Date: Fri, 6 Sep 2002 12:24:07 +0100 From: GS Subject: Small Town Boys All rights reserved. No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author. This is a gay adult story. If homosexuality offends you, or is illegal where you live, then do not continue - you proceed at your own risk. I hope you enjoy my work - if you have any comments please feel free to contact me - wordgrrrrrrrr@hotmail.com In real-life encounters, always use a condom! Small Town Boys Brad was our neighbourhood hero, and I guess that I, like everybody else in town, was a little bit in love with him. Not that anybody thought of it like that, of course. But we all knew that he was something special. An air of awed and excited tension somehow seemed to follow him around, brightening and colouring the commonplace surroundings of the small country town we'd both been born and raised in. We'd shared most of our lives, Brad and me, without ever really getting to know each other. We'd gone to the same school, supported the same soccer teams, and dressed up for the same teenage Saturday night dances. And got drunk at them, in different corners of the same neighbourhood halls and bars. I had the reputation of being a regular guy, just waiting for my special girl to come along. Mothers and fathers were glad to hear that Tommy was taking their daughter to the dance. Good-looking, clean-cut, and just right for some future Miss Right. And wanking myself silly, while I waited. Folks said that Brad had an eye for the girls. He certainly seemed always to have the best-looking girl around. A different girl, each time, it seemed to the rest of us, and every one way out of our league. Which was curious, since Brad was a bit of a bruiser. Well-fit and muscled, six feet something, crop-haired, pug-ugly and broken-nosed, he was pretty well completely without any of the social graces. Brad couldn't dance or sing, or play guitar or football, or, indeed, do any of the things that the rest of us boys thought were important. Despite it all, Brad quite simply, inexplicably, was our hero. Strong, silent, utterly self-contained - we watched Brad from a distance, in awed and hushed respect. Which was why I started in astonishment when he shouted at me across the street where we both worked. "Patty's sister's in town this weekend..." he bawled "... and I said I'd fix her up with somebody for the dance." I'd never heard a longer speech from Brad in all our twenty shared years. We'd never, for that matter, shared more than a couple of dozen beers and jokes in all that time. And now he wanted to make a family foursome. "Wow," was my considered response, which brought a guffaw from Brad. "She's fuckin' gorgeous, Tommy. You'll cream your pants when you see her." At which Brad disappeared into the small repair workshop where he worked, ignoring my baffled and spluttered response. As I say, Brad's our hero, and he'd just asked me to step out dancing. This Patty was Brad's latest and longest-lasting girlfriend yet. And the rest of us small-town boys could surely see her attractions. A low cloud of vaporised hormones hung over our bar-room table as, from our usual respectful distance, we sneaked glances through lowered eyelashes as she swayed to the latest tunes beside Brad's pretty well immobile figure. Half a dozen young backsides shifted uneasily on bar-room chairs, as half a dozen young hardons repositioned themselves in their red-faced owners' underwear. "Holy shit..." muttered someone, "...just imagine that." And the rest of us could, with no difficulty whatsoever. Nightly. And now, for me, daily too. Three days to go to the appointed date and my state of fevered excitement was approaching panic levels. I slumped over the counter at the hardware shop where I worked. Business was slow, leaving lots of time for dangerous daydreaming. I was not, I admitted to myself with some dismay, the world's most experienced lover. Nor the street's, for God's sake. Not even my own house's - my little brother had probably done more actual fucking than me. In fact, actual fucking, actually having my penis inside some actual girl's actual you-know-what, was pretty well limited to maybe once and a half. Little wonder parents all over town prayed for Tommy to take their daughters dancing. Like I say, I did lots of tossing myself off. And now Patty's sister, no doubt vastly experienced and unbelievably gorgeous Babe of the Year, was going to take me dancing. "Oh, fuck." I said it out loud. Mr Williams, Supplier of Hardware to the ladies and gentlemen of the town, politely coughed. He knew the dangers of too much daydreaming in young men, being a Church Elder, and Sunday school teacher. The shopkeeper's apron I wore hid my impressively large hardon. I was, alas, easily impressed. Though, I defensively told myself, it surely wasn't a bad-sized one. In our town, nudity wasn't much encouraged, so my sightings of other guys' cocks were fairly limited. Bigger than my fucking little brother's, at least, I thought sourly. Bigger than average, I reassured myself. If I got as far as the pants-off stage, at least she wouldn't collapse into helpless laughter. Later, she might. "Oh fuck." This time I kept my lips tightly sealed. "Pardon, Tommy?" I swear the silly old bugger spends every minute I'm in the shop watching me. Now he's reading my fucking mind. I held off from tossing off for the couple of days before the date. I was taking no chances, and wanted to be certain I'd have the necessary buckets of cum ready and waiting - on standby, as it were. To hand, if needed. I agonised over what to wear, and hit upon the formula that was to get me through the seemingly endless wait. I'd do and be whatever I thought that Brad would do and be. Tee shirt and black jeans and leather jacket. Easy peasy. Cool as cucumber. Breaking a habit I didn't know I had, I downed a large glass of my Dad's scotch, about half an hour or so before Brad and the girls were due to pick me up. "Hi." "Hi." "Hi." "Hi." Taciturn as ever, Brad didn't even bother to introduce us all. "You're Tommy," Patty helpfully reminded me, "I'm Patty, and this is Linda." And Brad had been pretty spot-on when he'd said Linda was gorgeous. She was one of those big-breasted, curvy-hipped, freckle-faced, strawberry-blonde and wholesome-as-apple-pie girls that boys like me have been coming in their pants over for as long as there's been girls and boys and pants. Or something along those lines. I was blown away. I was knocked out. I was, as forecast, creaming myself. Remembering my plan to model my behaviour on Brad's, I made my small talk smaller than usual. I said, in fact, sweet fuck all, which I reckoned an improvement on my normal over-excited babbling. In any case, the unmistakable and undisguisable bulge of my hardon pretty well summed up my feelings. I watched Brad throw his arm round Patty's shoulder, driving with one hand. Deciding to risk all on copying my hero yet again, I crashed my arm across behind Linda's neck. Since I normally didn't get this far till the third date, I felt an invigorating surge of confidence. And also, alas, an invigorating surge of blood to the groin, causing a fairly noticeable throbbing in the cock department. As the bulge in my jeans took to the floor for a tango all on its ownsome, Linda lowered her gorgeous head onto my shoulder. She sighed, and told us all, "Isn't this nice." She looked at it, my dancing cock inside my steaming jeans, for the rest of the journey. My usual bar-room table companions positively goggled when we sauntered into the hall. I'd kept quiet about the date, and I suppose they simply expected me to turn up, morose and unaccompanied as usual. Emboldened by my earlier stolen whisky, I waved airily in their general direction, and dragged Linda onto the dance floor. Deciding against my usual jitterbug style in favour of my hero's statue-like immobility, I stood swaying vaguely in time with either the music, or with Brad, as Linda and Patty stomped round about us. Fully an hour of our Stonehenge impression passed, before Brad muttered at me, "For fuck's sake, Tommy, I told them you could dance." By now being lots of beers into my evening, I broke into a small Whirling Dervish routine, swung Linda about in a few ill-advised jive steps from some ancient movie, waved to the onlooking no-hopers, and told Linda and the surrounding world, "Wow." The watching boys' bar-room table practically jiggled up and down on their hidden hardons. Linda pressed enthusiastically against my blatantly public one. When we sat down, she snuggled up beside me. Patty looked on benignly. "I've always liked you, Tommy," she confided to the rest of us. As far as I knew, we'd never actually exchanged a word before that evening, but I was grateful for her stamp of approval. Brad's grunt could, I told myself, have been a laugh, but with a mug like that, who could tell. With the absolute certainty of a first-timer, I knew that Linda was as anxious to relieve the pressure inside my jeans as I was myself. What I didn't see with any clarity was how and where we were going to be able to carry out this now-urgent task. The Gorgeous Sisters didn't look like the sort of girls who'd feel comfortable making out among the trashcans at the back of the bar. Happily, Brad had a plan. My hero. Brad's plan was to go back to his place, a small one- room apartment over the repair shop where he worked. We all agreed that it was a very good plan indeed, and set off merrily, drunkenly, on the short walk. How we got naked, I don't remember. I've always been a bit shy on the pants-off front, and was pretty spooked about Brad getting an eyeful of what, by his Olympian standards, was my pathetically puny physique. And God only knew how my cock would measure up, whatever the fucking agony aunts said. Happily, Mother Nature had long ago worked out a plan for coping with young men's first-night nerves. Bypassing the brain entirely, she arranged for control of all activity to be passed to a new Command Centre in the penis itself. My cock, and Linda, took charge. And what a show they put on. This was, after all, the very best thing - the very best night - of my life. So there we were. Sprawled out on the one big bed, bare-assed naked, Brad straddling Patty, and the gorgeous Linda straddling me. Patty and Brad were making more noise than a herd of elephants, banging away, while I lay silently, politely, as my peaches-and-cream date rode me like a bronco-bustin' cowgirl. Lights on, everything in full view, tits and cocks and pussies galore, with more juices than a butter-basted turkey. Like a kid at Christmas, I didn't know where to look first, or next. Seeing Brad's head disappear down between Patty's legs, I masterfully threw Linda onto her back, and went searching myself. Never having actually viewed this part of a girl's body before, I sort of took potluck, copying Brad, sucking and licking every bit that seemed of interest. Linda's fingers directed my tongue into her, and her moaning told me that I'd hit some sort of spot. By now I'd given up my strong silent approach, and was bellowing with the rest of them. Brad, inches from the end of my burrowed nose, was now set on his end-game. Up on his knees, between Patty's wideflung legs, he pumped and ploughed and thrust and heaved, in and out, as Patty squirmed and wriggled like a thing possessed. Brad was magnificent. As fit and muscled as Superman, tanned and glowing with the sweaty endeavour of it all, he banged away at the figure beneath him. And best of all, Brad's cock, neat and trim, nestling comfortably in a bed of dark curls, hard and shiny and red as a candy lollipop, was a full couple of inches shorter than mine. Was I fantastic, or what? My hero just had to be impressed. I out-gunned the town stud. "Wow," I gasped in amazed stupendous happiness. "Oh, wow." What boy didn't want to be the main man? Pulling myself up and into Linda's spread-eagled body, I yet again took the lead from my new buddy. Slow, long, easy strokes, pushing smooth and hard, in and out. Whimpering and moaning, Linda writhed beneath me, twisting her hips, arching her back and changing my angle inside her. Emboldened by the success of it all, I experimented -- like some mad rocket scientist - with speed and depth and direction of thrust. I tweaked and twiddled with nipples and earlobes and as yet unknown and unnamed parts. Ignoring the strangulated climactic gasps from Brad and Patty, I plunged onward. I boldly went... I suddenly realised that the room, apart from my own bellowing grunts, was, like the starry depths of space, utterly, eerily, spookily silent. Still pumping away, I looked up into the noiseless void. Three mouths agape, three pairs of eyes fixed unblinkingly on me, as my deluxe dick rhythmically plunged, in and out, in and out. My audience needed a grand finale, and I came, as planned and promised, buckets. Whimpering, jerking, bucking and fucking gallons of the stuff. I sprawled, panting, across my date's limp body. "Wow." Not really knowing the polite thing to do next, but feeling that Linda might be close to suffocation, I rolled off and out of her. Four of us, like sardines in a not very virgin olive oil, stretched out side by side, buck naked, silent at last. Linda's head nestled snugly under my arm. Brad's body tightly pressed against my side. Patty's hand idly, innocently, scratched her man's soft cock, while he tickled one of her nipples. We lay; legs intertwined, cum everywhere, clothes strewn haphazardly around the room. "Wow." My life had changed forever. "I've always liked you, Tommy..." Patty looked across at me appraisingly. Brad grunted his almost-laugh. "...but Sis and me's gotta go." "I guess I'd better..." I trailed the question off, speaking to no-one in particular. "It's three in the morning, and he's drunk, and so are you." Patty told Brad. "Don't be dumb, Tommy -- you're staying here." Brad told me. And, as magically as they'd entered and transformed my world, the Gorgeous Sisters were ready to leave it. "See you, Tommy." Patty tousled my hair, ran those cool eyes down my cum-smeared belly, and left. "See you, Tommy." Linda tweaked my cock, bit my lip hard, and followed her sister. "Get another beer. I'll be back in a minute." Brad pointed vaguely in the direction of the fridge. "Put a movie on TV." When they'd gone, I just stayed still, flat out, uncovered, triumphant. My senses -- literally -- reeled. It seemed to me that there was no more room inside me for another single thought or emotion. It was the very best thing, and the very best night, of my life. "Wow." "I said to get another beer," Brad stood over me, looking down. I'd just closed my eyes, dreamed a little, and now he was back again, a beer in each hand, stripped to his shorts, grunting that amused grunt of his. "That was quite a show you put on, Tiger," he laughed. "I think maybe Linda liked you." I blushed, and Brad laughed again. "The shower's in there. I'll sort the bed." He threw a towel at me. "Don't want your fuckin' spunk over the fresh sheets, do we?" I'd no idea Brad found so much in life to laugh at. I blushed more, but laughed as well. In the drunken haste and excitement of our arrival, I hadn't noticed the sheer organised splendour of Brad's apartment. The place was spotless, decorated and furnished like a magazine article. My hero was house-proud. My broken-nosed bruiser had taste. "Wow." I liked this, this laughing and bantering. I wanted to be Brad's best buddy. Just being in his company made me feel drunk. I lay there, looking up at him looking down at me. Silhouetted against the bedside lamp, his sheer physical grace took my breath away. Like I used to say when I was still almost a virgin, I was half in love with the guy. Who wouldn't be? He was Superman. I was just some kid. "Shower, Tommy?" Brad's voice brought me back to the present. And reminded me, for God's sake, that I was sprawled there, cum-smeared and naked, cock doing God knows what and... ...I blushed again, and grabbing the towel dived for the door. The TV was on with the sound turned off, when I came back, towel firmly tied round waist. Brad lay on his belly, head at the bottom of the bed. Still in his shorts, chin propped in hands, he watched the ghostly flickering picture. Fresh sheets were turned down at the other side of the bed, and I sat in the damp towel, back to him, unsure whether I should find my pants, or just dive in naked. "Late in the day to get shy, Tiger. Just get in." He pushed a big bowl of monkey nuts across halfway between us. "It's movie time." We lay there, top to tail, side by side. Him on his stomach, me on my back. Him in his shorts, me with the sheet pulled chastely up to my belly button. We watched the movie. After a bit he turned his head, peering back up the length of the bed. "You OK?" "Yeah." No need to say more, but I did. "Tonight was great." He looked back up at me, "Yeah." "Did you really tell them I could dance?" "Yeah. I said you were the best in town." A pause, then " I told them you were the best in bed, as well." "Jesus, Brad." I blushed all over this time. My blood circulation was having one fuck of an adventurous night. "I'm kidding." Brad flipped over onto his back, and executed a perfect sit-up, belly muscles tensed and hard. "Actually, I told them you were famous for your oral sex technique." He laughed, and flopped down onto his back again. I laughed too, and we lay comfortably in the silence - buddies, sharing their thoughts and secrets. "Bet she never got within a mile of sucking you, though." Billy's voice was low now. "Patty never does." Billy did another sit-up. "Maybe she thinks it's dirty, or something. For fuck's sake, it's just a cock." Flat down again, hands thrown back out over his head, Brad stretched like a cat. And waited, like a cat. Then, slowly, letting his body relax, staring at the ceiling, he asked, "You ever been blown, Tommy? You ever had that big cock of yours sucked?" Brad's voice was almost a whisper. Sitting up again, this time Brad clasped his knees close into his chest. Sitting there, hugging himself, he looked down at me, waiting for my answer. "Nah." I snickered, flushing under his gaze. I knew I was hard again -- what guy wouldn't be, talking about blowjobs? And, I suppose, lying next to some fucking half naked god. I couldn't look him in the eye. "You?" I pulled my knees up, tenting the sheets, hiding my erection, waiting for Brad. He'd called my cock big. My hero. "Once, at camp..." his voice so low I had to strain to hear, "...in the showers, some fucking cocksucker did it to me..." "Fucking hell, Brad. A guy? Jesus, another guy sucked your cock? Oh fuck. Wow." I didn't really know what to say. It had been as if the entire world had changed round about me in the course of a single evening. And now this. It had been the best night ever, but it was getting scarier by the minute, and I was frightened that I'd do or say the wrong thing. Which, on cue, I did. " Fuck's sake, Brad, I don't know if I'd even get a hardon, if it was a guy." And Brad laughed. Brad fell about laughing. "Tiger, you've got a fucking hardon just thinking about it, far less fucking doing it. That fucking cock of yours has been bouncing the sheets about for the past half-hour. Jesus, Tommy, what the fuck d'you mean you couldn't get a hardon!" Brad flopped back, still laughing. As he lay back, I could see the outline of his cock, sticking up hard inside his shorts. I started laughing too. We hooted and howled, two buddies, rolling about in sheer joy at the madness of it all. Then, for the second time that night, absolute stillness. Utter silence. In a single fluid movement he rolled across towards me, poised over my belly. Looking down, eyes fixed on the shape of my penis and balls under the sheet, Brad waited, watching, mesmerised. I scarcely dared breathe. He reached his hand across my belly, hovering over me, then slowly, slowly, lowered it till the tips of his fingers brushed my skin. Lowering the outspread palm until all his hand pressed down on my stomach, Brad moved his fingers under the bed sheet, pulling it slowly down, down, till the dark swollen head of my prick was exposed. Lowering his head down towards my crotch, tongue peeking out of his half-open mouth, his hot breath approached my rock-hard dick, millimetre by fucking millimetre. My cock jerked up towards his lips. And he touched it, with the tiniest tip of his tongue. Then, licking and nibbling around the rim of the engorged head, eyes fixed down, at last opening his mouth wide, he gulped it in. "Fucking wow. Oh fucking hell, Brad..." I was muttering meaningless nonsense. I pushed my cock forward, arching my hips up from the bed, into his gaping face. Reaching my hands towards him, grasping his head, pulling it down onto me. "Fuckin yes, Brad..." My head fell back, moaning and sighing, as he took me even further yet down his throat. "Jesus, man..." I set a rhythm, pulling his head onto me, and thrusting my hips upward. Seeing the well-muscled, masculine figure, head down over my cock, excited me more than anything I'd done all night. And that meant anything I'd done ever. My fucking hero had my fucking dick in his fucking mouth. I watched as Brad's own penis jerked and throbbed inside the soft cotton of his shorts. Forever the explorer, I sent a fingernail searching for a nipple to scratch, and was rewarded with a groan and another jerk of his dick. The sensation of his lips around my cock, heightened by the unbelievable turn-on of seeing my tough buddy's cropped head bobbing between my legs, slurping and licking and pulling and teasing, hungrily swallowing yet more and more of my red-raw meat, brought me close, again and again, to coming. Each time I drew back, wanting this amazing adventure to last forever. I wanted Brad to stay right where he was, sucking deep on my cock. Buddies, now, for life. "Wow." I came. In his mouth, down his throat, over his pug-ugly mug. Brad was whimpering, mouth still tightly holding my softening penis. Face down, eyes tight shut, nose buried deep in the bush of golden curls at the base of my belly, Brad just lay, my hand still on his head. Not a movement. And we fell asleep. Or at least I did. And awoke. Like dessert spoons in a cutlery drawer, Brad's back was nestled into my curled body. My arms were wrapped round his chest, and my penis lay hard up between his thighs, along the crack of his ass. I knew Brad was awake, and I knew absolutely what I had to do. He didn't want to be fucked, and I didn't want to fuck him. These things I knew, clearly and certainly. Brad had needed a hard thick cock inside his mouth, and now, having sucked me, he needed to come himself. And years of solitary jerking-off had taught me all the ways of making that the very best thing he'd ever felt. I majored in masturbation. I was a world expert in the subject. God knows I'd had enough practice. Heaving Brad's unresisting body over on top of me and bedding his ass firmly down between my legs, I ran my fingers over his belly, pulling his shorts free of that neat, rock-hard cock of his. The position was perfect, his body sprawled back across my own chest and stomach and hardon -- we lay as if I was wanking myself. Earlier I'd put on a public show, in the dance hall, and with the girls -- but this now was a very private performance, especially for my hero. I meant to make this my very best shot. This was going to be the most stupendous orgasm that the big bruiser had ever had in his entire life. I wanted my buddy to be begging me to let him come before I finished him off. "Brad..." I whispered hard and low, mouth tight against his ear. "...ol' buddy..." ...and I talked rough and dirty as I worked the tough guy's body, till he finally came, spouting his creamy cum up across his chest and his face, whimpering and wriggling and jerking with the hungry abandon of his orgasm, gasping my name over and over, "...please, Tommy. Fuck, fuck, oh fuck... Tommy, Tommy, Tommy... please..." I scooped a palmful of his cum from his belly and lifted it to his lips. Reaching his hand up, taking mine in that callused paw of his, he pressed my palm to his face, licking it, sucking each finger clean. I cupped his soft little cock in my free fist. "You're all mine, buddy." And that was that. Brad was all mine.