Wishing and Thinking

He was lying there in the white softness of flash light. Naked out of sleep, we had wakened. The other guys had wakened too at the sound of some dog or a car passing. The smell of the green tent filled my nostrils. The dark dampness of grass and dew on the dark early morning summer sleep over in my back yard.

So we had played with each other's private parts, game like and fun. No one really taking notice of our horseplay. Just exploring and having fun. But then I saw David in the light powered by batteries. I saw him as if for the first time. Certainly it was the first time my eyes saw him naked. I sucked in the air and let it out of my lungs. The perfect whiteness of his middle, traced with the darker lines and area from suntanned baseball playing. His eyes were closed and the short dark curls of hair cupped his face.

His cheeks red in the pattern like a torn piece of construction paper. Blood flowing through the small vessels of his cheeks. I thought it meant shame. My cheeks had always turned red when I was in the wrong. Then I knew that his body was ready for his first sex. The blood again pumping and his penis rising, though he could not see it through his heavy long lashed eyelids. What he was thinking, I could not know. Thinking of being touched the way guys touch themselves in the dark under the sheets. Thinking of how wonderful it is to change hands to feel the strangeness of another way of hand, attached to another body stroke his crotch.

I could not come to think that he might be thinking of me. Last, I would think that I could be the beautiful one that makes the skin draw taut and gorges a male member with every bit of fluid from his body. For I was thinking of his beauty. Perfect skin, I loved the creases. The hollow inside his thigh between his knee and torso. The dimples in his but, now hidden, but seen through tight jeans that he wore at play, I had seen him. Not admitting noticing him, now I took him into my senses. I reached out and traced the deep lines from his outer hip pointing, arrow like to meet under his testicles. And I pointed my finger straight into the niche of his navel. I felt the smoothness of his hard dappled stomach.

Then quickly I grabbed his penis in my mouth. He looked impassive but leaned his head back to take on the beatific look of quiet pleasure. I sucked like I was a child at my mother's nipple. The hard sucking of one that wants what can be given at that spigot. Not just anything but everything, his musky man smell, the texture of his skin in my mouth, the touch of his hips under my hands.

I did not hear the tittering, my mind was full of David. My lips slipped up and down over him. Time was stopped and I could have gone on forever. Then, his back arched a bit. I felt all his muscles go tense. His movements scared me, I did not know what to expect from his mild convulsions. I backed off just to see the lights pointing at the head of his dick. There he shot into the air pumping spurts of white. I was startled, I hadn't seen it before, and never done it myself. I just creamed in the night never this fountain display.

Then I heard the titters. My cheeks got red in shame. I don't know why, since my pleasure was great. David's eyes remained shut. I had a strong desire to suck up all of the white and wash his weannie with my mouth. I returned to my sleeping bag and looked at the tent roof. Feeling what I had done and witnessed.

I never talked to him again. The shame and sound of 'fagot', 'cock sucker' and others haunted me. It was cruel, I cut him off from my friendship because of my shame. I could not come to terms with what I had done. My only lasting regret was that he might think me heartless and mean. In truth, for that moment , in that instance, I loved him, �David.