Skip - Part 2


Skip - Part 2

A noise in the street outside woke me up. I was disoriented for a moment. Not my bedroom, so where . . . Ah, Mr. Hunk-and-a-Half at stage right.

Skip's alarm clock showed 7:45 in the morning. He was waking up at the same time. He wrapped his arms around me again and pulled me to him.

"Morning, bud. Did you sleep okay?"

"Better than I have in weeks. I was beat, but I also think having you close to me made a world of difference. Er, I hope that doesn't sound like a come-on. I mean it in the sense of comfort, like you intended to show me."

"Good, I'm really glad. My parents raised Billy and me to be good to people and to watch out for anyone who was having a bad time. I'm really sorry that you're sick, but I also want you to know that I'll be here for you anytime. We got all summer, E-mail, Christmas holiday, and beyond, right?"

"Right. My college roommate, Jeff, would tell you that you and I are a lot alike. He got sick, too. His friends pulled away from him, which made him and me even closer because he knew that I'd be there for him 24 hours a day. There's a lot of comfort in that. I'm glad you're not afraid to give a hug when it's needed. Lots of guys, and some women, too, just aren't into it. Too bad."

"I came from an affectionate household. Billy and I still hug when we feel a need to. When you grow up accepting it, it doesn't seem weird."

"I didn't grow up with a huge amount of affection, though I certainly wasn't neglected. But, hugs were few and far between. Jeff always felt that a hug did him more good than chemotherapy ever did. I can't think of a better way to show that you really care about someone."

We lay together in bed for another half hour. Neither of us had to work today and had no reason to be up very early.

"Will you hang out with me today? I'm meeting up with Billy for lunch later, too. You're welcome to come along. Maybe we can make a day of it and then do take-out tonight. Got anywhere you need to be today?"

"Nope, I don't. I run during the week, so if I take a break on any given weekend, no damage done. I tend to take offers as they come because when you say no too many times, the offers disappear."

I smiled, figuring Skip wasn't the kind to do that. He smiled back, telling me he wasn't. Being spontaneous made life a little more interesting. He was glad I could hang out with them today. He told me he'd worry if I went home alone, wondering if I'd spend it hidden away.

"I wouldn't. I'd probably go out for a walk, sit outside on my patio and read. Getting through a day isn't hard. But, I'd rather not have a do-nothing day today. I won't now. Thanks to you, man."

"Good. I've done it, for a short while. It sucks. Billy would dog me until I'd give up and say yes to whatever he was doing. I'm not above doing that either, by the way."

"In that case, I guess I won't have to worry about spending too much time alone. Like I said yesterday, did some magical power send you to me?"

"Maybe. For the benefit of both of us, I think."

"Yeah. Amen."

"Your bathroom is across the hall. I'm going to shower, so you can do the same. Take your time and do what you normally do. I'll meet you downstairs."

I was done sooner than Skip, so I went downstairs. I decided to be somewhat bold. By the time he walked into the kitchen, I had poached eggs on an English muffin ready. I poured OJ for us both.

"Good looking and he cooks. Way cool," he joked. "My kind of breakfast. I have to wonder if we were separated at birth."

"Nah, I'm too old. I do like to cook, though. I learned from my mom. It's simple, good for you, and just plain good."

"Good is right, better than good. Eggs, cheese, English muffin, juice . . . first class, bud."

"You cook?"

"Yeah. Same as you, simple and good. I've thought about gourmet, but it's just not me."

"Instead of take-out for dinner, let's go to the grocery store later and then cook up a storm. Would Billy join us if we did that?"

"Good idea, and yes he would."

"Light lunch, then. I got a plan."

"Okay. Let's do Subway. I'll give Billy a call so he can meet us."

We gave the dishes a light rinse, put them in the dishwasher, and then headed out."

We spent the day running all over the city -- auto parts store, mall, Subway for lunch with Billy, video store, and home center. I lived in an apartment so I rarely hit the home center, but I found some stuff I could use on my small upstairs balcony anyway. The video was for later, after dinner. Skip told Billy I'd made a quick but great breakfast and had a plan for dinner, asking him to join us.

We stopped at my place long enough for me to get a change of clothes for tomorrow. I'd accepted an invitation to stay overnight with the guys. Skip told me if I wanted to keep a change of clothes in my car I could feel free to stay over after work on occasion. We lived a few minutes apart, so I kept a duffel bag in the car to let myself be spontaneous. It was nice to go and do something without worrying about what I was wearing, especially if we did stuff after work. Skip was also a runner, more serious than me, even, so we would run together as the summer wore on.

It had started to rain late in the day so we decided to forego any other running around in favor going home and doing a couple of projects. Saturday night brought seafood, which was fresh since we lived in New England, and the video.

Skip prepped potatoes to be roasted and then cut up some summer squash and zucchini. I make a stuffing out of jumbo lump crab, shredded carrots, and crackers. I wrapped haddock around it. Billy, not a cook just yet, came with dessert. He brought a homemade blueberry pie fresh from Mom's kitchen. Thanks Mom!

We ate until full, truly, and then cleaned up.

"I know you planned on a video for later, but I decided to treat us to movie tickets for a 7:45 show," said Billy. He pulled three out of his wallet.

"Good job, bro," said Skip. "Which one?"

"Jurassic Park. The previews look decent."

"Nice," I said. "It's on my list. I'm not above going to a good movie by myself, but I really like a night out once a month with a friend. Blueberry pie qualifies Billy for friend-material, right Skip?"

"A friend indeed. Let's roll."

Later . . .
"Remind me never to go to such an out of the way place to take a crap, okay bro?" joked Billy. "The comforts of home seem so much better to me now."

"Amen," said Skip and I almost simultaneously. Then we laughed.

It was close to 10:30 when we got home. Instead of settling at his place, Billy came back to Skip's for a smaller piece of pie, tea, and conversation. By 1:30, we were all yawning. Billy waved good night and left.

Sunday morning I woke with the sun shining brightly on my face, and Skip's arms wrapped tightly around my chest. He was spooned up against me. It was past 2:00 before we finally shut up long enough to sleep. I held on to his arms and lay still, with my eyes closed, enjoying being held. The warmth of his body against mine felt nice. I drifted back to sleep. It was another two hours before I woke again. Skip was lying beside me, watching me, being quiet so as not to wake me up sooner than I wanted. I put my arm around his shoulders and drew him close. He put his head on my chest.

"I can hear your heart beat, man. It sounds cool."

"Funny, but I can feel yours . . . I think I felt it as you held me during the night.

My stomach growled, which I took it to mean that we needed to get up and get some breakfast in us. The clock said 8:45. I was about to get up a bit later when I reconsidered.

"What's up?" said Skip, noticing my aborted attempt to get up.

"Uh, er, actually I am."

I turned a bit red and pulled the sheet back on top of me.

"Huh? Oh. Ha ha. What's to be embarrassed about? I've had a boner since we went to bed last night. After all you've been through, it's probably good to know that you can get it up."

"Well, true. Actually, the morning I don't wake up with a hard-on, I'll be surprised. I just didn't want you to think, well. . ."

"Come on, buddy. I don't think anything. To tell you the truth, you turn me on. I'm glad to be better friends with you today then we were a week ago. Friendships, good ones like ours, are enough to make me hard because they also make me feel great. Billy and I fool around, even now, because it keeps our friendship strong, not just because it's sex. I hate labels. I'm sexual, period."

"Really? Would you want to 'fool around' with me? It's been a long time. Jeff and I used to, for basically the same reason."

Skip slid the sheets back and took my cock in his hand. His touch was firm and nice. He pulled me to him and kissed me on my lips. I instantly returned the kiss and flashed back to Jeff. This felt so natural that we just let it go where it would. Yeah I was gay, but who liked labels? I liked feeling good, and if it took a guy to do it, fine.

"What have I done to be rewarded with you? I have to confess; I ogle at your ass."

"I'm honored. I ogle yours, too."

"Come on, I'm a nobody. I got ten years plus on you. `Dirty old man' to you."

"First, you're not a nobody. You're a special somebody."

"Skip, come . . ."

"Second, I never say anything I don't mean. Ever."

He let go of my dick, turned me to face him, wrapped his muscular arms around me, and kissed me like the world would end tomorrow.

"This . . .," he said after kissing me, ". . . is love that you deserve. So do I. I earned it, to be with a man like you, to be happy, to cherish a friend. Maybe the world will end tomorrow, but we're going to die complete. Okay?"

I scowled. I am a nobody. Thirty-three, living day by day.

"I want you in my life. We live and we die, in that order, and I DO want you, Aaron. For a lifetime if we can have it. But for today is good enough."

I could not answer. A tear ran from my eye. He kissed it away.

"I'll take that as a yes."

We kissed, explored, and held on. I took his cock and stroked it gently, imitating Skip's movements. We kissed and stroked each other for a half hour or more. My breathing changed and he knew I was about to come. He stroked my cock more firmly and I shot a hot, creamy white load all over my chest and stomach. I increased my grip on his dick and he shot only moments after me, matching me nearly spurt for spurt in a thick, juicy load. Mine was the best load of the month and I told him so. He smiled.

We lay in each other's arms, kissed contentedly, and cherished the newfound joy. He whispered something in my ear. I laughed aloud and nodded. He moved to my mouth, throat, nipples, navel, and finally to my cock head. He kissed and licked the purple head and then licked up and down my flesh. He returned to the cock head and sucked the full length of my cock into his mouth. Skip sucked me, in and out, up and down, shaft to head and back for 20 minutes. He once again heard my breathing change and increased his mouth work on my hot, throbbing dick. I shot a load at least equal to my first and filled his mouth and throat with my juice. He sucked my dick until the spurting ended and until I softened. He lay beside me once again, placing his body half on mine, and kissed me again. His breath tasted of my cock and cum.

"Damn," I said.


"That was wicked. I loved it."

"Me too."

"Do we have to get up yet?"

"I'm already up. Hint, hint." He grinned mischievously.

I rolled him over onto his back, retraced the same trail, this time on his wonderful firm body, that he had taken on mine. I hadn't had cock in my mouth for several years, but his reminded me of Jeff's -- firm, long, thick, and throbbing. I licked and kissed his head, licked his shaft, sucked his meaty testicle into my mouth, and then went down the full length of his cock. It tasted and felt wonderful. I looked up at his eyes while I sucked his dick. He smiled and put his hand on my head, stroking my neck and hair. I enjoyed the feeling of his dick in my mouth for half an eternity. I sensed that he was close. I picked up the pace. He rewarded me with a mouthful of creamy, salty-sweet cum.

I had almost forgotten how sweet it could taste. I sucked it all deep into my throat and let him fill my belly. When he was spent, he pulled me up and on top of him, wrapped his legs around mine, and kissed me until we needed to get up, mostly because hunger made our belly's rumble. Despite what you guys feel, one cannot live by cum alone.

We went out for a late breakfast at a diner, picked up groceries at the supermarket, went out to a matinee at the last moment, walked down by the river for a couple of hours, and went back to his townhouse.

The dinner plan needed to be worked on because we had bought a pork roast. Since it would take awhile, we kept our minds on the task at hand. Well, probably Skip was keeping his mind on the task at hand. I was thinking about `the other white mean', non-pork-flavored. Dirty old man indeed.

The roast went into the oven with potatoes, onions, and carrots, plus a few herbs. Two other side dishes were in the fridge, ready for a quick spin in the microwave. Dessert would be ice cream sundaes maybe.

We didn't get too involved in anything because Billy would come over in awhile and we did not want to burn dinner. We lay on the sofa and kissed. Billy showed up a little sooner than planned. Oops.

"Really," said Billy, walking into the living room and continuing into the dining room.

"Oh crap," I said as I sat up.

"No, no," he called out. "Bro, you know what I mean, right?"

"Of course. Aaron in love and lust. Billy's pleased for us both."

"Amen," said Billy, continuing on to the kitchen.

Skip pulled me gently back down on my side. He kissed me as if we had not been interrupted. "Mom and Dad always knock so no harm, no foul. I already told you that Billy and I fool around. He doesn't judge. Besides, when you're ready, maybe the three of us can have sex."

One thing I was learning about Skip was that he could care less what other people thought. Billy had walked on to the kitchen to keep an eye on dinner. After a few minutes of worry-free kissing, we joined him.

For dessert, Billy shined on. He took a piece of cold marble out of the fridge. The ice cream came out of the freezer, M&M's were pulled from a kitchen cabinet, and fresh whipped cream was beat and put back in the fridge. Billy used a wide spatula to temper the ice cream. Then he mixed the M&M's in while Skip got bowls down from the cabinet. I remembered the whipped cream after we'd started eating, so I got up and brought it from the fridge.

"Good job, Aaron," said Skip.

"And to Billy. Nicely down, man," I said to the young man.

"I'll have to run about 200 miles this week to work this all off, but you can't beat Sunday dinner with Bro."

"Agreed. Next week then?" I asked.

"Yeah. I tend to do as you said, live in the moment, but a bit of a plan is good. Makes the working world easier to take."

"Okay, then, my brothers, I got to do a bit of homework and laundry."

Billy stood beside me, put his arm across my shoulder, and kissed me on my forehead. I took his head in both my hands and kissed him, too. Skip came over, hugged me tight, kissed me on my lips, and hugged me again.

"The weekend was just right, bud. Thanks for everything."

I hated to leave. The brothers knew it. We stood close for a few more minutes, arms around each other, glad to be together. We'd catch up tomorrow at work, or later in the week.

If Skip was not having lunch with me at work, Billy was.

"Well, Billy, the good news is I ran for the past three mornings and worked off all the eating we did over the weekend. I'm not used to eating so well so often. Dessert is also a monthly treat, not a twice in a weekend feast. The ice cream idea was just awesome, though."

"Can't claim the idea is mine because I had it in Atlanta last year. But, it's a nice treat. I know what you mean, though, I'm so glad I'm a runner."

Skip came up to the table, brown bag lunch in hand, and joined us.

"I've got about ten minutes. How about you guys?"

"A bit more for me," I said.

"Me too," said Billy. "Busy bro?"

"Yeah. I'm working on the ninth floor, framing walls. The schedule shows the electrical will be ready to do by Monday."

Electrical was Billy's specialty, as well as plumbing, as I learned later.

Turning to me, he said "And the LAN can be run starting Wednesday. I hear you're involved in the plan."

"Yup. I couldn't manage a network, but I can wire the server room just fine."

"That reminds me, bro, Aaron and I are going to work on my senior thesis over the summer, which means developing a business model. We've talked about being business partners some day, after we graduate. You should be part of that, since I know you love Corporate America about as much as I do."

"Count me in then, boys. I like to work for an honest paycheck. A partnership would be brilliant."

"What are you going to major in when you go to Syracuse?" I asked Billy.

"Economics and finance. If I fail at business, I could be a bookie," he joked.

A bit later, Skip finished his sandwich and coffee. Billy and I weren't too far behind. I had a meeting about the layout of the LAN on nine, so I took some notes ahead of time.

Thursday became Friday. A reminder fired off on my calendar after I logged on to the LAN. "Call Doc Westin – 11:00". I set my calendar to remind me again at 10:45.

At 4:30, I headed out the door to pick up the shuttle van. Billy was driving instead of Skip, as was usual for Friday. He dropped us off a mile from the office. I told him I'd be at Skip's place within the hour.

"What's for dessert tomorrow night for dinner?"

"No telling. Mom will bake something amazing, as always. Any requests?"

"Hint—I like strawberries and rhubarb."

"Duly noted, my friend. See you later."

Dinner, Friday-style, was light but not pizza this time. Skip and I started a mid-week routine; making a grocery list, dividing it up, and shopping Thursday night for Friday. We would shop for Saturday and Sunday very early Saturday morning. Any leftovers would give us free lunch for the week.

Billy came in with a six-pack of beer while I put the top tortilla shell over a bottom tortilla, diced chicken, onions, peppers, three cheeses, and salsa. I saved the rest of the salsa in a bowl for topping. The quesadilla was relegated to the oven for a few minutes.

"Wow, a no-pizza Friday, Skip. Is this a first?" asked Billy.

"First in months, including at school. Aaron loves to cook, and I'm not one to argue."

Billy took a taste of the salsa sitting on the counter.


"Naturally. Out of the jar is good, but you guys don't deserve merely `good'."

"Bro. He's a keeper."

"That he is."

"You two. I'm getting the better end of this friendship deal. I told Skip last weekend that I'm a nobody."

"And he told you?"

"That I'm a special somebody."

"He's right. You are very special, to both of us. Cut yourself a break, huh?"

"I have a tumor on my kidney, which I might lose. Someone who is special doesn't get saddled with that crap."

"Skip did."

"Skip was special to begin with."

"Okay, try this on for size. We, each person on this planet, is meant to be here. There are no random accidents."

"All things for a reason. Yeah, yeah. Then why did Kate have to die?"

"Why does anyone?"

I had no answer, but I knew inside that if I were gone tomorrow, no one would care.

"We would care. Billy and I both would care a whole lot."

"Am I that readable? Or are you gifted?"

"Yes and yes."

"But . . ."

Billy had had enough. He came over to my side, turned me to him, and wrapped his arms around me. He rubbed my back with one hand. He kissed my neck gently.

"You are a special someone. Do not ever let anyone tell you different. Ever. I, like bro, do not ever say something I don't mean. You think you're being punished, by losing Kate and by having a tumor, for something you've done wrong."

It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," I said, my voice breaking.

"Then look at it this way. My brother and I love you. You're special enough to stand out among thousands of other guys out there, just by being here. You fit us, so easily. Everything about you screams long-time friend, and more. Please believe us."

Skip showed that he agreed by taking me from Billy and hugging me again, like last weekend.

"And more. Please believe us."

I nodded, tears in my eyes. I haven't felt love for so long that I didn't know how to accept it. I would learn. My education did not come from just the classroom. The brothers were very sincere. I nodded again. Skip put his thumbs against my cheeks and wiped away the tears. He kissed my cheek. Billy bent in to kiss the other one. He rubbed my back again, with affection, with sincerity.

We moved forward, today, and for considerable time to come. I carefully flipped the three quesadillas, put it back in the oven for another minute, and got plates out of the cabinet. I knew Skip's cabinets as well as I knew my own.

We ate dinner, cleaned up a bit, and went out for a walk through the neighborhood. As it got darker, we slowed down to enjoy the night symphony. Neither young man had a girlfriend; therefore, we had each other to enjoy our lives with. Weird, but I finally got it. I was a special somebody. I was a young man, a bit older but nonetheless young, who had two of the finest young men to hang out with. It wasn't even physical now. It just was. Skip, Billy, Aaron—buddies extraordinaire. I liked it. They did as well.

He sat beside each other on a park fence in the warm summer air. Nobody was around but we three. The moon shone bright on a cloudless night. Billy took my left hand, holding it in both of his. Skip did the same, as if on cue from Billy. I never knew what they were up to. Go with the flow, as the saying goes.

"Can I kiss you?" Billy whispered quietly into my ear.

In answer, I turned to him and nodded slightly. His lips touched mine. It was a dry kiss for long moments, and then I allowed him to part my lips with his tongue. He was so sweet. His breath tasted faintly of my fresh salsa. I turned to Skip and he did just the same. I held both of them, kissed each alternately, and enjoyed the moment. The kisses were as far as it went, which was just fine for all of us. Moonlight romance. Nice. I could get use to our Friday night routines, which would end when Skip went back to Boston as a senior, and Billy, a freshman this fall, went to upstate New York. He had graduated from high school two weeks ago. We had the summer, so the future did not matter. ". . . it's in the moments I'm in." As it should be.

We walked the border of the park and then cut across diagonally to the boy's neighborhood again. We sat on the porch until bedtime. Billy kissed us both good night, returning to his townhouse. Skip and I went inside, made hot tea, and settled in front of the TV for a while. He had his back against the corner of the couch, his legs across the couch, with me between them, leaning against him.

"A penny for your thoughts?" he asked.

"Maybe a half-penny, since I'm thinking only about you holding me. Life is good. I'm very grateful for what you and Billy said to me earlier this evening. The park was the perfect ending. Thanks Skip. You did say I couldn't bring you down, and you proved it. Now I'm okay."

"As you deserve to be."

We went upstairs. Instead of getting right into bed, we showered together, enough to be fresh and relaxed. We kissed for a couple moments. When we got into bed, it was my turn to spoon Skip. I held him close and we slept almost immediately.

"As you deserve to be," were the last words of the day.

On Saturday morning, we woke in the same positions as when we fell asleep. I kissed his shoulder gently, then his neck, then his cheek.

"Don't stop there," he said.

He rolled onto his back, pulled me half on top of him, and we kissed for long minutes.

We dressed and went downstairs. I put coffee on. Skip had a large fresh russet potato in the pantry so I shredded it for hash browns. I finely chopped an onion to throw into the skillet as well. Skip got ingredients together for his famous `garbage omelet'. I knew what that meant, having made omelets a routine on the weekend as a way to clean out leftovers of meats, veggies, and cheeses from the fridge. In a matter of minutes, breakfast was served.

There was a patio off the kitchen at the back of the townhouse. The day was a bit overcast, but the weather was nice enough to be outdoors. Breakfast, or any meal, was not to be rushed, so we took our time as we talked, ate, and went back for seconds.

"My weekends are so different now. I get things more things done, not fewer, and I'm so happy to have and be a friend like you. The pleasure of your company . . . I guess I really don't know how to finish that thought."

"The pleasure of your company . . . is nice. The end," I finished for him.

"The pleasure of your company is nice," he echoed.

"And you, sweet Aaron, are so cool, and so brilliant, and supremely kind, and sweetly sexy and amazingly incredibly . . ." I joked, laughing aloud.

"And all of that. Truly." He leaned toward me and kissed me on my forehead, arm around my neck, keeping me close.

"And more. Thank you for helping me renew my life beyond the cancer I had, to not be put off by it, to be your friend, for you to be mine, and to help you live beyond your cancer so you can feel like I feel at this moment."

"Cheers, my friend." I raised my coffee cup to Skip.

"Cheers, my bud," he said as he raised his to me. "One more thing. I want to make real love to you, later today. If I don't say it now, I may not say it for fear of pushing you to more than you want. I'm afraid, but I . . ."

"Yes," is all I said. I nodded sincerely, looking into his eyes. He did not say anything that I was not already thinking. I was more sure every day that he could read my thoughts.

"Maybe I can. Or maybe you and I just want the same thing. Friendship is first, bud, and always, always will be. Nonetheless, I had given up on being able be sexual again. Someday I might want a wife and kids, but I want only you for this part of my life. When you aren't around me, I think about you. When you are around me, I just feel like I've done everything right to deserve you."

"In the words of my best friend, you are a special somebody."

"Nice," he said, smiling.

"You want to tackle that building project that I kept you from last weekend?"

"Actually, yes. I have a box of books that I really want to put on shelves. How are your carpentry skills?"

"Above average, thanks to friends that I grew up with," I said.

"Good deal. Let's go out to the home store so we can get lumber and supplies. It won't be elaborate, but I don't want to use scrap lumber that's in my basement."

An hour later, we were laying out lumber in the back yard and setting up a borrowed table saw from Skip's dad. Two hours later, we were putting the last nail in the last stud in the wall. We stained the built-in bookshelves and then went back to the park while it dried. We bought a scoop of ice cream each from the ice cream truck that sat at the edge of the park. We sat in the shade, holding hands so that no one could see. Why make people feel the need to label us?

We drove into downtown, parked on a side street, and window shopped the local shops. I went inside a bookstore, telling Skip to stay outside because I had a surprise for him. I came back out after only 10 minutes with an item or two in a brown bag with handles. He tried to peek but it had tissue paper on top so he could not see.


"You'll see it when we get home."

"Then let's go home."

"Nope. I need a CD at the music store. Come along."

"Yes sir."

"There. That's what I like. Submission." I laughed aloud, evilly.

"Yes sir."

I found a new Journey CD that I wanted based on the song that played when my clock radio fired off last week. I had made a note.

"Home, James."

"Yes sir."

When we got home, I made him sit on the sofa, out of view of the new bookshelf. I placed hardcover volumes one through four of a seven part fiction series on his bookshelf, top shelf center.

"How did you ever know that is a series I wanted?"

"You're not the only one with a little mind-trick my bud. My instincts are very strong and I've got an eye for detail of all kinds."

"Thank you, Aaron. I'm keeping an eye out for the rest of the series."

"Nope. Don't buy any. I want to complete the set for you. It's not much . . ."

"It's huge. Seriously. I promise not to buy any if you want to do that."

"I do. Now, a while ago we were discussing submission."

"Say no more," he said.

Skip's cock was hard, outlined in the fabric of his blue jeans. I walked up behind him, put my hand on his crotch, rubbed it until it got even harder, then slipped my hand down the front of his jeans. He leaned against me and I pushed my crotch into his ass. Both of us were so hot, as if we hadn't had sex in weeks.

I lay him on the floor, pulled his work boots and jeans off, licked his dick top to bottom, sucked his ball and moved down to his asshole. It was warm and moist. My tongue flicked in and out of his hole and he spread his legs as far apart as he could manage. I rimmed his sweet, tight, juicy pink hole, added as much spit as I could work up, and then pushed it into him with my tongue. He squirmed and smiled, enjoying every playful lick. I took off my jeans, raised and spread his legs, put my face in his ass and licked repeatedly, burying my face deep into his asshole.

He worked himself around and pulled me down on his face. His tongue found my moist asshole and flicked its way deep as he could manage. I returned to his ball and thick cock, and licked and sucked them while he ate my ass. I pushed my ass deep on to his face and he rewarded me with a rim job like I'd never experienced. As I sucked his cock, I put my finger up his butthole, working it around and probing his insides.

"Have you ever had a dick inside your ass?" he asked. "I'd sure enjoy sliding my cock up your sweet, tight asshole."

"Not for a long time. I bet you could fuck me real good."

I lay down on the floor, spread my legs, and invited him in. He spit on his cock and stroked it a couple of times while he added spit to my asshole. I felt his cockhead push against the rim of my hot hole, probing, waiting patiently to enter me. His head went in, followed by his long shaft. I had guessed right. He's over seven inches, moderately thick but not so that it hurt. I felt his ball sac against my ass. My legs were up over his shoulders. I put my hands on his arms and then pulled his mouth to mine while he let me get used to his cock. In no time, he was fucking me like we'd done this together all our lives. He pushed and pulled, sliding his juicy dick in and out of my hungry hole. He was good with his dick. For almost fifteen minutes, I enjoyed his cock pumping into my ass.

"You're not going to make me pregnant, are you?" I joked.

"Sadly, no. I got no baby-makers. Just hot cum."

"Fill my belly, Skip. Come inside me and fill me up. I want to feel your load inside my hot hole."

He bent down to kiss me again, pushed faster and harder and moaned as he spurt his creamy white gism inside my twitching asshole. He pumped me until his dick went soft, pulled out, lay on top of me, and kissed me with all the passion he had to give.

We rested a short bit on the sofa and then he asked me to fuck him until I was dry. No problem. I licked his asshole while he lubed my cock with his spit. I spread his legs, put them on my shoulders, put my cock head against his willing hole, and was inside him in one, easy, long push.

"Your dick feels as natural in me as Billy's does. I hope you'll come back and have a three-way with Billy and me. We've never done one."

"Me either. It sounds hot. He's a real looker, just like you are, buddy. I love the feeling of my hard, throbbing dick inside your asshole. I feel like I could fuck you all night and come forever."

My cock slid inside Skip's hole like it was meant to be there all the time. I fucked him slow and steady. I had no urge to hurt him. Our sex and lovemaking was slow, gentle, and passionate. We kissed as I slid my cock inside him, filling him up with my manhood. My cock seemed harder now than it had ever been. I was getting close and Skip knew it.

"Yeah, let your load fly in me. I want to feel your cum all the way to my gut. Fuck me, buddy, fuck me good.

In a matter of moments, my hot creamy load was filling his insides. It had been a long time since I'd had such an intense orgasm. Nothing we did was strange or unnatural. We were two newfound friends pleasing each other physically and emotionally.

"Will our baby look like me?" I laughed.

"If he's blessed, yeah. No matter what, we are now a part of each other."

"I'm pleased."

I was a little afraid of leaving and him having time to reconsider all this. I knew he was a good guy. I hoped that he'd keep on liking me. `Teen' angst—go figure.

I tried to make it clear to him that sex was good, but if it got in the way of us being friends, I'd rather have his friendship. He told me I had nothing to worry about. We'd be friends for a very long time. I believed him.

We listened to music, walked around the neighborhood before dinner, and then headed for the kitchen. He pulled potatoes, onions, and carrots from the pantry. I went into the fridge for hamburger, ground pork, and ground turkey. He handed me a large stainless bowl. I started to mix the meats with my hands while he cracked two eggs into the bowl for me.

"What's missing?" he asked, looking though the pantry.

"Tomato sauce or spaghetti sauce."

"I'm all out. I'll go raid Billy's pantry."

Once he came back with tomato sauce and a stolen stash of herbs, I finished mixing the meatloaf. I formed it into a loaf, put it on a foil-lined sheet, and put it to bake at 350 for one hour. That gave the potatoes time to boil and to be mashed. Skip and I cut up the carrots. I showed him something my mom did with carrots—added a tablespoon of sugar and ¼ stick of butter to the saucepan after they cooked.

"Mmmm. Cool idea."

"Billy's joining us for dinner?"

"Yeah. He should be over shortly."

"I'm here," Billy said a moment later. "Wow, what's the special tonight guys?"

"Meatloaf, smashed potatoes, gravy, glazed carrots, and whatever is in your hand."

"Strawberry rhubarb pie, a la Mom."

"Sweet! My absolute favorite. Good job, Billy—thanks for passing that on to Mom."

"You're invited to Sunday dinner tomorrow with our folks, by the way. If you bring an appetite and a desire to take home leftovers, Mom will love you like a son."


"Okay guys let's get dinner on the table. I'm starved!" coached Billy.

Dinner truly was like my mom would make. I learned well. We put off dessert until later.

Another long walk around the block was in order. All the weekend activity was away from this neighborhood, and mine, so it was quiet. Only crickets and bull frogs interrupted the night.

"Hey, let's go over to my place. I want you guys to check it out and see if it's one your dad built."

We pulled into my driveway. Both boys immediately said it was one of a few built by their dad and uncle. I thought so, since the layout of my townhouse was like Skip's place.

"Want a tour?"

"Yeah. Let's see how our bud lives."

We walked into my mirror-image-of-Skip's living room, neat as a pin. My dining room was not a dining room; it was a home office, with my desk in front of a large, sunny window. My kitchen was identical to Skip's, and probably Billy's. I had a half-bath. Now that I thought about it, I didn't see a half-bath at Skip's place.

"Hey," he said, as if offended. "How do you rate a half-bath?"

"Uh, $525?"

"Hmmm, that's still under the going rate. Well, yeah, I guess. Plus, our dad did make each place a bit different. He's not into cookie cutter creations."

Upstairs my bath had very attractive tile, a nice warm paint job, and a large soaker tub, not unlike Skip's. My second bedroom was my library, with wall-to-wall bookshelves. My bedroom, painted by me, made the guys realize I did have a little bit of style."

"Okay," said Billy, "my bedroom needs an Aaron makeover. The steel grey blue is exceptional. Stylish and masculine. Wait, is this the model townhouse for my dad?"

"Yup. He gives me a head's up when he wants to show potential for an empty apartment. All I have to do is keep it neat, which is easy. He says he'll keep my rent $100 cheaper in return for me being the model."

We toured my basement, where Skip's dad had provided me with a full-sized washer and dryer. He treated his tenants well; washers and dryers were standard equipment in all his townhouses. He charged up to $100 below market value for his homes, which meant mine was $200 below most apartments in the city. I had more bookshelves here. I had a comfortable chair and a large light hanging over it.

"Read a lot? Geez, Aaron, I bet the public library can come to you for interlibrary loan," Skip said.

"Overall, I don't need `stuff'. My closets aren't overfilled with clothes and shoes. I'm into lighthouses and reading, and music, of course. This is a good hangout place, and either of you are invited any time."

"Okay to head back to my place?" asked Skip.

"Sure. I'm thinking about pie. I'll have to remember to tell your mom that it is as good as what my grandma made, and she's the best baker I know."

We walked back to Skip's truck. I was in the middle of the boys. Billy kissed me affectionately on the cheek. Rarely to be outdone, Skip kissed me on my lips. I let him, but I also gave Billy another kiss, on the cheek. He liked it.

It was 9:30 by the time we got home. Billy went home to call a friend. After an evening in front of television, we went upstairs to Skip's room. We showered, dried off, and got into bed. He did not turn off the light yet. I reached down to his testicle, moving it gently around in my hand. I felt the scar. My cheek was against Skip's neck. A tear leaked from my eye and I sobbed.

"I'm sorry, Skip. You didn't deserve this."

I kept feeling it in my hand. Why him? Why anyone, but mostly, why him?

"I know, bud. I'm one to believe that the bad times make the good times that much better. I can't take my life for granted. I can move on from this. I want my family and my new bud in my life. I have that, so I'm okay."

"I think it scares me that I might never have known you. I have a very small number of friends. My family is hours away. My mom died last year at only 58, complications from MS. I think some of my sadness goes back to her too, but she's okay now. Better than me sometimes, you know?"

"I do know, bud. I really do. If nothing else, I'm going to teach you about living day to day. You already told me you have a philosophy, so now we put it into practice."

"Okay. Do you, uh, wanna . . . ?"

"I'm content enough to hold on to you and sleep. I suspect that's what you want."


"When it comes to sex, we'll just know when we want it. You're not going to leave me lacking in any way, bud. I know that already."

"Nice. I do get as much out of just holding you as I do out of, you know."

"I know. Same for me. Slide close, my bud, and close your eyes. Time to sleep."

He reached over to turn off the lamp, pulled the covers over us, and pulled me close. I think it took seconds to fall asleep.

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