We drowsed like that for a couple of minutes. I kissed the back of his neck. He scooted away from me and then rolled to face me.
"I've waited my whole life... "
"It's been a long time for me, too. That was... Whew! Thank you. It was... wonderful. You have to promise me that you won't run off with some... football player."
"No danger of that," he smiled. "I guess it's worth it. To be called a fag, if that's what being a fag is about."
"People are going to stop calling you names and you are not going to suddenly start lisping and prancing around. I think some guys do that shit so they'll never have to come out to some guy they are attracted to that hasn't figured it out, yet."
"What makes you think they'll stop calling me names?"
"You'll see. They just will. You are now officially getting more sex than they are. It's for you to judge them and them to be judged. They'll know. They can tell. They won't know what, but they'll know something. You watch."
"Yeah?" He sighed, sounding good naturedly unconvinced. Boys with empty seminal vesicles are generally good natured and his were empty, believe me.
"Will you do something for me?" He looked at me, steadily. "It's kind of major... -ish," I said, smiling gently.
"I want you to shave off that fuzz. It's cute, but it's past time for it to go."
"But... I don't have a..."
"We'll use my razor. You do need to shave, cute guy. It will make you look older. But I warn you... "
"It's gonna make me want to kiss you more and eat you all up."
"Oh, that would be... frightful," he grinned crookedly. "Fuck it. I trust you: let's do it."
So we did. We took a shower, and washed each other's boy parts, smiling. Then we got him a fresh blade. Then I showed him how. He ended up looking like somebody had washed the windows.
He combed his hair and looked at himself, making a "Hmpf" noise. I gave him a new toothbrush and we brushed our teeth together. And then I kissed him thoroughly. We put his toothbrush in my nightstand. He smiled and looked at me. We both smiled. I guess he sensed that it sort of cemented his official status.
He took me up on the Coke, and we talked a little. A lot, actually. The "friend" stuff we had sort of skipped. You know, all the kissing and sucking had, uh... distracted us. He told me he wanted to be a professional chef -- sort of -- and some of his plans to get there. When he saw me actually being interested, he dived in a little deeper. Some cooking classes during the summer, to make sure he actually liked the work, but then a food technology degree with a chemistry minor, before doing Cordon Bleu level chef training. He thought the chemistry would help him understand what was going on when foods were being prepared in a restaurant, but would be absolutely essential for what he saw as his future: developing packaged gourmet foods for commercialization.
I imagine my mouth hung open. This was Fuzzy talking? With this sophisticated career plan? I felt like a callow knuckle dragger. I said as much. He told me I'd find a path of my own. His obsession just happened to have bitten him early.
I showed him the t-bone. He called his mom and said he was staying for dinner. He listened for a moment and said "Yes," several times, sort of sheepishly. So I asked him what that was about. That is, if it was any of my business.
"She asked me if I was taking over your kitchen."
"So, are you?"
Dinner was an experience. Fixing it and eating it, both. I might have to explain to Mom the partially used candles -- and the missing mushrooms and sour cream (and the little dash of sherry) -- but it was worth every pot and knife and spoon and cutting board I frantically washed, trying to keep up with him. He was really in control in a kitchen: focused and fast and efficient and... certain. I'm gonna have to have him give Mom the recipe, as soon as I can figure out some kind of cover story for "My new boyfriend cooked me dinner last night after we had mind blowing sex and then we dined by candlelight." I thought you did this kind of shit when you were 30.
On Monday, I left school on time, oh rarity of rarities. I waited by the path to our neighborhood and waited for him to appear, eager to see him, to be with him. Desire burned heavy and strong in me. He saw me and broke into a big grin that made me glad inside. He had bounce in his step and I saw him almost break into a trot, then think better of it. We walked together, as sedately as we could manage, to his place. His stride -- his whole posture -- was different.
"People kept saying I'd changed, somehow. But only this one girl, who's always been nice to me, noticed that I'd shaved."
"And nobody called you anything."
"And nobody called me anything."
"Well I'm gonna call you. As soon as my homework's done."
"What are you gonna call me?"
"I'll think of something."
"Horny-as-fuck comes to mind."
It wasn't easy keeping my mind on my homework, but I was motivated. I tried calling him, but I must have written the number down wrong, so I ran over there. He was at the dining room table, just finishing up an essay. He gave it to me to read, while he did a quick set of math problems. It was fucking excellent. Most kids' writing sucks, so I was impressed and told him so. He smiled and thanked me for the compliment. I told him again how impressive he was in a kitchen, and he smiled happily.
We went up to his room. I closed the door and kissed him, pressing him back against it. I never used to kiss Douggie (except maybe on his pecker). I guess the lonely times had changed me. My needs were different now, since we'd moved. It was about loneliness and shelter and comfort, now. About the shelter of his arms. And about being so screaming horny for him. And about sweet, sharp boy sex and delicious cumming... But also about having him and kissing him. And just... having him.
Anyway, being close with a boy again sent shivers up my back. Kissing him gave me a serious bone. But smelling him... smelling him made my insides twist and flutter. Smelling him made me need more, made me need to get naked with him, made me need his dick between my lips and his tender wetness around my boner.
My need was a raw, screeching thing. I pressed myself against him and cupped his package, devouring his lips and tongue.
"Do we have time? Can we... "
"God! Not here: my mom is home."
"How long do you have until dinner?"
"Two hours. We always eat right at seven."
"Hunh! So do we. As long as I can remember. My mom gets home at 6, so we have a little over an hour. Can you come over?"
"Should be okay. Let me go check."
It was okay, so we scurried over to my place, trying not to hold hands and skip. As soon as the door was closed, I was on him in an instant. Before he could do much, I got his dick out, dropped to my knees and was sucking him to full hardness. Somehow it was just... right. Celebrating a new, dominant Paul, perhaps? After his first long moan, I was back up, kissing him with my Paul dick lips, holding his wet boner in my hand and tugging it to one side, as I sucked his tongue. He thrust and pulsed and yelped with the twinge of pleasure and pushed away far enough to start lifting my shirt off. I stood there and let him unwrap me, let him have the pleasure of uncovering another boy's body, of having him, seeing, smelling, tasting him, knowing him. Knowing him physically. I gave him that. His new assertiveness gave me goosebumps and made my tits hard.
He finally pulled my briefs down, pushed me onto my bed and followed me down to the mattress, to prayerfully kiss down to my tits, flick them with his tongue and then bury his face in my cock and balls.
"Take off your clothes!" I ordered.
"Make me," he giggled. So I did, growling and ravishing him, making him naked, taking his boyhood into my hands, into my mouth, into my throat.
I urged his knees up, so his legs could spread, so I could nuzzle between his beautiful sack and his thighs, so I could inhale him. I sucked him, as I ran my fingers around his delectable boy pouch, making it draw up and be glad. I caressed behind his balls and he stiffened from head to toe. So I did it some more, and he stiffened and squealed and thrust and froze. I sucked as fast as I could, raising him higher, slowing, holding him longer. His dick got big and fat. Then came the cream, and more cream and more and the shaky moan and the tender whimper and a whole bunch of throbbing and he lay there, where he fell, limp and happy, a last drop of cream lingering at his tip. Now he had someone who cared enough to give him this.
I crawled up behind him and pressed my boner to his back as I kissed his ear and told him he was cute.
"You know," I said, "I was always afraid to do a lot of stuff in bed because it might make me look queer."
"Yeah, I've been a little... shy about that with you."
"Well, I just decided that once you eat a guy's cum, it's a little late to be worrying about what it's gonna look like. Especially when he's cute and tasty, like you are."
"So... So I officially adore your dick and I like to suck it and I crave your body and want to kiss every part of you... uh... under the appropriate circumstances. Like you can wash your butthole first, if you want it kissed."
"Oooh. Could I have it... uh, fucked someday, maybe?"
"You could. But I'm gonna want you to do me first, to see what it's like. You have to be... very gentle, or it isn't much fun to be on the receiving end." I buried my face in his neck for a second. "But if your partner is gentle it can be really nice."
"Let's save that for a few days. We have a lot of sucking to catch up on."
"And kissing," I said, lying on him with my rampant boner pressed down onto his soft body. Our lips connected and my emotions melted and my body melted and I felt engulfed. I found myself humping and sliding and sucking his tongue and moaning from the closeness and then cumming all through my body -- and all over him -- unexpectedly. It left me shaky.
"Damn!" he smiled, looking at the mess, where it was running down his side onto my sheets.
"You're a seriously good kisser." I gave him a spastic peck, still riding my climax. "I kept thinking about you all day. Half of the time it was about sucking each other, but the rest of the time I would zone out and dream of just kissing you and holding you and rolling around with you. Being with you."
"Hunh. Me too, exactly."
"Are you still horny?"
"Not so much. I will be later, but right now I just like lying here and feeling you here with me."
"We have to be careful not to fall asleep."
"I... uh... locked your door."
"Sneaky devil. But I can just see it. Mom knocks on the door and there's this sound of two guys hopping around on one foot, trying to get their underwear on..."
"I guess we could just answer the door naked and say it was a school project."
"Well, I am feeling pretty healthy, since yesterday."
"Me too. Kiss me tender, sexy boy."
"I never thought I would hear those words," he smiled. And he kissed me tender and he kissed me sexy and we both got boners and then we had to get dressed when we heard Mom open the garage door and pull in.