Date: Fri, 6 Sep 2002 12:24:07 +0100
From: GS <wordgrrrrrrrr@hotmail.com>
Subject: Small Town Boys

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without written permission of the author.

This is a gay adult story. If homosexuality offends you, or is illegal
where you live, then do not continue - you proceed at your own risk.

I hope you enjoy my work - if you have any comments please feel free to
contact me - wordgrrrrrrrr@hotmail.com

In real-life encounters, always use a condom!



Small Town Boys



Brad was our neighbourhood hero, and I guess that I, like everybody else in
town, was a little bit in love with him. Not that anybody thought of it
like that, of course. But we all knew that he was something special. An air
of awed and excited tension somehow seemed to follow him around,
brightening and colouring the commonplace surroundings of the small country
town we'd both been born and raised in.

We'd shared most of our lives, Brad and me, without ever really getting to
know each other. We'd gone to the same school, supported the same soccer
teams, and dressed up for the same teenage Saturday night dances. And got
drunk at them, in different corners of the same neighbourhood halls and
bars.

I had the reputation of being a regular guy, just waiting for my special
girl to come along. Mothers and fathers were glad to hear that Tommy was
taking their daughter to the dance. Good-looking, clean-cut, and just right
for some future Miss Right.

And wanking myself silly, while I waited.

Folks said that Brad had an eye for the girls. He certainly seemed always
to have the best-looking girl around. A different girl, each time, it
seemed to the rest of us, and every one way out of our league.

Which was curious, since Brad was a bit of a bruiser. Well-fit and muscled,
six feet something, crop-haired, pug-ugly and broken-nosed, he was pretty
well completely without any of the social graces. Brad couldn't dance or
sing, or play guitar or football, or, indeed, do any of the things that the
rest of us boys thought were important. Despite it all, Brad quite simply,
inexplicably, was our hero.  Strong, silent, utterly self-contained - we
watched Brad from a distance, in awed and hushed respect.

Which was why I started in astonishment when he shouted at me across the
street where we both worked.

"Patty's sister's in town this weekend..." he bawled "... and I said I'd
fix her up with somebody for the dance."

I'd never heard a longer speech from Brad in all our twenty shared years.
We'd never, for that matter, shared more than a couple of dozen beers and
jokes in all that time. And now he wanted to make a family foursome.

"Wow," was my considered response, which brought a guffaw from Brad.

"She's fuckin' gorgeous, Tommy. You'll cream your pants when you see her."

At which Brad disappeared into the small repair workshop where he worked,
ignoring my baffled and spluttered response. As I say, Brad's our hero, and
he'd just asked me to step out dancing.

This Patty was Brad's latest and longest-lasting girlfriend yet. And the
rest of us small-town boys could surely see her attractions. A low cloud of
vaporised hormones hung over our bar-room table as, from our usual
respectful distance, we sneaked glances through lowered eyelashes as she
swayed to the latest tunes beside Brad's pretty well immobile figure. Half
a dozen young backsides shifted uneasily on bar-room chairs, as half a
dozen young hardons repositioned themselves in their red-faced owners'
underwear.

"Holy shit..." muttered someone, "...just imagine that."

And the rest of us could, with no difficulty whatsoever. Nightly.

And now, for me, daily too. Three days to go to the appointed date and my
state of fevered excitement was approaching panic levels. I slumped over
the counter at the hardware shop where I worked. Business was slow, leaving
lots of time for dangerous daydreaming. I was not, I admitted to myself
with some dismay, the world's most experienced lover. Nor the street's, for
God's sake.  Not even my own house's - my little brother had probably done
more actual fucking than me. In fact, actual fucking, actually having my
penis inside some actual girl's actual you-know-what, was pretty well
limited to maybe once and a half. Little wonder parents all over town
prayed for Tommy to take their daughters dancing.

Like I say, I did lots of tossing myself off.

And now Patty's sister, no doubt vastly experienced and unbelievably
gorgeous Babe of the Year, was going to take me dancing.

"Oh, fuck." I said it out loud.

Mr Williams, Supplier of Hardware to the ladies and gentlemen of the town,
politely coughed. He knew the dangers of too much daydreaming in young men,
being a Church Elder, and Sunday school teacher.

The shopkeeper's apron I wore hid my impressively large hardon. I was,
alas, easily impressed. Though, I defensively told myself, it surely wasn't
a bad-sized one. In our town, nudity wasn't much encouraged, so my
sightings of other guys' cocks were fairly limited. Bigger than my fucking
little brother's, at least, I thought sourly. Bigger than average, I
reassured myself. If I got as far as the pants-off stage, at least she
wouldn't collapse into helpless laughter.

Later, she might.

"Oh fuck." This time I kept my lips tightly sealed.

"Pardon, Tommy?" I swear the silly old bugger spends every minute I'm in
the shop watching me. Now he's reading my fucking mind.

I held off from tossing off for the couple of days before the date. I was
taking no chances, and wanted to be certain I'd have the necessary buckets
of cum ready and waiting - on standby, as it were. To hand, if needed. I
agonised over what to wear, and hit upon the formula that was to get me
through the seemingly endless wait. I'd do and be whatever I thought that
Brad would do and be. Tee shirt and black jeans and leather jacket. Easy
peasy. Cool as cucumber. Breaking a habit I didn't know I had, I downed a
large glass of my Dad's scotch, about half an hour or so before Brad and
the girls were due to pick me up.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Hi."

Taciturn as ever, Brad didn't even bother to introduce us all.

"You're Tommy," Patty helpfully reminded me, "I'm Patty, and this is
Linda."

And Brad had been pretty spot-on when he'd said Linda was gorgeous. She was
one of those big-breasted, curvy-hipped, freckle-faced, strawberry-blonde
and wholesome-as-apple-pie girls that boys like me have been coming in
their pants over for as long as there's been girls and boys and pants. Or
something along those lines. I was blown away. I was knocked out. I was, as
forecast, creaming myself.

Remembering my plan to model my behaviour on Brad's, I made my small talk
smaller than usual. I said, in fact, sweet fuck all, which I reckoned an
improvement on my normal over-excited babbling. In any case, the
unmistakable and undisguisable bulge of my hardon pretty well summed up my
feelings. I watched Brad throw his arm round Patty's shoulder, driving with
one hand. Deciding to risk all on copying my hero yet again, I crashed my
arm across behind Linda's neck. Since I normally didn't get this far till
the third date, I felt an invigorating surge of confidence. And also, alas,
an invigorating surge of blood to the groin, causing a fairly noticeable
throbbing in the cock department. As the bulge in my jeans took to the
floor for a tango all on its ownsome, Linda lowered her gorgeous head onto
my shoulder. She sighed, and told us all, "Isn't this nice." She looked at
it, my dancing cock inside my steaming jeans, for the rest of the journey.

My usual bar-room table companions positively goggled when we sauntered
into the hall. I'd kept quiet about the date, and I suppose they simply
expected me to turn up, morose and unaccompanied as usual. Emboldened by my
earlier stolen whisky, I waved airily in their general direction, and
dragged Linda onto the dance floor.  Deciding against my usual jitterbug
style in favour of my hero's statue-like immobility, I stood swaying
vaguely in time with either the music, or with Brad, as Linda and Patty
stomped round about us. Fully an hour of our Stonehenge impression passed,
before Brad muttered at me, "For fuck's sake, Tommy, I told them you could
dance."

By now being lots of beers into my evening, I broke into a small Whirling
Dervish routine, swung Linda about in a few ill-advised jive steps from
some ancient movie, waved to the onlooking no-hopers, and told Linda and
the surrounding world, "Wow."  The watching boys' bar-room table
practically jiggled up and down on their hidden hardons. Linda pressed
enthusiastically against my blatantly public one.

When we sat down, she snuggled up beside me. Patty looked on benignly.
"I've always liked you, Tommy," she confided to the rest of us. As far as I
knew, we'd never actually exchanged a word before that evening, but I was
grateful for her stamp of approval. Brad's grunt could, I told myself, have
been a laugh, but with a mug like that, who could tell. With the absolute
certainty of a first-timer, I knew that Linda was as anxious to relieve the
pressure inside my jeans as I was myself. What I didn't see with any
clarity was how and where we were going to be able to carry out this
now-urgent task. The Gorgeous Sisters didn't look like the sort of girls
who'd feel comfortable making out among the trashcans at the back of the
bar. Happily, Brad had a plan. My hero.

Brad's plan was to go back to his place, a small one- room apartment over
the repair shop where he worked. We all agreed that it was a very good plan
indeed, and set off merrily, drunkenly, on the short walk.

How we got naked, I don't remember. I've always been a bit shy on the
pants-off front, and was pretty spooked about Brad getting an eyeful of
what, by his Olympian standards, was my pathetically puny physique. And God
only knew how my cock would measure up, whatever the fucking agony aunts
said.

Happily, Mother Nature had long ago worked out a plan for coping with young
men's first-night nerves. Bypassing the brain entirely, she arranged for
control of all activity to be passed to a new Command Centre in the penis
itself. My cock, and Linda, took charge. And what a show they put on. This
was, after all, the very best thing - the very best night - of my life.

So there we were. Sprawled out on the one big bed, bare-assed naked, Brad
straddling Patty, and the gorgeous Linda straddling me. Patty and Brad were
making more noise than a herd of elephants, banging away, while I lay
silently, politely, as my peaches-and-cream date rode me like a
bronco-bustin' cowgirl. Lights on, everything in full view, tits and cocks
and pussies galore, with more juices than a butter-basted turkey. Like a
kid at Christmas, I didn't know where to look first, or next.

Seeing Brad's head disappear down between Patty's legs, I masterfully threw
Linda onto her back, and went searching myself. Never having actually
viewed this part of a girl's body before, I sort of took potluck, copying
Brad, sucking and licking every bit that seemed of interest. Linda's
fingers directed my tongue into her, and her moaning told me that I'd hit
some sort of spot. By now I'd given up my strong silent approach, and was
bellowing with the rest of them.

Brad, inches from the end of my burrowed nose, was now set on his
end-game. Up on his knees, between Patty's wideflung legs, he pumped and
ploughed and thrust and heaved, in and out, as Patty squirmed and wriggled
like a thing possessed. Brad was magnificent. As fit and muscled as
Superman, tanned and glowing with the sweaty endeavour of it all, he banged
away at the figure beneath him. And best of all, Brad's cock, neat and
trim, nestling comfortably in a bed of dark curls, hard and shiny and red
as a candy lollipop, was a full couple of inches shorter than mine. Was I
fantastic, or what?  My hero just had to be impressed. I out-gunned the
town stud.

"Wow," I gasped in amazed stupendous happiness. "Oh, wow." What boy didn't
want to be the main man?

Pulling myself up and into Linda's spread-eagled body, I yet again took the
lead from my new buddy. Slow, long, easy strokes, pushing smooth and hard,
in and out. Whimpering and moaning, Linda writhed beneath me, twisting her
hips, arching her back and changing my angle inside her. Emboldened by the
success of it all, I experimented -- like some mad rocket scientist - with
speed and depth and direction of thrust. I tweaked and twiddled with
nipples and earlobes and as yet unknown and unnamed parts. Ignoring the
strangulated climactic gasps from Brad and Patty, I plunged onward. I
boldly went...

I suddenly realised that the room, apart from my own bellowing grunts, was,
like the starry depths of space, utterly, eerily, spookily silent. Still
pumping away, I looked up into the noiseless void. Three mouths agape,
three pairs of eyes fixed unblinkingly on me, as my deluxe dick
rhythmically plunged, in and out, in and out.  My audience needed a grand
finale, and I came, as planned and promised, buckets. Whimpering, jerking,
bucking and fucking gallons of the stuff.

I sprawled, panting, across my date's limp body. "Wow."

Not really knowing the polite thing to do next, but feeling that Linda
might be close to suffocation, I rolled off and out of her. Four of us,
like sardines in a not very virgin olive oil, stretched out side by side,
buck naked, silent at last. Linda's head nestled snugly under my arm.
Brad's body tightly pressed against my side. Patty's hand idly, innocently,
scratched her man's soft cock, while he tickled one of her nipples. We lay;
legs intertwined, cum everywhere, clothes strewn haphazardly around the
room.

"Wow." My life had changed forever.

"I've always liked you, Tommy..." Patty looked across at me appraisingly.
Brad grunted his almost-laugh. "...but Sis and me's gotta go."

"I guess I'd better..." I trailed the question off, speaking to no-one in
particular.

"It's three in the morning, and he's drunk, and so are you." Patty told
Brad.

"Don't be dumb, Tommy -- you're staying here." Brad told me.

And, as magically as they'd entered and transformed my world, the Gorgeous
Sisters were ready to leave it.

"See you, Tommy." Patty tousled my hair, ran those cool eyes down my
cum-smeared belly, and left.

"See you, Tommy." Linda tweaked my cock, bit my lip hard, and followed her
sister.

"Get another beer. I'll be back in a minute." Brad pointed vaguely in the
direction of the fridge. "Put a movie on TV."

When they'd gone, I just stayed still, flat out, uncovered, triumphant. My
senses -- literally -- reeled. It seemed to me that there was no more room
inside me for another single thought or emotion. It was the very best
thing, and the very best night, of my life.

"Wow."

"I said to get another beer," Brad stood over me, looking down. I'd just
closed my eyes, dreamed a little, and now he was back again, a beer in each
hand, stripped to his shorts, grunting that amused grunt of his. "That was
quite a show you put on, Tiger," he laughed. "I think maybe Linda liked
you."

I blushed, and Brad laughed again. "The shower's in there. I'll sort the
bed." He threw a towel at me. "Don't want your fuckin' spunk over the fresh
sheets, do we?" I'd no idea Brad found so much in life to laugh at. I
blushed more, but laughed as well. In the drunken haste and excitement of
our arrival, I hadn't noticed the sheer organised splendour of Brad's
apartment. The place was spotless, decorated and furnished like a magazine
article. My hero was house-proud. My broken-nosed bruiser had taste.

"Wow."

I liked this, this laughing and bantering. I wanted to be Brad's best
buddy. Just being in his company made me feel drunk. I lay there, looking
up at him looking down at me. Silhouetted against the bedside lamp, his
sheer physical grace took my breath away. Like I used to say when I was
still almost a virgin, I was half in love with the guy. Who wouldn't be? He
was Superman. I was just some kid.

"Shower, Tommy?" Brad's voice brought me back to the present. And reminded
me, for God's sake, that I was sprawled there, cum-smeared and naked, cock
doing God knows what and...

...I blushed again, and grabbing the towel dived for the door.

The TV was on with the sound turned off, when I came back, towel firmly
tied round waist.  Brad lay on his belly, head at the bottom of the
bed. Still in his shorts, chin propped in hands, he watched the ghostly
flickering picture. Fresh sheets were turned down at the other side of the
bed, and I sat in the damp towel, back to him, unsure whether I should find
my pants, or just dive in naked.

"Late in the day to get shy, Tiger. Just get in." He pushed a big bowl of
monkey nuts across halfway between us. "It's movie time."

We lay there, top to tail, side by side. Him on his stomach, me on my
back. Him in his shorts, me with the sheet pulled chastely up to my belly
button. We watched the movie. After a bit he turned his head, peering back
up the length of the bed. "You OK?"

"Yeah." No need to say more, but I did. "Tonight was great."

He looked back up at me, "Yeah."

"Did you really tell them I could dance?"

"Yeah. I said you were the best in town." A pause, then " I told them you
were the best in bed, as well."

"Jesus, Brad." I blushed all over this time. My blood circulation was
having one fuck of an adventurous night.

"I'm kidding." Brad flipped over onto his back, and executed a perfect
sit-up, belly muscles tensed and hard. "Actually, I told them you were
famous for your oral sex technique." He laughed, and flopped down onto his
back again.

I laughed too, and we lay comfortably in the silence - buddies, sharing
their thoughts and secrets.

"Bet she never got within a mile of sucking you, though." Billy's voice was
low now. "Patty never does." Billy did another sit-up. "Maybe she thinks
it's dirty, or something. For fuck's sake, it's just a cock." Flat down
again, hands thrown back out over his head, Brad stretched like a cat. And
waited, like a cat.

Then, slowly, letting his body relax, staring at the ceiling, he asked,
"You ever been blown, Tommy? You ever had that big cock of yours sucked?"
Brad's voice was almost a whisper. Sitting up again, this time Brad clasped
his knees close into his chest. Sitting there, hugging himself, he looked
down at me, waiting for my answer.

"Nah." I snickered, flushing under his gaze. I knew I was hard again --
what guy wouldn't be, talking about blowjobs? And, I suppose, lying next to
some fucking half naked god.  I couldn't look him in the eye. "You?"

I pulled my knees up, tenting the sheets, hiding my erection, waiting for
Brad. He'd called my cock big. My hero.

"Once, at camp..." his voice so low I had to strain to hear, "...in the
showers, some fucking cocksucker did it to me..."

"Fucking hell, Brad. A guy? Jesus, another guy sucked your cock? Oh
fuck. Wow."

I didn't really know what to say. It had been as if the entire world had
changed round about me in the course of a single evening. And now this. It
had been the best night ever, but it was getting scarier by the minute, and
I was frightened that I'd do or say the wrong thing.

Which, on cue, I did. " Fuck's sake, Brad, I don't know if I'd even get a
hardon, if it was a guy."

And Brad laughed.  Brad fell about laughing. "Tiger, you've got a fucking
hardon just thinking about it, far less fucking doing it. That fucking cock
of yours has been bouncing the sheets about for the past half-hour. Jesus,
Tommy, what the fuck d'you mean you couldn't get a hardon!" Brad flopped
back, still laughing. As he lay back, I could see the outline of his cock,
sticking up hard inside his shorts. I started laughing too. We hooted and
howled, two buddies, rolling about in sheer joy at the madness of it all.

Then, for the second time that night, absolute stillness. Utter silence. In
a single fluid movement he rolled across towards me, poised over my
belly. Looking down, eyes fixed on the shape of my penis and balls under
the sheet, Brad waited, watching, mesmerised. I scarcely dared breathe. He
reached his hand across my belly, hovering over me, then slowly, slowly,
lowered it till the tips of his fingers brushed my skin. Lowering the
outspread palm until all his hand pressed down on my stomach, Brad moved
his fingers under the bed sheet, pulling it slowly down, down, till the
dark swollen head of my prick was exposed. Lowering his head down towards
my crotch, tongue peeking out of his half-open mouth, his hot breath
approached my rock-hard dick, millimetre by fucking millimetre. My cock
jerked up towards his lips. And he touched it, with the tiniest tip of his
tongue.  Then, licking and nibbling around the rim of the engorged head,
eyes fixed down, at last opening his mouth wide, he gulped it in.

"Fucking wow. Oh fucking hell, Brad..." I was muttering meaningless
nonsense. I pushed my cock forward, arching my hips up from the bed, into
his gaping face. Reaching my hands towards him, grasping his head, pulling
it down onto me. "Fuckin yes, Brad..." My head fell back, moaning and
sighing, as he took me even further yet down his throat. "Jesus, man..."

I set a rhythm, pulling his head onto me, and thrusting my hips upward.
Seeing the well-muscled, masculine figure, head down over my cock, excited
me more than anything I'd done all night. And that meant anything I'd done
ever.  My fucking hero had my fucking dick in his fucking mouth. I watched
as Brad's own penis jerked and throbbed inside the soft cotton of his
shorts. Forever the explorer, I sent a fingernail searching for a nipple to
scratch, and was rewarded with a groan and another jerk of his dick. The
sensation of his lips around my cock, heightened by the unbelievable
turn-on of seeing my tough buddy's cropped head bobbing between my legs,
slurping and licking and pulling and teasing, hungrily swallowing yet more
and more of my red-raw meat, brought me close, again and again, to coming.
Each time I drew back, wanting this amazing adventure to last forever. I
wanted Brad to stay right where he was, sucking deep on my cock. Buddies,
now, for life.

"Wow."

I came.

In his mouth, down his throat, over his pug-ugly mug. Brad was whimpering,
mouth still tightly holding my softening penis. Face down, eyes tight shut,
nose buried deep in the bush of golden curls at the base of my belly, Brad
just lay, my hand still on his head. Not a movement. And we fell asleep. Or
at least I did.

And awoke. Like dessert spoons in a cutlery drawer, Brad's back was nestled
into my curled body. My arms were wrapped round his chest, and my penis lay
hard up between his thighs, along the crack of his ass. I knew Brad was
awake, and I knew absolutely what I had to do.

He didn't want to be fucked, and I didn't want to fuck him. These things I
knew, clearly and certainly. Brad had needed a hard thick cock inside his
mouth, and now, having sucked me, he needed to come himself. And years of
solitary jerking-off had taught me all the ways of making that the very
best thing he'd ever felt. I majored in masturbation. I was a world expert
in the subject. God knows I'd had enough practice.

Heaving Brad's unresisting body over on top of me and bedding his ass
firmly down between my legs, I ran my fingers over his belly, pulling his
shorts free of that neat, rock-hard cock of his. The position was perfect,
his body sprawled back across my own chest and stomach and hardon -- we lay
as if I was wanking myself.

Earlier I'd put on a public show, in the dance hall, and with the girls --
but this now was a very private performance, especially for my hero. I
meant to make this my very best shot. This was going to be the most
stupendous orgasm that the big bruiser had ever had in his entire life. I
wanted my buddy to be begging me to let him come before I finished him off.

"Brad..." I whispered hard and low, mouth tight against his ear.  "...ol'
buddy..."

...and I talked rough and dirty as I worked the tough guy's body, till he
finally came, spouting his creamy cum up across his chest and his face,
whimpering and wriggling and jerking with the hungry abandon of his orgasm,
gasping my name over and over, "...please, Tommy. Fuck, fuck, oh
fuck... Tommy, Tommy, Tommy... please..."

I scooped a palmful of his cum from his belly and lifted it to his lips.
Reaching his hand up, taking mine in that callused paw of his, he pressed
my palm to his face, licking it, sucking each finger clean. I cupped his
soft little cock in my free fist. "You're all mine, buddy."

And that was that.

Brad was all mine.