Date: Fri, 17 Sep 2004 16:43:40 +1000
From: Snoopy . <nathan_b16@hotmail.com>
Subject: The First Night

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted 
within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence 
between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or 
dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think 
that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only 
because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and 
plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex 
with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now 
take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Randy and I were twenty-two. Fast friends since we were sixteen, we were 
products of our times. We'd grown up during the turmoil of the late sixties, 
sweated out the final days of the draft as the Viet Nam War wound down, and 
watched Nixon self-destruct. We talked caringly about these things--things 
social and political. We seemed so unlike most other guys our age who seemed 
only to drone on about the weekend's conquests or football scores. Over the 
years our friendship had been galvanized by differences we'd had, and had 
overcome.

There were times when I dared to think it. I loved him--as a friend with my 
head, as a comrade with my heart, but also in a different way. It was lust, 
and it was because he was a man. At times in the summer we would sit in our 
shorts, Indian-style, playing cards or checkers. I'd watch on the sly as the 
pink head of his dick poked through the bottom of his cut-offs. (I always 
wondered if he did that on purpose, seeking an edge in the game, sensing my 
concentration would be elsewhere!) I stored the sight away in my mind, as 
fuel for my fantasies. I could not tell him any of this. As open-minded as 
he was, it still seemed a risk too big to take. Life without his touch was 
hard, but life without his presence was unthinkable.

Try as I might to suppress it, the sight of him would always excite me. At 
the beach, I'd toss him a Frisbee and marvel at his muscles in motion. After 
a round of body surfing, we'd drag ourselves back on the beach and soak in 
the warmth of the sun. I'd lie on my stomach while he'd lie on his back, 
eyes closed tightly. I used that precious little time to let my eyes drink 
him in. A myriad of little details were in the picture before me: the tiny 
goosebumps sported by his deeply tanned skin; the heaving of his chest with 
each breath and the stretching his large round nipples under the strain; the 
blood pulsing through the veins in his neck; his baby fine hair wafting 
gently in the breeze; the pores in his skin and the fullness of his lips. 
His face looked so serene and inviting. I yearned to lay on top of him, to 
melt over him like butter in the sun.

It wasn't until our annual August camping trip, that I got the chance to 
drink him all in. We were on a day hike when we saw the sign. Made of thick 
iron, the letters had been cut out by torch. "NO NUDITY ALLOWED," it 
intoned. We two rebels just looked at each other and grinned.

God, it was beautiful there. At the bottom of the canyon, a small stream, 
inches wide, would on occasion balloon into a long, wide pool, flanked by 
reeds and shrubs on one side and high sandstone cliffs on the other. We 
spotted several of these pools as we walked, each one more secluded and 
beautiful than the last. Finally, we found the perfect one, and it was ours 
alone.

We decided to cross the pool to the rocks against the cliffs. Not knowing 
how deep the water was and not wanting to get our clothes and belongings 
wet, we stripped naked and wrapped everything up in our towels. Out into the 
water we waded until it became so deep that we had to hold everything above 
our heads and bounce off the bottom. Like waiters carrying trays of food, we 
made our way to the opposite side. Finally there, we climbed out of the cool 
water, and laid down on the warm rocks. Nude, rolled on our sides, we 
discussed our good fortune.

After a while we got out our ever-present magnetic game board to play some 
Chinese checkers. I longed to play with his dick, but at least I was able to 
let my eyes wander down to it. Previously shrivelled by the coolness of the 
water, it had now begun to grow heavy. If he knew I was staring he didn't 
let on, and after a while he drew one leg up, placing his foot on his knee. 
His balls shifted in their loose sack. Gravity siezed them. They rolled 
forward. God, this had to be an invitation of some kind, but it was so 
subtle I couldn't be sure.

Too quickly the afternoon slipped by and the time had come to head back to 
camp. We both had developed dark tans over the summer, but being bareassed 
in the sun was a new experience and, inadvertently, we'd burned our butts! 
Our shorts chafed agaist our tender skin all the way back, but it was a 
small price to be paying for all the beautiful sites to which I'd been privy 
that afternoon.

We'd found an out-of-the-way place to bivouac, so it came as no surprise 
when, arriving at our campsite, Randy declared it hurt too much to wear 
anything. I signalled my agreement and we again shucked our clothes. As the 
sky blazed orange from the setting sun, we lit a small fire, ate dinner, and 
rolled out our sleeping bags. The night air felt warm and refreshing, and 
made me feel acutely aware of our nakedness. Not yet ready to sleep, we 
stretched out on top of our bags for a little conversation and a few hands 
of cards. It was much like the afternoon, except now the flickering fire 
highlighted his light pink groin while the rest of his tanned body blended 
into the darkness.

The cards were dealt and a few rounds were played. It was Randy's turn. He 
started to chew on his lip in a way I understood all to well--his turn was 
going to take a while. He studied is cards. I studied his dick. The dancing 
firelight seemed to set it in motion. It was hypnotic.

"You going to play or what?"

"Huh?" I was caught. "God, please, help me now," I thought.

"We're playing cards. Remember?"

"You were taking so long my mind started to wander." It was a feeble attempt 
to cover the truth.

"Yeah, sure."

I had expected those words, but they weren't said with disgust. There was, 
in fact, the hint of a smile on his lips and a look of mischievousness in 
his eyes. I was more relieved than hopeful, but still, maybe I'd misread him 
all these years. We finished the game.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked. I always hated that question. Only 
one thing ever came immediately to mind.

"It doesn't really matter," I equivocated. I could dream about it, wish for 
it, but I couldn't bring myself to initiate it. "I'm kinda beat from the all 
the walking we did today,"

"Me too. I could really use one of your backrubs... if you've got the energy 
for it."

"Yeah, I could handle that." I always could. "Backrub" always translated to 
"body massage". It was the one intimacy that was allowed between us; a line 
we both walked up to without hesitation, but never crossed.

"I've got some lotion with my stuff. Could you rub some in? I think I 
overdid it in the sun today."

"Sure, get comfortable. I'll be right back." As I returned to him I couldn't 
help but think that tonight was going to be a night for the truth. We were 
both naked, he had caught me stealing peeks at his dick and was still 
willing to let me give him a massage. This was either a demonstration of his 
trust, or a demonstration of his desire.

I stood over him. I'd seen this sight so many times in my dreams. I knelt 
down and touched him. It was no dream. I squeezed some lotion into my hands 
and warmed it. Starting at the calluses on the bottom of his feet, I began 
working my way up his legs. His body relaxed under my ministrations. As I 
felt the firmness of his muscles, I marvelled at how they could present such 
a vision of strength to the eyes and yet be so yielding to the hands. I 
kneaded his thighs, but stopped at the fold marking the start of his 
buttocks.

I next worked on his hands, cognizant of the meatiness of his palms, the 
texture of his fingerprints, and the rigidity of the bones which gave his 
hands their potent shape and structure. But the power I knew to be in them 
was not in evidence that night. What was it about his hands that made them 
so sensual? We interact so much with the world by the touching we do with 
our hands. In those moments we were, in fact, communicating through ours. 
With his compliancy, he told me of the profound trust he had placed in me. 
Through tender touch, I told him of my unquestioned love for him. The 
messages were so much clearer than any to be heard with the ears or seen 
with the eyes.

My fingers traversed the landscape of his arms and back. The lotion imparted 
to his skin a satiny sheen that reflected the firelight. Finally, my hands 
were on his ass. The twin muscular mounds exploded with goosebumps when I 
spread the lotion over them. This was the only place that was really 
sunburned and I gave it special attention. Starting at the base of his 
spine, I moved lower, kneading his cheeks, watching them cleave in the 
process. As I moved closer to his legs, he repositioned himself. He was 
making himself more vulnerable! I wanted to plunge in, to live my fantasy, 
but he was more than just a willing piece of ass to me. He was the love of 
my life, and I wanted to see his face.

"Roll over Ran," I said gently. With no hestitation he did. I gazed down 
upon him as I proceeded to massage his feet and legs. His submission was 
unmistakable and undeniable. Soon I was straddling his stomach, leaning 
forward on my knees, exploring the ridges and valleys of his abdominal 
muscles. With each breath his ribs rose and fell beneath me. At last I 
molded my hands to his wonderfully sculpted chest. So broad, so muscular, I 
couldn't feel the ribs underneath. As I touched his nipples they contracted, 
forcing the nubs to attention. I felt his heart beat stronger.

Suddenly, I became aware of the heat between us. I'd already lost the 
day-long battle against my own erection and now I could feel a warmth--low 
and behind me. I turned to look. That for which I had wished so long was 
coming to pass. It was his cock, filling with blood, pulsing, arching its 
way towards me. I looked at his beautiful face below and leaned to touch it, 
to finish the massage. As I did so, his penis pressed hard against me. The 
blood rushed into my groin and I began to weaken. Attempting to steady 
myself, I cupped his face with my hands. I rubbed his strong cheekbones 
gently with my trembling thumbs. He raised his hand, placed it on my 
shoulder, and slowly opened his eyes. Through our eyes, the windows to our 
souls, it all was conveyed--the complete truth.

"Come here," he bid me.

I sank down onto him. My ass pushed back against his cock, almost seeming to 
cradle it. My own tool, roaring hard, was sandwiched by our warm, moist, 
lotion-lubricated stomachs. My tongue met his and our lips sealed around 
them. Heretofore content in my own mouth, it went berserk in his. I held is 
head in my hands like the sacred object it was. I felt the roughness from 
the day's growth of beard. "My God," I thought. "This is what it's like to 
kiss a man, to experience him with every sense there is."

I wrapped my arms and legs around him, as content as I had ever hoped to be. 
We were woven together, only our tongues in motion, but then he took the 
bottle of lotion and squeezed some in his hand.

"Hunch up on your knees, Bud." I'd always loved that term of endearment and 
I knew I'd love what was coming next. He smeared the lotion in my ass and 
then popped a finger inside. I moved back up to smother again his mouth with 
mine. His finger moved deeper inside until it pressed upon my prostate. I 
felt the release of fluid rush down the length of my penis and out onto his 
stomach. A moan escaped my mouth and I felt it reverberate in his chest. I 
heard the squishy sound of lotion as he stroked himself to full hardness.

"Do it. I've wanted it for so long," I confessed at last.

With one hand he pulled me forward against my weight; with the other he 
lined himself up to plug my anxious hole. Then he eased me back against him. 
I felt myself open up and then stretch wide as the head of his dick pushed 
through. In startled reflex, my arms closed tightly around him. We froze in 
gentle embrace until I could relax. Gradually, more and more of his rod 
penetrated me. My balls nestled into his cushiony pubic hair and I knew his 
dick was home. My heart pumped blood through the vessels in my tightly 
stretched sphincter in counterpoint rhythm to that of his steadily throbbing 
member.

It had taken years to get this far. I slowly sat up and looked at him. Full 
and deep inside me, he opened those angelic eyes and flashed a devilish 
grin. I began to rock gently back and forth. His chest rose, and with a low 
groan, fell. Our lovemaking progressed by slow degrees, and as our movements 
became more pronounced, he reached out with his hand to me, first touching 
my dick, then encircling it.

We rapidly approached the flash point. Our bodies glistened with sweat and 
our breathing had turned to panting. When the action of his hand upon me 
became more frenetic, I knew I was on the brink.

"I could do this all night, Ran, but if you keep that up I'm gonna cum!"

"Shit, man, we will do it all night! Nobody says you can only cum once a 
day. Let it go!"

So close to blowing my own wad, I turned my attention to him, wanting to 
bring him over the top with me. I reached down and felt his shaft sliding in 
and out my chute. I slid my hand down and cupped his balls. With my thumb, I 
pressed firmly where the spongy underside of his dick met his dancing 
nutsack. His whole body tensed and froze. I had gotten to his prostate the 
easy way. He uttered no sound, inhaled no breath, made no movement. He 
gripped my handle as if to keep from falling into some deep crevasse--but he 
had no chance. I gently squeezed his clutch of eggs, pushing him off the 
precipice, determined myself to follow him down.

I felt the first spasm of his meat and the explosion in my bowels. That set 
me off. My ass contracted around him as he continued to pump into me. We 
each fed off the orgasm of the other. My churned cream shot out and landed 
on his tanned chest. A small pool formed in the hollow at the base of his 
neck. The body that had been so at rest as I massaged it earlier was now 
unleashed, blasting its blueprint into me. Wave after wave of convulsive 
contentment washed over us. I collapsed against him, my semen serving as 
mortar, cementing our bodies together. Under me I felt him shudder one last 
time.

He made no effort to withdraw, but soon that terrific cock, which had been 
so hard for so long, began to deflate and, alas, slide out.

I straightened myself out beside him. Toe to toe, and tongue to tongue, we 
intertwined our legs, kissed, and propped ourselves up on our elbows. 
Neither of us said anything for a long, long time. It was a magic moment; we 
were meshed together at the waist, but that didn't seem to matter. We were 
meshed together in our minds.

Randy broke the spell. "You think you could concentrate on a card game now?" 
What a grin he was wearing!

It was quite a night for firsts. It was my first night of real sex. And it 
was my first night of truthful love. But it was also the first night of a 
certainty that we had reached a point in our relationship where we knew we'd 
be sitting together on a park bench in our eighties, never having drifted 
apart, always a part of each other's lives.