Date: Wed, 14 Feb 2007 15:30:56 -0500 (EST)
From: high5fiveme (at) lycos (dot) com
Subject: chapter 4 first and last real friend

If you are reading this, you are supposed to be old. In fact, you have to
be so old that no one cares if you read this. So if you aren't old, go away
and read something you are supposed to be reading that people prefer you to
read so you grow up and do what everyone wants you to do like help people
make babies. Come back and read this when you get old and tired of making
and supporting babies and want to find out what your real friends coulda,
woulda, shoulda been like.

end of Chapter 3

Tom was my friend, my helper, my confidant and probably if I had understood
it, my lover.

When it was his turn to do the final rub of the night. I made it easy for
him and just lowered my pants below my butt, not exposing my dick because
this was still going to be offlimits for quite some time. This was the last
massage as we both had experienced that evening feeling of "sex," and then
like with most all men the shot of serotonin came in to our brains and it
put us to sleep.

Chapter 4 of My first and last read friend.

The sixth grade year seemed to pass all too quickly for Tommy and me. The
competitve spirit, the games, the sleepovers (oh god....the sleepovers) and
the constant togetherness being in the same class all day long came to an
end. I don't know if this was a marriage but I don't think I have ever
spent this much time again with a male. In fact, I was never allowed to
spend this much time with a male ever again. It was the summer before
D-day, and I donat mean the one during WWll but the one before the shock of
reality and puberty set in.  It was going to be then when the rules
changed.

I don't know why but I have very little memory of that summer after sixth
grade. I know I had to spend lots of time with my grandparents in New
Orleans and Tommy had to spend time with his relatives. I guess being away
from Tommy and not having such intense feelings as I had when I was with
Tommy kept the memories from being imprinted. It seemed that the entire
sixth grade, though, has been engraved in my memory and probably even when
the alzheimers, dementia or whatever old age may avail upon me, I will be
telling my stories about that year forever.

There is, though. one vivid memory of that summer. It was an experience in
Mexico and Tommy was just as much a part of it as if he had been there.

My grandfather was a Mexico lover. He had been on many trips there, and
this summer he had received an invitation to go to the new resort built at
the De Cima hotel in Mazatlin on the west coast. My parents, my
grandparents and I took our car down through Durango, Mexico on the way to
Mazatlan.

 I remember my first introduction to mexican boys was in Durango. We parked
our car on the street near a restaurant where we chose to eat. A beautiful
dark skinned boy came up to the car and said assertively to my grandfather
"My name is Jose. Watch car, senor."  Apparently, you dont pay for parking
in Mexico, you pay to protect your car by a parking attendant of the street
boys.  All I knew was here I was staring at this boy. He was dirty but very
cute even though he had dark hair.  He was probably close to my age but the
small size of the hispanics is deceiving to their age.  I made a point to
go by him and rub up against him for some reason. I, also, took a deep
breath to take in the smell of his body just as I had done with Tommy that
night. As I I walked by, Jose, I brushed up against him and gave him a
smile.  I dont know why I had done this because I had only designs for
Tommy. But here I was flirting with a street urchin. Something seemed to be
happening to me, to my thinking and to my feelings.  This boy stuck in my
mind as we went into the restaurant and I tried to sit near a window so I
could look out and see if this dark skinned beauty was outside waiting for
me to come back.  Grandpa had explained that if he hadn't said he would let
him watch the car, we would return to no tires on the car. I thought
wishfully, we dont have to worry cause he will be there for me when we get
back. I couldn't see Jose through the window but I couldn't stop thinking
about him, fetishing him I guess. I don't know if I was hard but who
cares. I was excited in a special mental sort of way.

My entire family lit up cigarettes after eating as almost everyone did in
that day and, I, hating the entire smoking thing got up to go out to the
car as I did always after dinner to avoid the terrible smell of the
smoke. This time I was excited though because I knew I could go alone to
the car and flirt with Jose whom I had not stopped thinking about. I was
told, however, to just stay inside near the exit because we were in Mexico,
and they didn't want me to go far away.  This restriction disapponted me
terribly and I guess I must have pouted as my mother said "What's wrong
with you?"  I quickly stopped pouting because I never did that, but I was
upset because I wanted something.  I wanted Jose. I wanted to look at him
again. I wanted to smell him again and brush up against him. God...what a
faggot...and i didnt even know what that was.

So I waited inside until they finished their disgusting smoking, and we
could go back to the car.  They opened the door to the restaurant, and I
ran down the street only to find Jose and his cute, sexy, dirty body gone.
No one was watching the car and I guess he didnt stay there for me.  My
god, didn't he like me. Didn't he know I wanted to look at him and be with
him one more time before I left for another city.  Now I know later in life
that the answer is .No!  Of course, he didnt even have a clue as all the
other guys in life never had a clue what I could have done for them. He was
poor and lost in a small city in Mexico. If he had looked at me, given me a
sign, I might have come back for him later in life. Oh god, what was my
mind doing to me.

We drove on towards Mazatlan on the road that was on the map but one
hundred miles from our destination we were stopped by an armed guard with a
serous look on his face.  "No hay paso...No hay paso he said."  Basically,
he said you can't go on.  It seems the road was not complete, and we were
only one hundred miles from our destination. So grandpa and the others said
we have to go south to guadalajara and then back north. This would be a big
six hundred mile detour. It was too late to go much of anywhere except back
to Durango to spend the night. We arrived in Durango and got a motel
somewhere near the restaurant. None of this bothered me as I had kept Jose
in my mind and in my delusion I thought maybe I would see him again.  As we
drove back into town though there were no boys anywhere on the streets as
it was dark. It was a darkness like in no other city in the United States
as the only lights come from the lights inside the businesses or homes.
They just didnt have street lights in those days. I was a little scared and
as I went to sleep that night and lay in my roll out bed, I think the fear
of the darkness in that small town kept me from thinking too much of my day
with Jose. I do remember thinking only one thought and that was I wonder
what Tommy would think of Jose and would he wanta rub his butt as much i
wanted to. Shit, of course he would have cause he was easy and liked any
boy no matter what color hair he had. With that thought in my mind and a
few rubs of my dick as hard as it was on the bed, I just fell asleep.

The drive down to Guadalajara and back up to Mazatlan was tedious for a
twelve year old but my grandpa and I were card players, and we would play
card games in the back seat while my dad drove.  I always won because my
grandfather sat near the window and I sat in the middle and I could see his
cards in the reflection.  I don't think my grandfather would have ever
cared because I was his kid. He was strict, though, and I fear he would not
have approved my thinking about the boys in the way I was. I know my
thinking was my own little secret because there was seemingly a little
naughtiness to my thoughts. And certainly no one would have approved of my
rubbing Tommy's butt. And what would they have said if they knew what I was
thinking about doing to Jose.

The second day when we rolled into Guadalajara, I was again excited when I
saw the boys playing in the street, We got a hotel room and prepared to go
shopping. Before going out I changed into my favorite pair of blue shortie,
shorts in the bathroom because I had noticed most of the Mexican boys wore
shorts like this.  I usually just used them for leisurely wear around the
house. They were comfortable as shorts alone so I didn't even put on my
underwear. I had never, ever gone out of the house like this before.  When
I came out of the bathroom, my mom asked me "Why are you wearing your house
shorts. Go put on something else."  I told here with a snap no I wasn't
because the mexican boys were wearig short shorts and remember mom you
always say "When in Rome, do as the Romans."  Mother was full of sayings
like this, and how I came up with that one at the perfect time I dont
know. But it was almost a sign of the changing times when mother said "Oh,
ok. You are right. They look good on you anyway."

I was in shock.  Mother agreed with me and let me do what I wanted. This
seemed to be a first, and I should have known then and there something was
happening not only to me but to my parents in the attitudes that were
changing.

We took a taxi to the shopping center so as not to risk parking the
car. The shopping area was a series of small stores and with some outdoor
booths in front of some of the stores. The taxi driver had dropped us
though at an area he said where we could get the best prices and pointed us
to a store. My family said ok and we got out of the taxi. Grandpa paid and
my mother whispered to me.  The store owners are for sure his relatives. It
didnt matter because we headed into the sort of mall area and went into the
store he suggested.

 The boys a little older than my age were actually vendors in their stores.
They worked for their parents and used their charm and bartering ability as
good as anyone I have ever seen to this day. Their English was broken but
good enough to get their point across. I had my own money and was allowed
total freedom when buying things.  In that first store I saw a wooden tiger
that I couldn't do without so I picked it up and took it up to the best
looking boy in the shop.  He was probably fourteen although not much bigger
than me.  He saw me and began staring at me as he was listening to the
woman shop owner who was probably his mother.  I looked him over and
noticed he was sporting a hard on.  Believe it or not this was one of the
first times I ever really looked at a dick, but it was so obvious that he
had a hardon. And for the first time that I can remember, as I looked down
at his dick sticking out against his shorts, I felt my dick becoming
hard. With no underwear on as the tip of my dick touched my shorts, I felt
an instant hardon arise. My mind had just given me my first erection and I
felt it happen. I was as hard as a rock and my shorts showed
everything. Three to four inches of wood in your shorts has to show. There
is no escaping it.


Now this boy turned his full attention on me and asked."You want?"  Yes I
want, I thought; I want your dick. I want to see it, I want to touch it. I
want you to rub it up against me. And for him I just stood there showing
off my hardon which he stared straight at.  You know if I had known spanish
I think I might have said all this because my mind was as bold as my dick
was hard. Instead, I just said "Cuantos questa" refering to the tiger in my
hand. The boy responded "cinco dolares" but then said "Vente" which I later
learned meant "come" as in follow me. I followed him into a back area where
he had tigers of different sizes. He started reeling off something in
Spanish as we walked which I couldn't understand at all and wasn't really
interested in anyway because I had my tiger I wanted and was really only
interested at this point in his hardon. Could we just go do a back rub; no,
could we go do a dick rub; no, could we just go fuck somewhere? I was
higher than a kite and was shaking and have no idea if I was thinking
thoughts, but I was visualizing all sorts of things I could do with him and
it is me today putting words on what I was visualizing.

Then it happened. We stopped and with this beautiful, erected, older boy
standing in front of me and blocking the view of anyone in the shop, he
reached past me with his right hand to get a different tiger off the
shelf. At the same time he put his left hand down and simply grabbed my
dick over my shorts. He rubbed my dick gently as he slowly brought the
tiger off the shelf as if he didnt want to break it.  Yeah, right, it was
wooden. He was just taking more time so he could rub my dick.  I was not
the least bit shocked by his advances as my mental pictures of what I
wanted to do were much more advanced than this. I enjoyed the attention of
an older boy for some reason. Boldly, with no hesitation, I just reached
forward and did the same to him grabbing first his balls through his pants
and then slowly moving up the shaft of his dick. It was all so natural and
instinctual.  You would have thought we had been friends for years and this
was just some kind of greeting. The incident has made me think over the
years how this would be a much better greeting between males who had
hardons instead of a handshake.  After all, we looked into each others eyes
in the beginning and I guess fetished each other so wouldn't this be a good
way to just tell another guy that you like him that way?  I guess at some
gay clubs, it gets like this but I have never been to one so I don't know.
Oh god, though, just as fast as a handshake is over, so was this encounter
as he stood back and we separated so he could show me the tiger he had
selected.

He said "Tres dollars" using the English for the word dollars. The tiger he
had picked out was the same style but smaller, but I didn't care, and I
think he didn't either as the whole going to the back of the store was just
to get our "dick shake." I was really in no shape to bargain or even talk
right now so I just stood there until I heard my mother yell "Phil, what
are you doing back there. Did you find something."  Yes, mother, I found
that I want to stay in Mexico and go off with this boy to his room and take
his clothes off and rub his dick and have him rub my dick until something
happens. Obviously, since this has no quotation marks, I didn't say that
and probably didnt even think it until I got older and jacked off thinking
about it. But at least my mother's yelling brought me back to earth which
mothers are good at, and I said to my friend, "No I want this one for three
dollars."  I had given up my Spanish speaking as I could barely think in
English.  The boy responded in perfect English.  "Ok, you are my friend,
You can have it for three dollars."

 So much for bargaining. I had been told to offer no more than half what
they say and here I had gotten it for fifty cents over half with out
dickering.  Well, maybe touching dicks was the only "dickering" I needed to
do. That works for me anytime.

Unfortunately, our encounter was over as the boy took my tiger, returned to
behind the counter and wrapped up my purchase as I paid with American
money. It seems our money is good most places because they like to make the
exchange money themselves. Our final exchange was not as pleasant as the
dick shake but a final touch of a real male hand shake softly applied by my
new friend topped off the encounter. The look we exchanged was all I needed
to assure myself that I was discovering a new world out there between
boys. He handed me the tiger wrapped and placed inside a bag. He put the
bag down in front of my dick with a smile knowing I needed the camouflage
in order to get out of the store.

We all left the shop and kept walking around while everyone found things
they wanted but didn't need.  I bought only the tiger and wasn't too much
interested in the rest of the shopping as I couldn't get the thoughts of
this boy out of my mind. I guess I covered my hardon up until it went away
because no one seemed to notice except a couple of younger boys in the
adjacent store who looked and giggled with each other saying something in
spanish. They were probably relatives of my older boy and may be receiving
dick rubs from him when they go over to spend the night. My mind raced with
fantasies and I dont know how long it took for the hardon to go away.

That night in the hotel room where I had a roll up bed, I remember thinking
and thinking about my dick getting rubbed and my returning the rub. I
thought back to Jose and wondered what his dick would have felt like. I
thought about the boys in the adjacent shop who laughed. Then out of the
clear blue, I began to think of Tommy.  I began to fantasize reaching under
his underwear from behind and running my hand under his body to reach his
dick. I would have to pull his underwear all the way off first. I dont
think he would mind that but what would he say if I went under and massaged
his cock.  The feeling of the boy touching me in the shop had felt really
different from the back rubs and Tommy likes the feelings.  Maybe I should
tell him what I did first with the boy and present it to him before I did
it to him. No it would probably be better to just do it to him and then
face the consequences if he didnt like it. Well, he had not objected to
anything we had done so far, and we had gone really far by rubbing our
fingers inside each others cracks. My mind raced with all these thoughts
and how to plot out what I wanted to do with Tommy. As I thought all this,
I rubbed my dick ever so slowly on the bed so I would not be seen by my
parents, but it was very dark, and I could do it as long as I
wanted. Slowly my thoughts turned too dreams and I fell off to sleep that
night.



The next morning in Guadalajara, we just got up and ate breakfast somewhere
and took off to Mazatlan which was a long trip towards the coast and north
because of the roads. I don't remember thinking much about the previous
day's experience as I was a real card player and just wanted to get in the
car and play with my grandpa. I do remember what he might have thought
about what I did and wondered if he had ever had a dick shake, but I could
not bear to bring it up to anyone in the family.  These were the people who
had told me there was a Santa Claus, Easter Bunny and tooth fairy. How
could anyone get the truth out of them? In those days, it was better to not
tell anything to your parents as trust was not what you shared with them.
It was a disciplined life and their way or the highway. A lesson I learned
not to do with my own children years later as I always felt boys or girls
need an adult to confide in who would not punish them for their actions and
especially not for their thoughts.  Parents have a funny way of wanting you
to be perfect and "Do what I say not what I do." My family was so much that
way and I got spanked constantly for anything that did not do what they
said but instead what they had done!  I do know one thing and will share
this here; if I had confided in my dad, I would have been beaten to a pulp
because this was a man who told me much later in life that he had never
masterbated because he had grown up catholic and it was against his
religion!

 Driving into Mazatlan was quite different.  We were a little late and
there were no kids in the street but it was ok because I had seen plenty of
boys as we drove through small cities on the way up. The hotel seemed
absolutely deserted, and as it turned out it was brand new and grandpa's
connection who met us was a white man from the states who had moved there
to invest in the hotel. Our special deal was nothing special really as
there was no business, and the stranger was desperate to get his hotel off
the ground. We were treated quite well and were served a nice meal as I
remember with all the waiters paying total attention to us since we were
the only ones in the restaurant.

It had been an entire day of not really thinking about boys so I looked at
the waiters to find someone I liked.  This was easy as there was a busboy
who caught my eye because he had his fly open.  It wasn't obviously open to
most people unless you really stared at his pants.  Well, guess who was
doing that?  Me!  Since my dick rub the day before, I decided I might as
well go for the gusto and look in the direction of what I wanted to see. I
do look first at the face though since I am a face man. Tommy remember had
the face to conquer.  But now it was- face, good; now lets see that dick!

The busboy was much older than, but I would still call him a boy because of
his small size.  I was staring at him and it seemed we were exchanging
glances throughout the dinner. I didn't know what I was becoming but in
later years when I learned the term "little horndog," I can say that is
what I had become within just a few days in Mexico.

When dinner was over and everyone lit up their disgusting cigarettes, I
excused myself and said I would go back to the room. Instead, I headed
towards where the busboy had been taking the dishes. He had gone around the
corner with some of our dishes just a moment before I excused myself. It
all seemed so silly to have all the waiters plus a busboy in a deserted
restaurant, but as I found out, no one got paid much of anything in Mexico
in those days and the American stranger wanted to make the best impression
he could on my grandpa so he had employed the full boat of personnel for
that night to greet us.

I rounded the corner of the restaurant and the busboy was there alone
arranging the dishes before taking them into the kitchen.  I immediately
positioned myself to his side to see if I could get a glimpse inside his
opened pants. Just the thought of starting to do this sent my dick into its
erect positon. He turned and saw me looking at his dick but I didn't care
because thats what you do with Mexican boys I assumed. He looked down at my
dick which I had to push forward in my pants so he could see I was hard
(underwear and long pants could hide what I had). He laughed and said
something in spanish that had the word "muchacho" in it and then he looked
down and zipped up his pants and proceeded into the kitchen with his
dishes.

I think the shot of fear that ran through me destroyed my hardon
instantly. I had been rejected which I would find out later was a daily
event with girls and women, but this was my first time, and it did not feel
good. I ran back to the bedroom and entered the door to contemplate what
had just happened. The feeling of fear is natural but to call the feeling
fear takes interpretation of the event. This event, connected with this
feeling would be called guilt, and I sat in the room thinking I had done
something wrong.  My mind then played with me until it solved the problem:
not all boys want to see my dick or show me theirs.  How sad.  There goes
my "dick shake" theory. There goes the randomness of this special life I
had lived for a couple of days.

I had gone to bed on the single rollup brought to the room for me that
night. My family had come back and a round of canasta with everyone which I
won helped me to stop thinking of the bad experience. So I lay I in bed
thinking of the good things that gave me the good feeling before falling
asleep. Suddenly my mind turned to Tommy and I began to go over what I
wanted to do with him when I got back. It didnt take long rubbing my dick
against the bed thinking of Tommy for me to fall into a deep sleep.

Somewhere in the middle of this sleep, Tommy came into the hotel room. I
guess he and his parents must be in another room. It didn't matter because
I was happy to see him, and he immediately just got in bed with me. It was
kind of weird because he had to get up really close to me, since we had
only a single roll up this night, and we were used to our double beds.  It
was great to feel him rub up against me right away instead of wait as we
usually did for someone to say "Who goes first?" in order to start the
back/butt rubs.  I didn't even know what he was doing on this trip and
didnt have time to ask. I was worried that my parents asleep in their bed
would hear him, but he just whispered be quiet and slipped off his
underweat. He said take off your underwear so I did thinking he was just
going to give me our usual rubdown.  Instead and I have no clue how he knew
I wanted this, he got up on my ass and put his dick against my soft
butt. He rubbed it up and down causing my dick to rub against the bed.  I
had the thought of my parents waking up but somehow this excited me
too. His cock which I had never seen felt like it was huge against my ass
probably the size of the fourteen year old that I had just felt the day
earlier in Guadalajara. I started to moan a little but Tommy leaned forward
and put his head to the side of my head and said "Shhhhh." And then he
kissed the side of my face as he thrust his dick harder and harder into my
crack.  He held me hard against the bed and put his arms around the front
onto my chest. I tried to turn and look at what he was doing to me but he
kept blocking my face with his face and kisses. After it seemed he did this
no longer than what a normal butt massage would take, I could feel my dick
throbbing and jerking ever so slightly.

I woke up suddenly and felt my dick jerk one more time. There was no Tommy
humping my butt. I was in Mexico; my god, he was somewhere back in
Louisiana but I just dreamed him there and he had "raped me."  Well not
exactly that because I didn't know what that was really, but whatever he
did or I did or I thought, I had just had that thing happen to me again.
Something oozed out of my penis into my underwear. It was a strange wetness
though unlike some of the times I had peed in my sleep.  I reached down to
feel it and knew I hadn't peed in the bed and in fact it was not much, and
I didn't want to get out of bed because I was totally drained by whatever
had just happened. I knew what this gooey liquid was. It was the same stuff
that I had when I used the massager some three years ago in grandma's
bathroom.

This time the liquid didn't scare me because I hadnt really done it. Tommy
had caused it somehow. He would get in trouble! Not me. But what the
hell. I wasnt going to tell on him. In fact, it was my turn to get ontop of
him.  Where the hell was he?. I rolled over on my back stared at the
ceiling and longed for Tommy. I think I cried. But sleep came quickly
again, that was for sure. Was I really going to get my turn with Tommy
someday or was I going to get rejected?

end chapter 4

To those who have written me, I want to thank you as I think encouragement
is now what has caused me to stop writing so much just for myself. You have
changed slightly the direction of the story and this chapter was put in to
slow things up. I am not sure a wet dream is really what people want to
hear about but they can be life changing experiences. I'll start working on
chapter five as soon as I get over this chapter. It affects me too, you
know.