's a totally different experience!"
Gil finished rolling, and then sat back in the chair.
"Sit down Keith. There's something I want to ask you."
Something in the way he said it made feel suspicious. There was a look in his eye I'd seen before, and there was an obvious bulge in the front of his robe.
He could see the trepidation on my face.
"Don't worry about it. Sit down."
"Do you find me attractive?"
"Of course. You're a really hot guy!"
"You know I'm straight, right?"
"Would it surprise you to know that I've always been curious to see what it would be like to get blown by a guy?"
"Sure it would. What are you trying to say?"
"I'll come right to the point. I didn't ask you up here to talk about my father, or to show you any books. You saw me talking to Dan earlier?"
"I was asking him if it would be OK for you to blow me. Ever since I caught him and Jordy doin it in the back of the van I've been curious. I asked them if they wanted to, but they both said no. Something about being too close to me, not wanting to lose me as a friend. I told them that I've thought it through, that I'm sure I want to try it. Dan said that's how I feel now, but when it's over I'll start to realize the implications and get mad."
"Well, I don't have Dan's experience, but I'd have to say it makes sense to me."
"Hear me out. It made sense to me too, but that didn't help with the problem, so I decided to try a little experiment. I'd heard about a place downtown where younger guys hang out and give blow-jobs for money. Guys in cars cruise around and pick up the one that they like, take them somewhere private and blow them or whatever. I decided to go there last Friday night."
"Yep. I found a guy that didn't look too bad and paid him twenty-five bucks."
"And, it was the best blow-job I'd ever had! The guy was really into it, and afterwards he told me it was because he didn't get many young guys who could pay for it. He wasn't a bad kid, I took him out for a coffee and we talked for a while. On the way home, I thought about the whole thing and didn't feel upset or anything. I didn't want to do anything else to the guy, and I still got turned on by the thought of girls. I don't think I'm gay like you guys, but I still want to have the experience with someone I know."
"Have you told Dan this?"
"Uh-huh. He said he guessed it wouldn't be a problem anymore, but that he still isn't interested. He doesn't want anything but what the four of you have now. He said he's had his fill of quickies here and there. He wants to settle down for a while. I understand where he's coming from, so I thought maybe seeing as you're new to it all, you might be interested."
"What did Dan say when you asked about me?"
"He said he thought it might be possible, but that I should ask you. If you say yes, it's all right with him. Now you have all the facts, the ball's in your court."
I sat silently for a few minutes, thinking about
how I really felt about what Gil was asking. On the one hand, he
was a hot guy who was willing. On the other, there was still the
risk of larger ramifications.
I decided to ask a question, the answer to which would determine my course of action.
"I'm going to ask you something. Be as honest as you can. Don't tell me what you think I want to hear. Look me in the eyes and answer this. If I called you up and asked to blow you, would you let me do it?"
He didn't hesitate, and there was sincerity in his eyes when he said,
"If you really wanted it, I'd say come on over. I'm not looking for a whore. I have enough money to pay for that. I'm not saying this'll happen ever again. I appreciate what it is I'm asking, and I want you to understand that no matter what, I will respect your decision whatever it is."
"Then spark up that doob brother, cause you're in for one helluva blow-job!"
He reached for the joint, lit it, and we shared it between us.
"Let's relax a bit and let the weed do its magic." Gil said.
We talked about school, people we both knew, mostly
gossip and chit-chat.
After about twenty minutes I felt the most incredible rush of pleasure course through my body. I was aware of every sensation. The soft touch of the air-conditioning on my head, the feel of my clothes against my skin, the roughness of the chair's material under my fingers. I looked at Gil and he was observing me closely.
"See! I told you it was good!"
"It's unbelievable! I feel like I'm having a never-ending orgasm! My nerves are on fire, but it doesn't hurt!"
Gil was smiling at me, and I felt the sudden urge
to move over and touch him. He read my thoughts, and parted the robe
to reveal his naked form beneath.
His penis was fully erect, about six inches long, curving upward from the base. The head was smaller than the shaft, which gave a triangular appearance to the whole organ. The shaft was wider than it was thick, more of an oval than a circle.
His pubes were light brown, almost red, and very bushy. He circled the base of his cock with two fingers and waggled the stiff pole enticingly. In a husky voice he said,
"It's all yours. Go to town."
I needed no further encouragement. I moved
to stand over him, then fell to my knees and began to lick the underside
of his shaft.
A low moan of pleasure, followed by a swift intake of breath conveyed his satisfaction. I made one final upward stroke with my tongue, then enveloped the head of his cock with my lips.
A hissing intake of breath was followed by the cry,
"Oh my God! That's so-o-o-o good! Suck me Keith, suck me!"
I slowly moved his prick deeper into my mouth until
the head was resting against the back of my throat. He began to pull
back, but I thrust my head forward until my nose was buried in his bush
of auburn curls.
He jerked upright in surprise, which pulled his cock halfway out of my mouth.
"Holy shit! You swallowed it! Nobody's done that before!"
He leaned back in the chair and I pushed my head
forward, swallowing his length once again. I began to swallow furiously,
my throat contracting against his prick.
He writhed in ecstacy, emitting little grunts and whines. He placed his hands on the back of my shaved scalp, and for a moment I thought he was going to try and push himself in even farther.
I was preparing to pull off , afraid he might accidently asphyxiate me in his zeal, but he began to rub my head with his hands and coo,
"O-o-o-o-o baby! That's so fucking awesome! This is the best! You're the best! I love your hot mouth on my cock! Keep going! That's it! That's right! Swallow me whole baby! Take my fat prick down that hot throat!"
He began to cautiously thrust forward and back, always
mindful of my reactions. Eventually we established a rhythm amenable
to us both.
For the next fifteen minutes or so, there was nothing in either of our minds but my mouth and his cock. He grunted softly, and voiced the occasional "Oh yeah!" or "Suck me!".
He lifted my head up and looked me in the eyes.
"This is fantastic Keith! Could you nibble on it for a while?"
"You mean bite you?"
"Not exactly. Just use your teeth lightly around the head. Not too much pressure, just enough for me to feel it."
"OK. I'll give it a try."
I took the head in my mouth and drew back my lips
to expose my teeth. I lightly bit shaft just behind the glans and
began a side to side sawing motion.
Gil yelped in delight.
"That's it! That's just right! Christ that drives me crazy! Bite the head now!"
I moved back and performed the same action on the
head of his prick, moving up and down as well as side to side.
Gil remained as still as he could, but his body was trembling with pleasure. I began to move up and down the entire length, alternately sucking and nibbling.
My jaw became sore, so I moved down the shaft and began licking his balls. He giggled and drew back slightly.
"Don't stop. It just tickles a bit."
I nodded and returned to the task of giving his nutsack
a thorough tongue bath. The ache in my jaw had subsided so I opened
my mouth and drew one of his testicles in.
He moaned, and I decided to try for both. I popped the first one out and drew in the second, gave it a little chew, then opened my mouth wider and used my fingers to stuff the other one in.
After two attempts, both his nuts were cradled in my mouth. I chewed on his scrotum for a while, then began to massage his balls with my tongue.
On a whim, I began to massage his sphincter with one of my fingers. He didn't protest, in fact, when I made a move to pull away, he reached down and held my hand there.
I removed his nuts from my mouth and gently removed my hand from his sphincter. Before he could protest, I had replaced it with my tongue.
Gil squirmed forward in the chair, and to indicate his approval, lifted his legs up to give me better access.
I laved his hole with my saliva, and gave him his first rim job, working my tongue all around his pink rosebud.
He moaned with pleasure, and I could see his balls begin to contract in preparation for blowing his load.
He suddenly sat up and said,
"Keith, man. I'm gonna blow any second now. You wanna jerk off so we can come together?"
I was still fully clothed. I looked up into his face, and said,
"Thanks for the offer Gil, but this isn't about me, it's about you and what you need to do. I want to make you cum, and under the circumstances, I can't do that if I'm trying to cum myself."
"But what about you? I get to cum and you..."
"Get to have the pleasure of making you cum. Believe me, it's all I need right now."
"OK. Where do you want it?"
"Where do you want me to cum on you?"
"On me? I don't want you to cum on me, I want you to cum in me. In my mouth to be exact."
"No way!? Really!? Cool!"
He stood up and spread his legs, thrusting his cock forward.
"Ready when you are!"
I leaned forward and began to gently suck his dick.
The rhythm picked up, and I could feel his cock head expanding. I
reached around and began to massage his sphincter which was still wet with
I decided to throw caution to the winds, and pushed my finger slowly into his hole. I don't think he noticed at first, but when I hit his prostate he howled.
"Wha..? Holy shit!! I-i-i-i-i-im cum-m-m-m-m-m-ming-g-g-g-g!!! Uh-uh-uh-uh-uhee-yah-hah-huh-huh-hum-m-m-m-m-m-mmmbaby!!!!!"
His cock expanded one final time and the first volley
hit the back of my throat with a force that felt like it might blow off
the back of my head. The second was just as explosive, and the subsequent
spasms decreased in force until the eighth and final trickle.
I pulled back and swallowed the accumulated load under his admiring gaze.
"What the fuck was that?"
"Sorry. Couldn't help myself."
"I'm not complaining. It felt great! But what did you do?"
"I stuck my finger up your butt and hit your prostate. That's why you came so much."
Gil knelt down on the floor in front of me. He looked into my eyes, then before I could react, leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the cheek.
"How come you did that?"
"Cause I thought you'd like it, and cause you deserved it."
"Straight boys don't kiss!"
"This one does, but don't tell anyone. It's just between you and me."
"Not even Dan?"
"Especially not Dan! I'd never hear the end of it!"
We both laughed and collapsed onto the floor.
End of Chapter Eleven.
Coming Soon Chapter Twelve: Meanwhile, In Another Part Of
Thanks to everyone who has written me to say how much you enjoy the
And of course a big Thank You to the Nifty Archivist as always for providing the venue.
Please write and let me know if you enjoy the Tales so far.
I can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org
I will answer all e-mail as quickly as possible.
Thanks Again, K.