Myron sat listening to the radio in his small two-room apartment, located over the hardware store on Main Street. The window was open to let in the slight breeze. He sat naked smoking a cigarette. The sun had nearly disappeared in the West, and his room was almost dark now. It didn't matter; he was just listening to the radio anyway.

His lean muscular body was stretched out in the worn overstuffed chair. His feet rested on the threadbare rug that covered the floor. He stubbed out the cigarette and closed his eyes. The radio continued telling the story of the FBI and gangsters. He wasn't really listening, and he soon dropped off to sleep.

The buzzer over his door sounded. It rang again insisting that he wake up. He went to the window and looked down.

Standing on the sidewalk below was Stan Johnson, one of his clients.

He called down, "I'll be right down." He pulled on the ragged pair of shorts he'd worn that day, and ran down the stairs to open the door.

"Come on in, Stan," he said opening the door.

"Thanks," Stan answered. Myron led the way back up the stairway to his apartment. The stairway served the three apartments in the building, as did the dimly lighted hallway at the top. Myron's apartment was the first door on the left.

He turned on the bright yellow lamp to the lowest setting as he walked in. It sat on the dusty end table near the door with its dark shade slightly askew.

"You been asleep?" Stan asked.

"Yeah," Myron said, "I guess I dropped off listening to the radio." Myron reached down and turned it off.

"Sorry." Stan glanced at the clock nearby and noticed that it was nearly ten-thirty. "I didn't realize it was so late.

"Don't be," Myron stretched his body pulling out the muscles that had tightened while he slept. "What do you need?"

"A few beers," Stan answered, "Four will be enough tonight."

Myron went to the kitchen and took four bottles from the refrigerator and put them in a bag paper sack.

"Two dollars," he said.

"Here. Thanks." Stan said handing him two one-dollar bills.

"Thanks. Who's with you?" Myron asked. He knew that Stan didn't usually drink alone.

"No one," Stan said dryly.

"Oh, sorry," Myron said, smiling without really meaning to.

"Oh well," Stan said blushing, "She said she had to get home early, something about a family picnic tomorrow." She, was Sheryl Charles, his sometimes girl friend.

"I know how that goes," Myron said scratching his crotch through the shorts. Yes, I know all about girls like that, he thought to himself, they liked going skating or dancing or to a movie, but a drive in the country afterward, not on your life! It was frustrating to say the least. What did they think? You went out with them because you liked being seen with them? He wondered.

"I'd better go, and let you get back to sleep," Stan said.

"No that's okay," Myron said, "You're welcome to stay and sit awhile, if you'd like."

What the hell, I wasn't doing anything anyway, he thought to himself. Besides, the kid will probably just go driving and get stopped by the cops.

"Thanks I'd like that," Stan said.

"Well, come on and sit then," Myron motioned Stan to the chair where he had been sitting.

"Here," Myron said, he handed the money back to Stan, "let's have a beer, on me." He took the bag from Stan and opened two of the bottles with the opener he kept on the table beside his chair. Stan stuffed the bills into his pocket and sat down.

Myron seated himself on the floor in front of the chair facing Stan and took a long swig of the cold beer. It tasted good and he felt the familiar tingle as he swallowed. He watched as Stan did the same.

Two beer later and Stan was beginning to relax and to enjoy himself. They'd been talking about how the football team would do this season, and what had been going on at school.

Myron missed not being part of the school scene, even though it had been a few years since he had finished. Most of his friends had gone away to college, or taken jobs in other towns. Some were in the National Guard, or had been drafted. Myron had done none of these things, he'd been classified 4F, unfit for military service because of a heart condition. The girl he had dated was one of those who had gone away to school. He hadn't dated anyone since then. He'd been out a few times with some of the girls who worked in town, but they all seemed more interested in the more prosperous farmer boys, as he called them, than some grease-monkey low life himself. And there wasn't much else to do in a small town.

The conversation got around to Stan's date that evening, and how he had felt when he dropped her off at her house. Stan rubbed his crotch, "And I was just getting warmed up too, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah," Myron said, "I know exactly what you mean!" They laughed.

"The broad wouldn't even give me a feel," Stan complained rubbing himself again. The bulge in his pants was clearly visible now; in spite of the tight underwear he was wearing.

Myron's cock began to thicken and stretch out just watching. "Yeah, ain't that the way?"

"I ain't got off in two days," Stan almost groaned, "and I'm beginning to ache."

"It's been a while for me too," Myron said, then asked, "Want a 'nother beer?"

"Sure, why not?"

Myron got up and went to the kitchen, glad to stand up and let his erection stretch out to a more comfortable position even though it was getting close to the hole in the pant leg. He quickly returned carrying two fresh bottles of the icy cold brew.

"You got a hardon too?" Stan asked; clearly looking at Myron's crotch as Myron handed him his bottle.

"Yeah, I guess," Myron said blushing a little, "Drinking beer does that to me sometimes."

"It sure is a big one," Stan starred at the long shadowy bulge down the leg of Myron's shorts.

"Oh, it ain't so big," Myron pushed on it a little, as if to make it go away. The head was now peeking out of the hole in his shorts.

"Yeah it is," Stan insisted, "Must be at least eight."

"Don't know," Myron said sitting down on the floor again, this time with his legs stretched out.

"Mine's only about seven," Stan said matter-of-factly, "I measured it once. And yours is way bigger." He groped himself sensuously.

"Yeah?" Myron said. All this talk was really getting him turned on, "It looks like it could be."

Stan stood up and unzipped his pants. "Yeah, see." He took out his cock displaying it and stroking it pleasurably.

"You're right," Myron said looking up at it. "It looks like at least seven to me."

"Let's see yours," Stan said as he stood rubbing his.

"Awww," Myron said, "It ain't so hard yet." It wasn't, yet, but getting close.

"Yeah it is," Stan knelt down on the floor beside him and reached out and grabbed Myron's bulge. It was now! Myron didn't move. He'd just wait and see what happened. He hadn't done anything with Stan before, but there was always a first time.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Myron asked pensively.

"Yeah," Stan said, "I'm horny as all hell." He undid Myron's shorts to push them down. Myron raised his behind off the floor to help in the procedure.

"Yours is big!" Stan said in admiration, "And thick too." He stroked it almost lovingly, causing Myron's balls to pull up against his ass. As Stan pulled the ample foreskin back across the head of Myron's cock a pearly drop of pre-cum oozed out of the slit in the purple colored glans.

Stan released Myron's dick, stood up and took off his shirt and pants along with his underwear. He sat down next to Myron.

"I ain't ever played with a guy with so much skin as you've got," Stan said, "I hope I'm doing in okay."

"You're doing just fine," Myron sighed.

"This sure beats doing it alone," he said taking both cocks, one in each hand, and stroking them.

"Ohhh shit," Myron sighed, "You do that well."

"It does feel good, doesn't it?"

"Ever had a girl suck yours?" Myron asked, taking Stan's hand away and holding it himself He was getting too close.

"No," Stan said, "But I'd sure like to have someone do it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Stan's voice trailed off as he played with his cock. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the chair. He'd heard about things like that and wondered what it might be like. His nuts ached from the tightness in his groin.

He opened his eyes suddenly as he felt a strange moistness on his cock. Myron was leaning over him, and taking his cock into his mouth.

"Ohhh fuck," he sighed. The strange sensation was rapidly bringing him close to climax. He didn't want it to end so soon. He eased Myron's mouth off of him. "Better let me cool off a moment. It sure does feel good though."

Myron leaned back and stroked himself slowly, "Yeah it does, doesn't it?" He paused a moment and then said, "Suck mine a little."

With only a slight hesitation Stan leaned over and put his mouth on Myron's big cock. The taste wasn't at all like he imagined it might be. The smoothness of the skin and salty taste made his mouth tingle inside, and he pushed his head down until he'd taken all that he could get of Myron's hot cock inside.

Myron moaned softly as Stan's mouth caressed his aching cock. He too soon pushed Stan's head away from his hot organ lest he go off too soon. These things happened so infrequently that he wanted it to last as long as possible. Besides, he wondered if Stan would do anything else. He had enjoyed putting his big cock inside some guy's ass a time or two. But he knew it would take some doing, especially if the guy had never done it before.

He looked over and smiled at Stan. He leaned down and took Stan's bobbing cock into his mouth again. He stretch out in front of him and played with Stan's balls with one hand while he used a finger to play with the tight rectal opening as he moved his head up and down slowly on the long slim cock.

"Ohhh!" Stan moaned softly. "That feels good too." Myron continued with the finger motion for a while. He stopped a moment and wet the finger with his mouth and then continued, gradually forcing it into the tight opening, a little a time. "Ohhh!" Stan moaned again as the wet finger eased its way up the dark channel where none had gone before. Myron stopped when he could feel Stan beginning to tense.

He looked at Stan who lay with his eyes closed; his hands pressed against the floor, almost panting with excitement, his cock trembling above his stomach. Slowly his breathing began coming in long slow breaths. Myron got up and went to the bathroom quickly returning with a jar of Vaseline. Stan still lay with his eyes closed; his cock still hard, but now lying close to his smooth belly, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

Myron knelt on the floor in front of him, and raised Stan's knees so that his feet were flat on the floor. Then he took some of the lubricant on his fingers and spread it on Stan's tight opening gradually forcing one up inside. Two more times Myron forced lubricant into clenching the opening until he was able to easily move his finger in and out while massaging the tender balls gently with the other hand. The hard cock once again bobbed up and down.

Quickly Myron coated his own thick hard cock with the greasy substance. Then with one quick motion lifted Stan's legs onto his shoulders.

"It won't hurt too much," he whispered as he positioned his cock at the opening. He leaned down and took Stan's pulsing dick into his mouth while easing his cock gently into the quivering ass. Slowly, inch-by-inch he shoved his hot cock inside. Stan moaned and arched his back a little at the stinging sensation. He still kept his eyes tightly closed.

Stan knew what Myron was doing, but he didn't care. He knew somehow that Myron wouldn't really hurt him, and the pain wasn't all that bad. The warm moist mouth on his cock competed with the other feeling. Together they put him into a state of passion that he'd never felt before. How could anything that felt like this be wrong? Even if it was, he didn't really care anymore.

Myron was having all he could do to keep from shooting his load. He stopped thrusting and worked his tongue frantically on Stan's hot shaft, urging up the climax he knew could not be far away. His own balls ached for release as he resumed moving slowly and deliberately in and out of Stan's tender opening. He could feel the tension rising inside as he probed deeper and deeper. He felt Stan's body tense, and then convulse as Stan shot his cum into his mouth. In two more thrusts Myron exploded sending his own hot cum into Stan's hot channel, evoking moans from deep within Stan's chest. He swallowed as Stan spurted again and again into his mouth, his own hard cock convulsed over and over again into Stan's clenching ass. Myron's tongue played vigorously against the now tender head of Stan's dick, until he felt Stan's hand against his forehead, urging him away.

He lifted his mouth from Stan's aching cock and thrust once more deeply inside the body below him. Stan moaned as the huge glans rubbed one more time across the bulging prostrate inside. His cock jumped expelling the last bit of cum to the end of his dick. Myron licked it off with his hot tongue and gently withdrew from the clenching opening, easing his now softening organ slowly out. Stan groaned as the now slightly softer cock head slipped past the ring and tightened behind it. Another drop of cum was squeezed out by the motion and fell on the rug below. Neither said anything for a long moment as they tried to regain their regular breathing. At last Myron broke the silence.

"You wait here," he said, "I'll get a washcloth and clean you up."

Stan didn't move, and kept his eyes closed until Myron was gone. A burning sensation crept over him, and he wondered why he'd let him do that to him. The effect of the beers was beginning to wear off.

After cleaning himself up at the sink Myron returned with a wet washcloth and a towel. Very gently he cleansed the tender opening without a word, and dried the white behind with the towel. When he was finished he spoke.

"I hope I didn't hurt you too much," he said, adding, "I don't usually do this. But you seemed as if you wanted me to." He was embarrassed a little by what had happened. "You really did shoot a load," he said trying to make light of the situation.

"Oh yeah! I did, didn't I?"

Stan was more embarrassed by it than he was hurt. "I'm okay," he said, adding, "You'll never tell anyone what you did will you?"

"Of course not," Myron reassured him, "And if you ever want to get even sometime, I'll let you." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wondered why he'd said them. He had never let anyone do that to him; why would he want to?

"Okay," Stan said, wondering if Myron really meant it, or was just saying it to placate him. He doubted that he ever could do that to a guy. But he guessed that if he were ever going to do it, it would be with someone like Myron, who had done it to him.

"I guess, I'd better go," Stan said at last.

"You're not mad at me are you?" Myron asked.

"Hell no," Stan said, trying to pretend he was still a little drunk, "It was fun wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Myron said, remembering. "It surely was."

Dirk and Teddy snuggled against each other in their sleep. The night was gone and dawn wasn't far away. Teddy was staying over; having had dinner with Dirk and his family, and afterward they had gone to the movie downtown.

Dirk was trying to make amends for what he had done with Tyrone the night before; trying to show Teddy how much he cared for him, even though Teddy had no idea that anything had transpired. He wondered though at Dirk's passion as they made love, but didn't question it. Instead he enjoyed it all and returned with as much passion as he was capable of; he gave himself unreservedly to his friend and lover. He didn't often think of it that way, but tonight he had. And he was glad that he did. He did love this guy, more than he loved life itself.

James lay awake in the early dawn of Sunday morning. His body ached for release, but he never liked doing it in the morning. Somehow it seemed to ruin the rest of the day, took the edge off whatever might happen later. Besides, his brother was there in bed with him, and he never liked doing it with him there. Sometimes, he had pretended he was asleep when his brother would jack off at night or morning, it didn't seem to matter to him. He wished he could join in with him, but it didn't seem right somehow, and so he didn't pursue it. They had stopped doing it together a year or so ago.

He lay there until it was time to get up, and then climbed out and got dressed to do his chores before breakfast.

Kevin stretched lazily in his bed as he woke up to the sound of the radio playing in the next room. His sister was already up. His tanned body with its patch of white that his swimsuit covered glistened in the bright light. His long slim cock fully hard lay against his belly waiting his attention. He looked to the window and saw that it was another bright sunny day.

He groped himself enjoying the pleasurable sensations it evoked. He recalled how he felt the night before after he left Barbara at her front door. They had gone to the movie, the late show, and had a burger and fries at the drive-in before he took her home. He wished somehow, that he had been able to do something with her, but it wasn't to be. She wasn't that kind of girl, he knew that, but he surely wanted to.

All the while he was thinking about this, he finally realized that he had been stroking himself, and was near ready to shoot. Quickly he grabbed a towel that he kept by the bed just for such a moment and laid it on his stomach. He watched as the small fountain of white fluid erupted from deep within himself. It felt so good, especially in the morning before he went to the bathroom. He hated that he'd have to get up right away, or risk wetting in the bed. He cleaned off his hand with the towel that was still a little damp from his shower the night before. As he did occasionally, he tasted the last drop from the tip of his cock. Sometimes he wished that he could shoot it in his own mouth, and get it all. He had tried a time or two but only succeeded in getting cum all over his hair and face.

Monday afternoon Buddy and Bill, classmates and teammates of Kevin's threw the football back and forth as they waited for Kevin and the others who were due for practice in a short while. Buddy was a short wiry boy, who loved playing quarterback. He was envious of Kevin who not only got to play quarterback most of the time, but dated the girl who Buddy had a crush on since junior high. It seemed strange, but he also was good friends with Kevin, and he never let his envy show. Buddy wasn't particularly bright, but he understood the realities of his world: Kevin was better than he was in football, and he was more handsome than he was, and he was a better student. All of these things worked against him, and nothing he did allowed him to surpass Kevin in these areas.

Bill was a taller, stronger boy, nice looking in a rustic sort of way, an average student and personable. But he was a follower, not a leader. Whenever anyone said, "Let's go!" Bill would respond with "Okay, where?" Buddy liked him for that. As the others began to show up for practice, Buddy and Bill sat on the grass for a moment to relax and catch their breath from running, knowing that they would need their strength for the workout that was coming.

"Where's Stan today?" Bill asked, looking over the group.

"Don't know," Buddy said, "I saw him last hour, but not since. He'll be here, he never misses."

Peter and Al stood at the edge of the grassy area above where the football field lay. They were speaking in low tones as they watched the practice as it proceeded. They were not part of the team, but they liked to watch. They especially liked to watch when the cheerleaders practiced nearby. Peter was the taller of the twin brothers and the stronger. Nature, as if in an attempt to compensate, had given Al the better looks and talents. Somehow it hadn't given him enough of either, and he lacked the strength to overcome his lack. He missed his older brothers, Jake and Randy who were in the National Guard serving in the war in Korea; especially Jake who was a lot like him in stature and temperament. They had been gone for six months now, and although the tide had seemed to turn, the war seemed as if it would never end.

A younger brother, Frank, played on the team and was out on the field practicing now. He was bigger than Randy, whom he resembled. The twins drove to and from school in a beat-up Chevrolet coupe, and were waiting for Frank to finish practice. The youngest of the six boys, Kelly, the one everyone called Squirt, because he was the smallest, rode the school bus and had just emerged from the school building and about to make a run for it.

James had climbed onto the school bus and walked to the back to sit. He liked sitting in the back, as he could usually be alone, away from the noisy kids, whom the driver insisted sit in the front where he could keep an eye on them. He unbuttoned the first three button of his shirt and loosely rolled up the sleeves. Even with the windows down there wasn't a breeze in the bus when they were parked. He wished that his mother didn't insist that he wear a tee shirt. He could feel it's warm dampness against his skin making him feel even warmer.

He stared out the window as he waited for the bus to pull out. Kelly came running up at the last minute, and looked around for a place to sit, not that there was a shortage of seats, but rather he had to decide with whom he wanted to sit. He liked sitting and chatting with the older guys, and girls too if they'd let him.

He didn't see anyone to talk to until he reached the back of the bus where James was sitting. Well, he thought, Better James than no one. James was always so quiet, and shy, in Kelly's eyes, he rarely sat close to him. But today he looked kind of sexy with his shirt open like it was. He wished the James didn't have on a tee shirt so he could see his muscles and skin. He knew that James had nice muscles and skin because his brother Frank had told him.

"Hey, Kelly," James said as he sat down.

"Hi, James," he answered. The one thing that he really did like about James was he never called him Squirt, a name he disliked intensely, although he wasn't entirely happy about Kelly either, he thought it sounded like a girl's name. But that was his mother's maiden name, and she figured that she was never going to have a girl to give the name to.

As the bus pulled away, Kelly began to chatter about school and all the things that we going on at home. James listened, trying to be polite, but had little to add to the conversation. He was barely aware of where the conversation was going, and hadn't really been paying that much attention to it. He was reveling in the wind blowing through the windows and how it was cooling him.

"Ever notice," Kelly was saying, "how big, some guys are?"

"Not especially," James answered. He wondered what was he getting at, as his ears picked up the words big and guys so close together.

"Well, I do," he talked on. "You know Buddy Jacobbs, don't you?"

"Sure," James answered.

"Well, Al told me that he's the biggest in your class."

"Really?" James said, "I always thought that he was kind of small."

Kelly was puzzled, "You been listening?"

"Sure," James looked at him.

"When I said Buddy was the biggest," he said, "I meant here." He groped himself as if to stimulate himself as much as to make his point.

"Oh," James said, "Oh!" He thought a moment trying to remember how the guys looked. He had seen them all in the showers at one time or another.

"I guess," Kelly smirked, "You don't pay much attention."

"No," James grinned slightly, "Not that much really. Gives me a hardon if I do." Now why did I tell him that? he wondered

"Well," Kelly asked, "Is he?"

"Huh?" James asked and then said, "I suppose he might be. But it's kind of hard to tell. Some get much bigger hard, than others."

"Really?" Kelly said.

"Sure," James explained how some guys were pretty much the same size hard as they were soft, and others were small soft and got a lot bigger when they were hard.

"So you do pay attention?" It was not a question as a statement. Kelly slid over in the seat closer groping himself more now.

"I like'em big," Kelly said, "Don't you?"

James blushed; there was no answer.

"You got a big one, don't you?" Kelly asked. "Bigger than mine?" James looked over at him. Kelly was holding his exposed cock in his hand. It was nearly hard, and it was bigger than James expected that it might be.

"Put it away," James blushed even more, "What if someone saw you?"

"What would they do? Make me walk?" But he did as James asked.

"So?" Kelly asked.

"Oh," James said, "I suppose, some anyway."

"I thought so," Kelly grinned, "Frank said it was. He saw it one day when you was getting hard. Said it was nice. Can I feel it?" He reached over without waiting for an answer. He was somewhat disappointed, as it wasn't real hard, but it was bigger than his, even now."

"Don't!" James said softly pushing away Kelly's hand, "Someone might see you."

"I just had to!" Kelly pleaded, "I just got to know!"

"Okay," James said, "Someday. Not today, but someday, you can get off at my stop, and I'll show you." Anything to get him calmed down.

"Great!" Kelly whispered, "I gotta see you shoot too!"

James gave him an embarrassed look.

"Okay, okay," Kelly said. The conversation ended and Kelly walked to the front of the bus, it was his stop. He waved to James as the bus pulled away.

James was glad, not so much that he was annoyed by him, but it meant that his stop was next, a half-mile down the road. Then it was a mile walk and he'd be home. He smiled to himself as he walked along the dusty road and thinking how appropriate the name Squirt was for Kelly. He really was a little squirt, and from what he had seen this afternoon, I'll bet he really can too, he mused.

Football practice was over, and everyone was in the locker room in various states of undress. A few were in the shower already covered with soap lather laughing and talking over the noise of the water. Others sat in jock straps still unlacing their pads and equipment. A few stood still nearly fully suited talking to the coach.

Frank was in the shower, his stocky, but muscular frame covered with lather. His eyes roamed around looking at every one in sight. Some were interesting in his eyes. He was barely aware that he nearly was hard. He saw some of the others naked and walking around, their cocks dancing as they pranced. There are some nice ones, he thought especially Buddy. But Buddy's never got hard, at least that he ever saw, but it was dark and long, and touched the bench when he sat down taking off his clothes. Frank smiled as he saw some others, barely visible in the thick growth of hair around them. Most were circumcised, but a few, like his were not.

Frank rinsed off the soap and tried to let his cock rest before turning off the water, but to no avail.

"What's the matter, Frank?" Buddy teased as he entered the showers, "Got a hot date tonight?"

Frank blushed and hurried to finish showering. When he finished dressing he left to meet his brothers who were waiting outside.

Doug, the coach's assistant, at twenty-five was a boyish looking guy. He taught biology and helped out with the coaching chores. His specialty was massage so he usually came to practice late, and stayed afterward cleaning up and helping with the equipment as well as administering massage to anyone who might needed it.

Tonight it was Kevin who needed a massage. He had taken a pretty hard on the right side, and his hip and thigh had begun to develop a spasm. Everyone else had dressed and left. The coach too had gone for the night. Kevin had delayed undressing until everyone had gone because of the muscle cramps he was having. Doug could see the pain in his eyes as he showered.

He had finished with his other chores and was getting all the stuff he needed to be ready for Kevin. He watched the muscular body with the water splashing off from it. His tan was great, he thought, just the right contrast. It stirred his groin to see how well developed Kevin was all over. He loved touching bodies like Kevin's. Some of the other guys didn't even cause a twinge, but Kevin gave him more than that.

Kevin dried off and climbed up on the massage table. Doug had put a towel on the table and Kevin had taken off the one he wore from the shower room and dropped it on the floor before getting onto the table.

Doug picked it up and tossed it in the corner with the others. Kevin lay face down on the towel, his eyes closed.

"That's quite a bruise you have," Doug said as he started. Kevin flinched as Doug's hands first touched the sore spot.

"Sorry," Doug said and moved his hands away. When he finished with the rest of his body, he returned to the bruised area. Again Kevin flinched, but this time Doug continued massaging the area using the alcohol and witch hazel mixture. Gradually the soreness seemed to go away, and Kevin began to relax. Doug's gentle touch and steady kneading relieved the hurt, and Kevin's body was responding as it always did to the almost sensuous, deliberate movement of Doug's fingers. He shifted his body to allow for the growth of his cock.

"Getting to you?" Doug asked softly.

"Yeah," Kevin blushed, "like always." Doug continued working on all the muscles of the back, shoulders, and legs.

He paused, "Okay turn over." As Kevin rolled to his back, his cock sprang up and lay flat against his stomach. Doug's own cock was straining at the fabric of his shorts as he continued.

Kevin turned to look, "You too, huh?"

"Yeah," Doug blushed, "like always." Kevin reached over and squeezed it gently. It moved in his hand.

"Is the door locked?" Kevin asked.

"You know it is," Doug answered trying to ignore his burning desire within. Kevin's fingers found their way under the jock strap that confined Doug's growing cock, and released the throbbing organ from its restraint.

Kevin stroked the hot shaft slowly, sliding the abundant foreskin back and forth across the glowing glans, already moist and slippery.

Doug could barely continue with what Kevin was doing. He needed to finish the massage so that Kevin's body would be fit and ready for practice the next day.

"Kevin," he pleaded, "Wait a while so I can finish."

Kevin dropped his hand and lay quietly, and watched as Doug continued. Doug's cock slowly began to relax and sag, gradually disappearing back into the short leg of his white gym shorts. Kevin's cock remained rigid and tight against his belly, still eager for release.

Doug hurriedly completed the routine massage.

"Finished?" Kevin asked looking up expectantly.

"Yes," he whispered, "Finished."

Kevin turned his head once again and could see that Doug was once again becoming aroused with the tip of his cock extending slightly below the leg of his white shorts.

He reached out and pulled Doug's body close to the table; close enough so that he smell the fragrance of light perspiration from Doug's groin. He pushed the leg of the shorts up and took the now rigid cock into his mouth.

Meanwhile, he felt Doug's warm lips and mouth on his own straining manhood. He loved the way it felt, he wished that it were Barbara doing what Doug was doing. But then he remembered that if it were, there would be no cock for him to suck and to play with. Even though she had nice firm breasts, they were no match for the body of a man; more acceptable, perhaps, but in no way as pleasurable as what he was doing now.

He could feel the tension rising in his own body now as Doug's expert tongue flicked across the head of his throbbing dick. He gasped as he felt the impending explosion within himself. Doug sensed it too, and prepared to release his own heavy load at the first taste of Kevin's sweet cum.

It was something that he had practiced long to achieve, almost simultaneous climax. There was nothing else like it, the giving and receiving at the same moment in time; the fluid of life. The sensation was overwhelming, and he tried never to be the first to cum, as it sometimes distracted from the other person's own climax, and he would not achieve the desired results. Kevin was easy, as he was so sensitive and eager. A single touch to the perineum with his tongue was enough to evoke a final gasp and pushed Kevin to the brink, with another flick across the hot slippery glans and it was all over.

Kevin's body arched upward spewing forth its precious load, spurting and jerking into Doug's waiting mouth. On the first taste, he sent forth his own hot fluid flowing in huge spurts into Kevin's mouth, overflowing on the lips and spilling down his chin often dripping down onto the floor below. Kevin did his best, but could scarcely contain the thrusting motion of the large uncut cock; much less handle the copious flow that came forth from it.

After a few moments of recovery, Doug helped Kevin clean up, as his face, throat and chest were covered with the abundance of his climax. They showered together laughing and prancing about. They helped each other to get dry, which did nothing to assuage the yearning they had for each other, nor to relax their sexual needs. But time would not permit another round of play, so they proceeded to get dressed. With a joyful, but urgent kiss they said goodbye for the day, and went their respective ways.

Bill and Buddy walked slowly along the street where Bill lived. Stan had left them shortly after practice saying that he had to get home early for a birthday dinner for his sister. Across the street they saw Ronnie, a slim, rather short classmate heading for his home nearby.

They returned his friendly wave.

"He's an odd one," Buddy said as they continued on.

Bill who had few opinions of his own asked, "How do you mean, odd?"

"You know," Buddy didn't want to say what he meant, "He's so, well, strange."

"I suppose," Bill mulled over the two words: odd and strange. "What's so strange?"

"I mean," Buddy said, "He's just not the kind of guy I'd want to be like. He's small, and weak. And you know he hasn't much of a dick."

"Oh?" Bill was puzzled by the reference. He didn't think his was so big either, "Mine's not all that big."

"Yeah, but you're different," Buddy explained, "You're tall, strong, you're good on the field. And you date, too, don't forget that."

"You think he's queer?" Bill asked.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Buddy said glad that Bill had said it. He got feeling of tightness in his groin from all the sexual talk.

"Just because he doesn't date and has a little dick?"

"I think so."

"Well," Bill said, "How about that!" It wasn't really a question, but a verification of an understanding.

They walked on in silence until they reached Bill's home. "You coming in?" Bill asked hopefully.

"No I got to get home," Buddy replied.

"Oh," Bill said, "I was hoping..."

"Naw, I don't feel like it today."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Buddy conceded, "Tomorrow."

Bill smiled; he like being with Buddy, being in bed with him, having him put his big cock inside him. It made him feel good, so important. Buddy was an important person in his eyes.

Buddy smiled a sly smile, patted Bill on the butt as he went up the steps.

"You sure you can't come in?" Bill asked feeling a growing need.

"Tomorrow, I promise," Buddy winked and trotted off down the street. He too had a need, but today it wasn't to fuck the big redheaded football player. He was thinking of something softer, sweeter, and more tender.

The more he thought about it, the more his need grew, and by the time he reached his own back door, his cock had reached the point where nothing could conceal it.

"Hi, Mom," He called as he hurried past her in the kitchen carefully avoiding her eyes.

"Buddy?" she called after him.

"Yeah, Mom," he answered.

"Ronnie called."

"Yeah?" Buddy knew what Ronnie had in mind.

"He said that you could come over and pick up the book you asked him to loan you."

"Okay, I need to change first."

"Okay, but don't be too late." She returned to her chores of getting things organized for dinner.

Bill had stood on the sidewalk outside his home watching as Buddy padded off toward his home. He hated to admit, even to himself, how much he needed what, as far as he knew, only Buddy could give him.

In depression, he trudged slowly up the steps and on up to his room. There he sat on the edge of his bed, head in hands, dry-eyed but crying inside. As if an idea had just come to him, he sat bolt upright and looked out the window.

Then acting on that idea, he got up and went to the hall. Carefully he dialed the number of someone who could help relieve his mood.

The phone rang and rang, but there was no answer, even this was not going to help him. Dejectedly he went back to his bed and lay down on it face down . . .

"Bill!" came the call, "Bill! You'll be late for dinner." He opened his eyes and looked toward the voice. It was his younger brother, Bob.

"Oh," he said, "okay, I'll be right down." His brother turned and hurried down the steps. Bob was the image of his brother at the same age. It was remarkable how much they looked alike. If they'd been the same age, they would have appeared to be identical twins. But twins with totally different personalities. Bob was self-assured and outgoing, nice looking, even handsome, and well above average in his abilities, both athletically and scholastically.

After eating the good meal, Bill's mood had changed, somewhat. He was not pining, as it were, about Buddy, but aggressively angry. I'll show him, he thought, who needs who!

A short while later, Bill came down from his room carrying a jacket and dressed in jeans and tennis shoes. His bronzed body glistened as he had covered himself with oil.

"I'm going out for a while."

"Okay," she smiled. She loved him greatly, and wished that he were more like his brother. But she was glad to have him at all. He was so little when he was born that the doctor gave him only a thirty percent chance of surviving; his twin brother, had not even survived the long and painful birth.

Bill headed downtown, knowing exactly where he was going. When he arrived at the front of the building, which housed the hardware store at the street level, and the apartment of Myron Olson upstairs, he rang the bell impatiently.

In a moment he saw the familiar figure at the window, and moments later the same figure appeared at the door to let him in.

"Come in, Bill, come in," Myron called smiling broadly. Now here, he thought, is a real hunk. And judging from the look in his eye, and the bulge in his jeans, he was there to have a good time!

Doug was on his way home and saw Bill go up to Myron's apartment. "What could it mean?" he wondered. He knew that Bill was not the kind of kid who drank. Almost everyone knew that Myron supplied the older guys with beer, and sometimes with hard liquor too. He was puzzled by it.

It was nearly dark now. He walked down the block until he stood directly across from Myron's apartment. He stopped and looked up at the open window. A dim light shown through it. At first he saw the two standing in the center of the room. Myron left for a moment and returned carrying two bottles of what looked like beer. This is wrong, he thought, terribly wrong!