A gay story: Reunion on Staten Island Staten Island Buddies
Two high school jocks reunite after ten years
This story is entirely fictional and original. All references to people and places are imaginary despite their apparent reference to reality. All characters engaged in sexual activity are over 18. This one is a little longer than a short story, but I decided not to do it in chapters. © 2024, Brunosden. All rights reserved.
-1-
I’m on a much later boat home than usual. There is only one more after this one–or it’s a flea-bag hotel on the Battery. I only wish the cause had been a celebration, a pro-game, or a date. But, no such luck. The partner I work for had dumped an “urgent” matter on my desk at six–as he left. He expected a memo by morning. I grimaced and looked at the clock as he pulled on his coat. “That’s what we pay you the big bucks for, Kyle.” I thought to myself that three years of this kind of servitude was already too much. And I probably faced another two or three more before I’d know whether I had won the lottery for partnership. I was one of the few “non-Ivies” in my cohort. So the chances were slim and only prodigious hours and the lightning strike of a client generation event would change the odds.
There were others still in the office, but most had guaranteed rides to Jersey or uptown even if they left really late. I was the only associate living at home on Staten Island. So after the last boat, there wasn’t any way to get home. No subway. No taxi.
This was the second time this week. I had to get home, even though no one was waiting for me–Mom would head for bed early after gluing herself to the LED for hours. But, I had an early appointment tomorrow with my trainer. Being a law associate and staying in shape in New York were not easy. But, workouts and staying in shape were essential to my sanity.
I leaned against the rail, watching the lights of the Financial District fade in the mist. It was a damp and cool evening, sort of nice after the indoor lighting and air-conditioned stale atmosphere of the office all day. Fog was certainly going to set in before dawn. And, even in late spring, it can be cool on the River.
I sensed another person nearby and glanced at a pair of leather-shielded arms resting on the rail next to mine. I thought I recognized the guy. I looked over again (quickly and carefully–one does not make eye contact on public transport in the City). I was pretty sure it was an old friend, Billy Thorpe. Ten years ago, we had been on the Curtis Warriors. I was QB; he was a receiver. He was All-State. I wasn’t. We had been close friends. We were both mongrels–with Italian moms and Irish dads, like so many of our classmates.
Actually we had been very close–even stroke buddies when we bunked together on a few away games our senior year, after a few beers–we were both adults under New York law. Nothing more had happened. And I hadn’t had any experiences with guys since then. I had gone on to college (Colgate) and law school (NYU) while he had entered his father’s contracting business. I didn’t know he still lived on the Island. His hair was much longer and his face more mature and chiseled, but he retained the handsomeness and enormous body of the jock I remembered. He was still capable of turning heads.
“Billy, is that you? It’s Kyle Maddox.”
“Fuck, I didn’t recognize you. You’re a fuckin’ suit, now! What are you doing on this barge? I thought you had emigrated from the Island for good.” (Islanders often felt they lived in another country, and the City often treated our borough that way.)
“Going home. I slave on the Battery at Fuller & Brush, but I’m living temporarily with my Mom. Pop died last year, and she needed some help coping and wrapping things up before she moves to Ft. Lauderdale to be near my sisters. So I left my roommates in the Village and moved home.”
“Sorry to hear about your Dad. So you’re an Islander again?”
“Only for another coupla’ weeks. I’m lookin’ for a place downtown. The hours and commute are killin’ me. Mom is leaving for Florida soon. We think the place sold last weekend. We’ll know in a few days after the inspection. How about you? Still working for your family? Married? Kids?”
“Yeah, nah, nah.” He always answered direct questions monosyllabically. Then he added a bit of update, “We’re the main sub on the new tower on Battery Park Plaza. I’m the project manager now. I’ve got a coupla’ hundred guys working for me, erecting steel, pouring concrete and setting windows and spandrels. We get the building up and enclosed. Then others move in to do the utilities and interiors. We had an accident this afternoon, and I’ve been filing reports for the last six hours, or I’d be home in front of the game by now. This City! Fuckin’ bureaucracy! I’ve explained the same facts at least a dozen times on a dozen different forms. There wasn’t even a fatality. I think I’ve got every agency in the City on my neck.”
“They wouldn’t fit. It’s still so short!” He laughed as our familiar banter kicked in. He was so bulked up, that he had almost no neck. “Where are you living, Billy? I never see you on the boat.”
“I bought a triple-decker on the East Side.” (To Islanders, East Side always meant the famous two mile long boardwalk on the east side of the island, not the tony Manhattan Upper East Side.) I’ve spent a few years fixing it up. I live on the top floor and have tenants on the two lower floors. My parlor window and front porch must look out at where you work. Fuck, I bet that you’ve seen me standing naked in front of that window, smoking a weed and beating off. I’m usually home before now from the 4:30. And enjoying my beer and relief.”
“I have to confess. I don’t have a telescope. In fact, I don’t even have a window. I’ve got a cubicle. And I never get the 4:30.” I smiled and decided to tease a bit, “If I remember correctly, I’d need a very powerful scope to see your tiny dick anyway. Even if I wanted to.”
The old camaraderie banter had returned so easily. I could tell he was about to return in kind. I could see the counter-insult forming on his lips. (He always had been a little slow on the uptake.)
At that point, a jolt signaled that we had docked. It was time to walk the few blocks to Mom’s place. We disembarked, said our goodbyes, and Billy turned the other way. “I only live two blocks up this way. It’s late. But how about we have a beer and shoot the shit tomorrow or Friday? I’d love to catch up–even if it’s all lies. I’m at 301, Apartment C.”
“Sure. I’d like to catch up. Friday works. Is 7 okay?”
“See you then. Hand me your phone. I’ll put in my number.” I did so as he handed his to me.
“Nice to see you again Billy. We sure were some kind of trouble, weren’t we?” He laughed and walked off. I followed his “I-own-the-world-swagger” for a bit with my eyes: his jean-clad ass was still small and tight and his shoulders were even wider than I remembered, accented by the black leather short jacket. Then, I realized my dick was stiff. What the fuck? Has it really been that long? Was I really that hard up? That I was perving on a guy that I hadn’t even seen naked for ten years?
Mom had left dinner in the fridge to be micro-d and gone to bed. I ate and headed in also, setting my alarm for 6:30 to meet my trainer.
I had a terrific workout the next morning and another long day at F&B. (Generally nicknamed by the associates as “Fuckin’ Ballbusters”.) But, I put in the time to be sure I could leave at closing on Friday. I was looking forward to seeing Billy again. We had been glued together as friends and the ringleaders of on-campus pranks. I got home around 6:30, quickly showered and pulled on jeans, a tee and a Knicks hoodie–deciding to go commando. Hell, the weekend was starting, and I didn’t need to go in tomorrow. I felt free and good. Seeing Billy again had reminded me that I had been nearly a monk for almost ten years. (Well, I had sowed some oats–well okay, wasted some seeds–in college before the law school grind and once in a while in New York. I did say “nearly.”)
I looked in the mirror. I liked what I saw: dark hair, professionally cut short and gelled, big dark blue/purple eyes set in a slim ruddy face, thin nose–very Roman, a decent physique with a flat, almost concave gut and narrow hips. My upper arms filled the tee sleeves nicely. I knew I looked good. I took after my mother and had cultured the Italian stallion look–the gigolo, not the prize fighter. Too bad there were so few people to appreciate it.
I walked the five minutes to Billy’s place. He had fixed it up nice. Brightly colored Victorian with all the gingerbread– even if it was mostly plastic copies. River-front porches on all three levels. But the front yard reflected the neighborhood style and was totally out of character: tiny yard, fenced in wrought-iron with an Italianate fountain. Fuck, did he think he was in Napoli? He’s not even full Italian–only on his mother’s side. And she was blonde and from the north, not a real Italian. (Most New York Italian immigrants were of Sicilian stock, like me, and dark.)
I rang the bell, was buzzed in and climbed the two flights. He opened the apartment door as I hit the landing. “Welcome, Kyle,” he muttered as he handed me a longneck. He had already started. I could tell. I followed him around and to the front of the apartment, to the porch and the glider. I guess he was proud of the view–although facing in this direction, we weren’t out there to watch the sunset, except maybe reflected in the windows of the skyscrapers across the river.
Billy had on an old Giants tee (he always had been a fan), two sizes too small, faded and torn, revealing wide shoulders and slab-hard pecs and tight sweat shorts, displaying his impressive package and thick muscled thighs. When he moved, the tee rode up, exposing a photo-worthy eight pac. He was barefoot. Did he think summer had already arrived? His long dirty blonde hair had been recently washed and was tied in a ponytail. And he had a gold stud in one ear. A deep orangey tan suggested he had been visiting the tanning parlor. He looked good, relaxed and out of place. He belonged on a Malibu beach. But, he swaggered like he owned the City. He looked me up and down carefully, like he was considering a used car purchase and motioned me to the glider.
Billy was much bigger than I was. The glider sagged under his weight. He was probably 6-4 to my 6 even and 220 to my 175. His muscles were popping. I guess he had been to the gym after work, an easy indulgence for one who typically gets off work at 4:00. He had the guns of a construction worker who also worked out. And the thighs of a football player who had kept in shape.
“So no family?” I began.
“I’ve dated a bit, but nothing serious. Dad is on me all the time. He wants a dynasty. Not going to happen. At least not soon. Fortunately, I’ve got a few sisters who are popping them out like toast. A few dates went a few months. But classy women are looking for Joe-college-types, not construction managers–even if I out-earn them big time. And I’m not into dumb sluts.”
“I go to St Martin every winter. Lots of action. And I can pretend I’m someone else. Ladies and guys. Orient Beach is nude. The girls lounge on towels projecting their breasts like howitzers, expecting an invasion from the sea, and the guys parade down the sand flopping their dicks to and fro. After high school, I decided that I could swing both ways, but not at home base. I don’t have much trouble picking up one-nighters in the Islands. But, I’m much more careful around here. How about you?”
“I started football at Colgate, but I wasn’t good enough. Joined a frat. Liked to party. Never went beyond the second date with anyone. Did okay academically, but didn’t make Rhodes Scholar.” He laughed. Neither of us had been “A” students. “Since I’ve been working, I don’t have time to piss, let alone date. I’ve been a fuckin’ monk for months. And since you, what is it, ten years ago?, I’ve never touched a guy.” He noted that I was staring at his body with occasional glances at the shorts which had tightened as he sat.
It was getting a little cool, so Billy suggested we go inside. Before we sat on the modern leather sofa facing the view, he went in and brought out another couple of bottles. It was warm inside, so I had pulled off my hoodie. My tee pulled up when I did so, and I noticed that he was looking. This time he sat very close. We stared out the window for a bit. And a minute later he had his arm around my shoulders. “Are you going to make the first move? Or do you want me to? I’m assuming you didn’t come here just to drink and shoot the shit.”
I was floored. It had been ten years. And I’d been in the apartment less than an hour. He didn’t know me from fuckin’ Julius Caesar–and he was essentially asking if I was gay. Implying that I was “still” gay and ready to stoke with him.
“Billy, I don’t know where you’re headed. Actually I do know where you’re driving, but I’m not even in the bus yet. It’s been a long time–ten years. We were much younger and dumber. And all we did was jerk each other off. I’m not ready to go any farther–at least not yet.”
“Sorry, I misread you. I’ve been moving along that highway, and I’ve picked up a number of passengers along the way. But, if that’s how you want to start, I’m okay with that.” He sat back and slipped off his shorts and fluffed up his cock. Apparently he thought I was referring back to our mutual jerk days and was ready for a reprise. He was hard, and bigger even than I remembered it. Maybe 8 inches and thick. Dark. No hood. But a drop of pearly liquid was already on the slit, sparkling in the deep red. His dick was entirely uniform–no mushroom head, no hood, almost no corona, no taper, no curve. It looked a little like a NYPD baton. Only the popping blue veins gave it any personality. He started stroking it, and it got even a little larger.
“Your turn, Kyle.”
I guess my words weren’t clear enough. “I wasn’t suggesting that we jerk together, Billy. That’s for teens.”
“Just give it a try. Do it for me. Nothing that happens in this apartment goes beyond this place. I’m gonna jerk, and I’d really like some company. I’ve been watching you. I know you’re interested.”
I sat silently for a few seconds–it seemed like hours. Then I took another deep swig of the Bud and relaxed back into the downy pillows. Oh fuck, why not? I hadn’t rubbed one out in a day or two. I unbuttoned and pulled down my jeans.
“I knew it. Commando! You were expecting something. Don’t play innocent with me, boy.”
My own cock was a little longer than his, but mine had a slight curve up and right, and I was hooded. (Boys definitely notice these things–even if they don’t note the color of her eyes.) “Fuck, on you, the same size looks way bigger. Now I remember; we called it your “banana.” And don’t tell me you don’t want this. You’re hard as a rock.” He reached over and fisted; then he pulled back, spit into his palm and was back. He started to slide. Fuck that felt good. It had been so long. Having someone else fisting your shaft was such a good feeling.
I reached over and matched his strokes, using his precum, to lube him. It was just like the old days. Two guys, sitting next to each other, drinking brews, and stroking. Intending to see who shot first and who shot farthest. It brought me back a full ten years. Soon he stopped, faced me and pulled me around. His legs stretched under me. We scooted together, raising my knees to get closer. By then our cocks were only inches apart. He grabbed them both and again started stroking both. His legs moved further under me–ostensibly so our cocks could get closer. He pulled his cock into a kiss position and pulled my hood over his so it looked like we shared. He called it “docking”–a word I had never heard apart from the Ferry.
I was close and I thought maybe he was too. We were both leaking clear pre-cum. When it was my turn to frot, he reached behind me and drew me into his lap, and my legs went to either side of his waist. A few seconds later, he pulled me up into an embrace and our lips touched. So I leaned in and took his lips. This was a new experience–kissing a guy. At first he tasted of brew. Then it got hotter. I tightened my arms around his bull-neck. I drew us together and our tongues started to dance, not polite like with a girl. More like wrestling. It was all just automatic. A minute later, he pulled his tee off and then mine. Then he massaged my pecs and squeezed the nipples. He brought them to hardness. He fell back on the sofa, pulling me with him.
Then I felt it. His cock had slipped under my balls and was resting in my crack. He’d obviously done this before with others. It was way too smooth. This was his seduction routine. That was obvious. But, we were both so aroused and so close that I let it go. It was his sofa. If he wanted to spunk on it, that was his decision. That sausage felt real good sliding between my buns. If he wanted to get off while rubbing my ass, I guess that’s okay. I had done it between tits before, and it was nearly the same.
Then he stopped. He reached around me to pull me up higher. Our chests collided, and I could feel his hard cock again between my cheeks, but this time, the head touching my rim. I hadn’t really had time to think about what was happening. It felt so good to be holding and stroking a hot warm body. “This is really uncomfortable, Kyle. Let’s move. My big king is waiting. You are so hot. I need to show you some tricks.” He stood and moved his arms to cradle me. My legs moved around his waist, and his dickhead was poised at the entrance. Fuck, he was either gonna drop me on his dick and fuck me right here or he was gonna carry me like a babe to his bed. Then I panicked. I wasn’t ready for male on male sex. Foolin’ around is one thing; fuckin in bed–or getting fucked in a guy’s bed was something much more. Nothing but a toy or a girl’s finger had ever been in that chute. It might hurt. And even if it didn’t, it was choosin’ to be a fag.
“Put me down, Billy. I just remembered I promised Mom to take out the garbage. I’ve gotta’ go.”
He set me down quickly. “I guess I misread you. I thought you wanted this as much as I do.”
“Billy, I’ve never done this before. I’m not a cock tease. If you want me to rub you off, I’ll do it right now. I don’t think I’m ready for anything more. Aren’t you supposed to buy me dinner first? Or maybe hand me a corsage? Or at least ask?” I laughed to defuse the situation.
Then, as he stood there with his proverbial hard dick in his hand, I redressed quickly and left.
When I reached my room, there was a txt: “Sorry about tonight. I misread you. When you’re away from someone for ten years…. Don’t be mad. I’d like to be buds again. Wanna try again tomorrow? I won’t touch you unless you ask. I’ll be at Mario’s Pizza at 6 tomorrow if you’re interested.”
It took me a long time to get to sleep. First, I jerked myself off to cool things down. Nothing had challenged my plans for the future before. What plans? I didn’t have a girl. Fuck I’m almost 29, and, with rare exceptions, the only flesh my cock feels is the palm of my hand. Is it because I’m so busy? Or is it because I’m really into guys–and afraid to do anything about it?
Mom is leaving in two weeks. I’ll be back in the City and living alone, working crazy hours. Is that all I want from life? I’ve known Billy since kindergarten. We certainly don’t need to review family histories and CVs before we can decide whether we have a future. Future? Fuck, he’s not asking for a future. Neither am I. He just wants to fuck around. No strings attached. To have a little fun. Fucking a guy doesn’t make you gay. This is the twenty-first century boy; not the dark ages. This is New York. Guys do guys all the time. Welcome to the metro-sexual universe.
I txted back: “See you at Mario’s. No apologies necessary. I must have led you on.”
-2-
Mom had set out my day. I spent it hauling boxes for the church rummage sale and to the curb. She had been sorting all week. I had also told her that I’d take care of my room. I was keeping the new mattress and bed, a few end-tables, the kitchenette set, my recliner and the music equipment. Nothing else. I’d get a new TV. She was taking some favorite pieces to Florida, but next weekend we were expecting the house scavengers. The house was sold. Closing was in two weeks. I’d better get my ass in gear and find an apartment, or I’d be sleeping in the park.
I was exhausted by late Saturday afternoon, but pumped. First, from the hauling. Second, from the expectation of getting together again with Billy. I decided to push the season. So I pulled out shorts, a tee and flip-flops and headed for Mario’s.
We shared most of a pizza. Then he suggested we take the rest back to his place. There was baseball. (Not my favorite; ranks just above watching fishing. Duh!) But somehow, I knew he wasn’t inviting me back to watch TV. I knew him well. It was going to be a home run or a strike out–and although he’d be pitching, I was ump-ing. When I agreed and went home with him, I knew I was telling him that we were going to rub each other off, probably suck and maybe fuck. Fuck, he had bought me dinner just as I had teased last night. If we didn’t do it tonight, I was pretty sure I’d never see Billy again. In fact, I had already decided: I had warned Mom that I might stay over at Billy’s if we finished late and drank too much. I was gonna fuck my first guy–or maybe get fucked. We’d have to see how things developed.
As we walked, I held the box, and his arm was around my waist, a finger or two inside the waistband. I think he knew too.
We followed the same pattern as the previous night–beers on the porch at sundown; another set of longnecks on the sofa as the game started. He brought out a pair of smokes and lit them both up, passing one to me. His arm was around my shoulders, slowly massaging my nape, delts and upper pecs. Very casual-like, his hand lifted the bottom hem, reached up and was worrying my nips. Very bro. Very arousing. I looked down and saw the spot on my shorts. Fuck, I was leaking already. I looked over at Billy. He had seen it too and was smiling broadly–even though our side was getting clobbered on the diamond.
He pulled off his shorts and his thick dark cock bounced up, hit his abs and stood at attention. “Shall we start again, Kyle? This time, you lead the way. I promise. I won’t do anything that you don’t want.”
I slipped off my shorts. And waited. He took my hand and placed it on his dick; then tightened his fingers around mine so he knew I had a grip. It felt so good. Hard, yet soft. Hot and moist. Alive, throbbing in my fist. Much better than any pet I’ve ever owned. I know what this guy can do! We stroked for a few minutes, commenting from time to time on a play–good or bad. Oh, so nonchalant! So macho–if we didn’t have each other’s dicks in hand! Or if we weren’t reaching down to cradle and fondle balls.
“Can I blow you?” My answer was to release his dick and spread my legs. He moved in front and knelt. A hand came up and deft fingers rolled down the hood. The dark moist glans was exposed. Never does an uncut guy feel more naked that when someone else has his cock in hand with fingers rolling down the hood. Then, he dove in and swallowed the head. I felt the tongue swirling around, then the tip in my slit. I must have raised up inches from the sofa showing that I liked what he was doing. One of his hands reached under my balls and caressed them. Then, I felt the pressure on the taint. He pulled me deeper in his mouth and pulled me further off the seat and gripped my calves and placed them on his shoulders. A finger circled my rim. It was lubed. How had he done that? It poked a few times and penetrated to the first knuckle. I had used a few toys and knew what was coming. But the sensation of having another guy’s finger up your ass was pretty rad. I think I must have moaned in pleasure as he immediately spun the fingertip around inside and deepened.
My hands went to his ponytail and grabbed it hard, pushing him hard into my crotch–just as his finger touched my prostate and his thumb pushed hard on my taint. Fuck, a guy’s finger stroking is so much better than an anal toy! I tapped, warning that I was about to squirt. But, he didn’t pull off. Instead, he plunged deeper, and the head reached his throat. That set off the automatic release. Using my thighs and glutes, I stiffened, pushed up into him and spasms carried my cum up the shaft and into his throat. After the first, he used the heel of his hand to restrict the flow. And I nearly hit the ceiling with the intensity of the feeling. He pulled off slowly, using a tongue to catch my spunk as it continued to spew on his lips. There was a huge smile. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? You taste pretty good, bro.”
Bad? Is he kidding me? That was great. One of the biggest and best I’ve ever had. But, I guess it’s time for me to do him now. I motioned him to the sofa and moved to the floor. But, he suggested we move to his bed where we’d be more comfortable. Somehow, I was pretty sure that “comfort” wasn’t the first thing on his mind. But, I was still high and was chubbing again. So I followed him to the bedroom where he had a nice big king heaped with duvets and pillows. It looked like a cloud floating on the sky blue rug. He stretched out, placed his hands behind his head and spread his legs expectantly. His cock stood up straight like one of his buildings. It looked phenomenal. Tall, straight, dark, set in manicured pubes, It was beautiful. A fitting ornament on an incredibly hunky guy. I was going to blow him. But, first I wanted a little body contact. I wanted to feel the hardness of his upper body development. Really I wanted him under me. I had to be the QB again; I was the caller of plays; the top.
“Remember when we used to wrestle? The loser had to give up his school dessert the next day? We were pretty evenly matched. I think we split most of the contests.”
“You’re rewriting history, boy. I won every one–but I let you keep some of your desserts. Otherwise, I was afraid you’d stop wrestling. I loved having you in my arms, under me and in my power.” As he finished speaking, I jumped on top, and quickly had my knees on his shoulders. However, unlike, our previous encounters, my cock wasn’t caught up in undies and it started flapping on his face. The bed was softer than a mat or a carpet. And he was stronger now. Much stronger. He drew his legs up behind me high off the bed and plunged them down, bouncing us both hard on the bed. That jolted me enough that he pushed me off and to the side and was immediately pinning me to the bed. His muscled legs pulled mine under; his arms went under and around my neck. I was trapped in his cocoon. Then he bent down and took my lips. I started to cry out in surrender–but that was the wrong move. His tongue was now inside. our tongues dueled, but he was using his height and strength to slide his rigid dick up and down on me, using the friction of my abs to stroke his cock.
I realized I was helpless. But, I was loving every second. Fuck! I must be real easy or real horny. I had set the rules. And he had blown right past them. He had me under his power, and he was going to fuck me on his bed–and I hadn’t been in the apartment an hour. He knelt back and assessed. “You’re sure doing well for a desk-jockey. You’ve got a great bod. Not as good as mine, but real nice, Kyle. And I always loved that hood-wrapper. Every day is like Christmas morning! You get to unwrap a surprise every day! You look even better than your quarterback days.”
I protested, “I’m not gay, Billy. I’ve never had man on man sex. And I’m not sure that I’m ready even now.”
“So that blow job you let me give you–and enjoyed I think–didn’t just happen? Fuck. We’ve known each other since kindergarten. It’s not as though we need to ‘get to know each other’ and compare family histories before we get in bed. I know you as well as you know yourself. I think you want this, Kyle. But, I don’t rape. Tell me you want me to take your cherry, or I’ll get up, and you can leave.” Then he moved forward and his tongue started worrying my nipples. When they were moist, two hands came up and his thumb and finger swirled them around and pinched them. I felt the electricity down to my toes and my cock spasmed, pushing out another few drops of pre-cum. I guess I wasn’t going to leave. He was very persuasive.
He sat back on his legs and waited for my signal. He was just sitting there grinning from ear to ear. I looked into his hungry eyes and stared a little apprehensively at his rigid and leaking cock. It looked so big, so hard and so threatening. It was a loaded weapon. Then I decided. I swallowed my fear and pulled my legs out and up to my shoulders and held them in place, presenting my ass to Billy.
He whistled appreciation and reached for the tube. His lubed fingers were on my rim again and before long, he had worked three inside. I was hyperventilating and my ass was levitating off the mattress. He was thrusting, swirling, crowding my love nut. And my resistance was drying up like a grape in the sun. “It’s inevitable, Kyle. This is gonna happen. But it’ll be so much better if you invite me, no beg me, to show you what it can be.” He bent in, touched my lips with his and whispered again, “Beg me, Kyle. I wanna hear you beg.”
By then of course, he was finger fucking my ass, my cock was fully recovered and hard, and my tits were swollen and stiff. He knew how to turn me on. Big time. I was a solid bundle of sensual nerves. My whole body was throbbing with anticipation.
“It’s okay, Billy. Do it. I want it.”
“That’s not good enough boy. Not half good enough.” So he continued to thrust his fingers, withdraw them until I calmed, and then he’d do again. Meanwhile his lips dropped to my tits and started sucking–again. Fuck, he was looking for milk! And I was so hot that I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Please, Billy, fuck me. Put that monster in my hole. I wanna feel you inside.”
“Just the words I wanted to hear, bitch,” Spoken with a sly smile. He lined up the cockhead, leaned in and popped. I immediately felt the burn. Fuck, he was in. It felt like he had inserted a pool ball, but it was a little softer! And I was supposed to take the rest?
“Push out, Kyle. Try to push me out.”
Was he crazy? I wasn’t going to push him out. Not now. I was committed, and I wanted this to end. But maybe I wanted this to end with an epic orgasm.
“I mean it. It’ll help.”
So I pushed hard, the pain eased and he slipped in another couple of inches. He froze again. “Fuck, you’re tight boy. Just the way I like it.” I smiled, and raised my ass a bit to bring him in a little deeper. He took that as a green light. He rocked back, withdrew an inch and plunged back getting deeper. Then it touched the prostate. I looked up in surprise.
“Got to ya at last, I see. You are gonna love this.” He started to rock, achieving greater depth with each thrust. By now he was pounding my love nut, and I was leaking like a tenement faucet. And I was heating like a steam boiler. He felt so good. Maybe, a big dick sliding in and out of my ass was just what I needed. He reached down, swiped some pre-cum from my dickhead and stuffed a finger in my mouth. He was feeding me my own pre-cum. Fuck, that’s gay. And it wasn’t half-bad tasting.
But, it was just about over. He drove hard and fast. I felt him bottom and his pubes on my ass. His nostrils were flaring and his eyes were dilating. The hair had loosed from the ponytail and was drooping around his face. His pecs were hardening, and his tits turned blood red. And he reeked of testosterone. He was like a bull in heat. He was just about to cum. His legs stiffened and he pushed even deeper. This was it!
Then I felt it. The electricity started deep in my gut and quickly fanned to my limbs. I was cuming and hadn’t touched my dick. I shuddered deep and hard, my cock grew more than it had ever done, and then it started to spurt, gobs and gobs of cum. One after the other. Long streams of creamy, hot spunk. My whole body was pushing it out. The tingle spread and deepened. My hips thrust up to urge him deeper. My anus tightened around his shaft. And then he exploded. I felt the hot, sloppy blast. His chest dropped to mine as he released my legs and I automatically curled them around his butt, holding him tight inside me. I didn’t want it to end. I had never cum so much and so long in my life. And the feeling of having another living organ inside me was fucking fantastic.
He squirmed around, pressing our cum covered chests together, holding me under him. But, he remained inside, plugging his semen. He wanted to be sure that I knew he had claimed my ass. He had initiated me into man sex. And I loved it. Our musk and the smell of our cum filled the air, intoxicating us. It was a drug. I wanted more, as soon as possible.
After a few minutes, he rose from the bed and grabbed a tee to wipe us down. Our chests were covered, and I started to leak from my ass. His sheets were finished. But, as he rose, I looked at him again, very carefully. Shit, he was a good looking guy. Ultra-wide shoulders and a rock hard chest veed nicely to his small waist and ass. The eight pac was chiseled, and the vee-belt pointed obscenely to his semi. That dick was a magic wand. And those thighs held a nice bubble butt high. He had bewitched me. I already wanted more.
Then, I think to ease the tension and defuse, Billy turned and walked back to the TV, calling out over his shoulder, “I’ll get us each another beer. Let’s finish the game.”
-3-
A few minutes later, I joined him on the sofa. But this time, he stretched out and placed his head in my lap. We watched as my hand rustled through his hair–and his crept slowly up my inner thigh tickling and poking my balls from time to time. Later the game ended. Our team got clobbered again–so what’s new?
As it did, Billy used the remote to turn the LED off and flipped over. His arms went around my waist, and his tongue started to wash my dick down again like he was savoring an all day sucker. He was actually tasting my cum which remained on the shaft and balls. His position was inviting. So I reached down and palmed his ass cheeks as my fingers probed his crack. He must do a thousand squats a day. That ass was rock with just a light fuzz. It was what he wanted obviously. He pushed up into my hand while he sucked harder. “The lube’s on the end table.”
So he did want me to play there. My left hand reached over, grabbed the tube and liberally coated my right fingers. His legs spread in invitation. So I circled the rim and plunged the index finger slowly inside. There it was. The hard walnut. The treasure chest of nerves. I poked it a few times as he groaned in pleasure. Then I added another and started to stroke it, first softly, then harder and harder as his moans grew in loudness and frequency.
“I think it’s time to head back to your room, Billy. I want to do this right.”
His mouth released my cockhead, and we rose simultaneously to head into the next room. But not before standing in front of the picture window, staring out at the lighted skyline–two naked muscular guys, holding each other’s erect dicks to challenge the world–or at least the City. I wondered if someone did have a telescope. The fog had lifted and it was a sharply clear night. I could see clearly the building where F&B had its offices–lights were on, even late on Saturday night. I noticed that our personal skyscrapers were both jutting out at nearly the same angle. I grabbed his and led the way to the bed. He belly-flopped on the bed, then raised up on his knees, arching his ass toward me. “Take me like a dog, Kyle. I really like to be fucked from behind. So you can use your hands on my dick and my balls.”
I approached the bed. His ass was magnificent. A soft blond fuzz covered the surface. When I touched it, it felt soft, but there were steel muscles below. He was tanned all over–from the salon or Orient Beach, I assumed. I lubed my dick and his anal opening. Then I positioned and applied pressure. He murmured something I didn’t hear. But, I kept up the pressure and I popped in, my hood folding down around the corona. I froze, but he didn’t. He pushed back and I was in. “Fuck, I wish I had a hood. It feels so good.”
I continued to rock with him and each time felt the rolled hood scrape his love nut as I deepened inside. He was tight and hot. And I loved the feeling. I found his nut and worked it a few times as he hissed in pleasure. Then it was time for the main event. I plunged, withdrew and plunged again. “Yes, do it. Do me. Fuck me Kyle. I want it hard and deep. Show me what kind of man you are. Oh, fuck, that feels good. There. There. Harder. Oh fuck that’s good. So good. Ahhhhhh!” With that encouragement I started the process of long strokes, almost withdrawing and then plunging again. As I did so, the speed increased. I knew that even though I had cum already twice that night that I was near the end.
So I grabbed his balls with one hand and rolled them in my palm, using greased fingers. The other hand went to the shaft. I held them tightly as I started to pump furiously, making sure that I massaged the prostate and hit bottom with each stroke. I wanted us to cum together. I shouted out, “Fuck, I’m cuming. Give it up boy.” Then my palm went to his head to catch his spunk.
“Yes sir,” he spitted back.
Then we both spasmed and unloaded together. I plunged a few final times as he collapsed forward, taking me with him. I was tight on his back, plugging my little swimmers inside. I released his dick and raised my palm to his face. His tongue emerged and he lapped up the cum like a kitten. What a sexual animal! (Am I thinking about him or me?)
Minutes later, I rolled off. We both reeked of sex and cum. We were spent and drained. But it didn’t matter to either of us. He pulled me into a spoon, drew up the duvet, and placed his hand protectively on my dick. Then it hit me. Now he owned my ass and my dick. Maybe I wasn’t moving back to the City in two weeks when Mom left for Florida. Maybe I was destined for the Ferry for a few more months. Maybe longer. We’d just have to see how things develop.
-4-
I woke early Sunday morning in Billy’s bed. At first I didn’t remember. I looked down and a large hand–not mine–was fisting my morning wood, holding the hood down. Then I looked around and realized I was deeply into a guy’s spoon. His hard dick was in my cleft, and he was snoring lightly. He had the biggest smile that I’ve ever seen on a guy.
I could tell from the sun that it was getting late. Even though I had warned Mom that I might not come home, she had nevertheless insisted that I take her to Mass. “This is the next-to-last time I’ll see the inside of St. Anne’s. And I want you by my side. When I dream in the future, I’m going to be picturing my church and my good boy kneeling beside me. The next time will be your wedding.”
I didn’t feel much like going and didn’t feel much like a good boy, but this was really important to Mom. So I slipped out and headed for a shower. If I showed up at home smelling like this, she’d think I had spent the night with a girl. And she’d want all the gory details. She still hoped I’d marry although she had given up the idea that it’d be before she left for Florida. I dried and dressed. Kyle was still out. So I left a note: “There’s a game this afternoon. I’ll bring the beer this time. Txt me if you have other plans.” Then I left quietly.
Mom was full of questions, but I blew them off with the comment that we were late and that I needed to dress. And so, minutes later, we entered the pew for the 10 o’clock Mass–one that she had attended for more than 30 years, occupying this same seat. As usual it was a boring homily–which assumed that none of us had listened when the Gospel had been read a minute or two before. Afterwards, we stayed for coffee with her friends who were all wishing her well in retirement and trying to hitch me to their spinster daughters.
Our normal routine was to have a quick lunch at home. Then she’d make a roast for a five o’clock supper. I had other plans for later. So I talked her into a big brunch–and even invited two of her friends to join us–sort of a farewell celebration. They’d distract her, and she wouldn’t dare inquire about last night in front of “strangers”–women she had known for so many years.
We got home around 2, and I quickly changed into summer gear again. Then I announced that I was going to watch the game with a friend and asked whether she needed anything before I left. “No dinner for me tonight, Mom. We’ll have more snacks than we should. And that brunch used up my calories for the day. I won’t be home late.” And I left before she could quiz any more.
Billy was waiting, dressed as he was the previous day. He pulled me into a tight bro-hug and his lips sought mine. We were going to start right where we left off. And I was fine with that. I had decided that this was a weekend of decision for me. Either I was going to cut Billy off and avidly seek a female partner, starting tomorrow–or I was going to admit I was bi, maybe even gay. And Billy and I were going to become really good friends again. With benefits.
It was instantly clear to me that Billy had already decided. His hands were rubbing my ass and his hard dick was peaking above his waistband as we hugged.
I handed him the six pack–which meant he had to release my ass, and pushed him back from the landing into the apartment. This time, I actually looked around. It was a really nice place. Although the exterior and the woodwork betrayed more than a 100 years of age, it had been completely modernized. New kitchen. Modern leather, masculine furniture. Small dining table and chairs. Lots of electronics. And two bedrooms–one of which we had spent time in. The view was spectacular. The sun set behind the triple-decker, but bounced off the windowed buildings just across the river. It was like looking into a sun-mirror. The Hudson was rough today, but deep blue beneath the small white-caps. There were a number of sail boats and at least as many small tourist boats headed around Manhattan. To the far right, stood the majestic Statue of Liberty. The million-dollar-view.
As I stood looking out the window, he approached from behind, wrapped his arms around me, nuzzled my nape and pulled me into him. One hand unbuttoned my shorts and dropped down inside to fondle by dick which was quickly steel hard. I could feel his was too as he slipped it up and down my crack.
He abruptly released me and motioned me to the sofa. Then, he turned on the game. “I worked out this morning. It felt really good. How about you?”
“Took Mom to church. And I confessed our sins and asked for forgiveness.” I knew that Billy too had been Catholic, but when his father divorced, that was the end of the church going.
“They have confessions on Sunday now? I presume you weren’t too specific about the sins–and the sinners?”
“Actually neither. No Sunday confessions. And I didn’t confess any sin. What we did, Billy, was not a sin. Nothing that feels so natural and so good could be sinful. If you had kept up with Sunday School, you’d know that.”
“What church did you go to, boy? I’ve heard the hell and damnation speeches of the Catholic priests in this Diocese. And the total condemnation of the decadent homosexual lifestyle.”
“Not any more. At least not here. We’ve got a new guy, and he seems to be pretty cool. Now it’s all about love and mercy, not sin and condemnation.”
“I guess the Cardinal hasn’t heard about him yet. Or he’d be gone by now.”
“I wouldn’t know about that. Frankly, until yesterday, I had no reason to even think about such things. You rocked my world yesterday, Billy. I’m not yet steady enough to even think about what I need to think about. Does that make sense?”
“No, it doesn’t. So long as you’re up for what I’m up for this afternoon it doesn’t matter to me. I’m kind of a today kind of guy.”
“Set your mind at ease, boy. I’ve thought a little. And I don’t have any regrets. Only expectations….” And with those words, I pulled him to me and Frenched him deep as my hand began its exploration inside his open fly.
“But, maybe we need to get a few things out of the way. You didn’t wrap, yesterday. Do I need to be worried? I didn’t either, but I’ve only had a few girls and, of course, I always wrapped. I don’t want a shot-gun wedding to end my youth.”
“Don’t worry. I’m clean. I’ve only had a few partners. We both always tested. I hate wrappers, but I’ve used them when there was any question. Next question?”
“Is there a special guy–or girl in your life right no.”
“Nah. Next question.”
“How about your folks. Do they know you’re gay? Wait, a minute, are you gay?”
“Mom disappeared after the divorce. I haven’t heard from her in about ten years. Dad doesn’t know. He probably never will. He’s pretty sick. Cancer. We moved him to Hospice a month ago. It was getting too hard to get the pain reliever prescriptions filled. And he was in pain, big time. So my brother and I made the decision. We don’t really get along and don’t have much to do with each other. Dad was the lynchpin. Peter is running the trucking business. They supply materials for most of the big jobs in the Metro area. Dad already moved Peter up to head of the transportation company last year. I’m supposed to move up to Dad’s slot in the contracting business when he dies. But, I’m not anxious to do so. I like running a crew and going home at night. I don’t need the hassle of the contracting, the bidding, finance, payroll, the inspections–and the payoffs. He took care of all of that. I’ve just started learning.”
“And he’s not going to know. It will kill him.” Billy grimaced at that last line, realizing the cancer was going to do the job.
“And to answer your question, I’m pretty sure I’m gay–and when you’re in my bed, I’m sure of it. I’ve always been attracted to you, Kyle. I just didn’t know it when we were younger. I think I’ve been in love with you for more than ten years and never realized it.”
“How can you be a project manager? I’d guessed that most of those rough guys were homophobes.”
“They don’t know. And they’d never guess that a guy built like me could be gay. It’s never come up.”
“And, how about you? What’s going on?”
“Well, I told you Pop died last year. Mom is headed for Florida where my sisters live already. She’s got a half-dozen grandkids already. She’ll be happy. She’s kinda naïve, and I don’t think she’d even dream that I’d be in bed with a man.”
“I can’t really say that I like the job at F&B. I’ve been a go-fer and an apprentice for almost 4 years. The hours are horrendous. The work is usually interesting. The pay is really good. And, like every associate I have every reason to believe I’ll make partner–in 5 or 6 years, assuming they don’t change the rules between now and then. But, it’s my whole life. That and working out–and getting Mom ready to move. I haven’t had a date in over a year. Lunch with a co-associate doesn’t really count. I’ll be looking for a place to live next week. Probably downtown. My family isn’t leaving me anything–except my own bed and a few pieces of crappy furniture. And apartments are incredibly expensive. I like to have a roommate so we could afford something nicer but probably don’t have time to find one until next fall.”
“And until yesterday, I never thought I was gay.”
“Never? Really? Even with the jerk off sessions we had in senior year?”
“You forget. I’m a Catholic. Everything to do with sex–even thinking about it–is a sin. I was actually taught and believed until a few years ago that my guardian angel was sitting on my right shoulder–and he’d see and stop any sex, of any kind!! The fact that priests and bishops have been predators, fucking little boys, blew that idea out of the park–or at least out of me. They were forbidding us to do what they were doing. They were keeping it to themselves. And picking on little boys. They weren’t even man enough to find an adult partner. When Mom heads to Florida, I’m done with the church.”
“Billy, you awakened a sleeping giant yesterday. Until you, I was almost fuckin celibate.” I paused for just a moment and scanned his body. “I want you to fuck me–right now. And I want to fuck you to.”
“Well, as long as your imagination is focused on my cock, you’re on, boy. You can have him anytime. He’s yours, babe. And if that saint on your shoulder wants to watch, I’m okay with that too. I’m not ashamed of my body, my dick or my technique. I’ve always been a bit of an exhibitionist–if only on a beach in the Caribbean or behind my picture window.
“I can attest to all of that. I love the body. And the dick is pretty talented.”
“So shall we take this to my bedroom? Yesterday was seduction. Today, I’m gonna make love. If you weren’t convinced you are gay after last night, you will be by tonight.”
We left the game on the TV. It wasn’t very interesting anyway. We both stripped and stepped into his bed. I noticed he had changed the bedding. He stretched out on his back and beckoned me to climb on. Fuck, I couldn’t wait to feel our skin together. I dove for his mouth and started to duel, sucking on his tongue and allowing him to do the same with mine. All the while I was diddling with his tits, and he was massaging my glutes. It was getting hotter, really hotter.
After a few, he rolled me over and stretched out on top. I spread my legs and he dropped down inside. We were already prepared to gallop. He was in the saddle. And it felt so good.
He knelt back and stared into my eyes. I think I saw softness, maybe even a bit of love. He moved to his haunches, and I knew the rubric. I raised my legs and held them outstretched and high, rolling back. He pushed a pillow under to keep me in position. Then he bent, my calves fell to his shoulders, and his tongue laved the cleft and the rim and, curling, pushed into me. In a million years, I never would have thought of that as sexy. But the jolt of electricity short-circuited all of my ancient taboos. It felt good. Really good! So this is wht eating is all about. His hands on my ass lifted me into his tongue and he deepened the thrust. “Billy, it’s too much. I’m gonna cum. I need you inside.”
“Not so fast, dear boy.” His hand moved to my shaft and forming a ring with thumb and first finger, he squeezed hard. I think he pushed the cum back down into my balls. My dick softened. Shit, it almost wilted. But, it wasn’t long before I felt the soft/hard head of his dick knocking on my doorway.
“Yes,” I screamed. “I’m open. Cum on in. Please.”
This time he penetrated slowly, being sure to brush my prostate. But steadily he went down. Into my sensitive chute. And hit bottom. God, he felt good. But, I hadn’t felt the pubes. His dick head had bottomed, but he still had a few inches.
“We’re gonna try a little something extra this afternoon, Kyle.”
I felt the pressure deep inside and the expansion of his massive dick in my shaft. Was it possible? He was getting longer and thicker? Then there was a sharp pain, deep inside again, and suddenly his cock was washed in fluid. The pain diminished and was replaced with a euphoric fullness and the feeling of being totally open to being owned by someone else. My entire body was impaled on his dick. I was his fuckin’ puppet. Anything he wanted, I would have given him at that moment.
He continued to move, newly re-lubed with my internal juices, sliding and pounding as his eyes stared into mine. We were mirroring the intense pleasure of joint ownership. Of raw pleasure. The physicality that only two guys can achieve.
Suddenly, he cursed under his breath, and started to pound like a madman. He had passed the point of no return. And we both exploded again. I felt his spasms and matched them with my own. And my legs dropped automatically to clutch him closer to me. He wasn’t going to let him leave me. I needed him inside. I needed his seed.
And just as quickly as it hit, it subsided. He collapsed on top, and we squirmed in my cum between our chests. His nose was flared, like a bull. He had succumbed to my musk. Everything I had always thought about the penetration and domination of another was set on its head. Why had I been so dumb? When you take a girl, you get off–but she then owns you. You want it again–and you’re only gonna get it if you do as she wants.
Sure he had penetrated, and he had shot inside. But doing so meant that I owned an important part of him–his spunk, his seed, his future. Sure, he had fucked me–but I think that I’d pulled more from him than he had ever given or revealed about himself. He was spent. He had filled me, but in doing so, he had become mine. That cock was mine. That body was mine. He’d do anything I wanted for a repeat opportunity. But with a guy it was different: we could both do it. We could both feel this good.
His head dropped into my shoulder hollow and my hands went to his luxurious long blonde hair and held him close to me. A few minutes later I reached around and grabbed his muscled ass cheeks. Those were mine too.
I realized at last what it meant to be gay and a power bottom.
After a little while, we returned to the game–nude, munching on junk food and drinking the IPAs I had brought. Periodically, he’d reach over and stroke my cock, and I’d respond by scooping up his balls and rolling them in my hand. We had grown totally comfortable with each other.
During one of the extended multiple commercial breaks, he inquired about my plans–specifically where I intended to move in a couple of weeks I responded truthfully that I hadn’t really looked yet, but intended to start the next day–assuming the partners give me a few hours to do so. He went silent and thought for a long time.
Soon he started talking, “One of the jobs that Dad did a few years ago was a condo complex in Lower Manhattan. It’s just on the Hudson side of the WTC complex–1 Westway Tower. And he got a perk: he got to buy in at pre-construction prices with no commissions and no extras. So he sprung for a small one-bedroom. I think he was planning to use it for a secret love nest. Then the cancer hit. He’s had it rented for a few years, but last week we got notice the tenant is not going to renew. His lease is up on June 30–in three weeks. Interested?”
“Sure. I don’t know the building, but given the address, I doubt that I could afford it.”
“It’s really small. And I’m pretty sure we can make it work for you–under one condition.”
“In New York there’s always a quid pro quo, isn’t there? You rub my dick and I’ll rub yours!”
“I want you to become my consigliere after Dad dies. The business is really large, and I don’t like the current lawyers. Dad did most everything himself. So we’ve only a couple of managers. They’re all Dad’s age or older and his friends. All of them have always treated me like an incompetent kid. I’d like some help with the administrative stuff. But, I want my guy.”
“I’m sure we could work something out.”
“Oh, another thing. I’m a really demanding client. I expect my personal lawyer to be available for consultation 24/7–and he’s got to make house calls, particularly on weekends.”
“Billy, I’m not sure how much leeway I can get from the firm. They’re not fond of young associates bringing in clients. Maybe we can work something out. I’d like to try.”
“If the firm doesn’t like it, fuck’m. I’m sure we can make you one of those offers you can’t refuse. Then I’d be your boss. I’d like that. According to Dad, we’re one of the biggest contractor clients in the City. Any firm would be happy to have us as clients–unless they’re afraid to get their shoes dirty. So….. deal?”
As he was speaking those last words, one fist was stroking my shaft while the other was diddling my balls. “Yeah, deal. Do I really have any choice? You’ve got my future in your hands right now.”
“Actually, you don’t, have a choice, that is. I usually get my way–as you’ve learned in the last 24 hours. I’ve heard that contracts need to be signed, sealed and delivered. I’m still waiting for your next delivery, babe.”
The game ended–and we won. I knew that we had just witnessed a good omen.
I stood and led Billy to bed. I guess it was time to deliver.
BD