Chapter Six
The Sleepover
I hope that I will be forgiven for the rather lush, some would say extravagant, language describing my sexual experiences. Evelyn Waugh wrote a preface to one of the later editions of his masterpiece and slightly homo-erotic novel, Brideshead Revisited. He decried his use of rich language. The preface reminds the reader that it was written around 1945 during a time of rationing. His apology, the word in its original sense, is that starved of the pleasures of life, his language provided the food, as it were, in a time of restraint. I do not mean to compare myself in any way to Waugh, But his words are a metaphor for my experiences with Drew - famine followed by feast.
I woke up just past noon Saturday morning. Completely rested, I stretched out. It was snowing lightly. I felt the warmth of my room. After showering, I noticed the stains on my headboard. I took a washcloth and cleaned it. I stripped the bed and put my sheet in the hamper. I came downstairs to get my lunch. My mother said, "Buddy, remember to ask Drew if he would like to come over for dinner."
"Will do. I stripped the bed for you."
"Really! What's got a hold of you lately. Drew must be a good influence. Do you want me to make something for lunch?"
I had already taken some Kraft macaroni and cheese out of the cupboard. She remarked that she did not understand why I ate it when she could prepare me something much more nutritious. I just shrugged. I love macaroni and cheese. I prepared it, ate it with gusto with four glasses of milk. Leaving my dish at the table, I went into the living room as she called out.
"You could have cleaned up your dishes. And what about your room? Do I have to go up there?"
I thought that I really should do that today since I had several hours to kill before I left for Drew's. Instead I sat down at the piano. After some dramatic flourishes to loosen up, I played a piece I learned when I was eight years old, Adieu au Piano. My mother called out saying she loved me playing that piece.
I knew I was in the mood to play. If you play the piano, you will know that sometimes when you sit down, you play effortlessly - sometimes quite the opposite. I leafed through the many scores on the floor near the bench. I picked up the last movement of the Moonlight almost reaching the presto agitato asked for. I took out my Chopin Favourites album and played a few preludes and nocturnes. Even though I played a long time, I did not notice the time. I ended with one of my favourites the posthumous short Nocturne in C Sharp minor. I love to play this piece. It is haunting. It also appealed to my youth since one has to play, at the end, in one measure, thirty-five notes in the right had against four in the left. I looked at my watch and it was 3:30.
I went upstairs, turned on the Texaco opera which was in the middle of Carmen and surveyed the mess in my room. I was suddenly struck with dread. On my bed side table was the banana peel and on the floor, the open paperback. In a panic, I rushed over excuses in my mind. But I quickly recovered remembering that my Dad was at the University and my mother was still in the kitchen. I was sure that she had not come up stairs. I thought that I had better never again be lax.
Where could I hide it? Certainly not under the mattress, that youthful storehouse where all parents ultimately looked. I could place it in the clutter. But what if my mother decided to clean the room? I opened the closet. No, not on the shelf above. I saw my only suit which was still in the plastic packaging from the cleaners. Yes! I would keep the packaging on but slipping the paperback in the inside pocket of the jacket.
I went over to pick up the book. I laid down on my bed again to read. Quickly skimming over last night's story, I felt my dick start to stir.
The titles are direct and provocative. It occurred to me that they have little relationship to the stories but, laughing, thought that they were not really stories at all. I thumbed the next three and came to "First Fuck." I began to read.
Need I tell you that it had the same set-up as the story last night? There were non-subtle differences. The dramatis personae are once again two college students, a bespectacled math major and a basketball player. You probably have guessed that the basketball player notices the math student covertly looking at him in the shower. In no surprise, the player has a big cock for which the other student lusts. (Of that, art can imitate life.) Anyway to make a very short story, shorter, he takes him into his dorm room, makes him strip, forces him down on the bed and spread his legs. With the same un-nuanced dialogue, he says "Here is your stallion ready to take his mare." As if the point was not made, he adds that he is going to "breed" the student's "pussy" and the student is going to love it. The end demonstrates the veracity of the statements.
I was beginning to get an erection and read on intently. Here are the predictable events. First the math student was, realistically, afraid of the pain. The player however had a non-convincingly convenient lubricant, one of the ones I had seen at the store. He inserted a finger into the math student's anus who encouraged him on. The player with more lube added another finger and then another. The math student made loud, audible signs of approval. It did not take long before the player placed his cock at the entrance and began to shove it in. When it had breeched the sphincter, he called out in sheer pain, shouting that it hurt and that the cock was much too big. He begged him to take it out.
Now again in a complete change of character the player solicitously tells him to relax, push out, and take a deep breath which he quickly does. He apparently adjusts to the thickness of the cock. When the player begins to move in and out, he hits the student's spot, the prostate. It drives the student crazy with lust. He urges the player to go harder and faster. Both come to a huge orgasm together.
I thought, prostate? What is that all about? I wondered what effect that had on the sexual enjoyment. I briefly imaged Drew's cock in me but shuddered at the probable pain.
If I did it with Drew and had pain, I would want him to stop. If I did it with Drew, I would have to relax. If I did it with Drew, I should get a lubricant. When I do it with Drew, I thought, I would want it to be good. My dick was hard. I was excited but rather than masturbating, I held back to wait until I was with Drew. I was beginning to learn self-restraint.
The telephone rang I quickly picked it up. Drew said to come around 6:00. He jokingly reminded me to bring my toothbrush. We both laughed. I hid the paperback in my suit coat pocket and smoothed out the cellophane cover. I picked up the banana peel. My mother was now in the basement doing something. I threw it into the trash compactor.
I packed my pajama bottom, change of underwear, toothbrush and toiletries in my knapsack. I thought I should clean my room but instead went down to play piano. I left at 5:50.
Drew greeted me at the door saying that his father was getting Chinese food for dinner but would be back shortly. He brought me up to the guest room. I put my knapsack on one of the twin beds. He simply said he was also going to sleep in the guest room .
We sat down for dinner. His father had chosen four items with spring rolls and fried wonton as extras. He was very quiet. After dinner, Drew asked me to play the piano. There was an old piano in the living room. I thought the action and tuning would be bad. I was pleasantly surprised. I played Chopin's Minute Waltz. Drew's father, nodding to Drew, said I played very musically. I then played the fiery Leyenda with its difficult leaping octaves. It brought applause. I followed it with the C Sharp Minor nocturne which I played this afternoon. There was silence in the room when I finished. Drew's father seemed deeply moved.
His father quietly said, "Joanna used to play that." I was uncomfortable. Drew jumped and suggested we go up and work on the project. His father thanked me for playing and shook my hand firmly. He went to his den as we walked upstairs to Drew's bedroom.
When we got to his bedroom, he impulsively gave me a big hug saying "I loved my mother playing the piano." He related that she had started lessons when she was six. By her teen years she was quite accomplished and had won some competitions. His father and she were teenage sweethearts. At the age of fifteen she was pregnant with Drew. Drew was brought up by her with the help of his maternal grandparents. His father went to university on scholarship but took evening jobs, and in the summer, to send money home to his mother. She eventually went to university in Fine Arts. They married when he graduated and got his first job. They were always in love.
"I was truly a love child loved, bud."
I felt tears coming to my eyes. I treasured his friendship even more.
We worked through the play comparing our notes and decided how we were going to write it up. He delegated the job of first draft to me and over my shoulder made suggestions. We worked, finally producing a draft that only needed editing. We were going to be able to hand it in on Tuesday.
I decided to wash up and brush my teeth before I went to bed. My back was sore from sitting at the swivel chair for three hours. He followed me to the guest room. We went into the adjoining bathroom to brush our teeth. Standing side by side, looking into the mirror, we carried on a cheerful banter about the project. When I arched my back a couple of times he asked me if my back was bothering me. Replying affirmatively, he decided that he should give me a massage.
I sat on the bed and he got behind me to massage my shoulders. He was very good having some experience in getting massages from his trainers.
"Take off your shirt and jeans and lie on the bed." I did.
I stretched out on my stomach. He straddled my back wedging his thighs against my hips. He began to massage me deeply and slowly. It sent shivers through my spine. I became totally relaxed. He got up and took off his clothes. He reached over and took my boxers off. He climbed back on me assuming the same position and started. I felt his skin against my skin, his legs against mine, his soft cock against my butt. I was overwhelmed with the physical intimacy and my dick got very hard. He continued massaging me downward and then massaged my buttocks. I could feel him getting as hard as I was. His cock was now resting along the length of the fold of my ass. Thoughts of the story came back to me. Nothing was said.
I broke the silence, and hesitatingly, "With Bobby, have you ever ..." A pause.
"Ever what, bud?"
"You know, have you ever, uhmm, have you, did you ever have anal sex.?"
He answered straightforwardly, "Yes," without more. A pause.
"Uhmm... how was it?"
"I liked it best, bud," he said simply.
"How was it for Bobby?"
Drew related that the first time was very difficult for Bobby. Bobby had been the initiator but the two of them had no idea what they were doing or what to expect. He said Bobby was unprepared for entry and that opening was tight and dry. For his part, Drew was too forceful and abrupt. Bobby cried out in pain. They had stopped immediately. Despite this, Bobby suggested some days later that they try it again. He helped Bobby by inserting his fingers with a gel Bobby had bought. He coated his cock well and the entry, although very uncomfortable, was not painful. Drew took his time and they were able to complete it. Bobby was excited about it but his dick remained soft throughout. The next time, again at Bobby's suggestion, Drew and he were able to complete it. Bobby had an orgasm while Drew was fucking him. It became their preferred practice. I thought to myself that if Bobby could do it, I might also.
Drew interrupted my thoughts by playfully reaching under me and grabbing my hard dick. With a laugh he said, "Horatio's here!" With that, he turned me over onto my back. His cock was standing straight up. I subconsciously licked my lips. Straddling me, he moved his hips back and forth, his hard cock bobbing. He moved on his knees until his thighs were against my cheeks, his balls below my chin and his cock prostrated on my face. I opened my mouth, curled my tongue, and in a swipe from the root of his shaft at my chin, pushed it slowly against the shoot, darting my tongue against it, until I had reached his cock head where I swivelled my tongue around his connection and the edges of his cock ridge. A perfectly formed clear large drop oozed out of his slit.
He leaned back a bit. I said spontaneously, looking at his oozing cock, "Thanks for inviting me to your dinner." We both laughed uproariously, This was only our third time together but we had become so natural, humour could be introduced comfortably with our passion.
Still laughing, he swiped his pre-cum with his finger and traced it along my lips, saying "I've got much more where this comes from." He traced his middle finger down his cock and grabbed his balls.
I put my head up and opened my mouth. He pointed his cock at its centre. I took it in. All the feelings and all my actions match those of our two previous encounters. We started our learned routine. My previous experience made me work on his cock more slowly. I adjusted my sucking to his approving moans. I paid attention to his signals. My own dick was throbbing against my stomach.
He moved his hips to get a better angle. I opened up wider as he moved deeper. Suddenly he had breeched my throat. With a deep intake of breath, I swallowed, breathing through my nose. There was just a little, but easily suppressed, gag response. Drew's cock head had come into my throat! My longing for his cock increased two-fold, excited that I had accomplished it. I wanted to grab his buttocks to pull him in further but he gently withdrew. He proceeded to move his cock, gently and smoothly, in and out of my throat, successfully getting more in each time. I took my thumb and index finger to make a ring, and when his cock was almost completely withdrawn, encircled it just below the ridge. I felt his cock slide along my handmade ring, half inch by half inch, into my throat until the only space between my chin and his pubic hairs were my fingers. I withdrew them, coddled his balls as he sank the last of his thick, long cock. My throat was his cock's new manmade ring, my lips its hilt. My nose rested in his pubic hair, smelling his maleness. I inadvertently swallowed, my throat contracting around the his thick inches..
"O my god, so fucking good, " he thundered, He withdrew again and then more forcibly, his primed balls pulsing, plunged into me. I swallowed, contracting while his cock head mushroomed to almost choking size."Yow. I'm there. I'm cumming. Take me! Fuck! Cumming." I reached under his balls feeling their racing heart- beat-like pump. I pushed them tightly against my chin desperately urging them to release.
He reached back and grabbed my cock shanking it roughly. I came just as his cock, throbbing against my Adam's apple, dumped richly thick cum, shot after shot, through my throat into my stomach. He withdrew along my loudly slurping mouth enriching my mouth with more of his load. His cock drove through my ceaseless, tight sucking mouth to its lodging. Again and again. Faster and faster. Inches, inches out. His cock shot steady jets of cum into my mouth, through my throat to my stomach, a hot swift flow of his cum-river to my willing basin. As he gradually slowed his pace, my rotating tongue savoured his gooey length and thickness. With a deep breath he withdrew resting his still pulsing, greased looking cock against my stomach, his balls, wet and sticky from my cum, resting on my navel. Saliva and cum drooled over the sides of my mouth and down my chin.
Silence and stillness. After a few minutes of laboured breathing, his hand caressed my throat. He leaned over and gave me a kiss on my forehead. He softly ran his fingers through my hair. With a deep intake of breath, then exhaling, he said softly, "Fuck, that was incredible. Thanks, Buddy."
I whispered "Thanks, Drew."
He moved over to his bed. As he closed the light, he said. `You will always be my best buddy... Night, partner.
The quiet of a deep slumber earned took over us.
Chapter Seven - Rear Window
buddyboi@sympatico.ca