Anything You Want

I had a good buddy when I was in college. He was straight. I was "straight." For about two years we were just best friends. But I had to admit to myself that I had the hots for him.

He was really good looking. Golden blond hair, hazel eyes, a square jaw. He was fit and toned with broad shoulders and nice pecs. He had the build of a former high school basketball player, which he was. When he raised his arms I'd catch glimpses of his pit hair peeking out of his t-shirt or, as his shirt lifted up, the blond treasure trail that went from his belly button down into his shorts. Once, when he greeted me after having played a sweaty pick-up game, he lifted his left arm and, before I could react, pressed his sweaty pit into my face. I feigned disgust but could have cum right then and there. For him, however, this was just fratty horseplay.

He dated a lot. I didn't, much. Sometimes he'd come back to our dorm after meeting a girl and, before I could turn my head, thrust his middle finger under my nose so I could smell the pussy he'd just fingered and fucked. Part of me felt jealous. Another part of me just loved having a friend who was willing to share such intimate details. I'd never been this close to another guy. And I was happy to pretend I was totally straight. Back then, it made life a lot easier. In addition, it provided me with an incredible amount of access.

One time I was sitting at my desk. He wanted me to go with him to a party. I had a test the next day and said that I couldn't. I had to study. "I'm not joking," he said, moving right in front of me. "If you don't get up right now I'll pull down my shorts and flash you my junk."

This was supposed to be a threat instead of a promise. I played it straight. "Whatever, dipshit. I have to study. And you don't have the guts to show me your nuts." Of course he couldn't refuse the dare. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his gym shorts and quickly pushed them down. It all happened in a split second. I glimpsed his cock, his balls, and the light thatch of short blond pubes above his dick. Immediately after, almost as a reward, I said "Okay, I'll go with you."

When we went out we'd set our sites on different girls. He gravitated toward the slutty ones. I was more drawn to the ones who seemed open to an actual conversation. He got laid more, but somehow it didn't bother me much. I'd cheer him on because I knew he'd give me a full report afterwards. He'd tell me how he talked her into it, how she sucked him, how she tasted, how tight she was or wasn't, how much and how hard she made him cum. I loved these play-by-plays. They turned me on.

Pretty soon it hit me that our conversations could be even more direct and intimate. I could go after the girls he'd already fucked. We could compare our experiences and share every detail. I always felt just a little bit guilty about this. The girls had no knowledge of my agenda. It's clear to me now that when I screwed these young women I was really trying to experience things through my friend's eyes. Sometimes, when fucking them, I'd imagine that I was on the bottom and that, on the top, it wasn't me. It was my best friend, sweating and panting and straining and working up to an explosive orgasm. These girls might have been hot in and of themselves, but what made them seem even hotter was that fact that they'd already been fucked by my friend. Their mouths had tasted his cock; their pussies had been pounded by his dick.

I'd compare notes with him afterwards. I learned all sorts of things. He liked playing with their nipples. He also liked it when they played with his. He loved eating pussy. He loved the taste and the consistency of their juices. He loved titty-fucking. He loved it when they sucked his balls. He loved cumming in their snatches or in their mouths. Best of all, he liked cumming on their faces. He was so straight. And by engaging him in these conversations, I assured him (and me, for the most part) that I was straight, too.

But that wasn't quite true. I guess I'd now say that I'm bi. Believe it or not, this fact only began fully to dawn on me when I got into a relationship with one of his former hookups. She was a cute girl. More to the point, she was very liberal, very experimental, and very avant-garde. After a couple of weeks I asked, hypothetically, if she'd be open to a three-way between me, her, and another woman. She said yes. About a week later I asked, confidentially, if she'd be open to a three-way between me, her, and my best friend. Again she said yes. She was eager for it, in fact.

I broached the subject with him. I decided I'd have some fun doing it: "She raves over your cock, dude. Says it fits her just perfectly. She says mine is the perfect size to continue training her pussy, but yours is perfect to be the first in her ass." This was a bit of an insult. I implied that my dick was bigger than his. I added that she and I had been having some problems. We had been arguing a bit, so this was true. If he was in for the three-way, he'd be doing me a big favor and helping me to keep things going with her. He was my best friend. I had correctly predicted his response.

He paused, smiled, and said "Fuck yes!"

His answer made my dick throb. I was going to get to see him fuck my girl. Better yet, I'd be fucking her, too. We'd be naked and hard together. Getting off together. Sharing intimacies with each other. I wondered what it would feel like to fuck her standing up, with me in front nailing her pussy and him behind nailing her ass. Would I be able to feel his dick inside her? Would he pant and moan? Would he talk dirty? Would our balls rub together between her legs? As we fucked her, would we stare into each others eyes as we worked up to our orgasms?

I never found out. Before we got to execute our three-way, she broke up with me. At this point I don't remember why, but I do remember feeling very disappointed-and also very horny.

In the dorm where we lived I had a job collecting money from the laundry machines. This allowed me to do my laundry for free. My friend started to "let" me do his laundry for him. He had a presumptuous way of imposing on me, but I didn't mind. I'd do pretty much anything for him. And of course I sniffed his workout clothes and underwear, searching especially for pubes, damp spots, stains, and man smells. Part of me felt like a total pervert. Part of me felt like a grownup kid in a store filled with man-candy. I had some of the best orgasms of my life sniffing his boxers, his jock strap, and the pits of his t-shirts. I'd do it again. No regrets whatsoever.

He graduated and moved to another city with his girlfriend at the time. She had a job. He didn't. Their relationship ended abruptly and he moved back to our college town. He lived with me in my dorm room for about a month. He slept on the floor. By then, somehow, I got into the habit of popping his back for him. This was pretty innocent. I enjoyed the physical contact even though he usually had his shirt on. One night, after popping his back, he thanked me. "I needed that," he said, adding, "I don't know what I did to myself, but my back has never felt so sore." Still straddling him, I started to knead his shoulders. This led to a full back rub. A couple of minutes into it, he said, "hold on, I might as well make your job easier." He took off his shirt. I loved touching his skin and working his muscles. My hands dipped into his pits a couple of times and, since he was face-down, I could surreptitiously sniff the tips of my fingers.

He moved into his own apartment off campus and got a job as a waiter. He worked pretty late, but it became a habit for me to roll by his place for a beer or two once he was off. It also became a habit for me to give him a back rub most nights. He'd rub mine, too, but it was always quick and just enough to return the favor. My shirt usually stayed on. His always came off. Sometimes he'd lay face-down on the floor of his living room. Other times it was the floor of his bedroom. As time passed, the routine changed slightly. We'd go to his bedroom. He'd tell me to get on the floor and he'd pop my back and give me a quick massage. Then he'd get on the floor, shirt off, so that I could pop and massage his. One time, as I moved from popping his back to rubbing it, he told me to stop for a second. I lifted off and did my best to hide my hard-on. He got up, removed his shorts and socks, and wearing nothing but his boxers faced down on top of his bed.

"Might as well give me my back rub up here," he said. "That way, when you're done and you've got me all relaxed, I can go straight to sleep."

I didn't mind this one bit. "Anything you want," I told him.

He mentioned that his feet were sore from waiting tables all night. I could take a hint. I not only massaged his back and his arms but also his feet. I'm still not sure why, but his feet turned me on almost as much as the rest of him. I also massaged the muscles of his legs. I started with his calves and moved up to his hamstrings and quads. I had always admired his legs. They were strong, long, and covered with a nice dusting of blond fuzz. I stopped before my fingers reached the fabric of his boxers, but he didn't complain when I worked the muscles of his inner thighs. Actually, he did more than not complain. Very softly, he sighed. Then, he whispered: "God, that feels so good."

We never discussed what was going on in our friendship. It was pretty much left unsaid that I got to please him and he got to be pleased. I went over to his place pretty much every night. Sometimes I'd have to study or get work done. Sometimes he'd hook up with a girl and bring her home. But standard procedure had been established. We'd watch TV and drink some beers. Then we'd head upstairs. I got pretty good at giving massages. I learned not only to work over his back, shoulders, arms, legs, and feet but also his neck. I'd massage his scalp, too, working my fingers through his blond hair. I'd even massage his eyebrows and forehead. He was my very best friend. Of course I prioritized pleasing him. We shared something difficult to describe, but it was real and it was really special.

We went camping in the spring. Just the two of us. We were well-equipped with beer, corn on the cob, and t-bone steaks. We drank too much, but it wasn't as if we had to drive home. As the fire burned down, we headed into the tent.

"I'm pretty sore," I said. "Can you pop my back?" He did, and then he gave me the regular perfunctory rubdown. Then it was my turn. I popped his back and then started my massage. It was pitch black. I spent maybe 30 minutes working on his body. Halfway through I was kneading the muscles of his legs. I couldn't really see where they ended and where his ass began. It was the perfect pretense for pushing limits. My fingertips got to the bottom of his ass. Ever so gingerly, they ventured toward the top of his balls and the outskirts of his pucker. He didn't complain and neither did I.

In fact, after I'd finished, when we were lying side by side in our sleeping bags, he said something I'll never forget. "Can I tell you something?" he asked. Of course I said yes. "Promise you'll never tell anyone?" Yes, of course. He hesitated, but then he started to speak again. "I don't know how to say this, but when you rub my back, it always makes me hard." There was a pause. He was thinking of a way to make himself crystal clear. "It makes my dick hard."

I didn't know what to say at first. This was my big chance, but after a few seconds I gave him a very narrow avenue of retreat. "Come on," I said incredulously.

But he persisted. "Seriously," he said, "it does." He paused. I don't think either one of us was breathing. "Don't believe me? Touch my dick. I dare you."

How could I refuse a dare? My hand trembled at first. It steadied itself and then landed on his bare chest. Slowly it traveled down his torso until it arrived at his tented boxers and felt his hard cock. At that point I could have pulled my hand away. I could have acted like feeling his dick freaked me out. But I didn't. Instead, I closed my hand around his erection. "That's right," he said, "go for it." I started to stroke him through the fabric of his underwear. A minute later, he pulled down his boxers, tossed them aside, and spun around so that I was face to face with his dick and he was face to face with mine. He reached for my cock, which by this point was throbbing. He squeezed it, then pulled at the waistband of my boxers and said, "lose 'em." I pulled them off and tossed them aside.

"So listen," he said. "We're not gay and we're not going to make a habit of this. We're not ever going to tell anyone we did this and after tonight we're never even going to talk about it. So that's all this is. Just two guys in the woods getting each other off."

I signaled my agreement by reaching for his cock and moving my head toward his crotch. I touched my tongue to the tip of his dick. "Suck it," he whispered. So I did.

The tent was so dark I couldn't see anything, but this only intensified my other senses. His dick tasted amazing. I can't really compare it to any other flavor. Maybe it was just a little bit salty and sweaty. Mostly it just tasted like him. His crotch smelled like him, too, but maybe just a little bit stronger than the rest of him. And it felt so good in my mouth. So warm. So wet. So hard at its core but with skin so pliant, so smooth and so soft. It was responsive, too. As I moved my mouth up and down, working the shaft with my tongue, his dick would twitch and throb. And he would moan, softly, but I could feel it more than I could hear it because by this point, he was sucking me, too.

I was so focused on his dick, I almost didn't notice. But now I paused, released his cock from my mouth to catch my breath, and let myself enjoy the sensations I was feeling down below. My dick felt incredible in his mouth, but even more incredible was the fact that it was there, that he was doing this for me, that he was sucking me off.

I went back down on him, this time less tentatively and more aggressively. I wanted him, badly. I wanted to bring him over the top. I wanted to taste his cum. Instead, I soon tasted something else. Something awful. When I tried to take him all the way down my throat, I gagged and threw up just a little. Instead of just his dick in my mouth I could also taste the acid remains of dinner. I tried to push through the problem by swallowing it back down, which I did, and returning to my normal sucking rhythm. But he noticed. He pulled off my cock, pulled away from me, and asked a question to which he already knew the answer. "Did you just throw up on me?"

"It's okay," I said, "I swallowed it down. I cleaned you off."

"This was a mistake," he said. "This is wrong." He grabbed for his boxers, pulled them on, got back into his sleeping bag, and faced away from me.

"Come on," I pleaded. "Please. We don't have to stop."

"Just go to sleep," he said, dismissing me. "We shouldn't have done it."

The next morning when I woke up he was already breaking down our campsite. I couldn't find my boxers. I did find his. I put them on, knowing he'd accidentally taken mine. I got out of the tent, nodded, and went to the tree line to take a piss. Over my shoulder I heard him say that we needed to head home, that he had to work in the evening. The car ride was awkward. We were both kind of quiet. Neither one of us spoke about what happened, but it obviously had happened. We were wearing each other's underwear.

I decided to give him some space. I didn't go over to his place that night. I didn't see him the night afterwards, either. But on the third night my phone rang. "Get your ass over here," he said. "There's beer that needs drinking."

When I arrived he was nearly halfway through a twelve pack. We watched TV, joked, drank, and acted like nothing had happened. After about an hour he said, "Let's go upstairs. My back really hurts." He took off his clothes, leaving only his underwear. He got down on the floor. After I popped his back he got up and went to his bed, lying down face forward. I started the massage, relieved that things were the same. About halfway through, he said how drunk he was. And then: "I'm not going to remember anything tomorrow morning." I had a hunch where things were headed. It turned out I was half right. When I was finishing the rub down, he flipped over. I could see his cock, clearly hard inside his briefs. Then came the invitation: "I'm gonna let you finish what you started."

For a second I wanted to dispute the premise of his statement. What "I" started? But then I thought better of it. He was going to let me have another chance to suck his dick.

This time was going to be different. It was going to be better because I wouldn't repeat my rookie mistake of taking him too deep. It was also going to be better because there was a light on. I could see him in all his glory. Damn, he was hot. He had his hands behind his head, exposing the soft blond hair of his armpits, where all his muscles seemed to connect. I could see his pecs, well-defined and capped with quarter-sized nipples the same deep-pink color of his lips. I could see his six-pack abs and belly button and, leading down from it, the shimmer of hair that trailed into the waistband of his briefs. They were white BVDs, well-worn with thinning fabric, and they outlined his erection perfectly.

I didn't spend much time on preliminaries, but I didn't want to skip them, either. I started at his wrists and gently skimmed the palms of my hands down his arms and into his armpits. I moved my hands to his shoulders and circled down across his chest. I worked my thumbs, very gently, over the tips of his nipples. In seconds they were rock hard. He gasped, shuddered and then, softly, whispered "wow."

My fingertips traced a path down his torso to the waistband of his briefs. I hooked my fingers under the elastic. "Lift up," I said. When he did, I pulled them down, slowly, first revealing his sexy blond pubes. I couldn't tell if he clipped them or if they were just naturally short. Whatever the case, they were beautiful, just like his cock, which at this point was so hard that, when it escaped from behind the thin white cotton of his BVDs, it snapped back to his groin with an audible "smack." As I tossed aside his underwear I really got a chance to feast my eyes.

It wasn't the longest cock and it wasn't the thickest. It was maybe just shy of six inches, just a little bit smaller than mine. But to me it was utterly gorgeous, twitching in its sparse nest of short blond hair, a veiny and vascular shaft leading up to a mushroom head that began right below his piss slit but angled down to form a pronounced helmet on the top of his shaft. His piss slit glistened with pre-cum so that's where my tongue first made contact, dipping in and then drawing back with a thin strand of his juices trailing behind. Then the tip of my tongue went to the base of his dick. Barely touching him, I gently licked up the center of his shaft, which twitched when I reached the extra-sensitive spot immediately beneath the beginning of his cockhead. I licked my lips and pulled them over my teeth, going down first on just the head of his cock. I swirled my tongue and heard his breath draw in. I worked my way down, slowly, gradually, taking care not to gag. He felt so amazing in my mouth. He even felt good in my throat. My eyes watered a bit, and for some reason there was a thin mucus in my nose that went to the back of my throat. But when I pulled back and swallowed all I tasted was him. Sucking him was just so natural, so primal. I went down, all the way. I took him to the base. Maybe it was a different angle or maybe it was a different attitude, but there was no gagging this time. My nose pressed into his pubes. I inhaled deeply. He smelled so amazing, so manly. It was as if I had been born to do this. I had discovered my calling.

At some point he moved his hands from behind his head to his nipples. He pinched them and pulled them as he started to thrust into my mouth. I took a break and moved to the crinkled skin of his drawn-up balls. They were hairless and contracted and so easy to engulf. And damn it, they tasted good. I could feel my own cock, hard and throbbing, leaking inside my shorts. I worked his nuts with my tongue, circling and pulling, gently, until finally they spilled out from my lips. I returned to his cock. I felt his hand on the back of my head. "Keep it up and you'll make me cum," he said. That was precisely my goal, so I kept on sucking. I loved everything about what was happening. I loved the feel of it; I loved the warmth of him inside me. I loved his taste and his hardness. I got lost in his dick.

At some point I regained my bearings. Both his hands now clutched my head. He started to buck his hips. It didn't seem possible, but his dick got even stiffer. He grunted, he whimpered, he panted. He whispered "fuck, fuck." Then his cock started to pulse. One, two, three, four shots. Then five. Then six. I did my best to swallow it all. That was what he wanted. That was what I needed. That was what it took to make the evidence of what we'd done together disappear.

I kept sucking, more gently now, as his dick began to deflate in my mouth. I was milking out the last remaining drops. I had worried I wouldn't like the taste, but instead I loved it. It's hard to describe because it's pretty much incomparable. Maybe a little bit like almonds, but richer. And there was more to it than just flavor. It was the warmth, the consistency, and the viscosity. And it was his. I loved it.

I pulled off his dick and wiped my mouth as I glanced up at him. His eyes were closed. "Thank you," he whispered. "Feeling relaxed now?" I asked. He was already half asleep. "Feeling amazing," he said. "You're amazing."

That comment made me feel about ten feet tall. I got up, found my shoes, and turned around to notice that he had gotten himself under the covers of his bed. I let myself out and headed home. I didn't brush my teeth that night. I could still taste him. I replayed what had just transpired as I was lying in bed beating off. My orgasm was intense.

This began a new pattern. Nearly every night I'd go over to his place. We'd drink beer and watch TV. When it started to get late, he'd stand up, stretch, and say how sore his back felt. I'd take the hint and say let's go upstairs. Sometimes he'd tell me to get on the floor and he'd pop my back and give me a quick back rub. Other times he didn't. Always he'd get on the floor. I'd pop his back, he'd stand up, strip down to his underwear, and get on the bed. I'd give him a really great, really long massage. When I was done, I'd say "let me get your front." He'd flip over, revealing his tented underwear. I'd rub and caress his arms, his pits, his pecs, and his nipples. I'd run my hands up his legs to his thighs. I'd massage his muscles there, working up slowly to his groin. As I got to his upper thighs I'd get closer to his cloth-covered cock. I'd tease it a bit, brushing over it as if by accident. Sometimes I'd see a wet spot in his underwear at the tip of his dick. Always I'd tell him to lift up. Always I'd pull his underwear down.

There were a few unspoken rules. The first was that there'd be no reciprocation. I always sucked him. After the camping trip, he never sucked me. I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe he wasn't interested, but that first night he gave me a blow job entirely on his own initiative. I think mostly he thought it would be too gay. It was one thing for me to suck him. He liked it-and who doesn't like a good blow job? That wasn't gay. But to go down on another guy? That was. If this was his reasoning, I understood and accepted it.

The second rule was that we never discussed what we did. Every once in a while he'd say how drunk he was. He wasn't, but the pretense that he was gave him an out. When he let me suck him, he could pretend he wasn't responsible for his actions. And the next day, he could pretend he didn't remember them. It was probably a good rule. We didn't have to intellectualize anything. One time he almost brought it up. The question came out of nowhere. "How can you...?" He stopped himself. "How can I what?" I replied. "Nothing," he said. "Just thinking out loud." But the truth was that it was a fair question. How could I serve, night after night, as his dedicated personal cocksucker? How could I massage him, caress him, play with his nipples, lick his balls, suck his dick, and drink his cum-getting nothing in return but the privilege of access to his body? I'm glad we didn't talk about what we did because I didn't want to have to face up to the very obvious fact that, instead of being straight, I was somewhere on the spectrum between straight and gay. If I did face this fact I'd have to admit I was in the wrong relationship. But that was impossible, because there was something else, something I could at the time own up to. I loved him. I loved him as a friend and I loved him as more than a friend. Ninety percent of the time we were just best friends, going to bars, watching sports, hanging out, biking, fishing, whatever. The other ten percent, his dick was in my mouth.

That part we had to ignore because of the third unspoken rule. At no point did we ever drop the pretense that each one of us was 100% straight. For a while I had a long-distance girlfriend I saw about once a month. She was fun enough and a decent lay, but I was just going through the motions. He'd still bring girls home sometimes, but not nearly as often as he used to. I took pride in this fact. My cock sucking skills were good and getting better. It wasn't just that I was a sure thing. It's that with me he had a good thing. Every once in a while he'd say something that stroked my ego. One time he knocked my socks off: "I can't believe I'm saying this. I guess I'm just drunk"-which is not really possible when you're 6' 2" and have had only three beers. "No one has ever taken care of me the way you do. It feels so good, and when I cum it's so incredible, so intense." Every once in a while, however, he'd go out of his way to assert his heterosexuality. I'd come over. We'd drink beer and watch TV for an hour. He'd pick up the phone and make a booty call. The girl would always come over to his place. And I'd always have to stay because I'd "had too much to drink." I drove home every other night, and it's not like I was ever actually drunk. But he'd insist, so I'd be downstairs on the couch in a sleeping bag while immediately above me the bed squeaked, the headboard banged against the wall, and the girl had her world positively rocked.

The fourth and final rule was to respect his limits. Again, this was a clear but unspoken requirement. Obviously there was no kissing. My hands could touch his chest, but not my lips. The one time I went to suck his nipples, he pushed my head down. "Not above the waist," he said. Okay, I thought: Line drawn. Another time, while sucking him, I started to play with his hole. I was just tickling it, really, lightly circling his pucker. He didn't complain, so I licked my middle finger and slowly worked it into his hole. I was two knuckles deep for a good minute. I'm pretty sure he was enjoying it. But then: "Is that your finger in my ass? Take it out." Other times he'd invite me to expand my repertoire. One night, while I was sucking his dick, he spoke up: "Lick the base." I went down to the bottom of his dick. "No," he said, "below my balls." So I pushed his legs up and started to lick and suck the firm chord of flesh between his balls and ass. "Oh wow," he moaned. I spent most of my time near his asshole. He was clean down there. Musky, but in a good way. There was just a little bit of dark blond hair around his rose bud. He tasted amazing. I liked it and, if his soft moans were any indication, so did he. In future encounters I got more daring. I didn't know the word for it at the time, but I was rimming him. It seemed like a really twisted and weird thing to do. Perverted. But it was also incredibly intimate and erotic. It was a guilty pleasure—probably for both of us.

Only one time did we stray from our standard routine. For once, he was drunk for real. I had stuck with beer, but he, for some reason, thought it would be fun to do tequila shots. After his back rub, I sucked him and rimmed him and then sucked him some more. I'd been feasting on him for close to 90 minutes, which was amazing. Sucking him, tasting him, pleasing him, and hearing his sighs could never get old. But my lips were getting sore and my jaw was starting to ache. "Are you getting close?" I asked him. "No," he admitted. "Tell me what to do," I replied, "want me to try jacking you?"

"No," he said, rising up on his elbows. "I know what will work. I'm gonna let you feel what it's like to get fucked."

He got up and walked to the bathroom. He returned with a condom. "Take your shorts off and get down on the carpet," he said. "Bend over on your hands and knees."

On one level this was presumptuous. On another it was degrading. But mostly I felt flattered. My hot best friend wanted to take things up a notch. He had always been very passive, lying back while I did the work. Now he wanted to sink his dick in my ass. It was unscripted. Believe it or not, I'd never considered the possibility. I never imagined he'd want to fuck me. I'd never really even thought about getting fucked. Now it was going to happen, and it was happening so fast. I was nervous but I was also excited.

I did as he asked. I took off my clothes and assumed the position on the floor. I felt vulnerable and exposed. Usually I wasn't the one on display. And then there was the fact that I was a real rookie. "Don't we need lube or something?" I asked. "We're good," he said. "It's a lubricated condom."

He kneeled on the floor behind me. "Spread your legs more," he told me. "Lower," he commanded, pressing down on the small of my back. I felt the tip of his cock nudge my pucker. I was nervous. Would this work? Didn't we need lube?

"Get ready," he said.

"Go slow, okay? Be gentle," I begged.

What he said next was cold but clear: "This isn't about you. This is about me getting off."

He used one hand to grab my shoulder and another to line up his dick. He pressed forward. Hard. At first my ass didn't give. He pushed harder. Then came the pain. He was probably only an inch into me, but my ass was on fire. I exhaled with a noise that was halfway between a moan and a sob. "Take it," he demanded. He pushed harder. The pain was indescribable. He pulled out a little, then thrust forward, skewering me. He was in. All the way in. Both his hands gripped my shoulders now. He started to fuck me, hard and fast. The searing pain faded into a dull ache. I could feel his balls flapping against me. His heat inside me. His big hands gripping me. Drops of his sweat started landing on my back.

He lowered himself onto me and the warmth of his body covered me like a blanket. I was engulfed by him; I was impaled on him. The new angle changed the way his dick felt inside of me. My ass wasn't resisting as much. The ache receded into a feeling of fullness. I could feel his hot ragged breath on my neck. He was mumbling, mostly to himself: "Fuck. So fucking tight. So fucking good. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." I realized my dick was still hard. He lifted up again, hovering over me on all fours. I was bucking backward to meet his urgent thrusts. It was so hot, so animalistic. I felt his cock throb as he said "FUUUUUUUCCCK!" and unloaded inside of me. His thrusts were slower now. He pulled out. He kind of pushed me down as he used me for balance when standing up. He tossed the very full condom on the floor next to my face as he climbed into bed.

I laid there for a minute, recovering. My dick was still hard, so hard it was aching. I got up, grabbed the condom, and walked into the bathroom. The outside of the condom was pretty gross. But inside was his cum. I sat on the toilet to wipe my ass and see if there was any blood. There wasn't. I started to jack my cock while I held the condom upside down over my mouth. As soon as I tasted him, my dick erupted. My cum hit my chest and splattered all over shower curtain. I cleaned myself up a bit, flushed the condom, and walked back into his bedroom to retrieve my clothes. He was passed out on the bed.

The next day things went back to normal. We met up for lunch. "Shit, I was drunk last night," he said.

"You were plastered," I agreed. "Do you remember anything?"

His answer made me chuckle: "I don't think I want to."

That night I was back at his place. I wondered if he'd try to fuck me again. He didn't. We stuck with the old pattern: We went to his room after TV and a few beers. I took off my shirt and faced down on his carpet. He popped my back and gave me a quick back rub. He stood up, stripped to his underwear, and got back down. I popped his back. He got up and rested face down on his bed. I massaged him all over and then asked him to flip. I massaged his front side, working the muscles of his chest and abs. I went down to his feet and worked my way up to his tented briefs. "Lift up," I said, and slid his briefs down. I sucked his dick, ate his ass, and drank his cum that night and nearly every other night all the way up to graduation. It never got old.

Midway through my final semester, I had landed a great job about 500 miles away. He was still waiting tables but toying with the idea of applying to grad programs. The good thing we had going was coming to an end. He was my best friend. I really loved him. I was excited about the future, but I was going to miss him something awful.

My family was set to arrive on Tuesday night, four days before graduation. He had Mondays off and made it clear he had something special lined up. He said he'd pick me at 6 p.m. and that I should dress nicely. Around 5:30 I showered, shaved, and decided to wear my best pair of khakis and a nice dress shirt. I even put on a little cologne. I saw his car outside and went out to greet him. He had on dress pants and a form-fitting silk golf shirt that really showed off his pecs. "So what's going on?" I asked as I lowered myself into his passenger seat. "Tonight," he said, "is your graduation present."

We pulled into the parking lot of the best steak house in town. He gave his name to the maître d', who found our reservation. We were seated in a quiet corner of the restaurant. I couldn't believe it. We didn't often eat out together, and when we did it was usually Wendy's or the local Mexican place. But now we were seated at a table for two, complete with cloth napkins, a candle, and more utensils than I'd seen since my high school prom.

He ordered a really nice bottle of Cabernet. "You're getting whatever you want tonight," he told me after the waiter had departed with our drinks order. We split calamari as an appetizer and we both decided on some really nice filets. The conversation flowed as smoothly as the wine. Every once in a while I caught myself staring into his eyes for a bit too long, or noting the outline of his nipples through the silk of his shirt. He was wearing cologne, too. It smelled so good. Get a grip, I told myself: we're not on a date. But that's what it felt like. When I got lost in his eyes, he held my gaze. His foot was gently touching mine under the table—maybe nothing, maybe something. Also, he kept paying me compliments. Not just about the job I landed or how well I'd done on my senior thesis, but about me as a person. My favorite was this one: "I want you to know that you're the most giving, most unselfish friend I've ever had."

After dinner, he started driving back to his place. "Won't I need my car?" I asked. "I figured I'd let you stay over tonight," he said. There was a pause, and then he chose different words: "If you don't mind, I'm happy to drive you home tomorrow. Twenty-four hours from now your family will be here and a week from now you'll be gone. Let's make the most of the time that's left."

"That sounds good," I said. It didn't take long to get his place. I was glad because I didn't know what else to say. Was tonight going to be different somehow? It didn't have to be. I loved our routine. Part of me didn't want anything different. But maybe there'd be more. I didn't want to get my hopes up, but I couldn't help getting lost in thought about the things we might do.

We got to his place. He'd clearly spent some time cleaning. It hadn't looked so good since right after he moved in. "I picked up some beer," he announced, opening the refrigerator door. Usually at his place I contented myself with Bud Light, but now he was fully stocked with six packs of all my favorites. "Tell me what you're drinking and then have a seat on the couch." That's where I usually sat. He usually sat in his favorite armchair, but after uncapping two bottles he sat right next to me on the sofa. It was a big piece of furniture, but he was sitting less than a foot away.

I thanked him for the beer. Then I looked him in the eyes. "Why all the fuss?" I asked. "You didn't have to do all of this." He smiled. "Like I said, you're my very best friend, and tonight's your graduation present."

It was clear that my present wasn't just the great steak dinner. It was the whole evening. I probably could have moved things forward right then and there. He looked so hot. I loved his face, his eyes, and his strong jaw. His tight golf shirt really showed off his torso, and now there were sexy damp spots at his armpits. He was tall, and right next to me he seemed even bigger. But it was still early—only about 8:30 p.m. And I was enjoying all the attention. "What do you want to watch?" he asked. It didn't take long to come up with an answer. "A River Runs Through It," I said. We'd seen it before together, he owned it, and it was one of my favorite buddy movies. He popped the tape into his VCR. The next time he got up to bring us beers he dimmed the lights a little bit. He went from sitting close to me to sitting so that his body was touching mine. He put his right arm over my shoulder, hugged me, and left it there, maintaining the physical contact. I could feel his warmth and the subtle but intoxicating scents of his sweat and his cologne. Of course my cock was throbbing.

I got up to use the bathroom. It took me a while to piss through my erection. When I returned to the couch I noticed two fresh bottles of beer on the coffee table. I also saw that he was sitting sideways. His back was against the armrest and his leg was extended across the length of the couch. He'd kicked his shoes off. I decided to do the same. "Have a seat," he said, patting the sofa between his legs. I did. "Lean back," he said. I relaxed against his chest. His strong arms closed around me as my head rested on his shoulder. For a long while we sat like that. I loved the feel of the stubble of his cheek touching and tickling my ear. A few minutes later, his hands landed on my shoulders. He started to knead them and rub my neck. "Let's get this off," he said while unbuttoning my shirt. I got goose bumps feeling his fingertips brush the skin of my chest. He pressed me forward as he massaged my back. It felt so good.

"That feels amazing," I said, "but you don't have to."

"I know I don't have to, but you deserve it." Then he repeated what he'd said earlier in the evening: "Tonight is your graduation present. You're getting whatever you want."

It was a night I'll never forget.

He rubbed my back all the way through the end of the movie. I was putty in his hands. We stood up to toss away the empty beer bottles. In the kitchen, I asked "Whatever I want?" He pulled me close to him and looked into my eyes: "Anything you want. Everything you want." I hesitated for a second, then turned my lips up toward his. He leaned down to kiss me, gently first but then with more intensity. I parted my lips and his tongue slid between them. I know it was "just" kissing, but to me this felt like the most intimate thing we'd ever done. I could feel the stubble of his chin brushing against my own as our tongues made love inside our mouths.

Our hands were all over each other. I slowly pushed up his shirt to feel his abs and then his pecs. His nipples were hard so I grazed over them with the tips of my thumbs. I felt his hand rubbing my dick through my khakis. Then he started unbuckling my belt. He unbuttoned my pants and lowered the zipper, pushing his hand inside my boxers to gently stroke my cock. When he glanced down to watch his fingers do their magic he noticed something else. "My boxers!" he said, a big smile spreading across his face.

I blushed, remembering the camping trip. "I like to wear them on special occasions," I admitted.

"You chose a good night," he said. He took a step back. "Let's go to the bedroom," he said, pulling me by the dick up the stairs.

Once inside his room, we quickly lost the rest of our clothes. We faced each other, naked and throbbing.

"Anything you want," he repeated. I smiled and pushed him back onto his bed. I started kissing him again. Our cocks rubbed together, leaking precum. His body felt so warm and hard beneath me. His arms surrounded me. We were really only making out, but already I felt like I was on the verge of cumming. I lowered my face into the damp pit of his arm. The soft hair there tickled my nose as I inhaled deeply. I loved his scent. I pressed his arm back against the pillow and started to lick him. He started to giggle. "Sorry," I apologized. "Don't be," he whispered, "I was just startled. It feels good. It turns me on." So I continued, then moved over to his face for more kissing. Then my tongue paid some attention to his other armpit.

What made this all so hot was not just his willingness. It was also his eagerness. I'd hesitate, worried that I was going to go beyond his boundaries or cross a line. His actions made clear that, at least for the night, there were no lines or boundaries. He not only received but he also gave. He rolled over on top of me. He smiled down at me and then started planting little kisses on my forehead, my nose, my cheeks, and my lips. He sucked and nibbled my neck-always an erogenous zone-and then my ear.

He lifted up a little and started to move down my torso. He nuzzled my pits and dragged his tongue across my chest. He sucked my nipples. He licked my abs and circled my belly button with his tongue. The sensations were electric. He had me sighing and smiling and whispering curse words while I held his head and laced my fingers through his hair.

He went lower. I felt his breath over my cock. Starting at the base, he gently traced its length with just the tip of his tongue, then drew circles around that extra-sensitive spot at the base of my corona. He repeated this action several times. I was throbbing and twitching. I thought he was getting ready to go for it but instead he went down to my balls, licking the skin and the short hairs that grew from my sac. He took one nut into the heat of his mouth and started sucking while he gently stroked it with his tongue. He moved on to the other and gave it the same treatment. Then he swallowed both of them. I looked down past my pubes and my cock and we made eye contact. He looked so sexy down there. I smiled and so did he, releasing my balls and then, eyes still meeting mine, he quickly licked up my shaft, opened his mouth, and engulfed the head of my cock. He started circling his tongue. He started bobbing his head, sucking me, slowly inching his way all the way down to the root. We broke eye contact as he changed the angle of his face and pressed his nose into my pubes. He inhaled deeply and then swallowed hard. I gasped as his throat embraced my cock.

He moved into a steady sucking rhythm. One of his hands kept beat by gently pulling on my balls. The other worked its way up to my nipple. It all felt so amazing, so overwhelming. It was like I was about to levitate off the bed. Soon I was right on the edge of orgasm. "I'm almost there," I warned him, not wanting him to be surprised with a mouthful of cum. He had other concerns. "You can cum a second time later?" It was half question, half statement.

"I think so," I said.

"I'll make sure of it," he smiled, and then went back to work on my cock.

His lips tightened and his mouth moved faster. He was swallowing in a steady rhythm, squeezing my shaft with his throat. Up and down, up and down, on every upstroke tonguing the tip of my head. It felt so good it was almost agonizing. He extended the middle finger of the hand massaging my balls. He just sort of hooked it at the opening of my ass, not penetrating but pressing down and pulling forward. It was as if he'd squeezed my trigger. I grunted as I fired into his mouth. I came so hard, harder than I'd ever cum before. I felt him swallowing some of it. What remained he held in his mouth. He raised himself off of my crotch and did the gayest, sexiest, most intimate thing imaginable. He kissed me, parted my lips with his tongue, and shared my load.

"That was incredible," I panted.

"I learned from the best," he said.

It took me a minute to regain my composure. It was nice to just cuddle with him, pecking at his lips. Then I felt his stiff cock nudge my leg. He'd just done me a favor I was more than happy to repay.

"Your turn," I said, scooting down between his legs. Damn, I loved his cock. It was just perfect. Perfectly shaped and perfectly sized. A perfect fit for my mouth and throat. I went down on him-all the way, all at once. I pressed my nose into his pubes, caressing his helmet with my throat muscles, working his shaft with my tongue, encircling his root with my lips.

"That's so hot," he said. "No one's ever made me feel as good as you do."

His comment thrilled me. Usually when I sucked him he remained silent except for involuntary grunts or moans. Now he was acknowledging me. Actually, he was acknowledging that I wasn't just doing something to him. He was acknowledging that we were doing something together. As I started to bob up and down on his shaft my own cock stirred back to life. He flipped around so that we could 69. I almost couldn't believe he was sucking me again. I took his balls into my mouth, sucking them while I breathed in the light musk of his ass.

He stopped me for a second and pulled his balls from my mouth. He reached to the top of his bed, grabbed a pillow, folded it in half, and asked me to rest my head on it. I spun around and then so did he. On hands and knees above me, he resumed sucking my dick. Right before my eyes was his ass in all its glory. I'd never had this view before. His cheeks were firm, full, and muscular; light glinted off the fine blond hairs. I started to kiss his skin. He pressed his ass against my face. I used my hands to spread his cheeks and started tonguing his hair-fringed hole. He was moaning with my cock in his mouth, adding vibration to the sensations of warmth and wetness. When he lifted his head from my crotch he was practically panting. "Jeez," he sighed, "when you do that it rocks my world." Spurred on by his encouragement, I went the extra mile. I rolled my tongue into a tube and pushed against his hole. Gradually, he blossomed open just enough for me to insert my tongue maybe half an inch. I swirled it around and moved it in and out. I could feel his dick throbbing and leaking on my chest. He was still sucking me, but his moans had turned into muffled whimpers.

Suddenly he spun around, faced me, and leaned down to press his lips against mine. Our tongues did battle, first in my mouth and then in his. He pulled back just a bit. The look in his eyes was pure lust. "I bought us something," he whispered. He leaned over me to reach into the drawer of his nightstand. His left armpit was right above my face so I raised my head to steal a sniff. Our hard dicks pressed together as he sat up above me and presented me with a blue and white box.

"K-Y Jelly!" I blushed.

He smiled. "Open it," he whispered, so I did, removing the tube and handing it to him. I liked where this was going. I'd been hoping he'd fuck me. He squeezed a bit across his fingers and reached toward our dicks. He lifted up and pulled back a little. What happened next confused me for a second. His hand spread the lube all over my cock. His intentions became unmistakable when he squeezed more of the stuff onto his middle finger and reached back behind himself. His eyes glazed over a bit.

"Are you sure?" I whispered.

"Everything you want," he said, lowering his lips to mine. When the kiss ended he withdrew his finger from his ass.

"No condom?" I asked.

He smiled. "We're not going to get pregnant, and If either one of us had anything the other would already have it." What followed next was more serious. We locked eyes as he whispered, "Mostly, though, I don't want any barriers. Nothing's coming between us tonight." Again he kissed me.

It hit me that I really didn't know what I was doing. I'd never fucked anyone in the ass. I'd come close with my ex-girlfriend, but it had never happened. And he, I was certain, had never been fucked. We were both virgins, the blind leading the blind.

"How do you want it?" he asked. I wasn't sure what to say. "You can get packback if you want," he said. So he did remember that night. "I know I was an asshole, and I acted as if you were nothing but a hole to fuck. Somehow it made it less..."

I interrupted him. "Stop," I said. "I'm glad we did it. Yes, it was rough, and no, a lubricated condom isn't enough. But I got used to it. By the time you came I was starting to like it."

"Good," he said. "I'm pretty sure I'll like it, too. How do you want us to start? Doggie? Me sitting on you? On my back?"

I asked him to get on his back. I wanted to be in control and I wanted to see his face when I entered him. I shifted aside as he reclined on the bed. I kissed him tenderly, then my lips descended his body, giving his chest, nipples, abs, and treasure trail quick little licks before arriving at his cock. I started sucking and pushed back his legs. He hooked his hands under his knees while I grabbed the tube of K-Y and added some lube to my middle finger. Still sucking him, I slowly worked my finger into his ass. It was definitely the right decision to add to the lube he'd already inserted. Damn he was tight. I worked my finger in and out and then started to circle around inside him. I looked up toward his face as his cock throbbed on my tongue. His face was tilted back and his mouth was wide open. I released his dick from my mouth. "Are you ready?"

His answer really surprised me: "Yes. Please. I've been waiting my whole life."

I couldn't resist giving him another kiss. I scooted up alongside him, took his head in my hands, and made love to his mouth with my tongue. "This," I said, "is going to be amazing."

I leaned over him. Resting his ankles on my shoulders, I pressed the head of my dick against his pucker. I looked down and took him in for a second. Blond hair, broad shoulders, big pecs, a slim waist, a hard cock, and a gorgeous ass that was mine for the taking. I couldn't have dreamed of a better graduation gift.

I pressed forward. His ass resisted at first. I pressed a little harder. Suddenly, I squeezed in. We both gasped, although my gasp resulted from pleasure and his, no doubt, reflected some pain. I looked down into his clenched eyes. "You okay?"

"I'll be fine," he whispered. "You feel so big. Please, go slow."

I did. I wanted him to enjoy this. I wanted him to have plenty of time to adjust. I held still for a minute, and then rotated my hips to swirl my cockhead in a little circle. I pressed forward again and sank another inch. His mouth was wide open and I could see droplets of perspiration on his forehead. Again, slowly, I rotated my hips. I pressed again and gained more ground. "Fuck!" he yelled.

I reached for his cock and stroked it a few times while I swirled my cock inside him. "Push out," I whispered, "like you're taking a dump." I'd read about this somewhere. It had actually helped me a lot the time he fucked me. It seemed to work for him, too. Suddenly there was less resistance. My cock pressed forward and I sank into his ass.

I was in-all the way in. It's difficult to describe the feeling. His ass was like a velvet vice, so hot and so tight yet so slick and so supple, gripping me, engulfing me, sending a soft and steady current of electricity through my dick to my brain. I held steady inside him, savoring the sensation and giving him time to accommodate me. I kissed him and he grabbed my head, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. We made out like that, feverish and craven with my cock throbbing and his hole clenching.

I slowly pulled back an inch and then slid forward. He moaned softly. I pulled back again, a little farther this time, then slowly eased back in. He looked so hot beneath me: his cock twitching and leaking, his muscular legs extending toward the sides of the bed, his face contorting in the mixture of pleasure and pain. His arms reached up to encircle my neck. My strokes lengthened and pleasure began to overwhelm his pain. He started to buck against me, keeping rhythm with my strokes. "Incredible," he whispered.

"You're incredible," I responded.

His arms pulled my head toward his chest. I licked his pecs, now salty with sweat. My lips encircled his left nipple. His ass clenched as I gently bit down. I moved to the right one. I sucked on it and circled my tongue around the erect nub at the center. Gradually, my thrusts became faster and more insistent. I licked his neck. I loved the feel of his stubble bristling against my tongue. He raised his arms, exposing his armpits. God, he looked so sexy. I pressed my face into his left pit, inhaling his scent and licking away the sweat. I moved to his right pit. I couldn't get enough of him.

I could feel my orgasm approaching. I could have given into it, flooding him right then and there, but I wanted to prolong the action. He whimpered a bit when I pulled out, less because of pain and more because of the temporary cessation of pleasure. "I want to take you from behind," I said. He smiled and repositioned himself.

For a minute I just let my cock rest between his cheeks. My hands gripped his shoulders, slowly kneading them. "Damn that feels good," he sighed.

"I love touching you," I admitted. I moved down his back, massaging his muscles and admiring his "V" shape. His shoulders were so much broader than his waist. And then there was his ass, which by now was probably ready for more attention.

I figured it might be good to reapply the lube. I grabbed the K-Y, put some on my finger, and worked it into his hole. As my finger pressed forward and down I hit a little nub inside him. "Whoa," he said. I circled the nub with my finger. "Wow, right there." I took note of the location of his sweet spot. I withdrew my hand to apply more lube to my cock. Then I had an idea. It was my little secret since he was facing away from me. I put a big dollop of lube on my middle finger, reached between my legs, and pressed up into my ass. I shuddered a little. Then I lined up my dick and sank into him.

I loved the view as I fucked him. It was so hot to see my cock penetrating his ass. It turned me on to see it plunge in. It also turned me on watching it withdraw. The hairs around his asshole, slick with lube, dragged against my shaft. I gripped his shoulders as I pushed forward and pulled him back against me. The heat of his ass nearly seared my cock. The friction, the passion, the action spurred me on. We were both sweating. A drop of perspiration clung to my nipple, then splashed onto his back. His shoulders were slick and the muscles of his back glistened. I raised myself over him on all fours. This angled my cock downwards, maximizing the pressure on the nub inside him. My sweaty chest now glided over his sweaty back. He was panting and thrusting back against me as I kissed and tongued his shoulder blades. "I'm so close," he rasped. Both his hands were planted on the bed, so he wasn't even touching himself. Suddenly I was close to cumming, too.

I pulled out.

"Get on your back," I said. He quickly flipped over and pulled his knees up toward his chest. He wanted it so badly.

"No," I said, "put your legs down." He did. The expression on his face revealed both confusion and disappointment.

I had already squeezed some K-Y into my palm. His cock twitched as I covered it with lube. For a second I worried he was cumming.

His eyes were wide as I straddled him. The tip of his cock touched my hole. Part of me wanted to impale myself, but I wanted to make this last. I willed myself to make a slow descent. I didn't want him to cum right away, plus I wanted to savor every sensation. There wasn't any real pain this time, just a lot of pressure as his helmet cleared my sphincter. I lowered myself another inch. The feeling of fullness was overwhelming; it gave me goose bumps. I paused when he was halfway in.

"You feel huge," I admitted to him.

"You feel amazing," he whispered.

His muscular torso gleamed with sweat. His big hands gripped my thighs and his biceps flexed. His blond locks, dampened and darkened by perspiration, framed his forehead. His lips and nipples blushed a darker, almost crimson shade of pink. Staring down at him, there was something else that caught my eye. My dick, jutting out from its matted-down nest of hair, was hard, throbbing, and glistening with lube.

I gave into desire and sank down on him. I could feel his pubes scratching against the lips of my ass. I leaned forward, hooked my arms under his shoulders, and pulled him into a kiss. As our tongues mashed together I pulled him upward. He bent at the waist and sat up. My cock twitched against his abs while we made out, tasting each other and breathing together.

I began to lift up and then press down. His bucked his hips to meet me. I was fucking myself onto him. He was fucking himself into me. We established a rhythm. He felt so good inside me. I held his head against mine as we panted and moaned. I could feel the warmth of his breath blow past my ear. I landed on him harder and faster. He stiffened inside me.

He throbbed. Then he came, his cock pulsing. His arms clutched my back as he emptied himself inside me. I felt the heat and the slickness of his semen against the walls of my ass.

He collapsed back against the bed, pulling me down with him. My own dick was twitching with desire. My whole body was aching for release.

His cock, finally satisfied, slid from my ass as I quickly lifted off of him, spread his legs, and bent back his knees. My hard cock sank back into him. I wish I could say otherwise, but I came the moment I bottomed out.

We held each other breathlessly. I was still inside him. His bed was damp with sweat and cum.

He kissed me, tenderly. "Did you like your gift?" he asked.

"I loved it," I replied, kissing him back. I realized that his gift was more than just dinner. Maybe, even, it was more than just sex. His gift, on one level at least, was for both of us. He had given himself the freedom to give himself to me.

"Let's shower," he said. "We're a mess."

I followed him into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and we washed each other off. His soapy hands were all over my body. They felt so great scrubbing my back, my cock and balls, inside my ass crack, and under my arms. I washed him in all the same places. We were both more than half hard, but it was late and we were spent.

We toweled off and returned to the bed. We saw the mess we'd made of the sweat-soaked, lube-smeared, and cum-covered sheets. He started to laugh and said, "Holy crap! I have no problem sleeping on a wet spot, but we're not going to sleep in a swamp." We quickly remade the bed with fresh sheets and then collapsed together under the covers. We were both still naked. I turned away from him and he spooned me and pulled me in close.

It had been an amazing night. Even so, part of me was worried about tomorrow. There was no denying what we'd done. I loved everything about him and I loved everything about us. I was just a little bit worried that one night of real passion would undermine nearly four years of friendship.

I awoke to the sound of him taking a piss in the bathroom. The bedside clock told me it was 2:05. The light streaming in through the window told me it was 2:05 p.m. Talk about oversleeping. The good news was that neither one of us had to be anywhere for a couple of hours. When the pissing stopped, I turned over and watched him standing over the toilet. His back was to me. He stood there, unmoving. He was naked and the overhead light in the bathroom caused the light blond hairs of his muscular legs and buttocks to almost shimmer. I realized that he was trying to piss through a hard-on when I saw his ass muscles clench. He pissed and then paused. He pissed and then paused. He pissed again. Finally, he flushed.

I smiled when he turned around. He smiled back. I had worried that things would be weird between us. They weren't.

His dick still at full mast, he walked toward the bed. He got back in, facing downward with his arms outstretched. He turned his head to the side and looked at me with sleepy eyes. "My back's stiff, too," he said.

I straddled him and began my massage. There were some knots in his back so I worked his muscles tenderly and thoroughly. Not only my hands were touching his back. So was my dick. Soon I was hard and leaking. We never used massage oil but my precum added just a bit of lubrication to help me as I worked his muscles. I made my way down to the base of his back and then the top of his ass. I started to knead the muscles of his cheeks. His spread his legs just enough. I knew what he wanted, so I pulled his cheeks apart and went to work with my tongue. He sighed as I tasted him. His ass lips were swollen from last night. No doubt they were also kind of tender. I did my best to soothe him-to thank him-for what he'd allowed me to do.

I switched things up, moving my hands to the backs of his thighs and calves and then down to his big feet.

He turned over, presenting me with his erection. I started with his balls. Already, they were tight and retracted. While I sucked and tongued them I stroked the tip of my nose across the underside of his dick. He smelled really good: a little soapy, a little musky, and a lot like him.

I couldn't resist. I released his balls from my mouth and let my tongue find its way around his cock. I took him into my mouth and started to suck him. Really, what I was doing was loving him. I was loving giving him pleasure. I was loving how I couldn't get enough of him. I was loving the taste and the texture of his precum and his skin. I was loving the fact that we had finally grown comfortable sharing with each other such intimacies.

I reached up to his pecs and stroked his nipples. I dipped my fingertips into the pits of his arms, which were warm and just slightly damp with excitement. I moved my fingers down to trace the ridges of his abs and then grasp his balls, pulling down on them gently while my lips pulled up from his crotch.

He was breathing harder now. I knew the signs. I touched a finger to his ass, pressing but not penetrating. My thumb massaged his taint. Suddenly the palm of his hand landed on my head. His hips bucked. His dick throbbed. He grunted. He flooded my mouth as I swallowed and swallowed. I didn't want any of his cum to escape. And to tell the truth, I felt a lump in my throat. I knew that this would be the last time for a long time. I wanted all of him.

He collapsed on the bed. I leaned back on my knees. My dick jutted out, still hard and dripping. I waited a moment, gratified but not satisfied. For a few long seconds I was hopeful but not expectant. The seconds passed. I left him on the bed, walked to the bathroom, and took matters in hand. I came while standing over the toilet. Then, finally, I pissed and flushed.

I stepped into the shower. Mostly, I just wanted to give him time to recover. As I dried off, he presented himself to me, fully dressed and cheerful, like nothing had happened.

My parents stayed in a hotel, but my little brother and sister thought it would be fun to stay with me in my dorm. We had a big dinner the night before graduation. Of course he was there, but our time alone together was up.

Close to twenty years have passed. We've never lived closer than 500 miles apart. I visited him twice while he was in grad school. We went back to the old pattern of back pops and massages-and me sucking, rimming, and swallowing.

He was a groomsman at my wedding. Then he got engaged. We shared a room during his bachelor party weekend at Steamboat Springs. The first night, I rubbed his back and sucked his dick. The last night, I massaged and sucked and then he fucked me.

I haven't seen him since, but we've done a fairly decent job of staying in touch. I'm still married. My wife and I have a boy and a girl. He's still married, too. He and his wife have a girl. She's very blonde and very tall. She looks just like him. He's into Crossfit and running. He's still muscular and amazing.

I don't really regret how things turned out, but I also don't regret what we shared with each other. Usually when I beat off I think about him. I love my wife and my kids. Sometimes, however, I wonder what it would be like if he and I were a couple. We could marry now. But of course this sort of thing wasn't really imaginable back when we were in college.

I got a text from him a couple of months ago. We exchanged pleasantries, caught up a bit, and compared notes. Then, he wrote that he was "missing us. Remember 'us'? We had some crazy times. I'd relive it all. I'd do everything all over again."

"Everything?" I asked.

There was a slight pause. "Everything," he replied.

So would I. I thought for a second about how to respond. My fingers touched the letters on the screen of my phone: "Me, too," I wrote. "Everything and anything." Then I added: "Anything you want."

That's the end. And that's the truth.

Capturing all these memories has been cathartic. But I'm still not sure I've figured everything out or arrived at the point of full closure. Based on what happened, what's your take on what unfolded? Sometimes I worry that I was using him. Sometimes it's difficult to deny that he was using me. Other times, however, I think that probably we were using each other. More than that: We were enjoying each other and loving each other-as best we could given the definitions and distinctions under which we believed we needed to live.

These memories still turn me on. They also make me feel somewhat confused. Maybe you can consider what happened with more objectivity.

I'd love to hear your thoughts.