Date: Sat, 21 Mar 2009 02:23:49 -0700 (PDT) From: Water Shoes Subject: Luck This story is a complete work of fiction. Any similarities to real life events or persons are completely coincidental. All mentioned products are copyrighted by their respective owners. This story contains consensual sex between two male minors. If you should not be reading this or will take offense to such themes, please do not read further. If you do choose to continue, please enjoy and provide me any feedback. Luck Luck, as it is often described, comes in streaks. You'll win some, you'll loose some. However...how long can a winning streak go before your luck turns? Does the length of the winning streak determine the height of the fall? Or, what of the opposite? Does bad luck eventually beget good luck? ... I clapped my Nintendo DS shut, slipping it into the pocket of my carry-on bag just below my seat. I was sitting on the outside of my row of seats, right next to the isle. I sat up and stretched, looking down the isle at the stewardess who would soon be at my row to hand out the mid-flight snack. Sorry, getting ahead of mysel...my name is Lucas. Some call me that, or Luke. As I said, I'm sitting right next to the isle. Sitting on my left in the window seat is my best friend Ryan. Ryan and I, we've known each other since the first grade. All throughout elementary school and, now, the second year of middle school, we've been friends. Inseparable in class and on the playground. Even outside the school, we're inseparable. We're lucky in that our houses are within short biking distance of one another, which results in either of us being at the other's house most every afternoon and weekend. Every summer we've done something different. We went to a summer camp one year, attended a daily basketball club another. Yet another summer we went camping with his parents. This summer, we were going to California. It has become a tradition that, for one (or both, if we can manage it) of either family's vacations every summer, one of us goes with the other. This summer, to celebrate my parent's 18th anniversary (no idea why they choose that number, of all numbers to celebrate), they decided to head back to where they first met. So, here we are, flying halfway across the country with my friend Ryan in tow--not that I'm complaining, I get to sit alone with the most beautiful person in the world for four hours! I've felt this way about him for a long time, almost as long as I can remember. I'm not sure what it is about him I like the most, or if it's just most of him I like. I thought he looked absolutely stunning that day in a blue tee shirt and khaki shorts. Well, I guess I think he looks stunning in everything he ever wears. I just love everything about him...his red hair, blue eyes, smooth skin, light sprinkling of freckles across his nose, his devious smirk, well defined legs, his shapely crot-- "What would you like to drink?" the stewardess asked Ryan, snapping me out of my daydreams. "Oh, uh...do you have Coke or Pepsi?" he asked, looking up from his book. I always thought it was odd, both of us being somewhat athletic, that he loved to read. Pretty much anytime we weren't doing anything together, and even sometimes when we were, his nose was buried in some new book. "Coke," she answered. "I'll have that, no ice please." She reached into her cart, pulled out a can of coke and a plastic cup and poured some of the coke into the glass. "There you are." She carefully handed them both over me, and placed them in his hands. His beautiful hands.... "And for you?" "Umm..." I stuttered. "I'll take a Sprite with ice." "Alright," she said, bending over and getting a can and another plastic cup. She put ice in mine, and poured some of the drink out. She turned, and carefully lifted the cup and can towards me. That's when it happened. A fairly small bump of turbulence rocked the plane, but it was enough. She had only a light grip on both the cup and the can to make it easier for me to grab. Both dropped from her hands. Almost in slow motion, I saw the plastic cup fall to my hand...and clip it, spinning over as it fell into my lap. The Sprite, in all its fizzing stickiness, coated the crotch of the soccer shorts I was wearing. I felt it immediately soak through the thin fabric and into my boxers. The can fell from the stewardess's hand, falling flat onto the edge of my tray table. It hit hard, spraying some of the soda in an arc and onto my shirt. The can then tipped over, and also began emptying onto my crotch. Time instantly went back to normal. I gasped from the sudden cold, Ryan and her gasped from the suddenness of it. "I am SO sorry!" she gasped, pulling the cart back and reaching inside for a trash bin. I had already picked the can and cup up to prevent even more from spilling and tossed them into the bin. The shock over, Ryan started laughing. "Wow, man! It looks like you just peed yourself MAJOR!" "Thanks, dude," I said, slapping the back of my hand into his chest. My face was burning red as the stewardess ripped off a few paper towels and handed them to me. "Get the ice off the seat so I can throw it away." I raked around and got all of them, even after one had gone far under me and gotten my shorts even more wet. "Here, you can take this and go try and dry some of it off in the bathroom," she said, handing me the roll of paper towels. Her face was as red as mine from embarrassment. Ryan's face was red from laughing too hard. Wanting any excuse to get away from the situation, I grabbed the paper towels and headed for the back. Another rumble of turbulence rocks the plane as I head back. A few people looked curiously at me, and then stared at my almost dripping crotch as I walked past. I could probably fry an egg on my face if I tried. I dove into the seclusion of the bathroom and closed the door. I sighed, feeling some of the blood drain from my face now that I was alone. I looked at myself in the mirror. I have brown hair, in the same messy style as Ryan that both our mothers constantly threaten to take a weed whacker to. My eyes are, like my hair, brown. I looked down at my white shirt, now sticky with a line of Sprite along most of it. I sigh again, pulling it off over my head. I don't really care how clean the counter is, I just lay the shirt flat and rip off a couple of paper towels. I dab at the inside and outside of the stain, trying to soak as much of it up as I can. After a moment, I stop and stand back to look at the rest of the damage. The entire front of my blue soccer shorts were soaked, especially the crotch. I kicked off my sandals and slipped my shorts off and set them down next to my shirt. I again start to dab off as much as I can, inside and out. After a few moments, I try again on my shirt, but it's mostly dried now. Just a little stickiness and discoloration left behind. I try again on my shorts, getting more out. But, they really don't dry much, if at all. I step back for a moment, again looking at myself in the mirror. I rather like my body, especially my chest. I don't really lift weights or work out, just soccer or basketball with Ryan. Yet, I'm already starting to get, what I think, is the beginning of a nice six-pack and a good upper chest. I look down at my boxers, a green pair by some brand I don't care about. What I really care about is the massive wet spot on the front of them, too. I grab another paper towel and start to dab at the stain on my boxers. Like my shorts, its really only immediately around my crotch. Just as Ryan described it, a giant pee stain. As I press all over, I can feel my penis and balls through the fabric. I'd actually like to change my previous statement, actually. I ESPECIALLY like my penis. I dab at it more, the cold soda feeling strange against my shaft. Despite the cold, the stimulus begins to have an affect. Rather quickly, it begins to rise, tenting out the cotton material. Before I care to even stop it, it's at full mast and running dangerously close to the wide open fly of the underwear. A sudden realization comes to me. I'm wearing only my underwear. I've got a boner. I'm alone. And, possibly most important of all, I'm 30,000 feet in the air. I'd heard somewhere that an orgasm is more intense at higher altitudes, and I'm not one to pass up the chance for an epic orgasm. Barely before my brain decides to go forward with it, I pull the waistband of my boxers out and over my boner, letting my boxers fall to the floor. I don't bother to step out of them, I just start going at it. At home, I usually start out pretty slowly, maybe playing with the not-so-small amount of hair I have, and steadily gaining speed as I get closer and closer. In the airplane bathroom, however, I start at full speed immediately. As I go at it, another, more violent bit of turbulence rocks the plane. I stumble forward, throwing my left hand out to brace myself against the counter as my right hand pumps my cock faster and faster. I keep going, suppressing the moans that I would love to be uttering now so as not to alert anyone outside. The plane shakes even more violently, almost making me loose my balance again. I continue to pump; I can feel my balls tightening as a most wonderful orgasm is building. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain speaking," a cool voice says over the intercom. I keep pumping, through the announcement. "We'll be arriving in Los Angels in forty-five minutes, and it looks like the weather will be pretty bad between here and there, as you can probably tell by the turbulence. I've now turned on the fasten seat-belt sign, and I ask if everyone would please return to their seats." DAMN, I think to my self. I know I should stop, but I keep going--it's feeling too good. And then, even more of an orgasm kill--someone knocks at the door. "Sir, are you alright?" I hear the stewardess say outside. "The captain has asked that all passengers to return to their seats, and I thought I'd check to make sure you were able to get cleaned up." FUUUUUCK, I scream in my head. I reluctantly take my hand off my pulsing cock, and take a deep breath to steady my breathing. "No, I'm fine. I'll be out in just a moment." With a heavy sigh, and a still hard penis, I pull my boxers back up. I slip back into my shorts, now starting to dry, and pull my shirt back over my head. I adjust my now shrinking boner to be less visible through the thin material of boxers and shorts. I toss the paper towels away and step back out into the cabin. While the wetness was definitely less, it was still noticeable. I navigated carefully back to my seat, and slid down into my seat. "She gave you an extra bag of peanuts and a cookie," Ryan said, not even looking up from his book. "I took the liberty and already ate your second bag of peanuts. And I saved you half the cookie." "Thanks, dork," I said, elbowing him. He paused at this, and leaned over, staring very obviously at my crotch. "Still looks like you pissed yourself," he said. He grinned, looking up at my face. "And your face is still red." Without missing a beat, he sat back up in his chair and went back to reading. My face heating up even more than the half workout I'd just performed in the bathroom caused, I pulled my DS back out and started to play it again. After a minute or so, Ryan leaned over and whispered in my ear, "So did you join the mile-high club?" Shocked, I didn't answer. We've talked about masturbation and sex before, during some of our sleepovers. We've both admitted to jerking regularly, but, much to my disappointment, have never done it together. We haven't even really seen each other naked; well, at least not as much as I'd like. During those same masturbation conversations, we've pulled our underwear down far enough to see that we both have a comparable amount of pubes. Mine grow all bushy and curly, while his red ones just kinda grow. I've never seen his dick before, but I've caught glimpses of his round ass when we'd change into board shorts at the pool locker room. Still, I'll take any amount of skin he'll let me see. The most I've seen of him at once, really, is just him in a pair of board shorts or in just his underwear, usually boxer-briefs. His chest is similar to mine, well defined for our age. However, I haven't seen him without a shirt on in a couple of months, what with winter and the end of school just last week. Yet, I was still shocked at him being so forward, basically asking if I just gotten my rocks off in the bathroom. "N-no!" I whispered back, looking at him, shocked. "Suuuuuure," he said as he sat back upright. My stare lingered on him a few seconds, then went back to my game. After a few minutes I beat the level I was working on and turned the game off because we were getting close to the airport. I looked past (and kinda at) Ryan and out the window. We were well the above clouds, gliding slowly over the top of them. The clouds below us weren't white, though. They were the wispy grey of rain clouds. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," the captain's soft voice said over the intercom. "We are 15 minutes from Los Angeles and are now beginning our descent to LAX. As you can likely see from your windows, the weather down there is cloudy with some light rain at the moment. It is 57 degrees, and the time is now 4:35. Thank you, and please put your tray tables and seat backs in their full, upright position. The staff will now move throughout the cabin to pick up any remaining refuse you may have." Ryan shut his book, bending down and under his seat to slip it back into his own carry- on. I was still looking out the window, so I took the chance to take a quick glance at his ass, hoping for a glimpse of his underwear. ...Score! Red ones with a grey waistband! Ryan sat back up and stretched, looking over at me. "So! Ready for some fun in the sun in LA?" I laughed at his sarcasm. "Yeah, I'm sure we'll get some great tans today." "We'll at least get some swimming in," he said. "Probably going to be pouring, so we can get quite a bit of it in without even leaving the parking lot!" I gave him a pity laugh for the bad joke as we both looked out the window as our plane dove into the clouds. The plane rocked as we did, the light winds and changes in pressure as we sliced through the storm clouds. A few minutes later, we dropped below the cloud level and LA appeared before us. The rain pattered heavily against the roof and windows. "Probably just a light drizzle," Ryan said, his face pressed as far over as possible to look out. I leaned over him to get a better view. The city didn't look all that spectacular to me, just like any other city. "You can see the airport," he said, pointing ahead of us. I leaned even further over him, purposefully shoving him into the wall and seat to get a better look. "Oooooo," I said, dripping of sarcasm. Our faces were, at this point, barely inches apart. I was, undoubtedly, causing him a fair amount of discomfort with this position; but that was the point. He finally pushed me off him, which I responded by over exaggerating and fell into the isle. This backfired, as I accidentally smacked right into the same stewardess who had spilled the drinks on me. "I'll take any trash you still have," she said, avoiding eye contact with me. We passed her our wrappers and Ryan's soda can, then turned back to the window. By now we were coming in for a landing, our runway becoming visible below us. The plane touched down somewhat roughly, and we were pushed forward in our seats as the pilot applied the brakes. We slowly taxied down the runway to the terminal. The rain outside was, indeed, nothing more than just a drizzle. After a few minutes, the plane pulled up alongside our gate and the plane came to a stop. "Thank you for flying with us today," the captain's voice said. "Sorry for the somewhat rough landing, it's always difficult landing in these conditions. I have turned off the fasten seat belt sign, and you are now free to begin disembarking from the plane. When retrieving luggage from the overhead storage bins, please be careful when opening them as shift happens." I chuckled at the pun, undoing my seat belt and getting to my feet. Ryan did the same, stretching as much as he could with the low ceiling from the overhead bins. He stretched his left arm into the empty seat in front of us, his right into the side of my head. "Hey, hey hey!" I said, jokingly pushing his arm away from me. "Young man? Could you please get my luggage from the bin above you?" the woman behind us asked. She was very pregnant, which made it difficult for her to lift her luggage. "Sure," I said, stepping into the isle. I had helped her put it up when we got on the plane, so I didn't object to helping her get it down. I clicked open the door and a small purse immediately fell out and onto my head. "Ouch!" I yelped. For such a small purse, it hit pretty hard. She must've been smuggling a brick in there. "Smooooooooth," Ryan said. "I'm sorry about that, dear," an old woman a row in front of us said, bending down to pick up her purse. I reached back up into the bin to retrieve the pregnant woman's luggage. I stretched and stood on my tip toes to get at the handle of the bag. I knew I was giving Ryan an eyeful of my still damp frontside. "Still looks like you pissed yourself," he said. "Shuddup!" I snapped as I pulled the bag out and put it lightly on the floor for the woman. "Thanks," she said, getting to her feet and into line to get off the plane. "You just like staring at my crotch," I said as I grabbed my bag from under the seat and got into line to get off. "Mmmmmmmm....Luke's crotch," he said, following me into the isle. I knew he was joking, but I could hope he wasn't, right? "Not really much there to stare at, thought." I stopped abruptly, making him walk into me. We made our way to the front of the plane, finally spotting my parents in their seats near the front. We were originally meant to sit together in the same row, but a ticket mixup at our last layover pushed us to near the back of the plane. No biggie, just made my parents worry some. "Luke peed himself," Ryan said as we met up with them in the throng. "Whaaat?!" my dad gasped, looking at me and at my crotch. "Did not!" I protested. "The stewardess spilled my soda on me!" "That's what he wants you to believe," Ryan said as we filed out of the plane. I elbowed him in the gut as we stepped into the terminal. My first reaction was that there were so many people! I'd been to busy airports before, but this was just ridiculous! Not that I was complaining; one of my favorite things to do was just watch people. I always found people very interesting, especially--ah! There's one now. Sitting in one of the chairs in the front row around the gate we exited was a boy, probably around Ryan and I's age--little less, by the looks of it. He was sound asleep, making him all the more beautiful. Sitting there, with his mouth wide open and his head resting on his mother's arm. He was wearing a pair of shorts, allowing me to see his smooth legs. They were fairly baggy shorts, and if I could just get at a better angle I might be able to-- "Heh, will you look at that," Ryan said. "What?" I asked, coming back to reality. "Our gate number. We just arrived in gate 13," he said, pointing. I looked behind us at the numbered signs all around the gate we just entered from. There it was: lucky number 13. "Sounds right," I said dryly. Ryan chuckled, his eyes flicking down to the wet stain. "Aaaalright," my dad said, stopping in front of a map of the airport. "Guess we need to head there...and then there...and through there to get to the baggage claim." Knowing my dad, I had a funny feeling we were soon going to be completely lost in LAX. Much to my surprise, we didn't get lost and arrived at the main baggage claim just under thirty minutes later. "That's our flight!" my mom said, pointing at a conveyer that was just beginning to return luggage. We rushed over, spotting my dad's bag immediately. We jostled through the crowd to the front and grabbed it quickly. I watched for my light blue sports bag, but didn't see it readily at hand. A few anxious minutes later, my mom's bright pink bag came tumbling into view. She snatched it up gleefully. We continued to wait as more and more bags piled onto the conveyer. I started getting anxious, glancing suspiciously around to the other people in the terminal around us. Did one of them grab my bag accidentally? Lots of bags look alike, after all... "What did yours look like again, Ryan?" my mom asked. "Old brown leather one, kinda like that guy's, only bigger," he said. We all nodded, and continued to stare at the conveyer. After several more minutes, bags stopped coming out. All the ones that were there slowly got picked up until the conveyer was mostly empty, and another flight's baggage started coming out. Neither Ryan nor my luggage ever arrived. "Well, shit," my father said. Ryan, my mom and I all stared at him. He never swore. He looked around, spotting a sign leading pointing to the lost luggage claim counter. There weren't very many people in line, so we made it up to one of the representatives quickly. "Hi, yes. My son and his friend's baggage didn't arrive with the rest of ours'. Can you help us?" he asked the woman behind the counter. "Possibly. You still have your tickets?" she asked. Ryan and I handed them to her. She rapidly started typing into her computer. After a moment a perplexed look crossed her face. She looked down at the other ticket, and again typed some information in. Again the perplexed look. "Well...I don't have any record of the bags with these tickets getting here." "Could they be under ours?" my mom asked, handing her their tickets. "Possibly." The woman typed those in. "I see two bags with these tickets...but I assume those are yours." "Is there anything you can do to track them beyond this?" my father asked, exasperated. "Possibly. Here, come around back here and have a word with the manager. He'll get on the phone and see what he can dig up," she said, handing us our tickets back. My family followed her around the counter and to a small office. There was a small sitting room with about ten chairs arranged awkwardly around the room. They were all multicolored, it looked like they were some old sets of chairs from the terminal. They'd likely put them in here when some newer chairs were installed elsewhere. Beyond the sitting room was small office with glass walls. The blinds on the windows weren't closed, and a short, portly man could be seen sitting behind a desk inside. "Please wait here a moment," the woman said, stepping into the office. Ryan and I slouched into a pair of nearby chairs. My father and mother, both worriers, continued to stand. After just a few seconds, both the woman and the man emerged from the office. The woman headed back out to the front desk, while the man motioned for us to enter his office. He sat down in his chair with a grunt, and turned to my father. "Alright, Judy let me know the situation. My name is Harold Durran," he said. "Can I see your tickets?" My father handed the tickets over as he and my mom took a seat in front of the desk. Ryan and I sat in some old chairs near the door. "These the tickets for the plane where you first check the missing luggage?" "No," my mom said, reaching into her purse. "These are them. I'm not sure which ticket the luggage is associated with..." "Eh, I'll look at them all," he said. He quickly began typing. "Ah!" he said after a few minutes. "I see four sets of checked luggage associated with your ticket, ma'am." "That's great!" she said. "Can you rip those tags off your two bags there and hand them to me?" he asked, pointing at my parent's luggage. They ripped them off and handed them to him. He compared the numbers on the luggage with the ones listed on the computer. "Okay, so we're missing one four..." he said, mouthing the missing numbers as he wrote them down. "Okay, I have the ID numbers of the missing luggage, now let's just see if I can't find where they are..." He typed furiously again, and after a few seconds he stopped and stared at the screen. "Alright, you started there...layover in Tennessee...layover in Arizona...Ah! So that one stops there..." He typed again. "And so does the second one." "So what is this?" my father asked. "It means that the two bags were scanned when you checked them in, scanned as arrived when you landed in Tennessee, scanned again for departure from there, and looks like they were scanned as arrived in Arizona," he said. "And what does that mean?" my mom asked. "It means, ma'am," Harold said, drawing himself up, "that your boys' luggage is more than probably still in Arizona. It probably missed the connecting flight there and got sent to the turnstiles there for pickup." "So what do we do?" my mom asked. Harold grinned. "YOU guys don't do a thing," he said, opening a drawer behind him. He pulled out two cards and handed them to my mom. "Well, not about this anyway. I'm going to make some phone calls, see if I can get someone over there who has your bags. With any luck, they've just ended up in this same office over there. What I want YOU guys to do is take these two cards," he handed them to my father, "and head out to the food court. Each card has $20 on it, and I want you and the boys to eat something. This may take me a bit. Just come back when you're finished, and I'll let you know what's going on." "Thank you," my mother said. "Oh, and you can leave your bags in here with me if you'd like," Harold said, picking up his phone. My mom nodded, leaning the bags against the wall. Ryan slid his bag off his shoulder, placing it next to the other bags. I did the same with mine. We headed back outside and went up some nearby escalators to a small string of restaurants. "Where do you boys want to eat?" my father asked. "I'd say the McDonald's," Ryan said. "Fine by me," I said. "Golden Arches it is," my father said, marching the four of us off to the fast food place. We ordered our burgers, paid for it with the two cards, got the tray of food, and sat down. Throughout the meal, none of us spoke much. The only conversation that came up was about me "pissing myself" on the plane. While Ryan continued to profess that I was lying about the soda explanation, I don't think my parents really believed him. Not that he was being serious, anyway. After the four of us had finished, we sat there in silence, not really even looking at each other. I could feel it from Ryan and my parents, and even myself. We were all exhausted from the plane ride. "Well," my father said, stretching and sitting back up in the tiny plastic chair. He wadded his burger wrapper up and added it to the pile on the tray. "Let's go see if he's found them yet." We all nodded in agreement, and got to our feet. Back downstairs in his office, Harold was reading a paper on his desk when we knocked. "Come in!" he said, seeing it was us. "Any luck?" my father asked, sitting down again. "Yes," Harold said. "And, fortunately, the good kind. Well, mostly." "Mostly?!" my dad gasped. "Mostly. The good news is, they do have your luggage. It's been found, it's marked, it's safe," he said. All of us breathed a sigh of relief. "The bad news... The bad news is, the bags are STILL in Arizona. However, the next flight for your airline from there to here leaves in about two hours. They assured me that they WILL be on that fight." "Wonderful!" my mom said. "And we can pick them up--" "Don't worry about that, ma'am," he said. "They'll both be coming directly to my office, and if you'll leave the address of the hotel you're staying at tonight we can have them delivered to there at no charge." "Oh, thank you!" she said. She dug in her purse and got out the paper with the address and reservations she had and let him make a copy. "So you'll be bringing them...?" "I'd guess they'll get taken over early in the morning," he said. "That flight wont get here until around two or three AM. I'm not sure who is working tonight, but I'd guess that the bags will get taken over around seven or eight tomorrow." "That's fine, as long as we get them," my dad said. "And, just in case you DON'T get them," Harold said, reaching behind him again, "take my card. Give me a call tomorrow if you don't get them. And I hope you all have better luck the rest of this evening." "Thank you, sir," my mom said as the four of us got up and out of our seats. We headed back out into the terminal. "Well, sorry about all that, boys," my father said. "You didn't bring any extra clothes in your carry on bags, did you by chance?" Ryan and I frowned at each other. All we had with us were the clothes on our backs and what little was in our carry on bags. For me, that certainly didn't amount to much. I had only my DS, a book I was never going to read, my cell phone and charger, my tickets, and my wallet. Knowing Ryan, his was similarly packed--though probably included several books, all of which he was going to have read by the time we were even headed home. "Ah, no matter," my father said. "You two can just sleep in those clothes tonight and you'll be fine." The four of us left the baggage claim area, and trudged down to a lower level of the airport terminal. It was here that all the rent-a-car kiosks were. My father walked over to one of them and stood at the counter. It was already pretty late in the evening, my internal clock guessing at around 6 PM here in California. For us, it felt much later. Being as late as it was, nobody was in line at any of the kiosks. At the one we had reserved a car beforehand there wasn't a clerk at the desk. My father had to ring a small service bell before someone came out of the back office. While my father talked with the man at the counter, Ryan and I moved over to a nearby row of chairs and sat down. "So, which one of us got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning to make our luck this bad?" I asked. "You did, OBVIOUSLY!" Ryan said, starting to dig into his bag. It sounded like he had quite a bit of stuff in his carry on. After a moment, he, naturally, pulled out the book he had been reading. Before he opened it, however, he once again leaned over into my lap with a very exaggerated motion and stared directly at my crotch. I could feel myself blush as he lingered there, staring at the still slightly visible soda stains. "Yup," he said as he sat back up, "definitely pissed yourself there." I slapped the back of my left hand hard onto his chest. With a grunt and a moan, he doubled over in mock agony. He recovered quickly, and knocked me on the top of the head with his book. I punched him lightly on the upper thigh. He started the motion to elbow me in the chest when my father and mother walked up to us. "Our car's ready," my father said, motioning for us to follow him. We got up, Ryan slipped his book back into his bag, and we slung our bags over our backs, and trudged after him. "Sorry about loosing your luggage," my mom said. "It's unfortunate BOTH of your bags got lost, I'm sure you guys could've shared clothes for the time being. Especially since you had that accident today on the airplane." "Yeah, and we were so proud of him--finally graduated to big boy underpants," Ryan said, draping his arms over my shoulder in admiration. "But, alas--he wasn't ready yet!" I wanted more than anything for him to linger on me like that, but prudence and my own dignity made me shove him off. We reached a pair of doors leading outside. The car garage was across a road from where we were at that moment. And, in the few hours since we arrived and were in the terminal, the light drizzle outside had turned into a near monsoon. The rain was just simply pouring off the buildings and out of the sky. "Oh, wow," Ryan said. "Well, looks like the crosswalk is uncovered, so I guess we just make a run for it," my father said. We stepped outside into a small covered area that went up to the curb. The rain smattering the metal awning above us was deafening. "Lets go!" My dad led the charge into the rain, with Ryan and I right behind him and my mother trailing a bit behind. We reached the garage, shaking off some of the water. We entered the open walled garage and navigated through it to the location indicated on the keys my father got. Our car was a small red two door sedan. I guessed its age at around two or three years. "Let's see here..." My father said, walking up to the trunk. He opened it and deftly tossed his and my mom's luggage into the back, and then added our carry on bags to the pile. Ryan and I moved around to the driver's door while my father loaded the trunk. He opened the door and fumbled underneath it to find the lever to pull the seat forward so we could climb in back. With a click, it rolled forward and Ryan clambered in back, his ass right in my face as he did so. I took in the look of the smooth, round cheeks covered by the khaki shorts. I resisted the urge to pinch them and hopped in after him. The drive to the motel was uneventful, except for my dad overshooting it by two blocks. The rain had continued to worsen, and had now reached an outright downpour. The windshield wipers were going top speed just to keep up. We pulled into the motel and pulled up under the covered entrance to the lobby. "See? I told you two that they had an indoor pool," my mom said, pointing to a large corner of the building with large glass windows. You couldn't really see through the glazed windows, but it was obvious that it was a pool area. "You two can hang out there tomorrow while your father and I go downtown." "Sure thing," I said. "Though, we might be skinny dipping if our luggage doesn't arrive in the morning." "If it hasn't gotten here by then, I'll run across the street to that Wal-Mart and buy you some clothes for tomorrow! I wont have my sons in their skivvies!" We got out of the car and headed inside. The lobby was large with a vaulted ceiling. A large, sprawling staircase to the second and third floors was on the right. A small area off to one side looked to be where they held their continental breakfasts. A sign behind the stairs pointed to a hallway that led to the pool, spa, and workout areas. The front desk to the left of the door was a long bar made of what looked like black marble panels. "Hi, how can I help you?" the desk attendant asked. "Hi, yes," my father said, approaching her. "We have a reservation, it should be under McMannis." The woman nodded and started typing. She waited a moment, and frowned. "How do you spell it? M C...?" she asked, looking at my father quizzically. "Capital M, C, capital M A N N I S," he said, his voice flat and automatic. We never understood how people couldn't figure out how to spell our last name. "That's how I had it, and I don't see a current reservation...let me look under this," she said. She tried again. "Ah, yes. I'm sorry, but because you didn't arrive within an hour after your scheduled time, we were forced to close the reservation." My father looked like he was about to jump over the desk and throttle the poor woman. "We just came from the airport trying to deal with my son and his friends' lost luggage. And now you tell me you've already rented out our rooms--" "I'm sorry sir, we normally do not close reservations so quickly. But tonight we are nearly full capacity," she said apologetically. "What rooms DO you have?" he asked. She clicked a few more times on her computer. "You had requested two adjoining rooms, one with a single queen sized bed and a second with two twin beds. Unfortunately, we have no rooms pairs like that available. What we DO have are two separate rooms with queen beds. You will of course get a discount on top of the original price for your reservation, which would have been cheaper." "Thank you," my father said. "If that's our best option, we'll have to take it at least for tonight." "I'm very sorry about this, sir," the woman said. She started typing. "Are these rooms next to each other, with the door going between them like we'd reserved?" my mom asked. The woman didn't answer for a moment. "I'm sorry, but they are not. The first room is on the second floor, while the other room is on the third floor about ten doors down. It is as close as I can get you, at least tonight." My mom nodded, though her disapproval was clear on her face. My heart leapt at this news, however. Ryan and I were old enough to be able to handle ourselves this much alone. I knew we'd be fine without her hawk-like gaze keeping us from staying up late or goofing off too much. "You boys okay with this?" my dad asked. "Being far away and sharing a bed?" I'd forgotten about that sharing a bed part! She had said queen sized bed, it just hadn't occurred to me that it was ONE bed. I would be sleeping next to the most beautiful boy in the world! Score! "No, we should be fine," I said, trying (badly) to hide my excitement. "I dunno...I'm not sure I trust Luke enough to actually sleep in the same bed with him! He might try to kill me or something!" Ryan said, sliding away from me. Oh, if he only knew what I would rather do to him... "Oh, you'll be fine," my dad said, not noticing the sarcasm in Ryan's voice. "You two slept together on the pullout bed at Aunt Meg's three summers ago." My mind flashed back to that summer vacation. We had indeed slept on my Aunt Meg's spare bed together because there wasn't another spot. Neither of us had really started puberty yet, but I still knew I liked Ryan by that time. Back then, we had both slept in a shirt and our underwear. I wore boxers by then, Ryan still wore a pair of tight white briefs. He was intrigued by my fancy underwear, and had even borrowed a pair the next day to try them out... "Well, you're all set. Sorry for the mix up, and thank you for understanding," the woman said, handing us four key cards to get into our rooms. "You have rooms 213 and 335. The easiest way to get to both rooms is to use the south entrance on the other side of the building." "Thanks," my father said dryly, taking the cards. We trudged back outside and got back into the car. I stole another glance at Ryan's ass as we got in. We dove around the large hotel, looking for the south entrance the clerk had mentioned. We finally found it, but there were no parking spots right near it. However, we did find one a respectably short distance from the door. But, with the rain as it was, it might as well have been a mile away. "Molly, I'll pull back by the door. Go ahead and unload the luggage and take it inside, the boys and I will walk," my father said, turning around to the door. "Okay," my mom said. When we stopped, she hopped out and nearly sprinted around to the trunk. Maybe a little to fast, she pulled the suitcases out and booked it for the door. She didn't close the trunk. "Ugh. Molly! MOLLY! TRUNK!" my dad screamed out the window. She nodded and ran back, slammed the door shut, and ran back to the door. My father sped off, whipped into the parking spot, and climbed out. He held the door for us and we scrambled out into the pouring rain. My feet splashed into a puddle as I got out. Then I realized it wasn't just a puddle--the whole parking lot was a puddle! "Wow!" Ryan said as he climbed out, splashing water as he hit the ground. "Let's hurry!" my dad said, closing and locking the car. We took off at a light jog towards the door, being careful not to splash more water than was necessary . And that's when it happened. We were unlucky enough to be next to a particularly deep spot in the water as a truck came around the building. It paid us no notice, maintaining its speed as it came past us. The truck's oversized tire dropped into a low point in the pavement, slapping the water hard. It sprayed up in a perfect arc, absolutely drenching the three of us. Whatever small amount of clothing I had on that was still dry, if there was any to begin with after the soda, was now gone. I was drenched from head to foot, boxers and balls included. "Oh, no," my father said quietly. Realization at Ryan and I's predicament hit him. The only clothes we had for the night were now drenched in frigid water. Realization had hit my mom, too, who had abandoned the bags by the door and was now running at us. "That JERK!" my mom screamed. "Quickly boys, inside. Dan, take our bags up to the third floor room, these two get the second." My dad nodded in agreement as we made it inside. He headed for the nearby elevator while my mom rushed Ryan and I up the stairs. We found our room, not far down the hallway. She quickly opened the door and stepped inside. "We need to get you two out of those soaked clothes before you catch hypothermia or something," she said worriedly. She paused, thinking. "Underwear drenched, too?" We both nodded. "Damn, guess I'll have to take those too." I stood in shocked silence. I going to be sleeping in the same bed as the boy of my dreams--and looks like I was going to be doing it naked, too! "Okay, here's what we'll do. You two get out of those clothes and you each take a hot shower to warm up. While you do that, I'll run across the street and get you something to sleep in tonight. I'll take your clothes and see if I can't get the front desk to wash and dry them tonight so you can wear them just in case." My heart sank. Guess I wouldn't be spending the night naked with him, after all. But, hey, just underwear isn't that bad. My mom stepped into the bathroom and grabbed two towels and handed one to each of us. "Ryan, you're our guest, so you go first. Go get in and take a warm shower, don't lock the door please. Lucas, go around the corner there and take off your clothes for me." I took the towel and headed around the corner so my mom couldn't watch me strip. I peeled off all my clothes and wrapped the towel around myself. Grabbing the soggy mess, I headed back around to my mom as I heard the shower start. "Now, Lucas, please go in and grab his clothes, too." I nodded, knocking on the door. "Are you decent?" I asked. "No, but you can't see anything through the shower curtain," came his answer. I opened the door and stepped inside. His mess of clothes were in the middle of the floor, the red boxer-briefs I got a peek at earlier were on top. He was indeed naked in there. And, much to my disappointment, you definitely couldn't see anything through the shower curtain. I hurried to pick the clothes. I wanted to get my mom out of here as fast as I could. I was only wearing a towel, after all...and with my best friend naked nearby, me almost as naked, and the fact I was holding his clothes with his underwear on top was causing my dick to slowly rise to attention. I added Ryan's dripping clothes to mine already in my mom's arms. "Alright," she said, heading for the door. "I'll be back as fast as I can. Do dry off as much as you can with that towel while you wait to shower, though." I nodded. With a slam my mom was gone, leaving me alone. I stood there for a moment, my hair still dripping. I couldn't believe my luck--both good and bad--today. Mostly bad, but still. It was altogether possible that I might still catch a brief glimpse of Ryan in the buff! I peeled the towel off of my waist and used it to thoroughly dry my hair. I was glad my mom was gone now, as my member was at near full mast by now. I guessed that it wasn't full on by now because I was rather cold from all the rain and water. I finished drying, and walked over to one of the chairs in front of the TV. I flicked it on as I sat down, and started flipping through the channels. Two loops through the huge selection of channels, I decided there was really nothing on. I was tempted to finish what I'd started on the plane, but I had no idea when Ryan would finish in the shower or when my mom would return. Not to mention, I didn't see anything to clean up with besides my towel. I kept flicking, and it finally fell on a rerun of the Suite Life. I'd seen the episode before, not that it really mattered. I curled up as much as I could and lay back in the chair, completely vegging out. It was pretty easy to just stare blankly at those two... It was only about 8 PM here, but it was after 11 according to my body. On top of that, traveling always made me more tired than it really should. That, and on top of everything else that had happened, I was exhausted. I started when the bathroom door opened. I hadn't even heard the shower stop. "Your turn, nut head," Ryan said, walking out into the room. I could have sung. Ryan was, of course, naked--save the towel. He had his towel wrapped tightly around his waist, fairly low. Every line of his waist, thighs, and legs was obvious under the towel as tightly as he wrapped it. There was even an obvious lump in the front where his treasures were. And then there was his chest...his CHEST. My god, I hadn't seen him without a shirt since...probably last fall when we last went to the water park. No, wait...there was the sleepover during Christmas break. We slept in our underwear then, as usual. But still, it was well worth the wait. I loved how long his chest was: most of his height came from that smooth, beautiful surface. His pex were already well defined; a beautiful divot between them. His six pack, while almost visible, was still a perfect, silky smooth surface running all the way down his chest. At his waist, the way he had the towel tied allowed for a good view of the top of his hips. The lines the top of his legs created a perfect, beautiful V that pointed directly at his beautiful bulge. If he had put the towel on any lower, I could probably have been able to see his pubic hairs... "Luke," Ryan said. "Earth to Luke! Wake up and take your shower before you catch a cold!" "Wha? Sorry," I said getting to my feet. God, I hoped I hadn't stared at him too long, I may very well have just blown my cover. My face turning bright red, I nearly sprinted into the bathroom and closed the door. I was still sorta cold, but had warmed up for the most part since taking off my dripping clothes. I gave my towel a light tug and let it just fall to the floor as I stepped into the stall. Beads of water were still all over from Ryan's shower. In hindsight, I really don't know why I didn't finally finish my jerk in the shower. The thought of it didn't even come to me as I stood there. It might have been because I was so tired already. Or, my mind was more focused on burning the image of Ryan's beautiful towel-clad body into my memory. I really just stood there with my eyes closed, moving around a bit every so often to let the warm water run down another part of my body. I raked my hands through my hair occasionally, but otherwise just left them at my sides. After maybe ten minutes I opened my eyes, shut off the water and got out. My fingers were already wrinkled like a raisin from too much water. I dried myself off thoroughly again, wrapped the towel around my waist, and stepped back out into the room. The first thing I noticed was Ryan's towel lying on the floor in front of the TV. For a brief moment, I'd hoped he was naked. But then I spotted him sitting on top of the covers in a pair of white boxers, his back against the headboard. And, of course, his nose was buried in his book. He didn't even look up at me. The TV was still on; another episode of the Suite Life had started. "Your mom came back," he said after a moment. He gestured to the white boxers he was wearing. "I guess we're sleeping in these boxers. She just bought a two pack, yours is over there." I turned. On the counter next to the TV was an open package of boxers, one pair still inside. I picked them up and glanced at the size: 30. At least my mom picked the right size, and lucky that Ryan and I were the same size. (I knew this because I'd secretly snooped in his drawer last summer...) "While you put them on in the bathroom, can you hang my towel up, too?" he asked, still not looking up. "Sure," I said. I hadn't really thought ahead as to where I was putting the boxers on--if he hadn't said anything, I probably would've dropped my towel right there and put them on without so much as a sexual thought; I was that tired. I carefully bent down and picked his towel up, picked up the package and headed for the bathroom again. I didn't bother closing the door; Ryan couldn't see me. I hung his towel up, tugged mine off hung it up as well. I reached into the bag and pulled out the boxers. Instantly, my heart sank. They were made out of 100% polyester, making them a stiff plastic feeling material. I'd had a few pairs like them in the past, and had hated every second of wearing them. The day I wore them to school I ended up taking them off in the bathroom, throwing them away, and just freeballing the rest of the day. Not only was the material uncomfortable, but the seams were right along the middle of the butt cheeks. This made sitting for long periods, like in school, a right pain in the...well, you know. And, to top it off, the stiff material made it so the fly, without so much as a button to close it, was constantly opening wide. Sighing at yet another piece of bad luck, I grudgingly slipped the boxers on. As I expected, my penis stuck straight through the wide gap. I gave the boxers a tug, pulling my member back inside. I flipped the light out and headed back out into the room. As I came out, Ryan was sitting up, his butt raised, adjusting his boxers. "You boxers people wear such uncomfortable underwear! I don't know how you do it!" "These aren't like the ones I wear," I said. "The are terrible, really. Hate this kind. But, whatever! Not like we have much of a choice." I pulled back the covers on my side, the left side of the bed (right if you were lying in it looking at the ceiling) and hopped under them. I instantly felt the material of the boxers shift uncomfortably. Ah, to sleep in my cotton ones...which were somewhere between here and Arizona. Or, better yet, nothing at all, like I often do at home... I pulled the covers up to my chin and settled in, my back to Ryan. "You ready to get to sleep?" he asked incredulously. "Yeah," I said with a sigh. "Been a long, terrible, unlucky day." "That it has," he said, closing his book. I never understood how he could read his books without a bookmark... "Though, I blame your bad luck." "Pfft!" I said. "You probably cut a nun off with your bike on the way over this morning or something." "So what if I did?" Ryan asked, turning the TV and lights off and climbing under the covers himself. "She had it coming." I chuckled softly, not really stirring. We lay there in silence for a little bit. I could feel myself drifting already, listening to the slow beat of his breathing. That beautiful chest rising and falling... "Don't you go pissing in here like you did on the plane," Ryan said, rolling over. "You keep saying that and I just might," I said, not even stirring. A few seconds later, the bed rocked again as Ryan turned over again. And again a few moments later. And then again. "Will you cut that out?" I said, readjusting my boxers again. "Sorry," he said, rolling over once again. I could tell he was facing me again now. "Sorry for keeping you awake, I have a present for you to make up for it." I raised an eyebrow nobody could see in the dark and rolled over to face Ryan. "What...?" "Here," he said. I felt his hand grope around under the sheets until it found my left arm. He pulled my hand out from under me and towards him. With his other hand he stuck a wad of something in my hand. My sleepy mind bewildered, I pulled the wad out from under the covers and held it above me, letting it uncrumple. They were his boxers. I stared at them, stunned. In the second I realized the significance of it, I was rock hard. Ryan was, indeed, butt naked next to me. No way he couldn't be, there wasn't anything else to wear! I looked over at him, the stunned look probably still on my face. Ryan was grinning ear to ear. "Are...are you...?" I stuttered. "Naked?" he chimed. "Yup! Couldn't stand those uncomfortable things any longer. That damn seam up the ass cheeks..." I was completely speechless. He reached up and took them from my hand and deftly tossed them somewhere into the dark room. My brain wasn't working anymore; it couldn't comprehend what was happening. "I'll prove it to you," Ryan said. He grabbed my right and and guided it towards his body. For a thrilling moment, I wondered if he was going to place my hand on his cock. Didn't matter, I thought to myself. I could "accidentally" touch it when I rolled over at some point... Wait what about me? Was I going to keep wearing these blasted plastic boxers? I easily could take them off, too. But then he might notice my boner and-- Ryan lightly placed my hand about midway up his side. I snapped out of my musings and locked eyes with him. We both stared into each others eyes, not even breathing. Slowly, ever so slowly, he guided my hand further down his body. His skin was so smooth, it was almost like silk... I felt his hipbone in the palm of my hand. Slowly, it passed and my hand was resting on the bare side of his butt cheek. He really was naked, no more than two feet from me. We stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity. Both of us riveted on the spot, a sense of disbelief that this was even happening bouncing between us. My rock hard cock was pressed uncomfortably against the material that was restraining it, but I didn't even feel it. My universe was two things alone: my hand on Ryan, and our eyes. It happened suddenly. Ryan leapt forward and planted his lips on mine. Shocked, I just sorta stayed still and didn't return the kiss at all. After a few seconds, Ryan slowly pulled off and backed away, fear in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Luke," he said. He looked absolutely terrified. "I'm sorry, i thought...I thought...maybe you'd want to...to..." He was nearly crying. "I'm so sorry...I guess I...thought you were sending me signals...I...um, oh wow..." Shut up and kiss me again! I'm not sure if I actually said it or not, but I was certainty screaming it in my head. My mind had finally caught up with what was happening, and I couldn't have been happier. Something I couldn't have even hoped for or had ever even dreamed of was happening. While he was still stuttering apologies, I leaned over and kissed him. He was just as shocked as I had been for a moment, but when I released his lips and then went back again, he was there to meet me. That one kiss seemed to last forever. We rubbed our lips all over each others', not making any sound beyond our now heavy breathing. We both pressed at each others' lips with our tongues at the same time. They pressed against each other for a second, then found their way past each other and began to explore the others' mouth. As we kissed, we had scooted together, closing the gap between us. We put our arms against our backs and pulled us together, our lips still interlocked and acting like a hinge. We carefully pressed our entire bodies against the other, reveling in our curves. My hand wandered up and down his back, across his heck, through his hair all while we continued to make out. He kept his hand on my back, exploring every ripple it had to offer. After a moment, it moved down to my waist and teased under the waistband of my boxers. He broke our long kiss to whisper one thing in my ear: "Lets get these off of you." "Gladly," I said, planting my lips back on his. I pulled my arm off his back and pushed lightly on his shoulder. I shifted my weight onto him. He rolled over onto his back, and I moved over on top of him, straddling him over his waist. His right hand joined his left, already at the waistband of my polyester prison. With one long, smooth tug somewhere between a caress and a forceful pull, he slid the back of the boxers down and off my butt. The front waistband was caught on my boner, which he quickly remedied. He carefully slid his hands around until they both touched the base of my shaft. Still gripping the elastic, he slowly pulled his hands along my length and looped the waistband past my mushroom head. I let a soft moan escape my lips as he did this; our lips still locked. I broke the kiss and sat up straight, balancing on my knees. I leaned on each knee in turn, allowing my boxers to pass by them and then slid them completely off. I tossed them somewhere behind me; I didn't wait to hear them land. From my upright position, I looked down on the beautiful body underneath me. My hands now completely free, I started to rub all over his chest. I slowly made my way down until I was gripping his waist. My eyes drifted downwards, and they fell on that which I'd have given anything to catch but a glimpse of before. His beautiful cut cock was sticking straight up, hard as a rock. It was barely inches from my own, which was sticking straight out. His sack hung below, beautifully smooth and hairless. A tuft of dark red hair was above the base of his shaft. It wasn't huge, nor was it small. It was perfect. I repositioned myself, gleefully allowing our cocks to touch. Ryan flexed, his cock moving up and down. I laughed, copying him. The feeling of our two rods colliding as we flexed in time with each other was absolutely electrifying. After a few moments of this, I once again repositioned and started to lay down on top of him. Or two crotches pressed against each other, our stiff members compressed between our chests. Ryan let out a long, soft moan as I descend back onto him. I planed my lips and tongue back on him, which he eagerly accepted again. With a soft shift, I began to rock slowly up and down, moving the skin of our cocks, pressed between our chests, together. We broke our kiss and both continued to moan and pant; we barely could keep our breaths. I bent down and started kissing his neck as he continued to moan louder and louder each time I thrusted. Every few thrusts, I felt a droplet of precum leak from one of our heads--which one I couldn't tell or care. It didn't matter, it just got rubbed and smeared around both of us. After a few minutes, Ryan reached his hands under me and pushed me up. I stopped thrusting and looked into his eyes, curious with what he was up to. He smiled. "Luke, I, umm..." he began, blushing and looking past me, at the ceiling. "Yes?" I asked, smiling at him as I propped myself up. "I've, um, always had a fantasy about this...if we were to ever do it...like this...together," he said. He seemed kind of embarrassed to admit it. "I was hoping you would, um, make me cum a certain way..." "And what way is that?" I asked, grinning down at him. I wiggled my butt playfully, making our penises roll between our stomachs. Ryan moaned. "I always imagined that...that you would beat me...mmmmmmmmm....beat me off," he said in between more moans. "Slowly. With your hand..." I leaned down and planted my lips back on him. I held there for only a moment, then sat back up. "Whatever you want, Ry..." I grinned, rolling off him. I pulled the covers back, revealing his full body again. I still just couldn't believe how absolutely stunning he was. I took my right hand, rubbing slowly down his smooth, rippled chest. I finally reached his hips, and after running my hands around almost every part of his waist except his balls and cock, I moved in on them. I cupped the balls in my hand, feeling their small weight. I kneaded them carefully in my hands; Ryan continued to moan with pleasure as I carefully ran my fingers over his sac. In a single, fluid motion, I moved my hand and wrapped my fingers around his pulsing penis. Ryan let out his longest moan yet. I slowly moved my hand up his shaft, letting the loose layer of skin envelop his mushroom head. Then, just as slowly, I moved my hand back down to the base, pulling the skin as taut as I could. I repeated these same motions over and over again. Every once in awhile I would lightly twist my hand into a new position around his pulsing member. I switched grips entirely, lightly touching him with just my thumb, index, and middle fingers. Then just my pinky hooked around him. And back to my fist. All incredibly slowly, just as he asked. His breathing, however, was anything but slow. For each of my one stroke up or down, he was taking a breath at least twice. His eyes were closed in tight concentration, his lips puckering with every motion. I loved every motion of his body; everything. I could feel his orgasm building; with every stroke I could feel a small, usually dry twitch shake his cock. He moaned louder than he ever had before. I was shocked by the loudness; for the first time since we started it occurred to me that we were in a hotel full of guests. Before I could say anything to him, his entire body clenched. His mouth clamped shut, but an even stronger groan could still be heard. He thrust his waist into the air, taking my full fisted grip down his shaft one more time. His orgasm finally released itself. Deep inside the throbbing rod in my hand, I felt every wad as it passed through my grip. One. Two. Three. Four. Five times his beautiful cock fired his load. The first few arched up and splattered onto his chest. As it went on, each shot had less power, but, if it were possible, more cum. His final shot did little more than dribble out and onto my hand. Slowly, I pumped him a few more times. A few remaining droplets dribbled out and ran down his length. I slowly removed my hand, the sticky tendrils of cum hanging between his head and my fingers. "Luke, that was...wonderful," Ryan said, panting. He was completely out of breath, every muscle in his body was exhausted. "Thank you for that." "It was nothing," I said, holding my hand above his chest. I was absolutely fascinated by his semen. I can't really explain why, it looked and felt exactly like mine. Upon sudden impulse, I held my plastered palm flat. Quickly, I bent down and licked some of his seed off my hand. Ryan looked at me in shock as I tried his offerings. "How...how is it?" he asked, still stunned. "Salty," I said, licking more of it off my hand. "But okay." Ryan smirked. "Well, there's certainly plenty more there if you want any more." I glanced back down at his chest where the pools of semen had fallen. I was tempted for a second to bend down and lick it all off him, but a better idea came to me as my eyes followed the trail of cum back down to his penis. Now almost completely soft, it lay pointing towards his chest. "And I'm sure there's still some more in here!" I said, grabbing his penis again why my slick hand. "What are you--oooooooooooooooooh," he said as I started to pump him again, this time as fast as I could. My hand was a blur. Despite having just blown his load, his boner rose to attention again instantly. "Luke, dude, fuuuuuuck!" Ryan said, throwing his head back. His body was shaking with pleasure again in seconds. He moaned again, his entire body clenched as I beat his still sensitive cock a second time. This time it barely took a minute before I felt his member twitch again. He fired three more globs, just as full as his first orgasm. The splattered onto his chest, fell into his pubic hairs, and dribbled across my fingers. I let go and slowly, seductively sucked this second load off my hand. "Luke, you bastard!" Ryan said, even more exhausted. "I barely had any energy left as it was! But, damn, both those times felt spectacular!" "Glad you liked it," I said, sliding up next to him again. We kissed again, then he broke away. "So," he said quietly. "What are we going to do about this?" He reached over and lightly touched my still stiff cock. I jumped as if his hand had been electrified. "Hmm?" he asked, cupping his hand over the head. "After what you just did for me, I'll do anything you ask me." Wow. What did I want him to do? I wanted to do everything with him, where on earth could I possibly want him to start? I hadn't ever dared dream of being able to do anything with him! Ideas and images blossomed from my imagination like wildfire. I wanted to grind my dick between his cheeks. I wanted to fuck him slowly in the ass. I wanted to have him return the hand job. I wanted everything. "Maybe I'll just return the favor you did me," he said. "But without my hand..." He grinned that mischievous grin that I'd seen on his face so often as we grew up. Usually just before we got in a lot of trouble. But, no matter how bad it was, whatever he had in mind had always been fun. And I was sure this idea would more fun than anything he'd ever dreamed up before. I nodded in silent agreement. The smile didn't even vanish from his face as he seductively slid a hand to my shoulder. He gingerly pushed me onto my back, then began to ever so slowly move down my body. I grinned as he moved further down, until his head was next to my crotch. I gasped. Was he going to-- My mind barely had time to realize what was going on before he started. First he kissed the tip of my head, teasing the end. I drew in a deep breath as the kiss enveloped my entire mushroom head. He slowly pulled back again, the head reappearing. He went down on the head again, going ever so slightly further. I found myself holding my breath every time he went down, then exhaling as he went back up. Each time he did it, more stars of pleasure exploded in my eyes. I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and just enjoy, but I was too captivated by the image of my penis disappearing and reappearing into my best friend's mouth. Each time he went down, he pushed just ever so slightly further. I couldn't believe what I was feeling. It seemed like my entire body was focused on just my crotch. I could feel pleasure radiating both to and from it. I don't even remember if I was making any sounds while he went down on me. After a few minutes, he slowly pulled back, pausing on the head again. He teased his tongue around the entire surface of my mushroom head. He slowly went down again, barely going past the head again. The tease was absolutely wonderful. Slowly, slowly, he kept inching back down my length again. Then, without missing a beat, he went down and didn't stop. He surpassed his previous record and absolutely buried my cock in his mouth. That time I know I moaned. My hands, which had just been laying at my sides, clenched and held onto the sheets for dear life. Ryan was going faster now, still taking in my entire length with every descent. I could feel my balls tingling as they started pumping my load up towards my shaft, ready to be fired. I could barely breathe. "I'm...getting...mmmmmm....close...!" I gasped. Ryan only quickened his pace. "Fuuuuuuuck!" I gasped. I felt it surging up my length. Ecstasy radiated from my cock, rippling and rebounding up and down my very being. I'd never have an orgasm like this one in my life. I felt my warm cum fire from my head with possibly the greatest force in my life. First shot. The squirt seemed to last forever, I could almost count to ten in the time it took if my mind wasn't elsewhere. Second shot. Just as powerful as the first, I felt Ryan pull back on me, resting his lips around my head. Third shot. Shorter than before, but still as powerful. Fourth shot. I felt my cock strain to keep up the pressure it had been firing at. Fifth shot. I felt Ryan release my cock, saliva and semen forming threads between his lips and my head. I felt a sixth shot make a feeble attempt to jump to his parting lips, but splattered down my length. My throbbing member twitched a seventh time, and with gushing relief I felt the final shot dribble down my length. My cock spasmmed a few more times without shooting. Panting, I finally opened my eyes and looked down at Ryan. His eyes and mouth were closed, his face screwed up in concentration. With a sudden realization, I noticed he was swirling his tongue around in his mouth. He was tasting me! After a moment, he gave a great gulp and swallowed all I had given him. Some cum was still dribbling down the sides of his mouth. "Jesus, Luke," he said, licking the remaining juices up with his tongue, "are you trying to drown me?" I laughed. "That'd sure be a way to go!" He smirked, leaning back down to my dick. "Mmm, wouldn't it though?" He eagerly put my head back in his mouth, licking the leftover jizz off like a popsicle. I moaned again. He sat back up, smirking at me again. I sighed and looked deep into his eyes. His smirk grew into a wide grin. I laughed, I loved to see that stupid grin of his. "Blaaaah!" he said, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out like we often did as kids to try and gross each other out with our partially chewed food. A large glob of my white cum was plastered across his tongue. I roared with laughter. Smiling, he pulled his tongue back in and swallowed. "So, how do I taste?" I returned his earlier question. "Salty," he said matter-of-factly, imitating my voice. "But downright DISGUSTING!" I slapped him lightly on the arm. "You sure gobbled it up for being so disgusting!" I said. Grinning he laid down next to me and started, very roughly, rolling back up next to me. "I guess I could get used to it," he said as our faces met. He leaned over me, and our lips met again in a long kiss. I rolled off my back and into him, meeting him in a close embrace. I felt the cum I'd left on his chest squish between us. I have no idea how long we continued to lie like that, our bodies pressed against each other. We kissed for only a short time, and then I rolled back over onto my right side. Ryan scooted up against me, draping his arm over me. He pulled me into a tight embrace. I reached up and squeezed his wrist, and then we both fell sound asleep.