The Summer of 2004 Ch. 07

I drove home exhausted and exhilarated. After Robert's maiden voyage into my ass, his extreme violation of my body, his brutal thrusting and grunting, I could barely walk—or talk. Robert didn't appear to be in a garrulous mood after unleashing his seed and fury, and I was too shell-shocked for any post attack conversation, so I simply dressed and exited. I thought I should clean up the broken bottles, but I was too numb to bother. I don't think I even said Goodbye.

Driving away from the lake, I couldn't stop thinking about this: I had been brutally fucked by a man. I had been fucked by a handsome U.S. Marine with an awesome tight body and perfect cock, and a nice, tight ass. Hadn't I dreamed about this for most of my teen years? It hurt taking his entire huge and thick cock. I didn't think the head would even get into me, but inch by inch Robert made my ass his own.

I noticed that the more I resisted, the tighter my ass became and the more pain the deed wrought. At one point I felt too exhausted and defeated to bother resisting the aggression, and it was at that moment when my body relaxed enough to take in the last of his colossally big eight plus inches. The pulling out and thrusting back in of these inches made my asshole hurt at first but then vibrate so much I thought I'd die of heart stoppage in ecstasy. It was part painful yet clearly the most sexually exciting moments of my life. And my dick certainly kept leaking in voracious, visceral approval.

I loved sucking Robert's cock and tasting his semen. I loved tasting his ass, licking the entire crack, squeezing the firm butt cheeks and darting my tongue into his hole like it was a dildo penetrating to his prostate. I loved slurping on that hole and having the saliva build so much that it ran down my chin.

I loved when my face was a mess of spit and I happily used it to slide my face all around his hole. If I could have gotten my whole face up his ass, I would have done it. But I settled for sucking and slurping and eating that hole until we both were exhausted.

I loved the smell of his testes, as his balls rested on my chin. The smell drove me crazy and I could have lain with my face in his balls for eternity.

I loved the sound of his manly voice and how he'd sound vulnerable when sexually aroused. It pleased me as much to perform the scandalous deeds as it evidently was for him to receive them. He just didn't get how much I enjoyed sucking him, eating his hole, having his cock tear me apart, and just pleasing him.

In addition to rocking my ass, Robert really did a number on my head as well. He was right; there was no problem with being gay. If anybody had a problem with my being gay then it was HIS or HER problem, not mine. That includes my family and anybody else. Robert was the perfect role model for me. If he could be in to doing it with a man, then there's no shame in it, there's no dearth of manliness about it. For the first time in many years, I felt good to be a man who likes men.

I thought of all those times I beat off in my teens longing for my coach, for Derek, for professional athletes and handsome actors, and, yeah, my own dad. Many times just when I was about to shoot my mega load, I'd quickly envision a girl. Somehow I thought that would alleviate some of the guilt I had about thinking of sex with a man. I always felt condemned for wanting another man's cock, his ass, especially when I wanted my own father's. Now I wasn't feeling the shame.

I was feeling that everything was right, so for me there was no turning back. I would not ever be jerking off with guilt or worrying about what girl to take to a friend's wedding, or who to be seen with at McBirdy's or at the lake.

I continued my drive in wondrous and sexually fulfilling thought. I probably still will have some guilt when I think of dad. But I'm not likely to pursue anything down that road, so if I want to fantasize and jerk my meat thinking about dad pushing my face down onto his mammoth meat or having him put me over his knee, spank me, turn me around and fuck me, well, it ain't nobody's damn business but mine.

Turning off Rt. 23 for the final few minutes home, I saw the familiar, paint-peeled, faded lettering: McBirdy's, Where Friends Are Waiting. Driving passed that ridiculous lie I had to snicker. I said aloud, "Yeah, right. Derek? Some friend." Feeling emboldened I pulled in to the lot. Scanning the cars I quickly spotted Derek's Toyota, noted for its poor paintjob and ridiculous dice hanging from the rearview mirror.

I wasn't sure if Rich or Steve's cars were there, but it didn't matter. I was on a singular mission, which involved Derek and Derek only. Just after entering the dive center of my life and its people, the dive I figured I'd never, ever return to, and walking down the dingy hall through the cigarette cloud and stench which bisected the ancient black and white photos of past area fire and police department chiefs, the familiar, creaky double saloon doors pushed toward me and Rich's face was unexpectedly in mine.

"Hey, Mike, what's good man?"

"Hey Rich, I just thought I'd stop off for a Corona before going home. You out already?"

"Yeah, I actually want to get home and watch The Matrix. It's on HBO."

"You know that's our favorite movie."

"Yup." Over the din of some terrible song by Faith Hill and sporadic laughter on the other side of the double doors--Were they still laughing about me? Well, I don't give a fuck anyway--Rich made my heart warm. "Hey, why don't you come over? We'll watch and recite every line."

"Yeah, all three lines." I quickly put an addendum to my joke, "That's sounds cool. Okay, I'll meet you at your place."

Within ten minutes we were in Rich's basement. He looked very attractive tonight. I don't think I ever really noticed how athletic his build was or how nice his hair was. Was I just projecting Robert onto Rich? Could be. But Rich's ass in his Guess jeans, which also flattered his muscular thighs, definitely looked good, a lot better than I'd ever remembered.

"Yo, Rich, you working out or something? You look different."

"Yeah, I been swimming at school every morning and hitting the gym. I've lost twenty lbs. Check it out." He pulled his dark green t-shirt up to show off his new- found abs.

I was very impressed, but I didn't want him to know just how impressed I was. Jeez, I hope my tenting cock in my own jeans didn't tip him off. "Looks good, man. Maybe we'll have to race at the lake some time."

"Oh yeah," he answered as he turned the TV on. "Oh fuck, the storm."

"What's wrong?"

"The bitch of a storm before knocked the cable out. Shit, our cable goes out with the slightest wind." That was quite a storm, I thought. My ass will never be the same.

"No worries," I said. "We've seen it a zillion times anyway."

"Wanna smoke a joint?" he asked, although he knew I'd probably say No.

While I normally didn't smoke weed I had had such a momentous day that I uncharacteristically responded, "Let's do it up!"

Rich was a little surprised but certainly happy. He took a nicely rolled joint from his inside left pocket and torched it with a "McBirdy's" matchbook. After passing the joint back and forth a few times I started feeling nicely stoned, and loose. "Damn, I'm feeling good."

"Me too, shit, this is good shit."

"Yup, that shit is some fine good shit. Shit. Shit-shit-shit. Shit."

"Aahaha, you're stoned."

"Yes," I confessed and laughed, "and you, too."

The lulls in conversation were exciting, just sitting there, chilling with Rich, occasionally speaking words of nothing.

"Hey, I got a good fuck CD I made. I banged this chick at Rutger's to it. We both came like dogs."

"Why, ya gonna fuck me?" It was a joke that didn't land as well as I thought. Rich didn't respond. I quickly backpedaled and urged: "Make me a copy?"

"Sure, I'll do it now." Rich turned on the computer, which he had hooked to his elaborate sound system and popped in a disk to burn. I didn't even ask what the music was. It sounded like standard club music, but it was exciting thinking that Rich had been fucking to it.

"Fuck yeah," I said as I squeezed my cock. "This music is hot."

The weed had certainly loosened me up but I already felt without it I would talk candidly and openly to Rich. It was about time. We'd been friends for years.

I was feeling a little scared again, though. My heart was racing but I thought of Robert and how much he encouraged me to push through my fears. I figuratively leapt into Rich's hands just as I had literally leapt off the cliff into the cold water, forty feet below.

"Rich, I wanna clear the air. We've been friends a long time and I feel guilty having kept this from you but I was scared. Heck, I'm scared now." I took another hit of the joint before passing it back to him. "But I'm going to tell you."

I walked over to the small sofa and sat on one end, next to the beanbag chair, which he was now sitting on, with his legs spread, bulge amply displayed. I looked right at the bulge for a few seconds. I think subconsciously I wanted him to catch me as a way to presage what I was going to say, as if it would be somehow less shocking if Rich had a hint.

"Rich," I continued, "I was going to McBirdy's tonight to confront Derek and tell him something in a rather hostile and smug way, the same thing I'm going to tell you but in a friendly way. I'm not going to be ashamed any longer." I dove off the cliff. "I'm gay, man. I've been wrestling with this for most of my life and now I'm facing up to it. I am who I am. It's cool if you don't want to be friends anymore."

Rich looked worried and nervous. He paused for what seemed like an eternity before telling me, "Dude, you know nothing will ever change our friendship. I'm cool with it." He passed me the joint as he exhaled.

I sighed louder than I'd ever remembered sighing. "Thanks, Rich. Fuck. I was not sure how you would react."

"When did you know?"

"I always knew. I just fought it."

"I got a confession, Mike. I mean, as long as you've confessed this to me, and we're saying this shit in complete confidence, I've got a confession to make. I let a dude suck me off once." I liked how he was trying to make a connection to me. It was in his nature to be kind and this proved it. It made me want him all the more.

"No shit?" I acted surprised. Well, I guess I was, although after having met Robert I wouldn't be surprised if a masculine men told me he'd messed around with other dudes.

"For real. Last summer Becky's cousin stayed with her and he's outwardly gay. We were all drunk and playing Truth or Dare when my dare was to whip out my cock. Glenn, her cousin, suggested it and then Becky kept egging me on to do it. Now Becky has seen my cock and tasted it, felt it, a zillion times, so I wasn't shy about whipping it out. Once it was out, though, her cousin just dropped to his knees and sucked me off in front of her. It was hot. I came on his face."

"Damn, you stud!" I was getting hard as he recounted this experience. Glenn was one lucky guy.

"Don't tell anybody, man. You better keep that secret."

"It's a deal, Rich. And you better keep this a secret, too." I was bolder—or crazier--now than I ever was.

"Oh, I ain't telling anybody you're gay, man."

"No, I don't care if anybody knows about me being gay. That's not the secret." I looked down at his delicious bulge and slowly let my eyes climb up his torso to his eyes.

"So, what's the secret, then?" He gulped and so did I.

"Fuck, this music is hot," I said as I gently grabbed my package. "The secret is that I blew you and let you fuck me in your basement."

"Oh, fuck! Damn." He looked worried again and wiped his hands on his jeans. "Oh, FUCK."

"Dude, what happens in The Manor...." (We always referred to Rich's basement, where we smoked and drank, with that regal moniker.) He picked up our long-ago coined mantra and his cue and finished with me: "...stays in The Manor."

He still looked nervous, although he nodded and half smiled after we recited our old frat-boy like pledge. I took this to mean he was tacitly agreeing to this experimentation, but I could tell he didn't know how to go about it. I was more than happy to instruct and take the lead.

"First thing, Rich, is ya gotta relax. Ain't nothin' wrong with what we're going to do. It's our private shit." I rubbed his thigh and he didn't object. I rubbed it again and this time let it move closer to his tantalizing mound. He still sat calmly, so I lay my hand fully on his bulge, lightly rubbing it. I then cupped my entire hand around his tumescent package. He seemed sexually pleased and hard, even if he were mentally nervous.

With that I got on my knees in front of him as he sat even more spread legged and inviting on the oversized beanbag chair. I noticed his hard-on was becoming more severe, a beautiful prelude to what I was hungering for. "This is part of my coming out, man. I want to be comfortable with who I am and I want to taste your cock, dude."

Rich jumped up with more exuberance than I thought he would and removed all of his clothes. Fuck, he was ripped, I thought. He must be about 5 ft. 10 in., 175 lbs and all firm and lean. He's got a little peach fuzz on his chin and maybe about the same amount of hair on the center of his tight chest. Cock-wise, we could be brothers, about 7.5 inches and straight up, nice mushroom head. Nice, hairy bush. His ass is so firm and small, hairless. His legs and the lower part of his back, above his ass, have a little hair. Damn, Rich, you are sexy as hell.

I knelt before him and gently took the head into my lips. I started licking his piss slit and tasted a nice combination of pre-cum and piss. I continued slurping and gently kissing the head before I slid the monster into my throat. I didn't gag. Thanks to Robert's instruction and oddly effective baseball analogy, I relaxed and Rich's ample dick slid home.

I continued bobbing my head, grabbing onto his tight butt, letting my lips jerk him off until his moans and warning of "I'm gonna shoot, Mike" foretold the splattering of my face, chest and hair with his hot man goo. He used his cock to wipe my face and feed me his nectar. I felt the gob in my hair and pulled at it, taking half into my hand while leaving the rest smeared into my scalp. I looked at Rich's smiling face and licked my hand and swallowed the additional gel. It tasted great. I loved the salty, thick quality.

"Oh, shit," he whispered. "That was so fucking hot, Mike. I can't believe you swallowed me."

"I fucking loved it. I wanna suck your ass now."

"You kidding me? Oh, fuck, nobody has ever done that shit to me."

"Turn around, man. Tonight's your night." Rich eagerly obliged. His ass was so firm and perfect. All the swimming and running and exercise machines had made one fine specimen of ass. I started kissing his cheeks and rubbing my face in a circular motion, the way you'd bury your face into a girl's tits, I suppose.

Rich enthusiastically approved of my methods: "Oh, fuck, yeah, Mike. Holy fucking SHIT I'm gonna get fucking tongue fucked!"

I went right for his hole. I got off on the scent of his manliness, his man funk. The combination scent of sweat and ass made my cock excruciatingly hard. I gently licked the hole and Rich instantly moaned, "Oh, that's fucking wild, man."

As Rich's pleasure became more intense, so did my sucking and licking. I got my tongue as far into and up his ass than I ever could. He was squatting with both of his hands on his knees. He swayed his hips and got into the rhythm of having his ass entered and slurped by my tongue.

"Yes, Mike, do that fucking ass. Damn, this shit feels good. I hope it feels as good doing it. I apologize if I'm not perfectly clean. I didn't know anybody's tongue would be in my ass tonight."

He was clean enough. Clean enough to excite the hell out of me. I just kept shoving my tongue and face up as far as I could get it. The more I pushed, the more Rich moaned and wailed. After sucking his asshole for about a half hour, Rich got himself so excited that he spontaneously came. I felt like a champion for doing it to him.

"Holy fucking shit, man, you destroyed me!" he panted.

"Tell me about it. If you had told me years back that one day I'd blow you and swallow your load and suck your asshole I'd have thought you were crazy. But you're a good-looking stud, man. College is agreeing with you."

He smiled and nodded. I added to quell my fears, "Hey, you're not having second thoughts, are ya? You don't feel guilty or nothing?"

His response was music. "You fucking kidding me? Nah, it was hot as hell, man. And I ain't done yet."

"Whatdya mean?" I asked with inquiry but nervous energy.

"I'm gonna fuck your ass, man. I'm gonna lay pipe in your ass. I want ya on all fours for a bit and then I'd like you to put your legs over my shoulders. Just a warning, though. I fuck for a loooong time." What a romantic, I thought. But damn, his brutal simplicity and forthright plans are turning me on!

My cock was in pain before. With his warning it became harder, bluer, veinier and screaming to explode like never before—well, excluding my time with Robert. I took all my clothes off and got on all fours. I think my body was equally as impressive as Rich's but I didn't expect him to compliment me. That, for him, may have been too "gay."

"Fuck me, Rich. Fuck me harder than you ever fucked any chick. Do my ass, man. I want ya to fuck the living shit outta me and fuck me hard."

Rich got very hard again and quickly spit on his hand before turning his fist enthusiastically around the head of his impressive meat. He waddled over to me with his cock dripping and hard as granite.

I felt the head touch my hole as I scanned the room, noticing not much change in all the years of hanging here. I grabbed on to an old Hobby Horse of Rich's sister's. Too funny, I thought. I'm hanging onto a toy called a Hobby Horse while I'm about to get fucked. I hope it's a good ride for both of us.

While I fixed both hands on the horse, before I knew it, Rich's cock was entering me, and then with a few thrusts was completely inside. His firm hands grabbed both of my ass cheeks, rubbing them and then pulling the cheeks far apart, as he ruggedly took my body onto his impressive meat.

"Oh, fuck, man, I'm liking this a little too much," he exclaimed as he feverishly pumped my ass.

"No shit," I countered. "Tell me 'bout it," I uttered during pants of sexual exhilaration.

I was getting a little rug burned on the knees from the 1970s green shag carpet, but it was well worth it to have Rich's cock inside me. I felt his pole snaking me out and I thought of all the horsing around we'd done over the years down here, and how many times his mother had shouted down for us: "You boys behave." If only she could see us now. We were definitely not behaving. I wanted to be dirty with her son. A dirty, filthy whore--and loving it.

Rich thrusted and pumped with increasing force. I responded by pushing my ass back. After slapping my ass he grabbed my hair with one hand and with the other grabbed the skin on my shoulder. He pulled back and pumped forward. "You're my bitch, eh? You like this, bitch?"

My hair hurt but if felt kind of caveman cool to be manhandled like this. I wondered if this is how he fucked Becky. "Come on," he added. "Tell me, you're my bitch."

I definitely enjoyed being his bitch tonight, having him use my mancunt for his pleasure and, if he wanted, as a receptacle for his load.

"Yes, man, I'm your bitch. Fuck me! Ohhhhh, yeah, fuck the living shit outta me. You are the man!"

After probably a half hour of intense, wet pounding, he lifted my legs over his shoulders and continued assaulting my hole. It was awesome having him invade me this way. I got to look at his tight, sweaty body and his handsome face looking down at me. It was funny to be getting fucked here. I noticed the dark oak paneling, which probably was here when they lay the carpet, before I even met Rich.