My Buddy Andrew

This is a story involving man to man sex. If you like it and would like to see more, send me an E-mail. If you think I can improve upon it, let me know as well.

Andrew. The kid made my heart pound. The kid made my dick hard. And he didn't know it. Rule #1 -- straight guys are off limits, especially those eight years younger than me. But he was as close to anyone of helping me to break my rule.

He was 24, dark haired, trim, cute, slightly cocky, and my buddy. We had known each other well for three years. I had over-heard him on the phone at work, trying not to argue with his girlfriend. He treated her well from everything I'd ever seen, but she often used him.

At 9:30 p.m. there was a knock on my apartment door. Andrew. He had lost the argument he didn't want to have.

I put my arm around his shoulder and guided his broken spirit to my living room. He sat on the floor, the sofa at his back.

"It's her loss, you know."

"Yeah. And mine too."

"More hers. But I'm your buddy and I care about you. I, uh, love you. I hate knowing you hurt."

"I know. Thanks."

He knew I was gay. He hadn't cared because our friendship was so good. He'd never made me feel awkward or different for not being straight. He told me once I was good looking for a gay guy, that it's too bad I "wasted" myself on other men. He liked teasing me.

We talked for three hours. He lived 45 minutes away, too far to drive in the rain when you're worn out and beaten. I helped him stand long enough to undress. I got a pillow and blanket from the closet, covered him, told him he'd be okay, and went to bed to dream about him.

I asked him out for pizza a couple nights later. His spirit was dead, and the funk was deep. He ate, but did so with little thought. He was totally preoccupied. I brought him home, leaving his truck in the parking lot at work. Tonight was Friday.

"Take care of me, huh?" was all he asked. "I don't want to go home alone."

I picked up his 5'7" frame and carried him to my room. I undressed him slowly; sneakers, socks, shirt, jeans, briefs. He was beyond tired, having told me earlier that he'd not slept for several nights. The couple of times that I'd checked on him the other night, I'd found him tossing and turning, but wide awake.

I slid him under the covers on the inside part of my bed. I lay down beside him, held him, kissed his neck, and comforted him while he fell into a deep sleep. I slept soundly all night and I slept better than I had in several weeks.

On Saturday morning, he woke before I did. He lay beside me, touched my chest, held me, and kissed me until I woke up.

"You're kissing me. Andrew, I didn't expect that."

"I decided a little while ago why you got it so good and I don't. Teach me about what you like."

I took his naked body, pulled him on top of me, and showed him what kissing really felt like. He didn't hold back. He let me make love to his sweet hot lips. I kissed his lips, sucked at his Adam's apple, licked his ear lobe and into his canal, and down his neck. He shivered. I played with his ass, probing lightly in between his cheeks, ran my fingers up and down his back, and held his head. He liked everything I did to him, and I loved doing it.

"So this is what you do with other guys?"


"No one ever did this to me. All they wanted was a quick fuck. It was one way, with me doing it and not getting much for my trouble."

"I'll give you anything you want. Lay back, and I'll start now."

He lay in the middle of my bed, spread his legs, and made room for me.

I grasped his cock. I worked my way down to his navel, to his ass, to his balls, and to his seven inches of manhood. I didn't have sex with him; I made slow, passionate, eager love to his needs.

He shivered again. I smiled up to him. "You like a guy sucking your cock, don't you? Is this the first time?"

"Yeah, and not the last, I hope."

"Not if I can help it," I said as I went back down on him. I looked into his eyes as I sucked his hard dick. I licked it from cut head to the base of his shaft. I sucked one ball each, and then both, into my mouth. I licked the sensitive area beneath his balls and smiled to myself when he sucked in his breath. Then I gave his asshole a tongue-bath. Never had he felt anything like it. I went deep into his tender hole with my tongue.

I looked at him as I ate him out. He smiled. "I want to fuck you."

He thought about it and I could see that he was very unsure. I put the tip of my middle finger against his ass and frigged with his hole. I lubed it and put it inside him up to my first knuckle. Then I took it out and replaced it with my tongue again.

"Okay, stop teasing me, damn it. Put your cock in me."

"What took you so long?"

"Don't hurt me, man, that's all I ask."

I lifted his legs, eased my lubed eight inches into his virgin ass, and probed slowly and carefully, rhythmically, and with great love into his wet, tight, pure ass. He kissed me back with equal passion, not wanting to stop. I took my time, not wanting to hurt him, wanting him to feel nothing but pleasure from my hardness.

We eventually came at the same time. I left a creamy load inside his sweet asshole. I licked his sticky cream from his stomach and swallowed every drop. I held him close to me. He gave me a second creamy load in my mouth when I sucked him an hour later.

I rolled onto my back, raised my legs and spread my ass for him. He slid into me in one smooth, lubed motion. And he made slow, steady love to my eager, tight ass. His seed crashed into the walls of my insides and he left his cock in me until it softened.

He kissed me deeply for an hour, knowing I cared for him.

Her loss more than his, by a wide margin. I was his buddy. And he was mine.

Well guys, I wasn't going to continue this one, but I got 19 E-mails in the first day that my first (ever!) story was posted. You surprised me with your comments and your questions. And you swelled my head; stop it now, I mean the one on my shoulders. Geez. Anyway, I haven't answered any of the E-mail yet, but here is what most of you asked for -- I hope. I do have more, but I'm editing some, which is harder than writing it in the first place. Comments welcome. I can only improve if you tell me what you think. Regarding whether this is a true story or fiction -- true story, though I'm 10 years older now. Andrew and I are still the greatest of friends and he's still straight.

Andrew. The 24 year old. The guy who could make my dick hard. I'm 32. Our age difference has mattered very little in our friendship. We've been good friends from the time we met at work. I had been with our company 18 months before he came to work in my department. He sat over the wall from me. We worked on some projects together and others on our own, but we always gave each other tips and hints in programming.

He was 5'7" tall, had short neat dark hair, deep blue eyes, and a small mouth with a gorgeous, friendly smile. He was trim from working out and playing a lot of basketball, the latter with me a couple times a week. He dressed in decent clothes that fit his shape and flattered his trim body. He was a little cocky to others, but I knew where that came from. He just needed to be a little more confident. Around me he was confident, but the cockiness really came out when he was around someone who even moderately threatened his ego or questioned his abilities.

Andrew was a good kid, in the real sense of the words. He didn't do anything in excess, except have fun. If he laughed, it was sincere and strong. You had to laugh with him.

His girlfriend dumped him a month ago. He deserved better because she used him, despite his generosity and the manner in which he treated her, at least publicly. He wasn't perfect, of course. Who is? But he was cool. I told him once I wanted to be like him when I grew up. He said that I probably never would grow up, which is something he liked about me.

He spent the weekend with me when he got dumped. And I'd showed him about what I did when I was with a man. His funk had been deep and he didn't care about much. So I helped him, with sex and with attention like he'd never had before.

I had no one close to me right now. The one I had once was named Chris. We'd met in college, fell head-over-heels for each other, and formed a deep relationship, truly as much friends as lovers. No one seemed to care about their mates these days, straight or gay. Everyone fought. Life's so short and no one really knows it until something happens. I'd told myself long ago, when I was exploring my own feelings, that I wouldn't do that, no matter who I chose to love. Some of my friends treated their relationships as throwaways, thinking someone would always be there.

Chris and I didn't fight about anything. We talked things out when we didn't see eye to eye, but we never went to bed mad. We never slept apart either. I never said anything I regretted later and he never told me where to get off. He knew me and I knew him so well that we knew where the buttons were and chose not to push them.

Then the one best friend I'd ever had died at the hands of a drunk driver. I'd been injured badly in the wreck, with no hope of living either. Somehow I did and came back a very long way. Chris was in my ear constantly, cheering me on, telling me to live for him, to stop being sad about his death, and to enjoy MY life. Well, sure, I could do that. Of course I could live and enjoy myself. I was strong . . . NOT! After 11 years as the absolute best of buddies, as lovers sharing our hearts and souls, no I couldn't do that. So I settled into a funk and stayed there.

Three years later, I've managed. Andrew has helped a lot. He doesn't necessary understand about love between two men, but he understands enough.

Andrew knew I was gay and knew about my loss. We'd talked one day at lunch, in the park. He hadn't seen pictures in my office except for that of a male friend, taken in Boston. No pictures of me with female friends, though I had many as well. But he knew they weren't girlfriends.

"Are you gay?", he asked that day, straight out.

"Yes, I'm gay."

"Okay. Thanks for being honest. I was just curious."

"What made you wonder?"

"I don't know. It just occurred to me. You don't look or act it, but I just had a feeling and had to ask about it."

"Look or act . . . ?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound stupid. I don't mean anything."

"Okay. Does it change anything?"



"But you're not seeing anyone right now?"

"No. Not right now."

"Why are you so sad?"

"Long story. Maybe I'll tell you about it some day."

"Please tell me about it now. I'd like to listen. We don't have to keep secrets . . . or feelings inside."

So I told him, in detail because he kept asking questions, about everything. He didn't pry, but he was curious. He asked the questions, I answered them, and he listened. He hung on every word and looked me straight in the eyes without flinching.

"Okay, now I know why you're sad. You have a right to be, but Chris wouldn't like it that you are."

"How do you know?"

"Because if I went away, or died, or was killed, I wouldn't want you to be so sad over me. It's not fair. Your life is yours and Chris is not here anymore, at least not the way you want him to be."

I heard his words. Then I cried. I hadn't cried in so long. I bowed my head and sobbed, embarrassed, but I couldn't stop. Even though we were in public, he moved closer, put his arm around my shoulder and pulled my head to him.

"Let it out, bud. It hurts too much if you hold it in, so don't."

In a few minutes I took a deep breath, wiped my face with his handkerchief, and felt relieved.

"I do care about you, as much as you care about me. You can talk to me whenever you want and I can listen. I think we're better friends as of right now. Okay?"


And that was that. We played basketball, went out to lunch a couple times a week, went to the amusement park with other friends, worked together, and generally had a good time anytime we were out.

One Saturday morning, we played basketball with some guys in my neighborhood. Andrew and I teamed up with two other guys and played hard against our four opponents. During the game he twisted his knee badly. The sun was too hot so we gave it up and walked up to my apartment. He limped. I stopped to take a close look at the knee, which was swollen.

"Come on, bud, I've got an ice pack in my freezer for this." He put his arm around my shoulder, hobbled the last hundred feet, and practically let me carry him up the stairs. He sat on the sofa as I went to the kitchen. I got a towel from the linen closet and used it to ease the icy chill of the blue gel. I knelt in front of him and doctored his knee.

He rubbed his crotch and gave me "the face". I hated (well, you know) when he gave me "the face". His eyes turned into deep innocence. His face turned very thoughtful. At the moment, he was neither innocent nor thoughtful, except in thinking he liked me on my knees in front of him.

"While you're down there . . ." he said as he slipped his dick out of his shorts.

"Yes, would you like something from me?"

"Your mouth."

"To . . . ?"

"To suck on my dick. Stop teasing me. I want you to take care of me, and you know you want to."

"Oh, you're into mind reading?"

"No, I'm into you getting into me. Eat my cock."

And of course I did. Who would turn down a seven inch cut cock? Not me, especially when it belonged to this stud boy who gave me "the face" that melted me away. I looked at his face as I sucked him, inspired by the fact that he threw his head back as I went up and down his sweet shaft. I wanted one thing right now -- to make him feel good. He had the light scent of musky sweat in his crotch, just enough to make me love sucking on his manly tool.

He shivered a couple times. I loved making him do that. In ten minutes or so, after licking, sucking, eating his balls, and eating his asshole, he shot the creamiest load he could into my throat. I swallowed, enjoying the thick cum shooting into my mouth and down my hungry throat. I sucked him dry and then cleaned him up, leaving him shiny and clean.

I looked up at him. His eyes were closed. He was smiling. I sat on the sofa beside him and kissed him deeply. He could taste his cock and cum on my breath. I sucked his tongue into my mouth, played with it with my tongue, and kissed his lips. We hadn't made out since he was at my place a month ago. He'd gotten none in that time, so he was horny as hell. Just the way I liked him.

I picked him up and put him on the floor on his back. I rubbed lube into my dick and into his ass. Without much foreplay, I slid into his tight hole. This is only the second time he's ever been fucked. I pushed deep and let it stay there, letting his flesh form around it, swallowing it whole, letting it suck up the heat of his tender young asshole.

"Fuck me, bud. Do it like it's our first time."

I slowly slid out of his ass, to the head of my cock, and pushed back in. I did it slowly as I could the first dozen or so times. Then I got on the balls of my feet and pushed into him at a slow but steady pace, all the way up his ass and almost all the way out . His asshole gobbled my dick, pulling it inside him and clamping down on it as I drew it out. He was inexperienced in getting laid by a guy, but he let his instinct take over.

I bent down to kiss him as I made love to his hot desire. His mouth was hot and sweet, and he kissed me while I kissed him. Nothing was one way with this kid. Nothing. He loved taking and he loved giving. A tear rolled down his cheek. I stopped immediately and withdrew quickly.

"I'm sorry, Andrew. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You haven't hurt me, man. Put it back in me. I need it. I need you inside me."

I wiped the tear away, letting it glisten on my thumb, looking into his eyes.

"I know," he said in a whisper, "but it's not pain. It's love. Now I know ALL about Chris and you. I know everything that I could possibly ever know. Please, give me your passion, for me only."

I slid back inside him, once again letting him feel my size. He nodded. I picked up right where I'd left off. He felt so good. HE felt good, not some lost love. This was Andrew in my arms, kissing me, loving me, and letting me love him. And right now, I loved only him. Not a thing in the world mattered to me except pleasing my friend. In a few minutes I exploded inside him, giving my juice to him, letting his hot moist hole suck my load out of my hardness. I moaned as I kissed him and he knew I was cumming. He smiled and said "give it all to me."

I lay on top of him and kept kissing him. He wiped away my tears and then kissed my eyes. He rolled on top of me and kissed my cheeks, licked my lips, sucked my chin and then my Adam's apple. He licked his way to my left ear, sucking my lobe. He licked behind my ear. He entered me, and then moved to my right ear, sucked my lobe, fucked me, and licked into my ear canal. He put my legs over his shoulders and pushed the full length into me while returning to my lips. He tongue slid into my mouth as his cock slid into my ass. Andrew loved to make love. He didn't hurt me with his cock. He made sure I felt good, and he made sure I felt wanted by him.

He looked into my eyes from a short distance and smiled broadly. The smile was forever infectious. I gave him "the face" as best I could, though he still had me out-classed there. He made love to my ass and made love to my senses. I held him tight.

"Man, don't ever stop what you do," I told him. He shook his head slowly. His eyes said he'd be with me a long time. We weren't lovers. We were mates, mates of the heart, mates of the soul. He wasn't a replacement. He was an addition. His load filling my ass was my reward for feeling the way I felt about him. But I held him as a little bit of fear held on, knowing what could happen, and never allowing me to take anyone for granted.

Is there more? Wouldn't you like to find out?? Tell me: