Ups and Downs

Consummation

The clock ticked away the hours until Ethan and I would be launching our new lives as college men. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Because he had to check into the dorm where he would be living for at least his first year, Ethan was scheduled to start a couple of days before I would, and that only left us one night together.

I was not slated to close up the hardware store that night, so I made plans to sleep over at the Sullivan’s house with Ethan. My parents didn’t think anything of it since Ethan and I had become good friends, and they actually encouraged our relationship as they thought it was good for both of us. I had always been reluctant to stay over there because it just seemed awkward with Jeff there, but he had already gone off to Clemson to start football practice before the season officially started. I also felt a bit uneasy about sleeping in the same house with Mrs. Sullivan even though she knew what Ethan and I would be doing in his room…well, in general terms anyway…but Mr. Sullivan informed me that she would be away on a business trip.

Ethan and I spent the afternoon doing last-minute shopping for the things he would need for his dorm room, and I swear he bought a year’s worth of lube and condoms. We ate supper in the food court at the mall and then went back to the Sullivan’s house.

We sat down at his new computer to watch some porn when Ethan turned to me and asked, “Is this how you learned about having sex with guys?” I couldn’t help releasing a little bit of a chuckle and then replied, “Yeah, that’s part of it. You also learn from experience,” I added “and I have been fortunate to have had more than my share of that. And I’ve learned a lot from reading too—fiction as well as non-fiction.”

When he asked what kind of fiction, I turned back to the laptop and pulled up Gaydemon.com, one of my favorite sites for gay erotic fiction.

“Wow! So many stories here,” he exclaimed. “How do you know where to start?”

“Just pick whatever appeals to you,” I replied. “But I do have a few favorite writers. Littlebuddy, Bill Drake, Grant, and Brock Archer are all good, but each one has his particular strengths. Many writers just write about sex, and that’s fine, but these authors write actual stories with well-developed characters and interesting plots. Drake, for example, says that plot development and dialogue are his strengths. He claims not to be so great at description, but I’m sure many readers would say that he’s just being modest.

“Littlebuddy, on the other hand, excels in description. His stories are mostly love stories, and he describes sex acts beautifully, but he describes them in the context of real love stories. You will fall in love with his characters because he makes them so real. He’s a romantic at heart, and he says that he bases his stories as much as possible on his real-life experiences.

“Grant is also a romantic who is very good with description, and you might find his stories even more interesting because they are set in the rural South, something you can relate to.

“Archer is a bit of a tease,” I continued, “and a master of suspense. Some of his stories are mysteries, but even his other stories are full of plot twists and cliff-hangers. He researches his stories very thoroughly to make sure every detail is accurate. He is just as thorough with his use of the English language. At times, he can be very funny, and at other times his words read like poetry.”

“You sound like you know these writers,” Ethan said.

“Not really,” I replied, “but I have left comments to their stories, and sometimes they reply. Most writers on Gaydemon.com love hearing from their fans and are usually pretty good about responding.”

At that point, we pulled up some stories by these authors, and Ethan and I took turns reading them to each other. Naturally, we both popped boners in no time, and when I could take it no longer, I said, “Fuck! Let’s beat off.”

We tore each other’s clothes off and flew to the bed with Ethan landing on top of me. I could hold back no longer. I pushed him off of me, but only so I could look him directly in the face, and what I saw there convinced me to move in closer and place my lips against his. I kissed him gently. I wanted him, but I also wanted him to know that this was not just about sex. I had grown increasingly fond of him. Love? I didn’t know. I had never been in love before, so I had nothing by which to gauge my feelings, but I knew it was something different, something special.

I couldn’t bring myself to say, “I love you.” After all, he would be going away to college, and I would be remaining in Columbus. But what the fuck! Athens is only three hours away. We could get together on weekends. And we could text each other and video chat. It could work, right?

I fought the mental possibilities as much as I could so that I could focus on loving him in the moment. I wanted to feel the tenderness of his lips, to taste them in such a way that I would never forget that succulent part of him, the savoriness of our relationship. He was a hunk. His body was hard, but the lips…. Oh, my god! Those lips were so soft, so tender, so irresistible.

He kissed me back with the same tender affection I was showing him, but then our hormones took over and goaded us. I sank my tongue into his mouth, and he reciprocated. The ballet morphed into a tango, our tongues on fire.

I wanted to leave my stamp all over his body, so I moved my lips to his cheek and over to his earlobe and then across his forehead to the other ear, lightly kissing his eyelids en route. I kissed down to his neck, planting more butterfly kisses and licking every inch of it. Ethan moaned.

I worked my way down to his pecs, kissing, licking, and nibbling on his sensitive nipples. Ethan moaned more.

I grasped his wrists and held them down, stretched over his head, so that I had unimpeded access to his armpits, which I discovered were other sensitive parts of his anatomy. As I licked, I relished not only the taste, but also the texture of his hairy pits under my tongue. And Ethan moaned.

I moved on to his belly button, one more place where my tongue could be inside him, even slightly. From there, I followed his light brown treasure trail down to the promised land. I got a thrill out of rubbing my face against his thick pubes, as I had with the hairs in his arm pits. His stiff rod begged for my attention, but I delayed his gratification with a kind of tough love. I licked all around his cock and balls and down to his perineum. I stopped when I reached his pucker, but he pressed me on, so I fucked him with my tongue until he begged me for something more.

“More” was his straining cock, of course, so I returned to that sweet spot, licking his shaft up, down, and all around before I took the tip into my mouth. To continue my sadistic, but loving, ways, I teased his piss slit, driving him wild. Then, I took the crown into my mouth and sucked voraciously, only gradually sliding more and more of his cock into my mouth. It was indeed a mouthful, but somehow I managed to get all of it into my mouth until I could feel his manly pubes tickling my nose.

As I continued to suck his dick, I stretched one hand to his chest, squeezing and twisting a nipple between my fingers. With the other hand, I reached for his rose bud and slowly slid one finger deep inside. I tortured him at every angle physically possible.

“Oh, fuck!” he screamed. (Yes, he had learned well the cursing lessons Jeff and I had taught him.) “Jeezus fucking christ!” he yelled. I’m sure that Mr. Sullivan heard his screams all the way down the hall; hell, the whole neighborhood must have heard. Of course, if Ethan’s uncle did hear the roar, he probably smiled and maybe even jacked off at the thought of what had driven Ethan to such ecstasy. I was just grateful that Mrs. Sullivan and Jeff were not in the house.

“I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna—”

But before he could finish the phrase, he exploded with a burst of man juice that I thought was going to blow right through my throat. As I pulled back for the sake of self-preservation, he launched a second shot that flew over his head and streaked the headboard, a shot joined by two more before subsequent volleys coated his chest and abdomen. I sucked up the remaining spasms of cream, driving him further into blissful pain. His cock was very, very, very sensitive, and he begged me to stop as he clenched the bed sheets, gritted his teeth, and flogged his fists against the bed, writing in sweet agony. But I kept at it until he finally grabbed me by the hair on my head and forcibly pulled me off his delicious and delirious cock.

He continued to writhe in spasms for several minutes, cursing with all the strength he could muster, and at least five minutes passed before he could completely catch his breath. What a gorgeous sight, I thought, as I watched his broad chest rising and falling as he struggled for air.

“God damn you, you mother fucking son of a bitch,” he gasped, as best he could speak under the circumstances. He even started beating my chest with his fists as if to pay me back for putting him through such torture, but we both knew he would not have traded that feeling for the world.

I grabbed his wrists as I had before and pinned him to the bed. I dropped my body onto his, our dicks rubbing together in copacetic frottage and our bodies squishing his manly cream between us. We lay together that way for several minutes, the sound of our breathing overwhelmed by the force of the wheels turning in our heads.

With the strength of his hard body, he threw me off just as I had dislodged him before. He kissed me passionately, forcefully, before licking me all over, not in the slow, meticulous way that I had licked him—more like a cow lapping at a salt block. In coating my body with his saliva, he also licked up some of his cum that had started to cake on my torso.

He attacked my cock with the same fervor, licking like a desperate bull and sucking like a Hoover. Just as I felt the first stirrings of an eruption—he felt it too—he withdrew and grinned at me with the revenge of the Marquis de Sade. When I begged him to resume, as he knew I would, he suddenly turned mellow, somber, and that’s when I noticed it, the watery glaze in his beautiful, but now hungry, brown eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was from the exquisite pain I had inflicted on him earlier or if it was his coming to grips with the reality that this would be our last night together—at least for a while.

With my aching cock straining to break out of its skin, Ethan moved closer to my face and whispered, “Make love to me.”

“I just did, you doofus. Now get my rocks off.”

“No,” he replied softly but in all seriousness. “Not like that.” After taking a swallow and then a deep breath, looking first up at the ceiling, as if to collect his thoughts or summon the courage to continue, he sighed, “I want to feel you inside me.”

I was a bit taken aback because up until that point, we both had fucked lots of soldiers and college students in my dad’s storeroom, but, like me, he had always been a top, jamming his rod into any and all available asses but never taking one in his own rear. But I could see from the look on his face that he was dead serious. He didn’t just want the experience of bridging that rite of passage, he wanted to have me, ME, inside of him, sharing his body…perhaps even his soul.

I had wanted to fuck him from the moment I first met him, but this was so much more than a fuck. This was bonding in the most intimate way possible for two men. I felt it too. I had begun to feel it when we first hit the bed after reading those stories on Gaydemon, but now I wanted to be inside him as much as he wanted me there. We both wanted our bodies to melt into one.

I reached behind his head, gently pulling his lips to mine. I kissed him softly, lovingly. When my tongue slid into his mouth, it was not an invasion, but a symbiosis of two organisms…no, two souls.

I kissed his body lightly as I had done before, but he pressed me to move faster. He had experienced enough foreplay, though delightful it was. Now he wanted the consummation of our relationship. Even when I began to prep his rosebud, he begged me to enter him, but I consoled him, “We need to get you ready. This is going to hurt,” I advised him. “We can make it easier if I open you up a little first.”

And so I probed his opening with my tongue and then slowly slipped one finger up that love canal…then two. When I touched his joy spot, he jumped. The feeling was something he had never experienced before, and it was a bit of a shock, though definitely a pleasurable one. “Hnhh?” I asked. “Feel good? Yeah? Just wait. You ain’t felt nothin’ yet,” I gloated.

I grabbed some of the lube he had bought earlier that day and reached for a condom when he grabbed my wrist. “No,” he whispered. “I want you inside of me. I want to feel you!”

Since neither of us had ever had anyone’s hot semen inside of us before, I deemed it safe enough to grant his wish. I lubed up my naked penis, gently rubbed some into his hole, and entered him ever so cautiously. Yes, I wanted to be inside him so desperately I could taste it, but I also wanted to give him the best experience of his lifetime, so I took it slowly. I rocked back and forth until the head of my penis crossed the threshold of his sphincter ring.

Ethan winced, gritting his teeth, and bravely suppressing the scream that he really wanted to broadcast to the world. “Relax,” I coaxed, gently massaging his chest and abdomen. “The pain will subside, and the pleasure will return.”

He looked at me with a tinge of disbelief that was defeated by the obvious sense of trust that he had bestowed on me. A trust that I treasured then and all the days that have passed since.

I pressed forward, two steps forward and one step back, until I was fully installed in his rectum, and then I paused again. “You’re beautiful,” I said. “Thank you for giving me the honor of sharing this experience with you.” Hokey, I know, but I meant it with every fiber of my being. I can’t rightly say that I was in love with him, but in that moment, I definitely loved him, and I am confident that he loved me too.

I pushed and pulled slowly, rhythmically until I was sure that he had adjusted, and I knew he had when his cock began to rise again. The grimace on his face gave way to a smile of satisfaction. “Hnhh? Yeah? Didn’t I tell you?” He replied only with a nod and an even broader smile.

I grasped his now fully engorged manhood and stroked in rhythm to the strokes of my cock inside him. I alternated between measures of slow strokes with faster ones.

“Harder,” he begged. He had himself learned to pound an ass fast, hard, and deep by watching me in the hardware store, just as I had learned by watching his uncle. Though I had never taken a cock up my ass before, I had always been turned on by the ferocity with which Mr. Sullivan fucked, and I had even thought that if I ever were to let a guy fuck me, that’s the way I would want it. I saw that same desire then on Ethan’s face, and I understood.

I drilled Ethan’s ass, alternating between periods of rapid-fire beats and short, but powerful, thrusts, pushing as deep as I could. Ethan responded by writhing in delight at the stimulation of his prostate, the love muscle he had never even realized he had. We all remember our first time, but I was determined to make this one an indelible memory for Ethan. I wanted to etch it on his prostate and on his brain.

As my own orgasm approached, I became so wrapped up in our communal experience that I let go of his penis without even realizing it and clenched my hands around his muscular legs. “Oh, shit!” I screamed. “Oh, fuck!”

“Yes!” Ethan shouted. “Fuck me hard. Blast that goddam juice deep inside me, Joe. Fill me up.”

And I did. I exploded in a burst of pent-up demand that caused Ethan to squeal in delight, “Oh, fuck, man! I feel that. I feel your cum shooting inside me.”

And then I shot again…and again…and again…until I was totally spent. But Ethan was just beginning. The combination of pokes to his prostate and the overwhelming sensation of feeling that he had drained my nuts completely dry sparked his own orgasm. His penis, untouched at that moment, exploded in a celebration of cum that covered his face, chest, and abdomen. It was a beautiful sight. He was beautiful. And I felt so blessed to have been chosen to give it to him.

As before, his body shook with blissful aftershocks, but I didn’t care. I was so spent that I had to collapse on top of him, and each time he quaked, I smiled. With my rod still inside him, I felt that I was sharing that orgasm with him, and it felt like heaven.

I don’t know how long he continued to shake because I fell asleep even with his body quaking underneath mine. I do know that I fell asleep in his arms. This time, he cradled me. This time, he was the man.

(to be continued)

NOTE: The names of other authors and descriptions of their writing are used with their permission and cooperation. Yes, I have introduced Brock Archer as a fictional character. I did so not out of self-adulation but because this character will become important later in this story. I have envisioned this story in at least three parts, and I can tell you that the chapters so far have been background to what is the real core of the story ahead. As is my evil nature (just ask my loyal fans), I will introduce a major shift in the story in Chapter 5 or 6. Keep reading.