It's two a.m., and I'm sitting at my lover's computer. He's sleeping. He's so cute. He's lying in sort of a fetal position, one hand under his cheek. His hair is mussed up, some of it falling over his eyes. Those eyes. Open, they're deep blue pools of understanding, kindness and love. Closed I notice the long, soft lashes that I can feel on my cheek when he snuggles me close.
I woke up about half an hour ago and just laid my front to his back. I had a good cry, softly so I wouldn't wake him up. I've never felt so loved, so wanted. I've found my soul.
So now you know the end of the story. I got out of bed and came to the computer to write about my life to this point. My lover said it would be good for me to write this out. I think he's right.
I don't remember not knowing Danny. We grew up together in a small town in the Midwest. Summers were hot and humid -- it's good for the corn -- and winters were cold and snowy. I remember snowdrifts higher than me. But there was this big hill just down the street from my house and we used to all go sledding there. It was cool because you had to go through some woods and we'd make trails for our sleds.
Danny lived four houses down the street, on the other side from me. We just always played together. Summers were spent barefoot, shirtless, playing army, cowboys, cops, a little baseball when the big kids would let us play. I ate at his house and he ate at mine. If we got into trouble, either set of parents would scold us. We shared our bottles of Coke, and we never felt the need to wipe off the bottle top before drinking.
Kindergarten was trautmatic, because he got sent to afternoons and I did mornings. That meant we didn't see each other all day. We made up for it after 3:30, though. We played hard. We played with all the kids our neighborhood, and there were dozens of us. But Danny and I, were were best friends, and everyone knew it.
We had first grade together, second grade apart, third grade together, fourth AND fifth apart, and sixth together. We started sleeping over at each others' house in about first grade. Not every weekend, but a lot. I stayed at his house when my dad was in a car accident and my mom was at the hospital almost all the time. I sat next to him and put my arm around him as he cried at this grandma's funeral.
One day, we must have been in third grade, we wandered over by a new housing development. It was about 5:30 on a Friday and the workers had gone home. We wandered throughout the framed-up houses, and finally got the courage to go into one. We were barefoot, and it's a wonder we didn't step on a nail. We climbed a ladder into the basement of the house, our feet slapping against the cool, newly cured concrete. We felt like trespassers, and we were, although we didn't know the meaning of that word. Danny started up the ladder ahead of me, and as I started up, my eye level was at his feet level. I noticed the graceful curve of his heel, the softness of his arch, the way his toes curled around the rungs. His feet were dirty, but I felt like I wanted to suck his toes into my mouth.
That bothered me. We'd never really been in the habit of "I'll show you if you show me." I didn't really know what the feeling in the pit of my stomach was, or why my chest felt a little tight. We played the rest of the evening, went home, and I didn't think much more about it.
But it was about that time that I began noticing Danny even more in my life. I loved being with him. He had dark, unruly hair, medium skin that was smooth and tanned easily. He was athletic, even at an early age, and played baseball and basketball with an ease that I never really had. I enjoyed those sports, but I had to work harder at them than he did. His blue eyes would hypnotize me. He was funny, and even as a youngester he had a quick wit. He also had a streak of mischief that got us into trouble now and then.
And we could talk about anything. Sometimes we'd go out to a hill in a field near our houses, climb into a huge oak tree that grew there, and sit on the wide branches just talking. In third grade the sleepovers got more numerous. I loved them. I needed them. Sometimes we'd be up all night -- or at least until midnight, which felt like all night.
And we had our friends. A whole neighborhood full of boys.
You know how things change as you grow up? Childhood friends are replaced as your interests change? That never happened to Danny and me. Even though I was changing. After fifth grade we went into middle school. We had some classes together, but now instead of having one main teacher, we went from room to room with a different teacher for each subject. Danny and I had different lunch schedules.
I knew about the changes my body was going through, but not my emotions. Phys Ed was the shocker. In the class I was in there were 6th, 7th and 8th grade boys, and I loved looking at their bodies. It didn't matter when. In our gym clothes -- T-shirts and shorts -- or afterward in the showers. I loved those bodies. And at night, I started to think about Danny that way, too. We didn't have gym together, and I craved to see him naked.
But I couldn't do anything about it. Danny had girls all over him -- he was so cute. Did I mention the dimples? He was the king of raging hormones. All the girls practically crawled over him. I mean, I'm not that bad looking, and I'd get my share of attention from girls when I wasn't with Danny, but when I was with him, it was like I was invisible.
I wasn't jealous of him. I wanted him to be happy, and he seemed to be with all those girls around. But I didn't want them around. I could care less about them. They were taking Danny's time away from me. God, maybe I was jealous. Not of him, of them. And now and then, when we were surrounded by girls in the lunch room or in the courtyard outside the high school, Danny would give me a look. I'd melt. This look -- how can I describe it? It was, like, "Don't they ever go away?" but it was more. It was, I donít know. He looked into me. The smile would fade from his lips. He seemed to block out all the chatter and the noise, and look into my soul. What was in my soul that he wanted to see?
And then in 8th grade, something did change. I remember the day it happened. It was one of the first really warm spring afternoons, and we had a day off from school for some teacher in- service day -- a Friday. Danny and I both got up earlier than usual (after all, it wasn't a school day, and who wants to waste a vacation day?), ate breakfast and jumped on our bikes. We pedaled off into the woods, along a footpath that led to the stream that cut through. We had a favorite place, a pool surrounded by flat rocks. We took off our shoes and socks, stripped off our shirts, and jumped into the water. It was freezing. It was barely melted snow, for God's sake. What were we thinking?
We both came up sputtering, laughing. He splashed water on me. I dunked him.
"Hey, what the fuck..." he coughed as he came up.
"Just what you asked for," I said, swimming away.
We swam and laughed for about 20 minutes, till it just got too cold.
"Jesus, I'm freezing," he said.
"Yeah, me too. Did you bring the towels?" I asked.
He slapped his forehead. "Shit! I forgot. Damn. I brought the Cokes, forgot the towels."
"You idiot! I got the lunch and the snack. All you had to do was remember the towels."
"Hey, I forgot, okay? Jeez, it's not the end of the world," he said. "Here, have a Coke." He tossed a can to me.
I popped the can open and it sprayed all over him. "Watch it," he yelled. "Man, now I got Coke all over me. I'm gonna hafta go swimming again."
Man, I looked at him with that Coke all over him, on his cheeks, his nose, running down his chest, dropping off his tiny nipples that pointed out from the chill, and I wanted to offer to lick every single drop off him.
"Serve's ya right for forgetting the towels," I managed to say without stuttering. Geez, what was coming over me? I never felt like this toward Danny, ever. We started to wrestle, but it soon turned into a big laugh-fest. We chased each other till we were ready to drop, tired from the swimming, running and laughing. We decided to eat.
I got out the sandwiches and chips, and we gulped our food down, talking about school and kids in our class and our parents and laughing the whole time. We climbed up into the huge oak that stood at the top of the hill and each of us found a branch wide enough to hold us so we could lay back and relax. We talked the whole time. It got hot and sticky, but we had both been told countless times by our parents that we HAD to wait an hour after eating before we could go swimming again, or else we could cramp up and die.
Geez, what we believed then.
We managed to wait 30 minutes, and then it was back into the cold water. We swam, we raced, the had a water fight and a dunk fight. We grabbed at each other and bumped each other. We must have been in there two hours. And when we finally couldn't catch our breath any more, we struggled out of the water and lay down on the wide, flat rocks along the creek.
The sun had warmed the rocks and we lay there just in our cut-offs, on our stomachs, heads cradled in our arms. As we dozed on that warm spring afternoon the smell of blossoms just opening perfumed the air. The creek babbled over the rocks and poured into the little pool below a 2-foot waterfall. I closed my eyes, and drifted off for a while.
When I opened them, I saw Danny, asleep, his feet near my head. His legs were still white from the winter, and they were nearly smooth, with just a light sheen of baby hair still on them. His butt bubbled in his wet cutoffs, and I stared at it. My cock started to get hard. What was that about?
His back was pulled taught by his arms stretched to hold his head, and I could see muscles under the soft skin. His hair, as usual, was tangled. It lay, dark and soft, on his head and framed his face. I could just see one cheek, pink, soft, full, kissable. KISSABLE?? My cock was getting uncomfortable, and I ground it into the rock trying to relieve some of the pressure.
I looked at his feet once more and again that feeling I had so many years before came back. His feet were perfect. They were pink and looked soft. There were no calluses, no cuts. They were cute. I wanted to touch him, and in the haze between sleep and wake, I reached out and ran my finger along the arch, down the ball and across the space just below his toes, then up the whole length and around the soft, almost delicate heel. I wanted to do the same thing with my tongue, but I didn't. I enjoyed the feel of my finger against his toes. I played with his feet, knowing he wasn't ticklish, rubbing my cock in my cutoffs against the rock, lost in a dreamland. I sort of listened to his breathing, but I don't think I would have noticed if he had woken up. I let my hand play across his toes, his arch and heel, furiously pushing my crotch into the rock. The friction was having its effect. My breathing got ragged, I changed pace. I picked up his foot and licked across the base of his toes. I was humping the rock faster and harder. Then I took the plunge and stuck his big toe in my mouth. I sucked on it, swirled my tongue around it, and as I popped it out of my mouth, I came in my cutoffs, a long, hard draining cum that was more intense than I've ever experienced. I shot seven or eight times, and still I ground my cock into the rock, as if I wanted to split the rock open and bury my meat in it. I managed to swallow my groan of ecstasy as the orgasm of a lifetime subsided.
Danny stirred a little, and said thickly through his sleep, "Oh, more. Oh, God that feels good."
I jerked my hand back. I didn't know if he was talking to me or talking in his sleep. Suddenly he sat up straight, and had a guilty look on his face.
"Was I just talking?" he asked.
"Yeah, a little." I was terrified. What had he felt. Did he feel my saliva on his foot? I was too scared to roll over because of the mess in my shorts.
He looked terrified. "What did I say."
"You just said it felt good."
"What felt good?"
"I don't know," I said, "you didn't say."
He was looking at the water and looked like he was ready to cry.
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
"N-no. I've gotta go now," he said sadly. But he didn't make a move to go.
I sat up and noticed with relief that the front of my shorts were still wet from our swim and hid the load I had just deposited. I scooted over by him.
"Hey, Danny, what's wrong?" I moved so I was right next to him, my shoulder touching his.
"Nothing," he said, and he leaned into me a little bit, lost in his thoughts.
Then he pulled away again. "Let's go," he said hurriedly, with a frightened look in his eye.
"No, let's stay and talk. What's the matter, man?"
He started to shake. Then his breathing got funny and he started to sway. "Hey, are you hyperventilating?" I asked. Oh, great. What a question. As if he knew. As if he were calm enough to answer me. I could see a medical career was not in my future.
I grabbed one of the paper bags our lunches were packed in and held it around his nose and mouth, and just as I did I noticed how full and red his lips were. Well, not real red at the moment. More bluish.
I held the bag over his face, and he put his hands around mine. Slowly I eased him to the ground, and we again sat with out feet in the water. After a while, his breathing slowed from the concentration of carbon dioxide in the bag, and he slumped over on me. He rested his head on my shoulder.
"Thanks," he said simply. Then he sniffled. My heart broke. We had always shared everything, but now he was holding out on me. And whatever it was hurt him. I began to hurt for him.
"C'mon, Danny, tell me what's wrong. We've always told each other our stuff. You've always been there for me and I've been there for you. Don't hold out on me, buddy. I mean, I know I always feel better after I talk to you about my problems."
"I can't," he said, and broke down in heaving sobs.
I turned and took him in my arms. I hadn't held him like that since his grandma died. This time was different. Or bare skin touched. His weight was against me, and his arms folded around me like the most natural thing in the world. It WAS the most natural thing in the world. I mean, it felt familiar, even though it wasn't. I pulled him closer, tighter, and he clung to me, shaking in a violent crying fit. I could feel his tears on my cheek, then on my shoulder, and finally, rolling down my chest. I'd never seen him like this. I was scared. I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing. But I wanted to remember every detail.
Finally, he was able to choke out a few words. They made me sad. "I can't tell you, Justin. I-I-I-I just c-c-can't. D-Don't be m-mad at me, please? I need you right now."
"If you need me, tell me what I can do."
"Just what you're doing," he sniffled. I ran my hand through his curly hair. I had done that once when this girl I liked started crying on my shoulder about something or other. It felt nice to do it then, and it felt even better now.
We sat like that for a while, Danny in my arms, his arms around me. His face was buried in the crook of my neck. He had stopped crying, but he didn't move.
Finally, he raised his head, looked at me and smiled. It was a sad smile, but I saw something in his eyes that had never seen before. It was love. We had always been friends, but this was more. I thought I saw brotherly love in his eyes, an appreciation of being there for him.
"You okay now?" I asked.
"Yeah," he smiled.
"Well, listen if y--"
"Letís go, Justin. I need to get home."
"Okay," I said, letting things drop.
We gathered our stuff together and put it in the backpacks. Then we put our shirts and shoes on, swung the packs onto our backs, and climbed onto the bikes. We rode side-by-side at an easy pace out of the woods, across a meadow and onto the bike path toward home.
There was silence between us. Danny obviously didn't want to talk, and I was confused about what had just taken place. I wanted to know what brought it on. I wanted to know why he was so sad. I wanted to hold him naked, and I wanted to know why I wanted to do that. Geez, this is getting too complicated.
Anyway, neither of us was paying much attention to where we were going. All of a sudden we were almost on top of this lady jogging along the path. We shouted, and split apart to go around her. I gave her a dirty look for running right down the middle of the path as I started to drift back toward Danny. In an instant, out bikes were locked together. He was thrown off his bike and hurled off to the side. I stayed with the bikes and slid along the path face down feet first, the asphalt scraping the skin from my chest.
I was screaming more out of fright than pain, and then realized that Danny wasn't. The lady had stopped and was standing over him.
"Hey, kid, are you all right?" she screamed.
I got up and ran over to him. He didn't move for a minute, and then he groaned.
"Danny! Danny, man. Get up." I screamed. Sounds dorky now.
The lady looked at me. "You're bleeding," she said.
I looked down and saw my whole chest was a mess. It didn't hurt, thought. Not yet. The pain's coming, I thought. Then she took out a cell phone. Man, I'll never dis yuppies again for carrying those things everywhere.
"Call my mom," I said, and gave her the number.
Danny was moaning, but not moving. She handed me the phone. "Mom! Come quick. Danny and me've had a bike wreck. I think he's hurt. I told her where we were.
Moms are great when they want to be. She got her car onto the bike path somehow and drove right to us. I picked Danny up -- I don't know how, he was a big as I am. I laid him in the back seat, and climbed in, putting his head on my lap.
"Oh, God, let him be all right," I prayed. I stroked his hair, brushing it out of his eyes, which were closed. Mom sped us to the hospital.
"Fran (Danny's mom) is shopping and asked me to look after you two," she said. That explained why she didn't call his mom; Fran didn't carry a cell phone.
Danny's eyes fluttered open. He looked at me. "Thanks," he whispered, and his eyes closed again.
Thanks?? I caused the fucking accident, and he thanks me? I started to cry.
At the hospital, all was a blur. Someone took Danny from me and put him on those carts they use. As they were taking Danny in, a nurse got a good look at me.
"Good God," she said. "Let's get you cleaned up." I looked down. I was one giant road rash from my collar bone to my navel. Surprisingly, it was down the middle of my chest. My nipples were spared.
"I don't wanna get cleaned up," I whined. "It's gonna hurt." I could just feel soapy water being poured on that mess. I shivered.
Anyone who's faced an emergency room nurse knows you don't get away with anything. That nurse had me at a sink and water running before I knew what happened. And yes, it was as painful as I imagined. They put some salve and a dressing on it, and then told me to sit down. I wanted to see Danny, but they said sit down. I did.
Mom finally got hold of Fran, and when she got there they took her back to see Danny. I wanted to go, too, but I wasn't "family." Hell I wasn't. But after about 20 minutes Fran came out to get me.
"He wants to see you," she said.
Oh, great. He's gonna tell me it's over. He knows I caused this and he's gonna tell me to get the fuck out of his life. I regretted this all. Why couldn't I have just slept in this morning?
His eyes were closed when Fran and I got to him. His arm was in a cast, and he had a bandage around his head. His bare feet -- those beautiful bare feet that started all this -- stuck out from under the sheet.
I took his hand, and his eyes opened. "Hey, bud," he said softly. Then he smiled.
A SMILE?? It was the last thing I expected.
"I'm sorry," I replied, and started to cry again. God, I hadn't cried that much since I was five.
"Hey, it's not your fault. Thanks for helping me, Justin. Thanks, man. Can you just stay with me for a whi...." And he drifted off to sleep.
Turned out Danny had a broken arm and a mild concussion. They kept him in the hospital overnight.
At home that night in bed, I relived every detail of the day over and over. I especially wanted to remember holding him. About the second time, my hand slipped into the boxers I was wearing and began to stroke my cock. I thought about his bare feet, his smooth legs. I thought about his soft belly, the Coke on his nipples. My other hand found one of my nipples and I stroked it lightly. I thought about holding Danny, and pinched my nipple, then moved my hand over to the other one. My cock was hard, and my hand rubbed up and down the length of it. I thought about how warm and soft Danny had felt against me as I held him. My hand strayed to my balls and squeezed them then snaked lower toward my hole. I flicked my nipples faster. I remembered how Danny had squeezed me, holding himself against me. Back up to my cock, which I took in my hand. I remembered the tears on my cheek, the feel of his face against my neck. I was breathing hard and I pumped my cock up and down. I remembered the taste of his toes in my mouth, felt the silky softness of his instep, and my breathing became ragged. I pumped faster. My hand left my nipples and went down to squeeze my balls more, then teased my asshole. I was getting close. My hand flew over my cock, and I played with my nipples again.
Then I remembered one more thing, something out of my subconscious. While Danny was squeezing me, I remember feeling something else. It hadn't registered at the time, but it did now, in the heat of my impending orgasm. I was nearly there. The precum oozing out lubricating the head of my cock, which was so sensitive it itched for relief. I was pinching my nipples, and my back began to arch, when I remembered it.
Danny's cock was hard when we were holding each other, and he was pushing it against my leg.
The thought sent me over the edge. The cum flew from my cock and into my boxers. I hadn't lowered them, and the cream built up in my pubic hair, soaking through my boxers and coating my hand. I kept pumping my cock and spurt after spurt came out, making a giant mess in my bed. Danny had been hard! Danny had been hard. Danny had been hard. I couldn't get it out of my mind. Not only hard, he had been pushing against me.
It's starting to get light outside. My lover is stirring in bed. I'm going to quit now, climb back in, snuggle next to him and help him wake up, heh heh heh. I'll write more next time I can't sleep.