Date: Thu, 10 Aug 2017 23:03:12 -0500
From: G Jones <geojonsey@gmail.com>
Subject: Ken and I - Part 24

I just want to say again that I'm appreciative of all those that have
emailed me encouragement to continue writing this story. I'm hoping to keep
adding chapters on a regular basis. Some of you have told me that you like
the way the chapters end, not always being sure where the story will go
next. To be honest, I don't always know where the story is heading
either. When I first started, I had thought this would be a fairly short
story, not the ongoing series that it's become. It's like Martin, Ken,
Jamie (and now Daryl) are slowly revealing their story to me, allowing me
to share it with you.

Anyway, please keep reading and enjoying.

And please donate to Nifty! They're awesome for making this free! And it's
a lot of work to maintain!

Ken and I - Part 24

"Yes", I began, hesitating with what to say next.

Daryl waited patiently until I found the rest of my words. I talked about
how things had started with Ken. How they'd progressed. After I started,
the story just kept tumbling out of my mouth. I told Daryl everything. I'm
not sure when I stopped talking, when I'd started hugging my knees with my
head pressed against them, or when I'd started crying.

"You probably don't want some fag sleeping in your bed", I managed to get
out between sobs.

And then Daryl hugged me. He didn't say anything; he just held me until my
tears had stopped. I was again surprised by him; it was yet another
reminder that just as I had changed over the past year, he too had started
to mature.

"Martin, you're my friend, my best friend."

It was all he said, and it was all I needed to hear.

"So ... you're ... I mean, you're ok with ... what we did? What I just
did?"

"Are you fucking kidding? That was the best thing I've ever felt!"

"So, but ... does that mean? I mean ... are you ... like me?"

"Like you?"

"Yeah, y'know ..." I said, quietly adding, "I like boys."

It was the first time I'd say that out loud to anyone; the words had been
simple, but they had seemed difficult to get out. By comparison, the
decisions to be physical with Ken, Jamie and now Daryl seemed easy.

Daryl was quiet before he replied, "I don't know ... what we did ... it was
cool. I don't know if I like boys. I know I think about girls."

Then he added, "And I know I like you."

I was impressed by Daryl's emotional maturity; I'm not sure I would've
reacted the same way if our roles had been reversed. Maybe it was because
I'd spent so much time trying to hide what I was feeling.

"Thanks ... I like you too y'know."

"Yeah, I know", he said, returning to the immature Daryl I knew in the very
next breath, "you must to swallow my cock gravy like that!"

I just about choked on my spit from laughing so hard. We both laughed so
hard, our sides began to hurt. We laid there until we were able to catch
our breaths. Eventually our breathing settled, became slow and steady,
until we fell asleep.

Early the next morning I awoke, feeling the urgent need to pee. I came back
to bed after having gone to the bathroom. As I laid back down it dawned on
me that we'd both slept nude. I guessed it'd been a good thing that we'd
been alone in the house. I looked at Daryl as he slept. I had never felt
closer to Daryl as I remembered how he had let me tell my story last night,
with no judgment. I think that had been my greatest fear. I'm not sure how
I would've reacted if Daryl had wanted me to leave, to get out of his
bed. To get out of his life.

I also began to realize that the way I felt about Daryl was different from
the way I felt about Ken. I loved Daryl, but it was different from the way
I thought of Ken. Daryl was my friend, my best friend, and I'd hoped he'd
always be. What I did with Daryl that night, what I did with Daryl during
the remainder of my stay was fun, and it seemed like it had been a natural
extension of our friendship. In looking back at the way we had become
friends, the way we had been growing up together, it was almost inevitable
that we'd explore our sexual curiosities. Even if turned out to be for
different reasons, for me an exploration of my growing attraction to boys,
for Daryl an outlet for his hormone fueled sexual energy.

Over the next two weeks we seemed to fall into an unspoken routine in which
I sucked Daryl's cock at least once a day, most often twice. Once he'd
experienced the pleasure of a unloading his creamy teen load in my mouth,
he was anxious to keep repeating the experience. Of course, I was only too
happy to comply. After the first few times of doing it in his room, Daryl's
risk taking nature returned and he had me go down on him in several public
washrooms, underneath the bleachers of the local baseball diamond, and
behind his school. He only once sucked me, but I could tell it wasn't
something he enjoyed. He had no problem with jacking me to completion after
I'd swallowed his seed, and by that point I was usually so worked up from
having had his thick pulsing dick in my mouth that it never took long. I
never asked him to suck me again during the trip; I was perfectly content
and happy with this new dimension to our friendship. It seemed to fit the
dynamic that had always defined the two of us together. I never felt that
he was somehow taking advantage of me and my sexual desires; he was never
mean spirited or forceful about the fulfillment of his need, nor did it
make anything else we did awkward. If anything, it seemed like it had made
Daryl feel more comfortable with expressing how he felt through physical
contact, but not just in a sexual way. He often hugged me, and I noticed
that he also hugged his brother and sister several times. I think that had
left them feeling puzzled with his new behavior, but they didn't seem to
mind, especially Mike; he loved this new attention he was getting, I
assumed because it was an improvement over the fighting that had been the
previous norm.

My two week stay with Daryl came to an end quicker than I'd expected, much
too quick. But leaving was different than when he'd moved away. I knew we'd
reconnected in an important way. We had already started talking about when
he might come to visit me; his mom said that they'd been thinking about
being back during the Christmas break, and even if they didn't that maybe
Daryl could come out on his own, and if not at Christmas then during one of
the other school breaks.

The flight home was late in the evening, and I slept most of the
way. Fortunately the plane was relatively empty so the stewardess had moved
me into an empty row and given me a blanket. I had relived many of the
pleasurable moments with Daryl in the dream I'd been having because when I
woke, I could feel my dick throbbing inside my pants. I knew that if I
didn't do something to relieve the pressure that I would end up flooding
them with a hot load of my jizz. I wouldn't have been too worried about
that if it wasn't for the fact that I'd have to deal with the sticky mess
and wet patch; it wasn't like I'd be able to rush off the plane into my
room to get cleaned up or changed! My hands trembled as I fumbled with the
button and zipper on my jeans; I had barely released my erection and pulled
back the skin on a downward stroke when I began to unload stream after
stream of cum into the blanket.

I had barely finished when the stewardess appeared to check on me; she let
me know that we'd be landing shortly and that I'd need to sit up and be
buckled in. I hoped that in the dim lighting she couldn't see the flush on
my face.

I disembarked with my bag and was taken to meet my mom, who had come to
pick me up. She wanted to ask me a million questions about the trip, but I
had only half listened and then fallen asleep during the ride. I had a
vague memory of getting home and falling into bed, feeling exhausted. I'm
pretty sure I hadn't even brushed my teeth, and I guess mom had taken pity
on me and not made a big deal of it.

When I woke up the next morning I felt a moment of disappointment; I had
half expected Daryl to be laying next to me still sleeping, deep breaths
making his chest rise and fall, the fullness of his morning wood fighting
against the cotton fabric of his briefs.

The moment passed, and I smiled at the good memory while adjusting my own
blood engorged member. I was mentally debating between rubbing one out or
getting up to take a solid piss. A knock on my door and my mother's voice
immediately ended that debate.

"Are you going to sleep all day?" I heard her through the still closed
door, "Breakfast is still on the table."

"Okay, okay, I'm up." I almost giggled at the double meaning of my reply.

My dick had deflated into a state of semi-hardness, enough that it felt
safe to get up, open my door and head into the bathroom. After what seemed
like a never ending stream of piss had splashed into the toilet, I headed
to the kitchen and fell into a chair.

It was clear from the look on my mother's face that she was more than ready
to hear all about my trip. I knew there was going to be no way to avoid
having to give her a detailed account, obviously minus the x-rated bits and
pieces. She had no end of questions, some of which I couldn't answer, not
because they fell into that x-rated category, but because I legitimately
didn't know. I had little idea of what Daryl's sister was up to in terms of
school or work, how his parents were doing and so on. At fourteen, those
things hadn't mattered; I had been focused on my time with Daryl as that
had been the purpose of my trip, but somehow that didn't seem satisfactory
to her. I guess I should've been more polite and shown an interest in the
rest of his family as they'd been kind enough to host me for the two weeks.

At this point I'd started to tune her out; my thoughts had now turned to
Ken. He'd be back from his own trip, and I wondered what he was doing. I
supposed it was up to me to either pick up the phone to call him or to drop
by his house since I was the one that had just come back.

"Are you even listening to me?" my mother's question brought me back to the
kitchen table.

"Yes, yes, I need to be more polite. Honestly, you should've seen how Daryl
and Mike act; you'd have a fu... fit."

I had been about to say 'fucking fit'; swearing liberally was one of
Daryl's influences on me. Not that I didn't do it among my friends, but it
was so common between Daryl and I that I usually barely noticed. I'm not
sure if my mom had caught that near slip, but if she had, she didn't say
anything.

"I was thinking I might see if Ken's home."

"Oh that's good Martin, you know he's called several times in the last
during the past week to see if you were home yet. I'm sure I told when
you'd be home the first time he called. I wish you boys developed listening
skills the same way you seem to develop your ... oh, well, never mind. You
should just all learn to listen more."

I almost spit out the milk I had started to drink; I guessed I wasn't the
only that had a near slip. My brain did start firing sparks at hearing that
Ken had been calling to find out if I was home. And he'd called multiple
times! I finished my milk and made a quick exit, yelling over my shoulder
that I was going to shower and then go see Ken.

Hearing that Ken had called so many times had to mean good things, and
those thoughts had led to my dick starting to re-inflate.

I locked the bathroom door behind me and stripped, my dick bouncing up as
it was released. Under other circumstances I might've held off until I saw
Ken, but I didn't even know if he was home and I was feeling an urgent need
to unload the churning brew of teen spunk in my balls. I turned on the
shower and stepped in. I let the hot water run over my back as my hand flew
along the length of my shaft, occasionally twisting my palm around my
leaking cock head. This was no leisurely morning jacking session, and
within minutes I felt the my sack contract and pulse as shot after shot of
my hot spunk splattered against the tiles and ran down. I had moaned out
loud at the feeling and had hoped that the noise of the shower had been
enough of a cover. I'm sure my mother knew that I was a chronic
masturbator, given the typical state of my underwear and bed sheets, but I
saw no reason to provide her with the intimate details of how I conducted
myself during my many, many times of self-pleasure.

I quickly washed my hair and my body, making sure to also clean my
ejaculate from the tiles and floor of the shower. I combed my hair into
what passed for my style, such as it was given that as it dried it just did
it's own thing anyway; the concept of using any sort of gel or hair product
had not yet occurred to me.

With a towel wrapped around my waist, I walked over to my bedroom to get
dressed; shorts and a tee-shirt making up my basic summer uniform.

Mom asked me when I'd be back as I was leaving, and I replied that I had no
idea since I didn't even know if Ken was home or not. I told her I'd be
home no later than supper time, or that I would phone if I was going to be
late or eat somewhere else.

I wasn't sure if I should take my bike or just walk over; I opted for the
latter given that Ken and I had no plans. In the back of my mind I was
hoping that he'd be home alone, would invite me in and we'd get all over
each other. I tried to push the thought out of my mind as I could feel my
dick starting to thicken in my shorts, despite the fact that I had jerked
off just minutes earlier. I thought it would better if I wasn't standing at
their door with an obscene bulge in the front of my shorts, in the event
that it wasn't Ken, or Jamie, that answered the door.

I found myself standing at the back door of his house; I suddenly felt
butterflies in my stomach, whether out of excitement at the prospect of
seeing Ken or with a slight sense of fear in case he'd changed his mind
about wanting to hang out again. Likely it was a combination of the two,
but in either case I knew I needed to knock.

My hand was in motion just as the door flew open and Ken rushed out,
hugging me as we both fell into the grass.

"I saw you coming across the street!" Ken said, excitement in his voice.

"Miss me much?" I teased.

His eyes twinkled and he grinned, "Actually? Yeah, I did."

"You did? For real? Or are you teasing me?"

"For real", he said, pausing a moment before continuing, "... I've been
doing a lot of thinking ... to be honest ... I've thought about you a lot."

Ken didn't look at me, and I could see a slight flush in his cheeks at this
admission.

For some reason I suddenly felt guilty for having essentially been Daryl's
cock slut for the last two weeks. To be fair, I had thought about Ken, but
it had been more in passing; I certainly hadn't had done any deep
reflection on our relationship. And I had come to the realization that my
relationship with Daryl was very different; my guilt subsided, and I
reasoned that there was no real reason for me to feel that way. It wasn't
like Ken and I had been in any sort of 'boyfriend' relationship, and what I
had done with Daryl was just some fun between best friends.

"Soooo ... what have you been thinking?" I asked, hoping to push Ken into
continuing.

"Well ... I ... look, maybe this isn't the best time or place to talk about
this?"

We were still laying in the grass in his backyard, "Yeah, okay, I guess
you're right. You wanna bike out to the boxcar maybe?"

Ken thought for a minute before he answered, "No. Maybe you could sleep
over tonight? Then we could just talk.

All night or whatever. We wouldn't have to worry about being interrupted or
anything?"

"Okay. Do you wanna ask your folks before I ask mine?"

Ken grinned, "Don't need to ... already did."

I laughed, "Okay then. So I'll ask, but I'm pretty sure my parents will say
yes. Other than they'll complain that they haven't really seen me for the
last two weeks and I'm already going somewhere else."

"Oh yeah, how was it? You went to see your friend, right?"

"Daryl, yeah ... it was good. I had a great time ... I guess I can tell you
all about it tonight. If you want."

"Yeah ... your mom said you were pretty stoked about going to see him. That
you guys were best friends and missed each other."

"My mom?" I asked, raising my voice slightly, "What did my mom tell you?
Why was she telling you about Daryl?"

"She just mentioned it when I'd called to find out when you were coming
home." Ken said quietly.

I felt bad for having snapped at Ken; it wasn't his fault my mom felt like
she needed to make my personal business public knowledge.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound like I was mad at you. Mom just ... god, you
know how moms are."

"Yeah, I know", Ken grinned, "For some reason on our trip she felt like she
needed to talk about the last time I peed my pants."

"That was like what, a few weeks ago?" I teased.

Ken rolled on top of me, pinning me down on the grass, "Shut up!"

"Or what?"

"You'll be sorry, that's what!"

"Sure, sure", I teased, "just promise me one thing?"

"What?"

"Uhm ... don't piss your pants right now?"

Ken laughed, "Asshole" as he rolled off me.

I jumped up, "I'll see you tonight then? What time? Around 6?"

"Yeah, that should be good."

"Cool", I said, as I turned and started to walk away.

"Martin?" I heard Ken say.

I stopped and turned back, "Yeah?"

"I'm ... I'm glad you're back."

I smiled, "Yeah, me too ... me too."