Date: Mon, 17 Jul 2017 22:29:02 -0500
From: G Jones <geojonsey@gmail.com>
Subject: Ken and I - Part 20

I just wanted to add a quick note to this because a few of you emailed me
because of concern that this story is going in a completely different
direction with the introduction of the new character, Daryl. To those I
say: don't worry, this is by no means the end of Ken and Jamie.

As I mentioned at the start of the previous chapter, this series is very,
very loosely based on some personal experiences, and it's easier for to
write if I remain faithful to the timeline of those experiences, even if a
considerable number of the details have been fictionalized. As I go on, I'm
also trying to give the characters more depth in a way that, hopefully,
makes them more believable, and ultimately makes the entire series more
engaging.

So please keep reading and enjoying.

And please donate to Nifty! They're awesome for making this free! And it's
a lot of work to maintain!

Ken and I - Part 20

Although I had developed no interest in girls, I couldn't help but become
erect at seeing the couple engaged in their sexual activity. At 14,
anything that even remotely resembled sex, or that I could misinterpret as
sexual, gave me a boner even if it did include a girl.

The boy had a very obvious erection in his loose shorts and had his hand on
it, lightly rubbing it, while encouraging the girl to give him a blowjob.
He told her it was her fault that he was in this state, that being with
such a beautiful girl did this to him. The girl's expression was somewhere
between flattered and frightened; clearly she was nervous about doing this,
whether due to inexperience, the outdoor location, or other factors that I
couldn't guess.

As she stepped closer to him, he took her hand and placed it below his, so
that as he moved his own hand it was hers rubbing against his member. He
told her how excited he was to be with her, and leaned forward kiss her. He
then whispered something in her ear that I couldn't hear, but it seemed
that he'd convinced her to take things further. Leaning back, he slid his
shorts down, letting his cock bounce into view. While I'd like to say that
it was enormously long or thick, it really was neither. It was an average
hard dick, not that I had an expert's knowledge of what constituted
average. It was cut, and from where I was, I guessed it to be no more than
six inches long, and not unusually thick, with a mushroom-like head.

With a few more words of encouragement and what looked like a little
pressure on her shoulder, she leaned down and gave it a few tentative
flicks with her tongue before taking the head into her mouth. The boy
moaned and told her how good it felt, while holding her head and perhaps
applying a bit more pressure so that she would take more if it in her
mouth. She complied and for the next few minutes moved her mouth
alternating between the taking the tip and about half of his length.

Other than the blowjobs that Ken and I had traded, I had never seen anyone
else doing it; for some reason it occurred to me that I would probably be
able to give him more pleasure with my mouth than she could with hers.  I
was absent-mindedly rubbing the front of my own shorts as I continued to
watch them.

The boy had pulled the girl off his dick, and lifted her up to sit her on
the edge of the boxcar opening. He pushed up her skirt and briefly touched
the crotch of her panties before starting to slide the off. He'd commented
on the dampness of her panties and told her that sucking him must've
excited her. She smiled but didn't reply, other than letting out a moan of
her own as he pushed his fingers between her legs. Other than the few
pictures I'd seen in some magazines, this was the first time I'd seen what
an actual girl looked like between her legs.  I could see that he'd
inserted two of his fingers into her, and was pulling them out, pushing
them and moving them around in what I assumed was an effort to further
excite her. It seemed to be working as she began to moan more continuously,
and he repeatedly commented on how wet she was becoming. From the angle I
was viewing, I could see that his dick was still steely hard as his other
hand had been slowly stroking it. He stopped fingering her and pulled off
her skirt, telling her that she was ready. Again he picked her up by her
waist, and this time laid her down in the grass in front of the boxcar. He
knelt down between her legs as he lifted them and began pushing his dick
against her. After a few attempts he managed to slip the head in; I
couldn't quite hear what she said, but did catch the word condom. He had
told her not to worry as he pushed himself forward until the full length of
penis was buried in her.

They had both moaned as he began thrusting himself in and out, with the
occasional 'god' or 'fuck' thrown in for good measure, mostly from him. At
the time I had no idea how long an encounter like this should last in order
to be considered good or satisfying, but within a couple of minutes the
boy's groans and expletives became louder and he was thrusting himself
harder and harder against her. Suddenly he pulled back, his dick glistening
with what I assumed was her 'wetness', and ropes of his cum spurting from
the head. He was stroking himself as he ejaculated; some of it landed on
her belly, some on the ground in front of her, and a considerable amount
covered her vagina. With a final loud sigh, he fell back into the grass
while the girl fumbled in her purse for tissues with which to wipe
herself. She did not appear nearly as satisfied as he did.

I had become aware of my own impending orgasm as I had watched the boy's
take place. The sight of cum squirting from his dick had sent me over the
edge. I stifled a groan as I felt my cock twitch inside my shorts with
every gush of my own creamy semen. In the background I could hear the
couple shuffling as they pulled on their clothes. I could no longer make
out what they were saying as they began walking away, but I was left with
the impression that she was not happy and he was trying to soothe her.

I stood up and leaned against the tree while I waited for them to be well
gone before I walked back to my bike. I could see and feel the wetness
having spread across the front of my shorts. Some had even seeped through
my briefs and was slowly running down the inside of my thigh. I pulled a
tissue out of my pocket and tried my best to sop up as much as I could, but
about the only thing I achieved was leaving bits of it stuck to my briefs
and the front of my shorts. Eventually I walked the path and rode back
home, while my sticky load dried.

A few days after this incident I was packed and ready to depart for my trip
to see Daryl. I had hoped that Ken and Jamie were having a good time on
their own trip, feeling a bit sad that it would be so long before seeing
them, and also feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness at my
impending reunion with my best friend. I kept wondering if Daryl was
actually still my best friend. Although we phoned each other, our contact
wasn't overly frequent. I had never before had to think about why Daryl was
my best friend, he just was. I wasn't really sure what the criteria was for
being a best friend. I hadn't realized it at the time, but this was part of
growing up, where classifying friends as best, or in whatever other
categories where important at the time, became less important to me.

The flight itself was relatively uneventful, outside of the fact that it
was all brand new to me. My parents had handed me off to a member of the
crew, and she made sure that I got on board and had my seat. She checked on
me periodically to make sure I was ok during the flight, and slipped me a
few extra bags of pretzels when they were handed out. I'd had to pee once
during the flight; I'd not heard of anything like the 'mile high club' and
neither the confined space nor the knowledge that someone was waiting on
other side gave me any desire to pleasure myself in there.

We landed, and I waited in my seat for the stewardess to collect me, walk
me off the plane and hand me off to Daryl's mom. As we approached them, and
in particular Daryl, I couldn't help but break out in a huge smile. I could
see the same on Daryl's face and in a move that had really taken me by
surprise, he had wrapped his arms around me and given me a hug. While Daryl
and I were best friends, hugs had never really been part of our
routine. Contact between us had most typically consisted of some punching
and playful fighting. There had been some other contact, but it hadn't
involved hugging either.

At some point Daryl must've felt like he'd hugged me far longer or harder
than might be acceptable, so he abruptly pulled back. We were still
grinning like a couple of fools, but there hung a slightly awkward silence
between us. Now that we were face to face again it seemed like it was hard
to find a place to start talking. I think we had both realized how much we
had missed each other, but neither of us was willing to admit it out loud
yet.  On the phone we had a fairly basic routine of updating each other on
anything cool or funny that had happened, and of course we'd trade some
jokes, the really dirty ones only when our parents were out of earshot.

We had started some idle chatter, mostly mimicking our phone routine, when
Daryl's mom told us we could talk all we wanted once we're at the house,
but for now she wanted nothing more than for us to collect my suitcase so
that we could leave the airport. Daryl's mom was friendly, but still as
direct to the point as I had remembered.  I spent most of the car ride
gazing out the window, taking in the new sights of a place I'd never been
before.  From time to time I'd notice Daryl gazing at me and when he'd
realize I saw him, he'd grin and we'd both laugh. I guess it had been our
way of saying how good it was to see each other because of course boys of
our age didn't get all emotional and mushy with each other.

About an hour's ride later we arrived at their house. It seemed slightly
larger than our own house, and was much newer and that seemed to make it
more fancy in my mind. I grabbed my bag from the trunk and we headed to the
door and inside. Daryl's father greeted me with a hearty handshake, his
comparatively large hand nearly crushing my own. Daryl's younger brother
Mike and his older sister Terrie made an appearance to greet me as
well. Mike had gotten a little bigger, but seemed relatively unchanged from
when I'd seen him last. Terrie had changed a fair bit, most noticeably that
her breasts had gotten much larger and overall she seemed much more like an
adult than I'd remembered. She reminded slightly of the girl I'd seen at
the boxcar, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as the rest of
that memory came forward.

"Forget these clowns, let's get you settled in my room", Daryl announced
loudly, restoring some of that brashness that I'd always admired. His
younger brother was about to flip him the bird, but thought better of it
when realized that his parents were still right there.

"Supper will be in about an hour, I hope you're ok to wait that long
Martin. If you want, there's some fruit you can have if you're hungry after
the flight."

I hadn't really thought about being hungry until Daryl's mom mentioned it,
but I politely declined. I was more interested in following Daryl to his
room. Once there, Daryl began talking, more in that non-stop stream that I
had been used to in the past. I wasn't sure if it was because he was trying
to fill the silence and hide any nervousness that he felt at having me
there, or if it was good old Daryl. I tended to go with the latter, as the
Daryl I knew wasn't prone to nerves. He talked about his school, their
house, the neighborhood, some of the cool trails on which to go biking, and
it seemed like a million other things. I had tossed my bag on the floor and
flopped on his bed as he talked. Daryl was an animated talker once he got
going, with plenty of hand gestures and facial expressions to add to what
he was saying.

To be honest, I'd only been half-listening; some of what he was telling
were things he'd already talked about on the phone, albeit now in more
detail and the added theatrics. As I laid on the bed, I looked at Daryl; it
was the first chance I'd had since arriving to really take him in. He'd
definitely gotten taller since I'd seen him, I guessed he was a good inch
taller than I was, and he'd also filled out. Where I was still on the
slender side, he had clearly gained weight with broader shoulders and
chest. He wasn't what you would've called a jock, but he certainly appeared
more athletic than I.

I was brought out of my state of mind when I heard Daryl say, "Yeah, and
then I called him a stupid fucker and shot him in the head."

"What ....?"

"Oh, you're finally listening to me dick-breath", he grinned and laughed as
he added, "... I thought you always hung on every word I'd ever said."

I rolled me eyes, "Whatever asshole, I'll listen when you've got something
to say I wanna hear."  Daryl laughed as he flopped down on the bed next me,
and punched me in the arm, "Watch it you skinny prick, I'll beat your ass."

This was the Daryl I remembered, other than his language had gotten a bit
more colorful, with just about every sentence started or punctuated with a
dirty word or phrase. In a way it suited him; although I assumed he toned
it down with his folks, it really worked with his personality and general
attitude.

I couldn't help but grin, "Try it, you'll find I fight dirty!"

"Oh yeah? You mean like this?", he grabbed a fistful of my crotch and gave
it a good squeeze, causing me to curl up and tell him to fuck off. He
released his grip and began laughing uncontrollably at what he clearly
perceived as having gotten the better of me.

I was about ready to retaliate when we heard his mother yell that supper
was ready, "You're lucky your momma is calling you, dick head, this ain't
over!"

We both laughed and got up to go eat. We sat in their backyard; Daryl's dad
had barbecued some burgers and dogs, and we both ate like we'd not seen in
food in ages.

"Christ, nothing wrong with your appetites", his dad laughed.

Daryl's family chattered the entire time we were eating, with the
occasional question or comment directed my way. I'd answer between bites,
trying to remember my manners of not speaking with my mouth full; I felt my
mother would be proud. Daryl and his brother Mike didn't abide by the same
manners, especially Mike who thought nothing of answering while his mouth
was stuffed as full as it could be. Despite being admonished several times
by their mother, they continued behavior that would've horrified my mother.

It was a beautiful evening, and we stayed outside for a long time, passing
a ball between us and Mike. Terrie had excused herself as she apparently
had a date to go on; Daryl had formed a circle with his thumb and
forefinger, then slid the forefinger of his other hand in the circle in a
universal sign of fucking. Daryl's sister saw him and flipped him her
middle finger, telling him that his hands were as close as he was going to
get to any action.  Mike and I rolled on the grass, laughing at the insult
she had landed. Daryl grumbled a 'fuck off', but it was clear that Terrie's
comment had hit their mark; his face was a combination of anger and
embarrassment. Daryl had never mentioned any girls on the phone with me, so
I assumed he hadn't done anything. Despite some of the thoughts I'd had
about Daryl while I had masturbated, I didn't think that he'd be into guys;
somehow he didn't strike me the type. But then again, I had always hoped
that I didn't strike others as the type either.

As it began to get dark, we went in. I yawned and realized that the trip
out had made me more tired than I thought, and it seemed to be catching up
with me. I told Daryl that I thought maybe I'd go to bed and get a fresh
start in the morning. I hadn't expected that Daryl would also go to bed,
but he came with me. The house was set up with three bedrooms, a bathroom
and an open area on the lower level; the kitchen, living and dining rooms,
and a small bathroom on the main level; and the master bedroom on a small
upper level with its own bathroom.  I grabbed my toothbrush and paste from
my suitcase and headed to the bathroom; although I had pajama bottoms in my
bag, I wasn't sure what Daryl slept in and I was just going to wait and
follow his lead. I peed and brushed my teeth, finishing just after Daryl
came in to brush his own teeth. He headed to the toilet to have his own
pee, and as much I had wanted to stay and see how he'd changed there as
well, I turned and walked out, heading back to his room. I realized that it
might seem odd if I waited fully dressed, so I pulled off my shirt and
folded it next to my bag. At home I'd never have folded a shirt I'd just
taken off, but it seemed like it would waste some time until Daryl
returned. I opened the suitcase on the floor so that I could access both
sides; I took my folded shirt and laid it on one side while moving and
rearranging a bunch of things on the other side. Time seemed to drag and I
began to get nervous. I hadn't spent a night with Daryl for almost a whole
year; I wasn't sure if our protocols had changed now that we were 14 and
maturing.

Daryl walked in and closed the door behind him. Seeing me at my suitcase he
said since I was staying a couple of weeks that if I wanted I could have
one of the drawers in his dresser. I said it didn't matter, that he
shouldn't bother emptying one, but he pulled the bottom one open and I saw
that he'd already emptied it for me. I thanked him and emptied my stuff
into the drawer. As I did, I noticed that Daryl started to get
undressed. I'd also noticed that there was only the one double bed in his
room, and he'd not mentioned anything about a cot or a sleeping bag. I
wasn't sure whether to ask, and then thought that I'd leave it; if he'd
wanted me to sleep somewhere other than his bed he surely would've said by
now.

I had finished unpacking and was about to stand up so that I could finish
getting ready for bed. Daryl had already removed his shirt and shorts, and
was dropping them in a heap next to the dresser. As I turned to stand I
realized that I was looking directly at Daryl's package; his briefs were
well filled, and so it was clear that this part of his body had grown quite
a lot over the last year as well.

Daryl walked over to his bed, pulled the thin top sheet back and flopped
down.

I tried not to think about it as I pulled off my own shorts; I think if
we'd not been apart for a year I would've thought nothing of it, even if
I'd had a boner, Daryl would've just been that kind of friend if we'd
experienced more of puberty together.

I was about to fold my shorts and add them to the things in my drawer, but
decided to drop them where I stood.  I couldn't remember ever being quite
so nervous around Daryl. I felt like I wasn't quite sure how to act in that
moment, afraid that if I folded my shorts that I'd seem prissy and
feminine. Taking a deep breath, I turned to face the bed and saw that Daryl
was looking at me. I'm not sure if he'd been watching the back of me the
entire time, but his eyes clearly took in my front from top to bottom,
lingering somewhere in the middle. I guessed that it would be natural for
him to be as curious about how I was turning out as I was of him.

I walked to the door and flipped off his light; there was nearly a full
moon and a considerable amount of light fell through his open window.

"You okay with the window being open tonight? Otherwise it gets kinda hot
in here."

"No problem", I said as I laid down in the bed next to him, pulling the
sheet part way up my body in the same fashion he had. We were both bare
from the waist up, with our lower half covered.

We laid there not saying anything for a few minutes, when Daryl broke the
silence, "You doing okay? I mean the trip was okay and everything? You've
been kinda spacey a lot ... more than usual for a fucking space case like
you."

He laughed, and I did too. For a moment I'd thought he was going to let
some real emotions show. And maybe he had been, but felt he needed to cover
it. Maybe he was waiting to see if I was going to act differently than we
used to.

"Sorry, I guess I'm just more tired from the flight and everything than I
thought. Thanks for your concern though ... asswipe."

"Well get your sleep pretty boy, I got a big day planned tomorrow!"

"What're we doing?"

"You'll find out ... I'd tell yeah, but you might get scared and piss
yourself while you're sleeping!"

I took a mock sniff, "Whatever, smells like you've pissed the bed countless
times!"

We took turns insulting each other for a short while, and it felt like it
had on most of our earlier sleepovers. Even though I was tired, it was
Daryl that fell asleep first. His talking slowed and stopped, and I could
hear the deep breaths of his sleep. I laid awake for longer than I had
expected. As Daryl slept I began to recall some other memories of the times
we'd shared and from our many sleepovers, especially some of last ones we'd
had.

I remembered grade six bringing on many changes. We were both twelve and
our thoughts were becoming increasingly sexual in nature.

Often we'd bike over to the local store to buy candy. That always gave us
an opportunity to pass the magazine rack, the one with the dirty magazines
along the top; the covers were hidden but you could always read the titles:
Playboy, Penthouse, Hustler. We'd hang out in the aisle until no one was
coming through and grab one to flip through. Although I found that most of
my sexy dreams at night were of boys, the sight of any naked flesh was
enough to tent my shorts. That and the fact that I was doing this naughty
thing with my best friend.

As we'd flip through the pages I'd push and tug at the front of my
shorts. Daryl would grin and look at me, "What are you doing?"

"It needs to get comfortable," I'd laugh and reply, making Daryl grin even
more.

As soon as an adult started down the aisle we'd push the magazine back on
the rack, giggle and walk the other way.

One summer day, the summer that Daryl was moving, we were riding our bikes
on the trails in the woods behind our place. In the brush along one side of
the trail we saw some trash that had been dumped. We stopped as we noticed
scattered among the trash were a bunch of magazines with titles we
recognized from our trips to the local store. We both gathered some
magazines and taking our bikes, pushed through the brush into a clearing a
little way off the trail.

Dropping our bikes, we sat next to each other on a fallen log and began
flipping through the magazines. My shorts tented immediately and I noticed
the magazines were having a similar effect on Daryl. I tugged at my shorts
as we looked at the pictures of naked women, prompting Daryl to grin and
comment "Getting comfortable?"

I grinned back.

It was the first real secret I'd kept from Daryl. A couple of months
previous I'd discovered that tugging on my erect penis and rubbing it on my
bed made it tingle and feel incredibly good. I'd heard an older kid at
school use the word 'masturbating', and being a bit of a nerd, looked up
the word in the dictionary. I realized that the rubbing I was doing was
called 'masturbation'. Achieving that tingly feeling had become a regular
activity for me when I went to bed at night. At night I had vivid
dreams. Daryl and I biking along the trails. We were naked and we had to
double on my bike, with Daryl in front of me. I was aware of how hard my
penis had become, my body breaking out in a sweat from the effort of riding
and the sun shining on our skin. The riding caused my erection to slip and
slide against Daryl's pale white cheeks. I'd awaken feeling out of breath,
with deep contractions just behind my sack, which I'd noticed had started
to hang lower from my body. Just two weeks prior I had awoken from a
similar dream, feeling those same deep contractions. Grabbing the front of
my pajamas I found they were damp; initially I assumed it was from sweating
so hard, but when I reached into them I found the tip of my dick wet with a
sticky fluid. From having looked up masturbation in other books I was aware
that I was entering puberty and that I would begin ejaculating sperm. This
had been what the books had called a 'wet dream'.

In response to Daryl's comment about getting comfortable, I blurted out,
"Masturbating."

He grinned again with a quizzical look on his face, but didn't say anything
else about it. It made me wonder that maybe he didn't know what it meant or
that he hadn't yet discovered how good it felt. I had a brief mental debate
in my own head whether I should tell him, knowing in my heart that if Daryl
had discovered it first he surely would have filled me in.

Taking a deep breath, I was about to tell him when we heard some other kids
coming down the trail. Although we couldn't be easily seen through the
brush it spooked us; we grabbed our bikes and took off. In our haste we
left the magazines behind, for which we kicked ourselves later because when
we went back the next day they were gone.

A few days later Daryl was spending the night at my place. We had spent the
better part of the day swimming and horsing around at the local outdoor
pool, a favorite summer pastime for us. In the morning we'd put on our swim
shorts, throw a towel over our shoulders and head out on our bikes. I was
never quite sure why we bothered with towels since we rarely dried
ourselves for the ride home. Back in my room we got ready to dry off and
get changed into our regular clothes. By this point I was no longer shy
about getting changed in front of most other boys, especially
Daryl. Pulling off our damp shorts, I noticed that like mine, Daryl's balls
had started to hang lower on his body.

As we began toweling ourselves dry Daryl suddenly asked, "What was that
word you used the other day? You know, when we were looking at those
magazines."

I hesitated for a second, and felt my heart start to pound a little
harder. "You mean masturbating?"

Just saying the word to Daryl caused my penis to twitch. I'm not sure if he
noticed or not, his brief response being, "Oh yeah." It was the first time
that I'd felt Daryl was holding back; it wasn't typical for him to be
satisfied without asking a whole lot of questions.

I wanted to say more, but just then my mother shouted through the closed
door of my room that dinner was ready. In my mind I resolved that I would
tell Daryl about my recent discovery that night at bedtime.

During dinner I felt like I was a million miles away. I doubt my family
noticed, not because they were callous, but because when Daryl was around
he filled in whatever quiet moments existed with non-stop chatter. I'm
quite sure my parents found him exasperating at times, but generally they
were just happy that I had such a close friend. And although they didn't
always approve of some of the reckless adventures that Daryl instigated,
they also saw the positive effect he had on me in terms of my
self-confidence.

Afterwards we watched some television and much as during dinner, my mind
was elsewhere.

I had become fascinated with looking at other boys at school or whenever I
was out. And it wasn't just what they looked like. It was also about how
they smelled, that slightly sweaty, sweet musky smell of a boy becoming a
man. Whenever I passed a cute boy, which to be honest seemed like pretty
much every one of them, I'd inhale deeply as though I'd be able to smell
the scent of their nightly masturbation habits. Trying to spot boys
suffering from random boners became a sport and the times when I did became
prized memories to be replayed during my own nightly masturbation habit and
dreams. I'd imagine them fingering their erections, rubbing themselves to
achieve that same glorious release that I sought.

"I said it's time for you boys to get ready for bed. Honestly, it's like
there's cotton in your ears," my mother brought me out of my thoughts.

Daryl poked me in the ribs prompting us both to laugh as we went to brush
our teeth, pee and put on our pajamas. Back in my room we horsed around for
a while until my mother banged on the door and told us to knock it
off. Still laughing we climbed into my bed. From our first sleepover on
we'd always slept in the same bed, and that hadn't changed. Except that for
me it had become something special to which to look forward; while Daryl
slept I was close enough that I could inhale his scent as much as I wanted.

Lately I'd been having feelings of wanting to reach out and touch him in
his sleep, to touch his penis, to feel his erection. I hadn't acted on
those feelings when I first had them; he was my best friend and I already
felt guilty for having such vividly dirty thoughts and dreams about him.

During the final few sleepovers, knowing that Daryl was moving, the
temptation to touch him became overwhelming. I would wait until Daryl was
soundly asleep, and with my heart beating so loud I was sure it would wake
not only him, but my parents in the next room, I slowly moved my hand under
the sheets until it was pressed against Daryl's side. I could feel the
cotton of his briefs and the heat of his body. Steeling myself, I slowly
moved my hand further up his briefs until it was on the front of them. I
could feel his penis under the fabric, my own threatening to burst through
my underwear. For two sleepovers it was as far as I had dared to go; I
would place my hand there and use my other hand to rub myself until I
climaxed. I became bolder during the last two sleepovers; Daryl had slept
soundly the previous times and so I started with my hand in the same place,
but then slowly moved it up and under the waistband of his underwear until
my hand was in direct contact with his dick. At this point I had a few
hairs sprouting on my mound, but Daryl's still felt smooth. As I touched
him I felt his dick grow and stiffen. I held still, afraid that if I moved
now I would wake him. But his breathing continued as it had and I slowly
rubbed his a little as I rubbed my own with the other hand. Actually
feeling another boy's cock, his cock, was both frightening and
exhilarating. During both sleepovers I could feel the tip of dick getting
slightly damp; this caused me to climax hard and I was afraid that my heavy
breathing during and after my orgasm would surely bring him out of his
sleep. But it hadn't.

And now I was laying next to Daryl again. Except this time he was so much
more grown from what I had seen in his briefs. And I had already
experienced the feeling of real teen cock in my hand and mouth. My cock was
now rock hard, and I was feeling the temptation to touch him, to see if it
would feel the same as touching Ken. I was sweating, and in the end I
resisted the urge to reach over.

I finally drifted off, but my sleep was restless.