On Saturday night, Carol had pissed me off big time 'cause she and the other girls had organized some dumb pyjama party. How un-fucking-cool! And to make it worse, it was the last weekend of the school hols. Anyway, at least my bud was free, so we could go out clubbing together and get smashed.
I knew that Kyle would eventually call a halt to the drinks if I'd let him, so, everytime I bought one, I'd make him buy one. Then I'd watch him drink his before I drank mine. When we'd reached a stage where we were hanging onto each other, and swaying all over the fucking place, we decided to head for the beach, and the cold shower. On the way, we were puking our guts up big time -- not a pretty sight -- but we managed to get there. Then we stripped down to our boxers, and stood under the cold shower for ages, still puking.
While still in our wet boxers, we staggered and weaved our way down the beach to the rocks, and sat there feeling about as sorry for ourselves as it was possible to.
"Oh, fuck, Kyle," I groaned, "this is no good. I'm gonna have a huge fucking hangover tomorrow."
"We overdid it a little."
We both cracked, even though it hurt our tender heads. "You didn't really drink before I met you, huh?"
"Well, Steve and I used to get out of it sometimes."
"Yeah, well, I can't even remember when I started getting trashed. It was before I met Carol, I know that much."
"How come you still stay so fit?"
"That's easy," I laughed. "Hundreds of situps and pushups, and skipping every morning and night."
"I noticed the skipping rope on your bedroom wall. Is all that stuff for boxing?"
"Just for me."
"So why do you get trashed so much?"
"Helps me handle things."
"Your mom's boyfriend?"
"Yeppo. The dungeon master himself." It suddenly dawned on me that the wind was kinda chilly, and sitting there shivering in our wet boxers wasn't doing us the world of good. "Hey, buddy, let's get dressed and head home, huh?"
"Fuck it. Let's walk home like this."
What was it about Kyle that brought the outrageous side of me to the surface? It was a crazy idea, but I went along with it. On the way home, a few cars honked their horns, and girls waved at us. So we just swayed and waved back. Kyle was cracking up big time, and explained that people were noticing the shape of my cock, which was showing through the wet boxers. And his wasn't? Yeah, right.
I don't think I'd ever been as glad to see my room as I was that night. "Hey, Kyle," I said as I lifted my arms. "Pulls these boxers off me, will you? I'm gonna puke if I bend down."
He knelt down in front of me, and, for a moment, I thought he was gonna try something. I didn't think I would've resisted if he had. His eyes were riveted to my semi as he slid my boxers down my legs. Then I collapsed backwards onto the bed, and rolled over onto my stomach. "You wanna give me a back rub?"
I felt the mattress sag as he sat alongside me, then he began to massage my shoulders and back. Damn, that felt good. Sooo good! There was a wicked magic in that guy's fingers. "You still got your boxers on?"
"Nope. They're wet, anyway."
OK. That made sense. "You ever think of becoming one of those massage dudes who goes around giving old ladies massages at home? You'd have to massage more than their backs, though," I laughed. He didn't answer, but continued to work his hands down to my hips. Then I felt them slowly glide over the curve of my buns before he massaged the backs of my legs. I was kinda hoping he'd work back up to my buns, 'cause there was something incredibly erotic about his touch… especially there.
"You wanna turn over?"
"I've got a cockstand."
"So? Mine's not exactly shrivelled either."
I rolled over and saw him draw a quick breath as he eyed my boner. It was a real skin-splitter, and was dripping pre-cum big time. "Put your hands behind your head," he ordered. That action caused my stomach to flatten, and my abs to contract. I could see that he was mesmerized by my bod, and it felt way cool to have him admire the work that I'd put into keeping fit. I didn't wanna freak him, though, so I closed my eyes, and let him do his thing.
His flat hands rubbed my pecs, and I could feel my nipples harden like pebbles against his palms. Then his magic touch travelled down to my stomach. I known for a long time that he was fascinated by my abs, and figured he'd be lapping up the opportunity to ogle them up close, as well as feel them for as long as he wanted to.
But it was when his hand moved underneath my boner, just above my pubes, that an awesome stirring occurred within me. His other hand brushed against my nads, and my cock jumped. How far would be go? Would he wrap his fist around my boner? No. His hands travelled down to my legs, and began to massage them. I guessed our little chat on the beach, about how I'd been fanatically anti-fag, and, even now, still unsure of my feelings, must have sewn a seed of doubt or, at least, uncertainty, in Kyle's mind. Damn! Maybe it was time for me to take the lead.
"Want me to massage you?"
"Lemme check my diary."
"You idiot. Lay on your stomach." He obeyed my order, then I began by massaging his shoulders and arms. "Feel OK?"
"Awesome! I feel like one of those Greek god dudes with a slave."
Well, he wasn't too far from being a Greek god himself. Kyle wasn't quite as fit or defined as I was, but he had a wicked bod, which most guys would've given their left nad to have. More importantly, he had the most infectious personality of anybody I'd ever known… not to mention loyalty… and perseverance. That cheeky, spiky-haired dude had been chipping away at me for many months, wearing me down bit by bit. But why me? That was the thing I couldn't fathom. He had tons of friends, and could've made tons more if he'd had a mind to. Maybe I was a challenge or something. Well, whatever his reasons were for choosing me, I was just glad that he had them.
"You wanna roll over now?"
"I've got a cockstand."
"Really? Doh! Surprise, surprise." He rolled over, and sure enough he had a rip-roaring skin-splitter, dripping like a fucking faucet. "Hey, your abs are OK. When you're laying on your back, your stomach kinda flattens below your rib cage. Looks pretty cool to me. Anyway, put your hands up behind your head like I did."
I used my fingers to trace a feather-light line down the center of his stomach to his boner. I placed the palm of my hand on his throbber, then heard him catch his breath, so I took my hand away. "Sorry."
"Don't be. I like it when you do that."
OK, so he wasn't mad at me, and I was encouraged to go further. I replaced my hand on his proud cock, with my fingers pointed toward its head, then began to slide my palm up and down the length of his rock-hard shaft. "You know something, Kyle? If you were a girl, I'd fuck you."
"Well, fuck rhymes with suck, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, right… like I'll ever put your cock in my beak."
"Yeah, well, I can dream. You wanna move so that I can stroke you?"
Once again, it was the moment of truth, and, in spite of the fact that I had my fist wrapped around his cock, I was still feeling helluva nervous. I repositioned myself so that he could take hold of my boner. Then, without letting go of his cock, I moved again so that I was laying beside him. His grip on me was kinda loose, and he was gently stroking my shaft, as if to make it last.
"Kyle? How does this feel? I mean, how does it feel for me to be doing this?"
"It feels fucking awesome. And you?"
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying it." The words came outa my mouth despite my mind doing somersaults. "It just feels weird, though… you and me."
"Scared you're gonna ruin your image?"
"It's not that."
"Just relax. You wanna lay on your back, and lemme do you first?"
Now wasn't a good time to argue. My balls were aching, and my cock was screaming for attention. I laid on my back, closed my eyes, and revelled in the magic of my bud's fingers. He ran them in a delicate, teasing fashion up the inside of my thighs, then around my nads. Jesus! It felt so damn wicked, but, at the same time, his expert touch was driving me to the brink of insanity. The fucker must've known that he had the power, and he was taking full advantage of it.
Then I felt his fingers close around my boner, and begin to stroke it a little faster. I'd been transported way, way beyond the point of no return. Not that I minded… at least, not at the time.
When I felt the thrill of the rush poised at the beginning of its awesome journey, I instinctively raised my knees and ass, and arched my back. It was as though my entire bod was being drained of electrically charged juice. I could feel it splattering over my stomach and chest. Gallons of it.
Eventually, my body slumped back onto the bed. "Oh, fuck… that was so damn intense."
"Hang… I'll go get some toilet paper and clean you up."
I laid there while he was gone thinking about Kyle and me. Somehow, it was our special thing… not a gay thing. What we had done together didn't have a label… it was way too special to be lumped into some kinda lamo sexual category. It was just him and me. Us. Nothing to do with anybody else, or anything else.
He returned to the room, and wiped the cum off my stomach and chest. Even that little performance exuded affection and care. I felt pampered. Loved. Special. Way fucking special.
Kyle laid beside me, and just stared at my face while I was gazing at the ceiling. My mind was still doing somersaults, so I guessed he thought that I was about to fall asleep, or maybe that I was preoccupied with my own thoughts. He took a blob of cum that was still clinging to my knob, and rubbed it over his dick, then began to jack himself.
Without saying a word, I smiled, and put my hand on his throbber. At first, I didn't jack him. I was enjoying the way my fingers were caressing and exploring his hardness -- his masculinity. It was so incredibly weird! He was a guy, and Carol was a girl. She was soft, feminine, and submissive. He was masculine, muscular and hard. But I liked the way he felt… and was. There was no denying anymore that it was possible to love a guy as well as a girl… maybe not in the same way… but it was love nevertheless. What the two expressions of love did have in common was sex… physical contact, and sexual gratification.
Slowly, my fist closed around Kyle's rock-hard throbber, then began to stroke it. It was as though I had a handful of warm iron wrapped in the silky, smoothness of his skin. At the same time, his eyes were focused on my upper arm and chest. He was obviously enjoying watching my bicep and pec pop with each of my strokes. After a few minutes, his facial expression began to contort with intense pleasure. Then his whole body convulsed as his bucking cock exploded a massive load of hot, white juice all over his torso.
When I woke the next morning, his arm was draped over my chest, and his face was buried in my armpit. You're OAD, Kyle, I thought to myself before heading to the bathroom.
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