Date: Sun, 22 Nov 2009 23:38:30 -0800 (PST)
From: Peder Pederson <pederdagreat@yahoo.com>
Subject: An Osirian Tale: Chapter four

IV.
Possibilities

	Later that evening Darren asked, "George?. . . Do me a
favor. . . will you see if there's a bottle of wine in that cupboard, up
there?" motioning over his refrigerator. He was at the stove sauteing
onions, red and green capsicums along with mushrooms, garlic and some basil
in olive oil.
	"Sure," George said. He opened the high cupboard door and stretched
to reach the bottle. "Only one. . . red wine."
	"That's fine," then added, "the opener's on the rack next to the
refrigerator. . . . See it?"
	"Yeah. . . got it. Want me to open it now?"
	"Please."
	Later, after they had eaten they sat in the living room
relaxing. The food and the wine infused their beings with a relaxed
familiarity.
	"Can't believe how good that was," George stated. "You're multi
talented. . ."
	Darren snorted, "Yeah! I like cooking. . . . but not on a regular
basis."
	"Could have fooled me."
	Darren smiled, his head fell back against the cushion of the chair
in which he sat and gazed upwards. His animated face slipped into a blank
stare.
	George, seeing this, said, somewhat concerned, "I guess you've been
through a hell of a lot lately. . . ."
	"Yeah. . . ."
	". . . . What with loosing your leg. . . . and. . . . your
fiancé. . . . and all."
	Darren sighed deeply, "Yeah. . . . it's the shits!"
	Trying to crack the shell, George said, "But, you've done well."
	"Yeah?. . . . . Well, some times I wonder if it's worth it?"
	Absentmindedly, trying to communicate his understanding, his
empathy, George reached over from the sofa on which he sat and patted
Darren's thigh--his left thigh. The touch had sent a minor shock wave
through his body. Nothing erotic. It's just that no one had touched that
leg with anything but clinical interest since the accident! He glanced down
at the mahogany hand resting on the blue flannel-covered half-leg, and then
into George's concerned face.
	"It's worth it," George stated, quietly, "it's worth it." He
squeezed his hand slightly to emphasize his point.
	Darren continued to stare and became aware of the heat the hand was
somehow transferring an erotic heat to his being. He also became aware that
the innocent, potentially intimate gesture, had caused a stirring in his
loins. Since the accident, since Justine had 'disappeared' from his life,
he had not had a scintilla of carnal desire. Even that brief 'incident' in
the hospital was strangely devoid of real erotic association. Two weeks ago
he had awakened from an erotic dream to find his sheets soaked from an
involuntary emission--a wet-dream! It had been years since he had
experienced a nocturnal emission. He remembered the strange quality of that
dream-fantasy which had been peopled by students from Mc Leicester College
as well as Justine.
	The stirring continued rather than lessening. "You'd better move
your hand," he stated quietly, and smiled.
	"Why?" came the equally quiet reply, also delivered with a warm
smile. George thought that he had detected. . . had perceived a swelling in
Darren's crotch.
	Blushing lightly, "I don't know if it's the wine, or your
hand. . . . but. . . . I'm having a bit of a problem. . ."
	"What kind of problem?" came another question, as the smile
continued and the hand squeezed again.
	"A growing problem," came the answer.
	"Is it serious?"
	"It could be," Darren parried.
	"Why is that?" George persisted, quietly.
	Darren sighed, "Because of everything that's happened
lately. . . . I'm not used to it. . . . to such feelings." he admitted and
the swelling now became insistent.
	"Is it painful? Is it unpleasant?"
	Thoughtfully, Darren answered quietly,
". . . . noo. . . . but. . . ."
	"Do you want the feeling. . . to stop?" he asked quietly as he
moved his hand upward towards Darren's now bulging cock.
	"I. . . . I don't. . . . know," came the confused answer as he
dropped his head back on the cushion and slowly closed his eyes. Closed his
eyes, not so much to shut out but to concentrate, to try to muster his
thoughts and analyze his reaction.
	George's hand had slowly slipped over Darren's confined, cloth
covered, swollen cock and balls and gently cupped them. Darren was aware of
the torrid transfer of heat and the electric sensation of that feeling. The
fingers gently began to massage their charge. The captive cock reacted with
a confined jerk. The hand was lifted away and he could feel fingers
fumbling at his belt. It was quickly unbuckled. Likewise, deft fingers
unclasped the top and the zipper was quickly drawn down.
	Warm fingers grasped his swollen cock through the thin cotton
fabric of his briefs. Their heat was galvanic. Darren groaned and
involuntarily spread his legs a bit. The fingers insinuated themselves
under the elastic band and grasped the length of his erect rod and wrested
it from its cotton prison.
	Darren gasped at the touch of skin against skin. The encircling
fingers gently squeezed that hot, plum-topped tube. Again, Darren
gasped. His cock was released and he could feel fingers slip into the sides
of his loosened trousers as well as the elastic brief band and began to
tug.
	"Lift up," came the quiet, insistent plea.
	Darren arched his back, lifted his hips off the chair cushion and
felt his trousers and briefs being stripped down. Cool air encompassed his
now bare skin as he was stripped bare from his waist down to his feet. This
was quickly replaced by the electrically hot feeling of George's
hands. Finger tips ran over bare, exposed skin, up the inside of his
thighs, over his puckered ball-sack, up his firm, tense, hard cock, and
back down, starting all over again.
	Darren, his eyes still shut, his head still lolling on the cushion,
could do nothing but groan in mounting ecstasy at the fantastic
stimulation. One hand grasped his turgid cock, the other began to range
over his thigh--his left thigh. Then he felt moist, hot punctuations and
longer, languid lingerings over that thigh. He opened his eyes, raised his
head to perceive the source of this sensation. Darren watched George's hand
trace patterns over his left thigh, his lips gently kissing and his tongue
flicking out as it descended towards that stump!
	"Please, stop," Darren commanded breathlessly.
	"Am I hurting you?"
	"No," came the reply, laden with emotion, "just don't touch me
there," he pleaded.
	George sensed the rapid reduction in Darren's cock beneath his
fingers.
	"Would you have. . . . . said
that. . . . . two. . . months. . . ago?" George asked carefully.
	"Two months ago, I doubt I'd be in this particular circumstance,"
and, as he said that he pushed himself back up into the chair dislodging
his nearly flaccid cock from George's grasp. His look nearly resembled a
glare.
	"Are you saying that because I am. . . was playing with your cock?
Or, because I was playing with your leg?" came the examination.
	"I think the answer is obvious. . . . The latter!" Darren spat out
the last two words.
	George, kneeling in front of Darren, looked unblinkingly into his
eyes, took a deep breath and continued, "Darren, God knows, you've been
through hell!" and added, "lately." He continued, "You've lost part of your
leg. . . . YOUR LEG, not your life, not your feeling, not your mind!" he
recounted, vehemently.
	Darren's eyes widened at the ferociousness of this
verbal. . . . attack.
	"You must accept that loss!" he proceeded, insistently. "Look at
it," he commanded, and repeated again as Darren did not comply, "LOOK at
it."
	Darren glanced briefly at that mutilated thing that had been his
left leg.
	"Don't stop looking," George insisted. Darren looked back to his
left half-leg, and as he did George clasped the outside surface of his
thigh and asked, "Do you feel that?"
	"Yes," he nodded.
	George's hand moved to the inside of the thigh and repeated, "Do
you feel that?"
	"Yes," again came the answer.
	George's hand moved to the knee and squeezed. "Do you feel that?"
	Darren lurched, "Yes!"
	"Does that hurt?" George asked with concern.
	"No, it tickles," came the matter-of-fact reply.
	George's hand moved below the knee, tenderly. "Do you feel this?"
	"Yes," came the reply, "But I don't want you to touch me there."
	"Why? Is it so private?" he questioned. "Are you embarrassed?"
	"It's. . . . . it's ugly," he blurted out.
	"Ugly?. . . . . Ugly?" he repeated, then forcefully continued,
"Words like 'kike,' 'spick,' 'nigger' are ugly! Rape is ugly!" He became
more intense, "War is UGLY! Bigotry is UGLY!" He took a deep breath. "But
this is NOT ugly," motioning to the half-leg. He cradled Darren's left
half-leg in his hands and elevated it slightly. "This may not what you had
a couple of months ago, but it's not ugly. It's you. . . . well. . . . part
of you at least. . . . ."
	Darren glanced away from the offending sight.
	"Look at it Darren," George insisted, quietly. "It's part of you,"
he stated simply and leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss on the scarred
stump.
	Darren winced more from disgust than anything else. "It's part of
you!" he repeated. "You've got to learn to accept that." George's voice was
quiet and low, almost hypnotic. "You've been through hell, but you've come
out of it. . . . . Maybe not in the same shape as you entered. . . . But,
your alive, your functioning. . . . . . ."
	As George was speaking these last thoughts, he gently supported
Darren's left half-leg with his right and began to course his fingers
lightly over the thigh and, occasionally down to the scarred tip. But he
concentrated on the thigh, and particularly the inner thigh. George said
nothing but watched Darren, who was staring at his half-leg.
	"This is a dream!" Darren thought to himself, "Here I sit, bare
assed while a guys playing with. . . my. . . leg and. . . cock!"
	George moved his fingers up that smooth inner surface of the
thigh. That area with its erogenous nerve endings. That satiny, erotic
surface, and as he did so, George thought he perceived a reemergence of
life in that now lolling cock. It lengthened imperceptibly and then
noticeably began to swell. George kept up his sensual tattooing. Darren's
cock began to spring to harden life again.
	He leaned forward and placed a perfunctory kiss on the left
knee. The cock continued to burgeon forth. He tongued the inside of
Darren's left thigh. The swelling cock lurched, involuntarily. His kissed
the area below the knee, but above the scar. The tumescence did not cease.
	"See. . . . this is part of you. . . . . part of Darren
Jansen. . . . an incredibly wonderful, sexy man." Saying that, he lowered
the supported thigh to the cushion and turned his attention to the harden
dick. Darren gasped, as his cock was re-grasped by George's incredible
hand. He closed his eyes and rested his head again on the cushion.
	"Darren?" George said gently.
	Darren opened his eyes and lifted his head to regard George.
	George smiled and said, "Watch my hand." Darren complied.
	"Watch my hand as I play with your beautiful, big cock." Darren
watched his reddish-purple, swollen cock-head as it disappeared into those
wonderful brown fingers and then reappear. He reveled in the sensation that
the touch communicated as well as the sight of his hard cock being
manipulated. His eyes darted from that sight to George's sparkling eyes and
back again. He watched as George brought his face close to that throbbing
pole. He watched as George's full lips parted. He watched as George's pink
tongue lubricated his lips then snake forward to touch his swollen
glans. He watched his cock convulse. He watched as George opened his mouth
further and lowered it over his quacking cock. He watched as George's eyes
never left his. He watched George watching him. He watched George as he
drew out his own hard, blue-black cock from his pants and slowly began to
manipulate it. He was amazed at the length and thickness of that huge
pole. . . at the satiny
 fore-skin exposing and puckering, alternately, over the glistening,
purplish-brown head.
	The visual stimuli coupled with the tactile sensations caused
Darren to groan, deeply, a primal reaction as his body began to rise into
those realms of delicious, unequivocal sensuality. A luxurious warmth
suffused his being. Up and down, the length his cock appeared only to
disappear between those full, firm, sultry, extended lips. He luxuriated in
the feeling of his cock slipping into that hot, moist mouth--into George's
throat. He groaned deeply. His senses were nearly on over-load. He closed
his eyes as his head lolled backwards. George increased the speed of his
fucking mouth as well as the sucking pressure.
	"I can't stand it!" Darren breathed, "I'm going to cum. . . . . !"
and then louder, "I'm. . . . GOING. . . . TO CUUUMMMMM!"
	His hips arched off the cushion as spurt after bountiful spurt of
hot cum filled George's mouth and flowed down his throat. After the
spasming had ceased, he fell back into the chair, his heart beat rapidly,
in time with his breathing.
	"That was beautiful," George stated softly, "really beautiful."
	Darren lifted his head in time to see George plant a light kiss on
the tip of his still hard member and uttered an equally quiet, "Yeah."
	George sat back on his heels, stuffed his still hard dick with some
difficulty back into his pants and zipped them up. Their eyes still held
each others.
	"Thanks, George," Darren uttered, quietly.
	"Thank you," came the reply as he raised up and resumed his former
position on the sofa.
	Darren's breathing returned to normal as the two sat quietly. Then
George, after taking a deep breath, stood up, smoothed the creases out of
his pants and said, "I think I should be going."
	"Why?" Darren asked, his voice a mixture of surprise, insistence
and bewilderment. "We haven't had out coffee yet," he added.
	"Well. . . I just think I should be going. . . ," came the reply,
and then, "I need a shower," came the feeble excuse.
	"Hell," Darren said as he stood up with the aid of his crutch, "You
can shower here." He took a step and stumbled over his pants and briefs on
the floor, forgetting for a moment that he was half nude. "Shit," he said
lightly, "I forgot my pants. . . . . I can't get my guest coffee with my
bare ass hanging out," laughing as he reached down for his pants, sat back
on the chair and slipped them on, leaving the briefs on the floor.
	George watched, marveling at Darren's dexterity and said nothing.
	"I'll fix coffee. . . ," he said standing up again, "You take a
shower." It was more a gentle decree than a statement.
	"Well, Okay," George offered his consent.
	"Come on then," as he went down the short hall to his bedroom,
passing the hall bathroom. "I'll get you a towel."
	George followed Darren, accepted the towel and began to strip as
Darren left the room to prepare the coffee.
	Minutes later, Darren returned with a steaming mug of fresh
coffee. George had finished showering and was standing just outside the
bathroom door, toweling the last remaining patches of wetness from his head
and neck. He glistened in the half-light of the bedroom. Darren stopped
suddenly. Within an instant he surveyed George's body slightly embarrassed
at seeing his nakedness. George was tall, as tall as Darren, but did not
weigh quite as much. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow as were his
hips, his thighs swelled, long-muscled, before tapering to his knees, his
calves were likewise hard muscled. At the base of his flat belly was a
thick mat of curly, black cock-hairs, and arching out and downward from
that thicket was the biggest cock Darren had ever seen--not that he had
ever kept a mental tabulation--but George's cock would make any one look
twice. Even in its detumescent state, it hung downward a full five inches,
including the frilled
 foreskin. Behind dangled his balls, substantial, but not equaling in
proportion the size of his blue-black, hanging dick. Darren's eyes widened
somewhat as he gazed on that huge member.
	A slight smile flitted over George's face as he realized the source
of Darren's obvious amazement. He quickly wrapped the towel about his
waist, tucked the corner securely in, reached for the steaming mug, and
said, "This is real service." After taking a careful sip, "Mmmmm. . . it's
good. . . . Hit's the spot. . . . Just what the doctor ordered," George
added with a grin.
	Darren returned the smile, "You seem to know what is needed,
too. Even though, it probably wasn't 'ordered' by the doctor." His smile
broadened.
	George considered Darren's statement, raised a questioning eyebrow
and queried, "'Needed?'. . . needed?. . . . . not. . . 'wanted?'"
	Darren did not move, did not answer immediately. Then came
plaintively, "I don't know. . . ." He glanced around the bedroom, avoiding
George's eyes and added quickly, "We can finish our coffee in the living
room." He turned and left George there.
	Minutes later, George entered the living room, his coffee mug in
one hand, his shirt thrown over his shoulder. Darren was sitting in the
chair sipping from his mug. Their eyes met briefly. Darren nodded his head
towards the sofa for George to sit. Seconds passed as they quietly sipped
their coffee. George glanced two or three times over to Darren who held his
mug in front of his lips and starred into some void.
	"George," quietly uttered, "Can I ask you a question?"
	"Yeah. . . Sure."
	"A personal question. . . ."
	"Sure. . . as long as it's not too personal," he laughed.
	"When did you know. . . you were. . . gay?"
	"Gay?. . ."
	"Yeah, you know. . . gay. . . homo. . ."
	George smiled, "Darren, I had my first same-sex experience when I
was fifteen. Soon after I had my first sex with a girl. Both were
satisfying. Both were. . . stimulating. Both I enjoyed immensely and longed
for more." He paused. Darren was deep in thought. He continued, "But, if
you mean by 'gay,' exclusively homosexual. . . . Then, I. . . am not."
	Darren glanced questioningly at George. George continued, "I guess
you could classify me as 'bisexual. ' I like both men and
women. . . . . . If you ask me if I could have an exclusive relationship
with either a man or a woman. . . a real soul-mate. . . then. . . under the
right circumstances, I suppose I could. . . . But that hasn't
happened. . . . yet."
	"A soul-mate, God, I want a soul-mate," Darren said to himself.
	Again they sat quietly for a few moments.
	George began again, "Can I ask you a personal question?"
	Darren answered, hesitantly, "Yes."
	"I assume, obviously, you have had sex with a woman. Did you enjoy
it?"
	"Yes, immensely," came the quick, honest reply.
	"Other than with me, have you ever had sex with a man?"
	After a second or two came the reply, "Yes. . . . But, not really."
	"Either you have or you haven't," George probed, "Which is it?" The
question had an edge to it as it was spat out.
	"I. . . . have, but it was one-sided."
	"One-sided?. . . You mean like what we have done?"
	"Yes," came the quiet answer.
	"Did you enjoy it?"
	Darren glanced back at George. Inside was a raging battle.
	"Did. . . you enjoy. . . it?" George repeated a bit more
emphatically.
	"I suppose. . ." came the feeble answer.
	"You. . . suppose?" George probed deeper, "Either you did or you
didn't! Which is it?"
	Darren swallowed noticeably, then admitted, "I did. . . . ."
	"Did you enjoyed tonight. . ." George said, more as a statement of
fact than a question.
	"Yes," came the quiet reply.
	"You like the feel of my hand on your cock?" There was no answer
from Darren. George probed, "'Yes'. . . or. . . 'no?'" he insisted.
	"Yes."
	"Did you like. . . Did you enjoy the feel of my mouth sucking your
hard cock?"
	After a half-second pause, "Yes."
	"Did you enjoy the feeling of cuming in my throat?" he continued
relentlessly.
	"Yes," without hesitation.
	"See, " George said brightly, "That wasn't so difficult. . . . was
it?"
	Darren, still looking into George's eyes, quietly shook his head,
"No."
	George decided to probe even deeper. Carefully choosing his words
he formed his next question, "You were. . . . interested. . . . in the
sight of my cock. . . . just now. . . in there," nodding towards the
bedroom.
	Darren reddened slightly. His eyes hardened slightly and he said,
"You don't give up! Do you?"
	Without hesitation, George answered, "Not when the stakes are so
high."
	"What do you mean?" Darren spat out.
	"You. . . . . YOU! You're important." Emphatically, he continued,
"You've been through hell. You were building a wall. A dangerous
wall. . . . It had to be destroyed. . . ." Then added, "I did what I
thought was right."
	Darren's face relaxed. His eyes still held George's fighting for
the rest of the answers.
	"You didn't answer my question," George said, tentatively.
	"What question?" Darren asked softly, knowing the answer, and
fearing it less.
	 "You were. . . . interested. . . . in the sight of my cock!"
	"I suppose. . ." then quickly, before he could be chided, added,
"You're hung. . . . . like a horse."
	George laughed fully and unselfconsciously. Darren did too.
	"You're pretty well hung yourself," George admitted. The barrier
had been breached. They both sat briefly, both lost in thought.
	Then George, stood up, slipped on his shirt and stated, "I've got
to get going."
	"You've got to work tomorrow," Darren questioned.
	"No, I'm off tomorrow, but it's getting late."
	"You. . . could. . . stay here," Darren said hesitantly, not really
knowing why he had said that.
	"Could. . . stay here?" George probed. "Darren, do you want me to
stay?" he asked bluntly.
	Darren took a deep breath, hoisted himself to a standing position,
looked straight into George's eyes and said, "I would like you to stay here
tonight."
	George smiled, knowing how far Darren had progressed, how hard it
was for him to offer that question. "I'd love to," was all he answered.
	The atmosphere had suddenly lost all its previous tension, its
negative ennui. The two relaxed, a relaxation that comes from
exertion. Although in their case, the real exertion was not
physical. Rather it was emotional and mental--equally exhausting.
	Some time later, after lighter, less probing, less intense
discussion, Darren and George went to the bedroom, undressed and got into
bed together. George could sense that Darren was a bit reticent as he had
turned off all the lights.
	"Leave one light on," he pleaded.
	Darren reached over and flicked on a small bedside lamp. His
reserve, his inhibition was to be expected, after all he was entering
unknown territory. But, he could have had no better guide than George.
	Darren lay on his left side, unconsciously masking his left
half-leg with his right and placed his hand on George's smooth, satiny
chest.
	"I never expected to find myself in this position," he murmured,
"You make me feel so. . . . horny. . . . never thought a guy. . . ."
	George smiled, "Enough talk for tonight. Let's just enjoy. . ." He
rolled onto his right side, encircled Darren's waist and pulled his body
close.
	The feeling of George's warm, naked body laying along his sent
shock waves through Darren. He moved his hand around George's waist to the
small of his back and then involuntarily down to his firm round
ass. Carefully, he cataloged every sensation, every undulation his
fingertips encountered.
	George, smiled and moved closer. He had decided that tonight he
would let Darren be the initiator. . . at least, up to a point. He
luxuriated in the tentative touch of Darren's warm hands over his ass. His
cock began to swell.
	Darren sensed the growing cock next to his. His cock, too, began to
lengthen and swell in jerking motions. He felt a warm hand move sensually
up his back and down again, cupping a firm ass-cheek, squeezing and forcing
his hips and cock even closer to George's. Darren responded similarly, 'til
their groins and swelling cocks were grinding together.
	George slipped his right hand under Darren's torso and hugged him
closely. Then he moved away, slightly, as his left hand sought Darren's
dark aureole, fingering its small nipple which quickly reacted and became
erect.
	Their cocks surged to aching, throbbing erection. Rubbing against
the others insistently, as if they had a will of their own. Darren marveled
at the size and the generated heat that This big cock engendered. He placed
his hand on George's chest and forced him away until he was laying on his
back. George complied, willingly, anticipating, . . . he knew not what!
	Darren raised up onto his elbow and reached over to that swollen,
hot, blue-black, sheathed pillar and wrapped his fingers around it. He
marveled at its thickness. He could barely encircle the girth of that
thing. He moved his imprisoning hand downward and marveled as the
purplish-brown, glistening cock-head was revealed. He moved his hand back
up and saw that purplish-brown plum disappear, covered by that soft, satiny
sheath with its ruffled extension. He sat up, crossing his right leg over
his left, bent forward and visually cataloged every inch of that massive,
quivering, veined cock. For minutes he inspected its workings, played with
its elastic foreskin, hefted the ball-sack, squeezed its girth and moved
his hot hand up and down the whole length.
	George savored the whole process, quietly watching Darren, reacting
to his touch as well as the sight of that exploring hand. "Do you like my
cock?" he asked gently.
	"I've never seen such a big cock," he declared, "much less touched
one before."
	"You've never touched a guys cock before?"
	Darren shook his head, "No. . . never."
	George said no more, but continued to watch and to delight in the
sight and touch of Darren's hand. Darren bent even closer observing,
feeling that marvelous, that wondrous tool. His pink tongue moistened his
bright lips and continued his minute inspection.
	"Kiss it," George suggested.
	Darren hesitated, glanced up into George's eyes, moved his hand the
whole length of that cock, pulling the purplish-brown, gleaming cock-head
free in one motion, gazed in wonder at its size and scope and planted a
quick, closed kiss on its full form. That action caused that impressive
member to spasm within the grasping fingers. George hissed in a breath,
also in reaction.
	"Ahhh!"
	Darren planted a longer kiss on that dark, mushroom head.
	"Suck it Darren," he begged, hoarsely.
	Darren hesitated a second, "I. . . . I cant," came the plaintive
reply, and whispered, "Sorry."
	"That's okay. . . . no problem," George said with some deception.
	"Sorry," Darren repeated as he sank back into a reclining position
beside George. His hand remained on that treasure-cock.
	"It's not required," George uttered softly as he rolled onto his
side again, planted a kiss on Darren's cheek and moved his lips lower,
licking and sucking one erect nipple and then the other. All the time
George was stimulating Darren's tits, his hand had reached down and was
expertly fondling the hard cock and hanging ball-sack. Darren began to
moan, uncontrollably. George's hot tongued traced a line from one
eroticized tit downward over the belly and into the lush cock-hairs. Darren
continued to moan.
	George repositioned himself, kneeling, perpendicular to Darren and
lowered his hot, moist mouth over Darren's throbbing cock and began to suck
him. Almost instantly, Darren's left hand snaked under George's torso and
belly and sought out that dark, stiff, erotic implement. He began to
manipulate it, receiving as much delicious satisfaction from touching that
cock as he did from the hot, juicy mouth bobbing up and down on his own
cock. Both men uttered low, primal, uncontrolled moans.
	From George's sucking mouth, a small rivulet of saliva streamed
over Darren's balls and down into that dark cleft. That sensation caused
Darren to bring his knee up and spread his thighs slightly. George fondled
those throbbing balls as his hand became lubricated in his own saliva. A
finger traced the little stream 'til it encountered that hot, tightly
puckered opening. Darren lurched at the touch and moaned even deeper. The
finger began to massage that taut opening.
	Darren could hardly contain himself as he experienced the electric
sensations on his hard-sucked cock, his massaged ass-hole and his fingers
as they were wrapped about that glorious mahogany pole.
	Carefully, George insinuated his finger into that tight, muscled
fortress. As his finger entered those dark, sensitized regions, Darren
groaned heavily and involuntarily let loose of his cock-treasure.
	Darren arched his head backward into the pillow. and began to whip
it back and forth in uncontrolled pleasure. Then he sat up, grabbed George
by the shoulders and lifted him of his cock and out of his sensitized
tunnel.
	"Stop! I'm about to cum," he gasped.
	"Is that a problem?" George smiled.
	"No. . . . but it's too quick!. . . Besides I've already done it
once. . . . and you haven't. . . ."
	George smiled, leaned over to kiss Darren on the mouth. Darren
quickly presented his cheek which George kissed lightly. "He's not
ready. . . yet." he admitted to himself, and then said audibly, "I don't
care. . . . I enjoy making love almost as much as I like to cum. . . . It's
incredibly sexy to me. . . . watching you enjoy our sex."
	"I know. . . ." was all Darren could say. Again, he pushed George
back into a prone position, leaning over his chest he licked those purple
circles with their erect, centered, little knobs. He had reveled in
George's accomplished acts of arousal and consciously replayed them in his
brain as he transferred this newly found knowledge into action. The feel of
George's tit in his mouth, against his tongue was sensually
delicious. While his tongue played with the tits, his hand returned to that
other, lengthy treasure and began to fondle it. He lifted his head,
regarded the upright, powerful, throbbing cock with its head glistening,
denuded of its velvet sheath and leaned over it
	George watched as Darren licked his lips, took a deep breath,
opened his mouth and lowered his mouth onto that cock-head. His lips slid
over the flaring head. Just as it disappeared into his mouth, Darren
retreated suddenly. He sat back quickly, gagging uncontrollably.
	"Sorry, " he breathed after the spasming stopped.
	"It happens," was all George said as he laid his hand on Darren's
shoulder.
	Then he added, "Relax. . . lay down." Darren complied, and George
resumed his former action, lowering his head onto Darren's cock and began
to suck it again. His finger, too, sought out that already lubricated
opening and reinserted itself.
	Darren groaned, anew and savored the feeling. His passion began to
mount to its previous high when Darren loosed his mouth's grip and removed
his finger.
	"Do you have any lotion, Darren?"
	"Lotion?" he questioned.
	"Yeah, hand lotion, like Vaseline Hand Lotion."
	"There's some in the bathroom," he answered, wondering at the
reason for that request.
	Presently, George returned with the bottle in one hand, squeezed a
generous portion of the pink lotion into one hand, crawled back onto the
bed, grasped Darren's cock with the lubricated hand and began to jack him
off. He twisted and torqued his hand as it moved up and down its hard,
quivering length.
	"Jeeze. . . that feels great."
	George just smiled and continued. After a few moments, Darren's
head began to whip back and forth in erotic excitement. George let loose of
that burgeoning cock, straddled Darren's hips, grasped his stiff dick and
brought his already lotioned ass downward. Darren stopped his thrashing and
starred up at George.
	A brilliant, licentious smile spread across his face as he said, "I
want to feel your cock inside me."
	The lowered his body created a pressure on Darren's cock-head. He
raised his hips off the mattress.
	"Don't move," gasped George. "Let me do it at my pace. . . . You're
pretty big. . . . I'm not too used to this."
	Darren relaxed but the pressure continued. Suddenly, that tightly
guarded opening gave way and the considerable cock-head popped in. George
gasped and froze. After several deep breaths, he lowered himself still
further. Again he froze and Darren could see beads of perspiration break
out on George's already glistening fore-head.
	"You don't have to do this," Darren said, nearly pleaded with
concern.
	"Oh, but I want to."
	He lowered himself further, 'til nearly all of Darren's substantial
cock was embedded in his ass. He raised up slightly and then lowered
himself. . . . raised up again and lowered himself. . . . raised up a third
time and then lowered himself all the way down. As he sat there impaled,
that cock buried deep in his gut, George grabbed his own throbbing dick and
began to play with it as he began to rhythmically raise and lower his body
on that florid axis which penetrated his entrails.
	Darren reached down and removed George's hand from his ebony poke
and replaced it with his own. With delicious vehemence he moved his hand up
and down that surging dick while his own was being fucked by that tightly
muscled opening.
	George moved even faster up and down luxuriating in the double
sensation of his cock-invaded ass-hole and his finger imprisoned dick. He
groaned as he plunged up and down.
	Darren felt that thick, massive cock swell even more beneath his
ministering hand as he kept time with the fucking movement on his own cock.
	George groaned even louder. "I'm going. . . to. . . cum!" he
stated. "I'm going. . . to shoot. . . my load!" came forth louder. "I'm
going to cover you. . . WITH. . . . MY. . . . CUM!" he shouted as his
cock-head swelled even more.
	Jet after jet of pearly liquid shot from that tiny slit and
showered its lustral, viscous contents over Darren's chest and
belly. Darren was amazed at the sight, at the amount of
ejaculate. Simultaneously he felt a spasming about his imprisoned cock.
	"UH. . . . Uh. . . . uh. . . ." George grunted as the
cock-seizures, which had rocked his whole being, lessened and then
ceased. His head dropped and Darren could sense his whole being relax.
	Darren sat up, placed his arms around George's slack shoulders and
whispered, "That was fantastic. . . ." Gently he twisted Darren off his
body and eased him down onto the bed beside him.
	As George felt Darren's still erect cock slip past his sphinctered
hole, sending a post-orgasmic shock bolting through his body, he asked
quietly, "Did you come?"
	"No," came an equally soft answer, "But it was wonderful, too."
Saying this Darren bent over and placed a light, tentative kiss on George's
moist lips.
	"Mmmmm. . . . that was nice," he purred as he put an arm over
Darren and felt the same response.
	The two snuggled closer and George fell into deep sleep. Darren lay
there, his cock growing progressively softer and he marveled. Quietly, he
questioned the recent happenings, his responses and their reasons. With
quiet logic he analyzed, not only this days events, but also a number of
experiences that had gone before. Soon, he too was sleeping contentedly.

	The next morning George awoke to the smell of freshly brewed
coffee. He opened his eyes. Momentarily he was disoriented. Then the
memories of the past evening flooded back and he started to become
aroused. Quickly he swung out of bed, grabbed his towel from the night
before and went to the bathroom. He smiled as he noticed a brand new
toothbrush still in its package laying on the sink. He brushed his teeth,
showered, dried off, went back to the bedroom where he found his clothes
neatly folded on a chair, dressed, and walked into the living room.
	Darren was sitting in the chair reading the morning paper, looked
up as George came in and said, "Would you like a cup of coffee?"
	"I'd love one."
	Darren began to raise up.
	"Hey, I can get it myself," George interrupted. He entered the
narrow kitchen saw a mug resting near the coffee maker, poured the steaming
liquid into the mug, and returned to the living room where he sat down and
sipped the coffee. "Mmmmm. . . . that hits the spot," he admitted.
	Darren smiled, "How're you feeling this morning?"
	"Fine. . . and you?"
	"Great, just great."
	After a couple minutes and several sips of coffee, Darren said, "I
need to thank you. . ."
	"For what?"
	"For everything. . . If it wasn't for you. . . I'd probably be in
some psyche-ward by now. . . You knocked me out of my. . . . my
state. . . ."
	George smiled, "Darren, that's not altogether true. You would have
recovered. . . in time. All you needed was a little push. . ."
	"Yeah, but you initiated. . . that push. . . . Nobody else
did. . . ," saying this, Darren smiled. "Or is getting someone to cum some
kind of new. . . kinky therapy?" he laughed.
	George laughed, too. "Good, clean, uncomplicated sex has always
been a healthy activity," he admitted.
	"Yeah, I guess you may be right. . . but it was you who pulled the
trigger. . ."
	"Trigger?" George questioned, "I thought it was something else I
pulled!"
	They both laughed. It wasn't that George was being purposefully
flippant, or sarcastic. He had been aware of Darren's need to talk, to
mentally explore his situation. He also was aware of the dark depression
into which Darren had fallen barely two months ago and innately felt that
now, at this moment, light, pointed humor was the better way of dealing
with his concerns.
	"Well. . ." he began, then continued, "it wasn't just. . . the
sex. . . It was what you said too. I think by now you know I enjoy
sex. . ." George's eyebrow arched. Noting this, with a smile, Darren
continued, "But what you said was important too. . . . . Your actions were
right, your words were right. . . for this. . . this. . . . ," Darren
glanced down to his half-leg, "this disabled person."
	Quickly, George said, "I'm sorry Darren, but your last remark is a
bit too negative for me. . . and. . . I think. . . for you."
	Darren's brows knitted in confusion and George continued,
"'disabled' is entirely too negative! I'm beginning to hate that
word. . . Too many people hide behind it. . . Or, try to force other people
into its negative category. . . its connotation. If you want to be
'disabled,' then that's up to you. If you want to be 'disabled' it's your
mind that will place you in that category, not your missing limb. My God!
Look at F. D. R. --he couldn't walk. Look at Pauling--he could only move
his hand! Look at Toulouse Lautrec--his legs were stunted! Look at
Beethoven--he was deaf! Look at. . . ."
	"Enough!" Darren said, raising his hands in surrender. "I get your
point. . . . But, George, the fact is. . . ."
	"The fact is. . ." George interrupted, "The fact is your mind's
intact. The fact is that all that's really been effected is your ability to
walk. That too, will be changed. . . somewhat. . . when you're fitted for a
prosthesis."
	Darren considered what George had said and inwardly, logically he
knew he was correct, "But. . . it's so damned hard. . . I get so depressed
sometimes. . . . Hell, a lot of the time, if the truth's to be known."
	Leaning forward and placing his hand on Darren's knee, "And,
Darren, if the truth's to be known, your depressions are not
unusual. . . . and. . . they will continue. . . for a time. But the pain
will lessen and fade to almost nothing."
	"I know, that's what Dr. Lewin says. . . ."
	"Just don't push so hard. Relax! Let life take its
course. . . . It's a great healer, ya know."
	"Yeah. . . . I know. . . I know your right. . . . It's
just. . . . HELL!" he exploded, "It's so damned hard!"
	"Already?"
	Darren knitted his brows in confusion and befuddlement. He felt a
light squeezing on his knee and glanced into George's smiling face, his
brows raised mockingly.
	Darren laughed deeply, understanding the double entendre. Lightly
he lifted George's hand off his knee and said with a smirk, "Enough
therapy. No more!"
	They both laughed lightly, relaxed back into the soft cushions and
began again sipping their coffee. Quietly they ruminated.
	After a few minutes George looked up into Darren's peaceful,
thoughtful eyes and quietly said, "Darren. . . Can I ask you a serious
question?"
	Darren glanced back, concern was mirrored in his eyes, "Yes, what?"
	"Did my actions bother you last night?"
	"Nooo," came the considered reply. "Why do you ask?"
	"Well. . . it's just that from what you said. . . what you told
me. . . My actions may have offended you."
	"Offended me?. . . . What do you mean?"
	"Weellll. . . you're not really experienced. . . in. . ."
	"Same sex activities?" he finished George's sentence with the
questioning phrase. "No, I'm not experienced, And, no, I was not and am not
offended. . . . . If I hadn't wanted you to continue, I would have stopped
you. But. . . I didn't. I really don't know why," he hesitated, "I only
know that last night. . . and the few other occasions, I physically
responded. . . even enjoyed the experiences." Again he paused, "I don't
know why."
	"I didn't mean to upset you. . . ."
	"No. . . no, I'm not 'upset. ' I just don't know the reasons for my
reaction. . . . Maybe. . . . like you. . . . I'm bisexual," the last word
came out in a near whisper, and he finished quietly, unassured, "I don't
know!"
	"I have upset you!"
	"No, you really haven't," he asserted with some force, then with a
knowing smile, "You just pulled my trigger. . . ."
	George chuckled and decided that he should say no more. "Well, I
really think I've gotta go," he said, standing up.
	Darren raised himself, secured the crutch under his left arm and
walked George to the door. "George," he extended his right hand, "Really, I
have to thank you. . . . for everything."
	George shook Darren's hand, "All in the line of duty!"
	"Thanks anyway," Darren said.
	They briefly looked into each other's eyes. Then Darren embraced
George. Not an embrace that presaged anything else other than genuine
friendship. "Friendship does offer many possibilities," Darren thought.
	"Thanks," they both said.

	Darren saw George at least twice a month when he returned to
Dr. Soderberg's office for his check-ups. Her office was in a building that
was attached to the hospital. Sometimes the meetings were brief, other
times, at the right times, they had lunch together. They also called each
other frequently and three times in a four month period, they ate dinner
together--twice in a local restaurant and once at Darren's. They did not
have sex again!
	Some friendships develop into sexual relations. Not Darren's and
George's! Some friendships dissolve after sexual relations. Not Darren's
and George's! Darren's and George's association began in the neutrality of
the hospital, developed into a brief, torrid night of mutually satisfying
erotic delight and emerged into a deep and lasting friendship. There was no
need, no question of delving into the erotic any more for either of them.
	About five weeks after 'that night,' George quietly announced at
lunch, "Darren, I'm seeing someone."
	"Oh?"
	"Yeah. I met her three weeks ago at 'Ashbee's. ' She's. . . . she's
quite special."
	"A soul-mate?" Darren asked, happy for his friend.
	"I don't know, yet. . . . Maybe," he said, then repeated, "She's
really special."
	Six months after the accident, Dr. Soderberg announced, "Darren,
you've healed quite well. I think it's time for you to consider a
prosthesis."
	Darren nodded calmly, "Okay. . . . Can you recommend someone?"
	"Mid-West Surgical Appliances is quite good. There are others. . ."
	"So far your advice has been great. Mid-West it is. Do you need to
make the appointment, or do I?"
	"You can, but, I'll contact them too, just to fill them in on your
case."
	"Sure, thanks. . . . . Do I need to see you again?" he asked.
	"I would like to see you sometime after the prosthesis has been
fitted. . . say a month?"
	"Okay, again thanks."
	"My pleasure," she answered.

	A few minutes later Darren met George in the hospital cafeteria.
	 "What did Soderberg say?" he asked.
	"I'm going next Monday to see about a prosthesis."
	"Great. . . . Say, have you gotten the tickets for Saturday, week,
have you?"
	"No, I was going to stop by tomorrow on my way home. Why? Are you
canceling?" Darren asked. Earlier they had decided to go to a jazz concert
that the university was sponsoring. They both liked jazz, although Darren
preferred big-band jazz, whereas George like small ensembles somewhat
better.
	"No. . . no I'm not, but would you mind getting three tickets?" he
asked, and added, "I'd like to take Linda, if that's Okay with you?"
	"Of course, I was wondering when you'd let me meet her?" Then he
added with some sarcasm, "I promise, I'll behave myself."
	"You'd better," George snorted.
	They both laughed and began to eat.
	"George, can I ask you a question? A personal question."
	"Sure," he said glancing up from his food to Darren.
	"Does Linda. . . know? Have you ever told Linda about yourself?"
	George smiled softly, "Yeah, I have. . . . a month ago," he paused,
then continued, "things are getting pretty serious, and. . . . I felt she
had the right to know. . ."
	Darren said nothing, just nodded his head as he chewed his food.
	"She was a bit surprised. . . I guess. . . but. . . it didn't seem
to matter. . . . At least I don't think it did. . . . . . All she wanted to
know was if I was involved with anyone now. . . . Of course. . . I'm not"
	"She sounds quite special," Darren said.
	"She is!" George affirmed.
	"A soul-mate?"
	"I. . . . . . think so. We'll see."
	"You're lucky. . . . George, I'm really happy for you," he stated
honestly. "I'll get the tickets tomorrow."