From: Harry_Schultz@nycnet.com (Harry Schultz)
Subject: Repost: The Friendly Game
Organization: NYC NET
Date: Sun, 19 Jan 1997 07:38:38 GMT

THE FRIENDLY GAME PART 1

Please note: The Friendly Game Parts 1 & 2 constitute an erotic
rendering that's been basically written with an adult male homosexual
audience in mind.  If you are under 18 years of age please do not
download and be advised that per the law of the land you may not read
or peruse this material. The dialogue herein contains strong language
and is dialectically rough and real per my intention.  Also contained
within are verbally vivid descriptions of male to male sexual congress.
 If you're of age but of the sort who's sensibilities are easily
abraded I highly suggest you pass this up as well.  Please note:  No
slight of any sort is intended with respect to any gender, race, or
group through the manner of this story's unfolding.

Thanks.  Your comments will happily received by: 
Harry_Schultz@nycnet.com

WARNING * WARNING * WARNING * WARNING
The content of this work is essentially angled toward an adult male
homosexual readership.  If you're a person not yet past the age of
eighteen please read no further and be advised that your reading or
perusal of this material is expressly prohibited by law.
A NOTE TO THE READER:
Throughout this story the strong language within its dialogue and the
dialect used by its characters are intentionally rough and real. 
Verbal depictions of sexual acts and alternate lifestyles are graphic. 
If you're of the sort that's easily offended or disturbed by literature
of such nature read no further.  Additionally, I've written nothing
without reason with respect to the shaping of this piece, however no
slights are intended toward any race, gender or group through the
manner of this tales unfolding.



Ascending to street level at Broadway, the loud rumble of the departing
subway train diluted the voices of the two young men following its
rise.  As well, it dulled the rasp of their heavy boots as they climbed
the gritty concrete stairs leading them up out of the labyrinthlike
Gehenna of the New York subway system.  They surfaced into a January
Saturday's dark, early hours at One Hundred-tenth Street.

"...Aw man, word up, I'm tellin you she wasn't nothin' no way.  Fuck
her," the darker of the handsome pair spat through a sneer.  "When you
can't lay a hand on a fuckin' dime you'll be stumblin' over a hundred
dumb-assed females that's the spittin' image of that one."

Atop the last step, the other stomped on the unyielding concrete
beneath his feet as he threw his head back, breaking out in hearty
laughter.  The rough edge of Mack's husky laugh ground into the cold,
unglossed surface of the predawn scene around them.  To anyone awake
and listening behind the sparse scattering of lighted windows that
surrounded the desolate intersection, the lean young man's laughter
exposed affirmative evidence proving the contrary in regard to the
belief of many, come the bleakness of winter.  Life did indeed go on
despite the bitter chill outside; life that was equally as warm and
bright as the coppery cast of this comely young man's cinnamon colored
skin.

"Countdown, what the hell did you think jumps off when dudes get
greedy?" he asked once his amusement lessened at the farce fostering
his equally handsome companion's irritation at the non-event an evening
out had turned into.  "Besides man, it's all bullshit anyway;" Mack
said, trying to get Countdown to see the point.  "You're only mad
cause the woman caught you runnin' from flower to flower before you
got your chance to cop a little spill of honey.

"If you hadn't been so busy playin' social butterfly with them other
two broads, the girl never would have peeped your hole card and turned
the corner on you -- it's just that simple."

Mack shrugged.  "Anyway, fuck it CD  it happens sometimes, man."  He
said this in more of a matter-of-fact manner than his friend, in search
of sympathy, cared for.  "It just happens sometimes," the good-looking
young man repeated.  "Shit bro', better luck next time."

A grudging acknowledgement of the truth lying within the practical
wisdom his best friend amiably imparted was belied, as always, by
Countdown's skeptical smirk.  "Bullshit!  You know damn well ..." --
the beginning and the end of an orphaned protest.

Ignoring him, Mack shoved up the left sleeve of his steel grey
sheepskin jacket to eye his watch, then he took a look up and down the
wide avenue.  "Almost quarter after three and ain't shit happenin' here
on Broadway.  Yo, Countdown, we could head over to Sunny's on a
Hundred-and-sixth before closin' time."

"Naw, forget it . It's too damn cold for bullshittin' in the street. 
Come on over to my crib."

Mack frowned as he lifted and angled the forearm bearing his wristwatch
into Countdown's line of vision with a flourish.  "Look at the time. 
It's late man!  You know your moms don't play that.  Miz Haskins will
probably bust a cap on both our asses."

"Fool, go on!  Ain't she been knowin' you since we was fourteen? 
That's seven years now man!  She wouldn't say nothin'.  Besides, she
ain't around no way.  Moms is still in Jersey at Aunt Verdell's."

"When's she comin' back?"

"Not til sometime Monday evenin' she said.  Come on man, let's walk
..."

Once they were across Columbus Avenue, their route veered from the
sidewalk.  The two sturdily built, muscular young men left brief, short
trails of frosted breath hanging in the air behind them as they
sprinted a diagonal course across a span of snow patched ground,
territorially part of a cluster of tall city project buildings.  They
kept on running until they'd reached the farthest.

Inside the empty lobby, Countdown slapped the elevator button on the
epoxy painted cinder block wall with the flat of his gloved hand but no
whining chorus came, forthwith, from the elevator's cables.  Neither
was the drone of its motor to be heard overhead in the shaft.  In
denial of the very obvious, the dark skinned young man pressed an ear
hard against the cold steel face of the silent elevator shaft's
graffiti covered door.  "Aw shit, man, here we go again.  Looks like we
walk up," he groaned dejectedly.  "Hell, let's go for it."

Mack and Countdown quickly broke into a trot up the tall building's
dimly lit fire stairs.  Racing from landing to landing, at last out of
breath and their competition a stalemate they fell, laughing, against
the door of Apartment 12-F ...

Half an hour later, while washing down cold leftovers of Mrs. Haskins'
fried chicken and potato salad with a good amount of beer, the two
friends passed the near last from the pack of cigarettes they'd shared
through the night back and forth as they sat talking inside the tiny
dining nook just off the kitchen.  Countdown's onyx eyes were accented
by a peculiar gleam when he suddenly altered the route of their
conversation by asking, "Hey Mack-man, what do you say to a few hands
of poker; feel like it?"
"No, man; can't do it tonight," said Mack, shaking his head.  "I ain't
got no bucks."

"What you talkin' bout?  Didn't you just get paid?"

"Yeah man, but I owed my landlady, Miz Cribbs.  My rent's been backed
up for the last two weeks.  Payin' up to get her off my case damn near
cleaned me out.  Just about all my chump change got used up tonight
hangin' with you.  All I've got on me now is this week's carfare for
the j - o - b."  Mack had spelled out the word crisply, to emphasize
the importance of the steady income he'd been benefiting from for the
last six months.  He added, "The only extra I got on me is a few bucks
for the A&P."  Putting quick rhythm atop the brief newly found rhyme,
"A and P -- J-O-B," he chanted one time, ending the matter to the point
by clearly stating, "I'm not about to fuck up my eatin' money on no
damn cards, man."

"Shit!  Mack, every time I see you you ain't got no money.  How is it
you always stay broke?  I just don't understand it, man."

Somewhat irritated, Countdown tossed his head condescendingly.  "Never
mind, I'll play your poor ass anyway."  An instant later, donning a
kinder but clever face he made mention, "Poker don't necessarily have
to be played for no bread, you know."

"What the hell we gonna play for then?"

Countdown gazed straight across the table at Mack.  Knit-browed, his
shining black eyes suddenly narrowed as though he was just about to
take Mack, and Mack alone, into his confidence respecting some new and
yet unpatented innovation.  Sly and slow, the corners of his full mouth
crept upward into a grin while his voice reshaped, suddenly soft and
secretive though there was no one else in the room.  "Man, I'm sayin'
you don't always need to have the green stuff in your pocket to lay a
worthwhile bet," he said as he reached across the table to give Mack's
shoulder a gentle tap with his fist.

"Then damn it man, what the fuck are we supposed to bet with?" Mack
asked, irked that Countdown was long overdue in getting to the point.

"Well, let's just say whoever wins takes all -- anything he decides he
wants."

"Huh?"

"Chill bro'.  Let me break it down for you.  It goes just like I said,"
Countdown said slowly, attempting to lend apparent merit to his
proposal through emphasis.  "The loser does anything that the winner
feels like makin' him do.  It's that simple man."

Shrugging before Mack could interject the next question Countdown
adopted as much feigned artlessness and innocence as he added, to aid
clarification, "Yeah -- it's kind of off the wall -- like strip poker
and stuff like that.  Maybe the loser'll end up doin' some kind of
special favor for the guy who wins -- or somethin' -- anything."
Countdown's machiavellian mumble became almost unintelligible.  "Could
be a joke," he said in a soft noncommittal manner, "or could turn out
to be somethin' real whack ... winner might even luck up on checkin'
out the loser's action -- if he gets that kind of notion."

"Action?  What kind of fuckin' action?  CD, just what the hell is it
you're talkin' bout?"  Mack took another swig of his beer after this
question and sat silent for moment.

Countdown said nothing more and prudently began making a useless
inspection of the ceiling his mother had made the two of them paint the
weekend before.

Moments passed.  It took all of a full minute before Mack's body jerked
upright in his chair.  The tiny flecks of gold in his hazel irises
almost seemed live sparks as his eyes all at once flew wide open. 
Shock, earth-shaking in type, knocked down the formerly pensive posture
of his expression.  "You mean ?"

Dark Countdown's white teeth flashed as the devilish grin Mack had come
to know so well over the years of their friendship fanned wider to
crown the nervous laugh he somehow could not suppress.  "Well, yeah 
guess that's kind of what I was tryin' to get across."

Mack took an urgent suck of cold brew from the bottle clenched in his
hand as Countdown's hint sunk further in.  "Get the fuck outta here!"
he roared across the table when his friends full intent registered. 
"You've got to be buggin' man!  What the --"

"Like yo, you know how it be, home!" Countdown broke in.  "Foolin'
around with them silly-ass females up on Twenty-fifth Street went and
set my whole bag of chestnuts to smokin' bro'.  The broad-shouldered
young black man leaned back in his chair and with a flourish, his hand
fell betwixt his firm thighs.  His fingers grazed the full lump in his
crotch and he snatched them back, shaking them in the air as though
their tips had just been scorched.  Letting out a loud hoop just as
suddenly, he blew air across his stubby fingers.  "Man, my stuff's red
hot," he said, with mock surprise though it was obvious that none of
his play acting held any humor for his across the table.  "Word up man,
this is serious shit needin' to be taken care of.  My meat's primed up
for a whole lot more than just a fist pump tonight.  It's time to
tighten up right.  You can understand how it goes bro' -- can't you?

"Besides, a stiff peter ain't got no conscience no way -- ain't got
eyes either.  Ain't no real snatch gonna be got tonight," Countdown
said as he slowly reached down and teasingly dragged his fingers up and
down the front of his pants, "but a fix-up with just about anything
that could put a mean squeeze on my stuff a couple times tween now and
mornin' sure would be the next best thing.  You know what I sayin', man
 a little bump and grind up against whatever hind parts might happen
to be available could save my life I know."

Issuing his friend a sly wink, he leaned forward in his chair.  "And
ain't a thing for you to worry bout either Mack-man cause I'd go real
easy on you."  Countdown slapped his hand over his heart and pledged,
"I promise," with a leering grin.  "Why, I can tell you from the way
I'm fired up right now, wouldn't take but a good minute for you to
knock me off."

Long having abandoned the least appearance of taking Countdown's
proposal seriously, Mack answered the outrageous challenge with braying
laughter.  The gold-eyed young man retaliated by taking a complete
other tack.  "You're fuckin' out of your mind, CD!  Crazy I say!  A
poker game?" he questioned, all at once drawing himself up straight in
his chair again with pretended shock.  "No shit man?"

Immediately, Mack's hazel eyes leveled with Countdown's and found fire.
 Even the coppery freckles on the handsome light-skinned young man's
clean-shaven cinnamon colored cheeks glowed as he sprang to the
offensive.  Smirking with a mocking omniscience he dryly stated, "CD
you're always bullshittin'.  Look man, why don't you just come out with
it and tell the thing like it is?  Go on ahead and say you're feelin' a
faggot itch and be done with it.  I won't tell nobody bout it but damn
man -- tell the truth."

Sardonically charitable, Mack continued.  He leaned across the table to
inform Countdown in a low voice, "I mean, word up now -- it ain't like
me to go round doin' that kind of shit.  But, since you're the dude --
partner -- if you put the question to me right I just might not see no
harm in lettin' you take a lick or a slide or two on my joint ... Looks
like you want to pretty bad."

Countdown was slouched and sitting round-shouldered in his chair,
apparently stunned.

"But tell me this one thing CD; why you wanna give it up so easy?  You
mean to say you need to get dicked so bad you'd throw the door wide
open for a guy by offerin' him a piece of cake like playin' poker with
your lame ass?  Damn man," Mack growled as his hard hand slapped his
belt buckle.  "Come on then, forget the game ... bend over.   Turn that
thing up, then turn it around this way.  Let me lay a bone on it right
now?"

"What you say?" Countdown snorted feistily as he stood.  "Hold on now! 
Just you wait a goddamn minute.  First -- last thing on my mind is you
layin' anything on my ass other than your lips motherfucker.  And next,
what are you talkin' about?  It's you who can't play no poker and never
could.  You're still nothin' but a school kid when it gets down to real
card playin' -- chump," he said, dismissing Mack snottily with a toss
of his head.  "Ain't no way in hell for you to win if we're talkin'
bout a serious game and you know it."

Equaling the arrogance being sent his way from the other side of the
table, the usually easygoing Mack's nostrils flared as, caustic, he
shot back, "I can't play, CD?  Get the hell out of my face!"  One by
one, he reemphasized every bullet like syllable he aimed his best
friend's way with a jab of his forefinger into the air between them. 
"It's you who don't know his damn ass from a hole in the ground comes
time to sit at a card table -- faggot.

"Man -- man, swear to God," Mack went on, smugly twisting the knife,
"I'd be the first one down on a deal as easy as this except we've been
friends for too long.  I know how sorry I'd have to end up feelin' for
you when you lose but brother man, you've known me long enough to know
-- word up -- Mack always collect on his bets.  Mm, mm, mm," Mack
grunted as he shook his head."

"Sure would hurt me to my natural born heart man to see your sorry self
walkin' the block cryin' and complainin' bout your sore behind once I
copped my ride."  Tilting his chair back, Mack gravely shook his head
as, "No man," he warned Countdown.  "Think you better chill brother. 
Hold onto that sweet cherry you're sittin on a while longer cause once
it's popped -- you can't get no more.  Word, take a friend's advice;
try playin' for fuckin' match sticks instead, punk, cause it's plain
to see, sure as hell, you just don't know who it is you're messin'
with."

"Suck my dick!" Countdown roared indignantly and slapped his hand down
on the table.  "You can't be talkin' about me.  Motherfucker, you must
be meanin' yourself!  And I'll show you right now.  Sucker, I'll play
you not one -- not two -- not three -- but ten a good ten hands of Five
Card Stud and you'll see you won't get nowhere near to even tyin' up
the score."

Coughing and sputtering with laughter after sucking in another deep
drag on the cigarette that Countdown shoved back his way despite all
his blustering, Mack returned the taunt.  "Man, face it; you're light
stuff.  I can take you over any time I want to, in no time at all. 
Word, I say.  You hear me?  Word!  Maybe I didn't sign up for college
but I know I can play some cards."

"Well come on then, pussy motherfucker!" shouted Countdown.

"Who you callin' pussy?" Mack exclaimed as he jumped up from the table,
fists balled up.

"You heard me, man.  Since you know you're supposed to be so good, put
up -- or -- shut up.  Winner gets it all includin' the tailend of the
dumb-ass dude that goes under."  Countdown's hand shot up to signal the
halt of any possible further protest on Mack's part.  "Nope!  Don't say
no more; just go get the cards."

"Okay CD, since you won't believe, I see now I'm just gonna have to
show you."  Mack took a drag on the cigarette, held in the smoke and
then blasted it out through his flared nostrils just before he informed
his friend with finality, "I ain't runnin' round here after shit.  It's
your house and your butthole -- you go get the cards."

"But listen up now, home," Mack advised just as Countdown was about to
turn and go, "save us both some time.  First thing you do, while you're
in the back, is stop in the bathroom so you can grease up real good
before the first deal.  I don't see no reason why I should have to be
wastin' time waitin' on you to slick up your cheeks when time comes for
me to cop."

"Son of a bitch, get real."  Countdown's bottom lip curled disdainfully
as he said it.  "By the way, put this junk on the table in the sink and
get a couple more brews from the box."  The broad-shouldered young
black man paused to look back before he departed, emitting an indignant
growl, "Grease up you said?," and then stomped off grumbling, "Like
hell I will," the rest of the way down the hall to his bedroom.

Continuing to grumble loudly, Countdown made his way back to the table.
 The commotion he stirred up as he roughly shoved aside any furniture
that happened to be in his path was the percussive fanfare for his
return.  Once arrived, still in a huff, he held out the brand new deck
of playing cards in his hand.

Mack wasted no time in letting it be known he was in no way impressed
by the noisy display of would-be brawn and fury.  "Home, you got me so
scared, I'm just about to piss my pants."  Glaring across the table,
"Take this beer motherfucker and get to shufflin' the damn cards," he
added curtly.

"Uh-uh, not me.  You get the first deal chump," sneered Countdown to
the contrary as he tossed the unopened box of cards Mack's way.

Mack easily snatched the packet of cards from midair with one hand and
coolly replied, "Don't make me no never mind," indifferent to
Countdown's pouting.  "But ... uh ... say, tell me somethin' -- big
guy;" he leaned forward, "did you do like I said?  Got it nice and
greasy for me?"

Countdown's jet black eyes narrowed to slits and he banged a fist on
the table as he started to sputter out his objection.  This bluster of
outrage only served to send Mack into a fit of laughter.  "That's all
right," Countdown spit out, finally finding a voice, "we'll see who'd
just better have his tail slick, fool!

Mack recovered himself a minute later but still couldn't help softly
chuckling to himself while he shuffled the deck twice before dealing
out the first hand of the game.  "Five Card ... nothin' wild," he
called and then added still laughing, "Later on, I don't want you
claimin' I copped it the easy way homeboy."

Taking Mack quite by surprise, his longtime friend did not follow
character and raise further protest as he'd expected he would. 
Instead, Countdown replied in a surprisingly calmer tone, "Well, well,
my man don't misunderstand me, I appreciate your concern but you
shouldn't worry yourself too much about it."  Nastily biting out the
words, he said, "Just give me one," as the forefinger of the hand he'd
shoved directly in front of Mack's nose snapped upright like a soldier
standing at attention to restate the mereness of the amount he'd
requested.  Grinning confidently, he snatched one card from the five in
his hand and slapped it face down in the middle of the table.  Unfazed,
a flick of Mack's wrist sent another one whirling his way across the
smooth white Formica.

"Dealer takes three," Mack said quietly as he placed three cards from
his own hand atop the one that Countdown had lain at the table's center
and then pulled an equal amount from the deck.

Countdown guffawed, "Yo bro', that was the max!"  He held his sides
laughing heartily.  "Hell man, you can't have shit," he roared, taking
the silence at the other side of the table to be a clear sign of Mack's
defeat in this the first battle of their war.

"Hmph!  Got somethin' for your ass right now.  Take a real good look!" 
Card by card, Countdown laid down a pair of eights and three deuces. 
"Read em and weep; full house or four of a kind motherfucker.  Call
em anyway you want but beat em.  Come on baby," he teased,
instructing Mack in baby-talk to, "tell Big Daddy just how you want it
-- standin' up or layin' -- "  Mack swatted Countdowns hand when he
made a boisterous attempt to reach across the table and tweak his cheek.

Other than bespeaking the great probability of wisdom's residence
inside well-kept silence, the expression on Mack's face gave away very
little.  Countdown's bragging halted mid-sentence as Mack's hazel eyes
set to their own smug but silent taunting.  He quietly laid down one
... two ... three ... and then the last of the deck's four treys. 
"Well man ... is four of a kind, all naturals, good enough to keep me
at the table and you off my ass?" Mack asked, mockingly innocent in
tone and countenance.

Subdued by initial defeat for only a moment, Countdown rallied and then
sullenly retorted, "Oh, go fuck yourself, it ain't but the first hand
anyway."  Throwing his hand in, "Well, what you waitin' on?  Give me
the fuckin' cards ... my deal."

Mack repeated his success at the table once more and then lost a hand
but won the one immediately following.  Countdown grew a bit more quiet
and less cocky as the game moved on but ...

The table always turns at a card game and it did again, a little over
an hour or so shy of dawn, and the apparent outcome, this time, wasn't
in Mack's favor.  His opponent won a hand and then another.

However, very next round, Luck's hand seemed to be rested on Mack's
shoulder again.  Countdown played on, despite the look of things,
maintaining his usual bravado, though his nervousness was a slight bit
too obvious to mask.
All at once, Victory rudely snapped its finger in Mack's face and
sassily sashayed round to the other side of the table.  The illustrious
history of his winning streak died during a fast fall from his own as
well as Countdown's recollection in the minutes that followed. 
Strangely reoccupied, Mack lost again.  Then came the pivotal game that
would decide which of them was to win.

Countdown's turn to deal had come up again.  "Hey homey, it's about
time to catch up," he saccharinely advised Mack.  "That sweet little
ass end of yours is hangin' on this one  dude."

Something was going on in Mack's mind.  Lending himself to deep
speculation, his hands trembled as he picked up the cards dealt to him
one by one.  A ten  a jack  then a queen  a king  an ace  -- all in
a row -- all the same suit, diamonds -- a royal flush.  Not even a
glimmer of elation appeared on his face as he pondered his next move in
the game.  "Give me three, man," he murmured as he pulled the three
highest cards, the king, queen and ace, from his hand and placed them
face down on the pile of those already played.

Mack first assured himself that the face he'd display to his opponent
would tell nothing once he lifted his eyes from the cards fanned out in
his hand.  His visage was a stoic mask that had almost no detectable
cracks.  Absentmindedly, he reexamined the three cards that Countdown
had just sailed his way  a five of Hearts, a nine of Diamonds, the
trey of Clubs.  Nothing.  There was no chance to back out by winning
now.  "A pair of queens," Countdown barked across from him, nearly
disgusted and waiting with the expectation of hearing Mack call a
winning hand.
"Can't beat it," blank-faced Mack reported solemnly.

Countdown's cards flew into the air as he fell off his seat onto the
carpeted floor howling hysterically.  He was unable to speak for
several minutes  only able to point toward Mack and screech all the
more with laughter.

For the next half hour Mack took an occasional pull on a cigarette and
reticently bore his being the brunt of a barrage of bad jokes, taunts
and "I told you so"s from his loud and boastful card partner.

Oddly, for all of his ensuing sarcastic harangue, the subject of the
winner's "prize" and the time of its claiming were continually skirted
though Countdown, boisterously sparring with Mack's ego, brandished his
triumph at every possible angle of assault he could find.  The issue
had still been left unmentioned by the time he, at last, soberly took
note of the hour, commenting that it wouldn't be all that long before
sunrise ...

Together but cautiously silent within the tight dimensions of
Countdown's tiny bedroom each surreptitiously glanced at the other as
their forms were revealed while, piece by piece, they shucked the bulky
accoutrements of winter.

Following the elementary rules of the street and each on his best
behavior, the comely pair of suddenly self-conscious young friends
contrived through laid back demeanor to keep a fence of foisted
casuality standing.  Each had begun looking to save his secrets by
marking off an area of protective emotional distance between themselves
inside the closeness of the cramped space they stood in.

Freed of their heavy shirts and sweaters, naked to the waist they began
to peel down their jeans.  Like most other young uptown men from the
same school, each endeavored to keep the appearance of there being a
proper ceiling of reserve maintained on his masculine scrutiny of the
other's ways and body.

Neither tall, virile young man acknowledged his intent notice of the
inordinate fullness at the front of the other's loose undershorts. 
"Best place to put your shit is on that chair, man," was all Countdown
said, quietly offhanded, as he pointed toward a small wooden chair
directly behind Mack.

Mack quickly tossed his things on top of some of his host's clothing,
already draped over the chair's back.  Grateful the anxiety he was
experiencing had made itself an ally by throttling the thickening of
his dick, well underway inside his shorts.  He stood there sure he was
somewhere within the aim of Countdown's eye and let his own awkwardly
ramble the small room for several seconds.  Still very uncomfortably
conscious of himself standing there clad in just his undershorts, his
arousal half complete but obvious, Mack hastily attempted to remove
himself from his friend's examination.  He drew back the upper corner
of the covering on the bed too big for the room and laid down. 
Speedily, he burrowed sideways through the bedding to its far side
without once turning his gaze toward Countdown again.

Countdown followed suit once he'd switched the bedroom light off and
settled quietly on his back beside Mack for a brief time.  He too
searched for a better hold on the elements of casualness because Mack's
nearness was evoking strong, undeniable stirrings inside him.  Though
surely not the gambler he'd boasted to his best friend, strange even to
himself, Countdown truly felt no longer of a mind to attempt to conceal
the erection he'd maintained since they'd come into the room.

A voluptuous aura, unseen but strongly felt, saddled the lower regions
of his hard belly and tantalizingly rode it's anxious rise and fall. 
Hedonistic by its manner of power, magnetic by its manner of force
temptingly nipped at all the sensory threads of his sexual parts.  For
the first time in the seven years they'd known each other he asked
outright, "Mack-man, tell the truth; did you ever get down with a guy?"

A minute  and then another elapsed before Mack muttered a cautious
response to the question.  "Shit, I don't know if it could really have
been called gettin' down, man, but there was one time."  He said no
more.

Countdown gave his friend's ribcage a gentle nudge with his nearest
elbow.  "Well, what happened?"

Mack sighed.  "Nothin' to speak of, man; just some funny shit that
jumped off ...

"About two years ago, I was down at that playground on Sixth Avenue in
the Village.  Me and some guys I know had just finished up shootin'
hoops.  Reggie, somebody I used to hang with at Lincoln, asked me if I
felt like comin' with him and these two other dudes to Washington
Square Park.  They wanted to look around and see if anything good was
goin' on.

"Well  I started to go along but the workout had got me hungry as a
mother so I changed my mind and I told em, go head without me.' 
There's this old Puerto Rican guy down there -- you've seen him man --
he's always on the corner, sellin' hot dogs and stuff just beyond the
fence so I went round his way.

"Like I said, man, I was h-u-n-gry," Mack, stretching out that last
word before he went on.  "I had my mind on nothin' but some eats.  But,
man, you know how sometimes you can feel somebody's eyes on you; how
you can just tell that you're under the magnifyin' glass?  Can't say
exactly what it was but somethin' made me turn my head around, real,
real slow, and sure enough, there was this white dude.  He was standin'
just a few feet back from the hot dog stand, against the fence, while I
was waitin' my turn.

"Even though he was pretty cool with it he still kept on tryin' to
check me out on the sly.  You know, not all bad and bold like them
loud-assed homos on the Deuce' but mannered and shy like.  It didn't
take me but a minute to figure out what the hell was goin' down. 
Still, I was feelin' curious man; wonderin' what he had to say."

"Old dude?"

"No man; about my age; wasn't bad lookin' either.  Nice clothes ... no
not bad lookin' at all -- for a guy.  He had sky blue eyes and this
freaky blond hair.  It was almost as white as that shit you see on them
models in TV commercials."

"Then what went down?"

"Just after I'd bought a couple franks off the guy with stand, I went
and hung at the corner, a little ways from this guy scopin' me.  Looked
like he might have been scared or something, at first, cause it took
him a little bit of time to make a move.  Who knows  but, finally, he
walks over and asks me what time it is.  Bein' that I'd already picked
up on the bullshit and because the joker was wearin' a watch, it took
almost all I could do to keep from bustin' out laughin'.  But I kept
cool and answered him anyway.

"Don't know why, but in few minutes or so we got a pretty good rap
goin'.  Said he was over here from Europe on a scholarship.  Denmark, I
think he said, or some place near there.  Anyway, after we'd been
talkin' a while, real friendly like, he asks if I feel like havin' a
beer with him just before he got around to mentionin' that his crib
happened to be right there in the neighborhood."

Mack's voice took on a vicarious kind of pride by way of association as
he reviewed the scene, "Let me tell you man, that joint he had was
somethin' else.  It was over on University Place; next avenue down
there east of Fifth.  I never did forget it cause his place was really
hooked up -- like mucho money hooked-up.  It got me wonderin' where he
came across the kind of bread for what his bills must have been cause,
like I was sayin', Joe Blow couldn't have been no older than me then;
nineteen or so.

"Anyway, after we got to his place, we kicked back in the living room,
talkin' and bullshittin' in front of the TV for a while.  Damn, CD,
them foreigners can drink.  Both of us put away three or four brews
apiece in no time.  Swear to God, I was needin' a boost.  Chillin' was
hard cause I started gettin' nervous bout what I knew had to be
comin'.

"All of a sudden, he gets up from where he is and sits right down
beside me on this long-ass leather sofa of his.  At first he didn't say
nothin', just moved in real close and started draggin' the palm of his
hand up and down the inside of my leg.  My dick jumped out a yard soon
as he put his hand on me but I played like I didn't notice what was
happenin'.  I just kept my eyes on the TV; dead ahead, real cool like.

"A little bit later he looks down in my lap and then at me, like he's
real surprised, and almost whisperin' he says, My friend, that's a
pretty big piece of wood you're carryin' there.  You can't be goin'
around town with somethin' like that showin'.  My goodness what would
folk say?' "  The bed's frame creaked as both Mack and Countdown
started giggling.  "Then he says, well, Yeah man, this looks like it's
gonna be a real problem for you.  Why not let me see if there's 
somethin' I can do about this?' "

"He stops what he's been doin' and looks at me for a minute like he
couldn't tell if it was okay with me or not.  So, I just looked at him
and said, Go on man, it's your show.'  The dude pulled my jeans open
real slow and and then I raised up and let him draw my Levis and shit
the rest of the way down.  From there it was on man; it was on."

"Word, CD!  He knew what the hell to do; no doubt about it.  After he'd
had my dick out for a while he stopped pullin' me off and leaned over
and sucked the head inside his mouth kind of slow.  Next thing, man, he
starts lickin' on me like he's got a fuckin' lollipop squeezed in his
hand and it was feelin' good.  He kept it up for a while until all of a
sudden, he jumps up and hurries around in front of me.  He knelt down
on the floor in between my knees and started runnin' his tongue up and
down both sides of my joint.  The dude wasn't all that big but he was a
strong motherfucker.  Before I knew it -- bam --he had my knees shoved
up high and my balls piled up on his cheek while he started tongue
jammin' way behind my nut sack, real low, lickin' me everywhere  and I
mean everywhere."

"Everywhere?" Countdown inquired with keen interest.

"Everywhere," Mack confirmed.  "He had me sweatin' bullets.  My ass
danced all over that fancy leather couch of his.

"In no time I was so fired up that just one more dip in the well was
all it would take for the dude to make me shoot my shot.  When pretty
boy moved back up on my johnson, wasn't a way in hell I could hold it
back cause he locked his hand around my piece and started tongue
whippin' the head all over again.  Man, case closed.  All that
Scandinavian blond hair felt like silk in my fingers as I grabbed his
head so I could throw some serious strokes up in that pretty face but
the feelin' hit me strong.  Two seconds later, my ass came up off the
sofa and there I was standin' over him and moanin' like I'd just had my
ass whipped -- bad.  Damn, CD, my legs was shakin'.  Keep on ... keep
on,' that's all I could say.  The little dude was swingin' on my thing
and I was holding onto his head like a crazy man and spoutin' sauce
like a motherfucker.  Whole time I was lettin' my wad loose in his
mouth, he just kept groanin' and lappin' at the head of my dick with
that tongue -- maybe he got off too.  I don't know.  I only know that
I'd never got off like that before, honest."

"Sounds like you really went for the it.

"Hey man, I ain't about to bullshit; I sure as hell did bug out on a
good feelin'.  Once that nut started comin' down on me man, seemed more
like I was just a spectator at a magic act.  You know, like way out in
the audience but somehow still in the show.  It came off like my energy
and anything else, except that one part of me down there for the hook
up, was absolutely unnecessary.

"The thing freaked me out in a way.  Nobody had ever made me feel like
I was bein' taken over like that before, CD.  Shit  all I had to do
was just sit there; sit there and let him be the man in charge.  Don't
even know if it can really be described as comin'.  It felt more like
this guy, all on his own, just pulled that load out from deep in my
gut; like he could have sucked it out of me and took it whether I
wanted him to have it or not  any time he wanted.

"But man, whatever it was that happened, everything in my mind fell
down inside my head like bricks in a wall of an old buildin' hit by a
wreckin' ball.  All I remember was that what I was feelin' felt good;
lips, all pink and wet clamped around the head of my dick, his head
movin' in my hands and  that I couldn't let go.  I remember cause
that blond hair of his felt soft as ...

"Shit, don't matter now no how," Mack said, pragmatically discarding
the thought, "but the funny thing was that, right after  right after I
got my nut I mean, I started feelin' kind of weird and stupid about
bein' there.  It was like wakin' up after you'd gone out and got your
head tore up.  So, all of a sudden, I made up some shit about how I had
to be uptown real quick and was out of there man.  He gave me his phone
number and everything but I never did go lookin' for him again."

"So what did you mean you can't call it really gettin' down?" Countdown
asked.

"Because, other than the feelin', the deal was nothin' cause it meant
nothin' to nobody involved.  Hey man, what he did made my joint feel
good -- real good -- but that's what it was all about; cold-blooded
mechanics ... like tunin' up a car or somethin'.  Not a damn thing else
passed between us.

"We were just two guys who happened to be in the same place at the
right time who didn't mind bein' used by each other.  This European
dude went lookin' for a dick to suck and found it; I felt like bustin'
a nut and did.  Other than that, it didn't mean shit to me, CD, and I'm
damn sure it didn't to him.  Main point is, it don't matter that I got
down with a faggot.  It would have turned out to be the same empty
thing with a female if all I'd been out for was fuckin'."

"Aw Mack-man, why don't you lighten up; that's what's the same old
thing," Countdown broke in with sudden weary exasperation at Mack's
broaching of an issue that commonly constituted a large area of their
many debates.  "How come you've always got to start diggin' round in
that philosophical shit.  Forget it man!  Why should everything
somebody does have to mean somethin'?

"When you're hungry and you sit down at a table to eat, man, since when
did a rib or a chicken leg have to mean somethin'?  All it has to do is
taste good.  I say, ain't no need to be buggin' bro'!  Do what the fuck
you feel as long as you don't run up on no bad action behind it later
on."

"Come on CD, that's half of it right there.  You know damn well, if you
go out for freak action like that more than once or twice somebody,
somewhere will pick it off the wind and put the word out.  Sooner of
later, you'll wind up havin' to kick ass all on account of some mouthy
son of a bitch.  So, if you're gonna end up gettin' busted for
somethin' that's gonna mess up your program in le communit, seems to
me whatever you're doin' better mean somethin' real important in the
first place.  CD, forget the to be or not to be' shit -- What for' --
that's the big question.

"Believe me home," Mack said, going on with the lesson, "I never forgot
that old dude up on Twenty-fifth Street that told me, When you go
somewhere -- know why you're goin'.  When you do somethin' -- know why
you're doin' it and you'll never have a problem behind it.' "

"Yo Mack, you know there's been more than one dude around here that's
dipped and dabbed in some homo action.  It ain't like it's nothin'
new," Countdown informed him with a shrug of annoyance.

"Yeah, but they kept it real quiet CD, real quiet.  Who do you hear
around here talkin' about it?"
"Can't say your wrong about that."  Countdown agreed.  He paused to
think for a moment.  "It was just that one time, man?" he asked Mack
with a searching tone.

"Yeah, just like I said.  Even though, now and then some gay guy tries
to make a play when I'm hangin' downtown, I always back off."  Mack
fell silent for a pensive moment as well and then turned his head
Countdown's way to ask,  "What about you CD?"

Grinning sheepishly in the room's near darkness, Countdown chuckled
softly.  "Look man, word up, we've been cut buddies too long for you
not to know that if they've got anything out there that'll give a good
feelin', CD's had his share of the shit.

"But yo man, when did we ever talk about it?" Mack reminded him.

"Never mind man ... just listen."  Countdown took a deep breath.  "It
was that young faggot that lives up on sixteen.  He was quiet bout his
shit too but he'd been givin' me funny looks on the sly for a long ass
time --"

Mack interrupted.  "Who the hell is that?"

Countdown didn't reply immediately but groped for the plastic lighter
he'd left on the floor beside the bed, found it and then searched an
unemptied glass ashtray, picking a partially smoked cigarette out of it.

"You've seen him around here before" Countdown went on after he'd lit
up and taken a couple of drags and passed it on to Mack.  "His name is
Richie."  The name didn't appear to register with Mack.  "You remember
the light skinned kid -- not too tall, got a nice face.  You have to
have seen him, man, cause he always used to hang out front with Teddie
Winston's mother and them?  Think man, you know him.  He's the kid
whose mother threw that big party downstairs over in Eight-forty's
community room, last year.  Some big university out west accepted him. 
Everybody, includin' his mother knows what's goin' down but, like I was
sayin', he's cool.  He keeps his shit quiet.  Least, I've never heard
none of these nosy-assed folks around here in the projects badmouthin'
him.  Anyway, shut up and listen man ...

"He was comin' into the buildin' the same time as me late one night
summer before last.  My whole night, so far, had been pretty jacked-up.
 Say, maybe just fifteen, twenty minutes before, I'd been chillin' at
some girl's crib across the way.  What was her name?" Countdown
questioned himself.  "Brenda, Linda,  some shit like that.

"I'd been workin' on the woman like a champ, tryin' to get her to give
up some of that thing she had.  Took me some time too but I'd got her
warmed up good and mamasita was just about ready to take me for a
joyride when her moms walks in on us and closes down my whole fuckin'
show -- in a hurry.

"Ain't no reason to say all that was said ... you got to know the
story.  I got put out of the girl's crib with a bone I swear I could
have knocked down the buildin' with, man.  Word up, far as I was
concerned, when that little narrow-assed dude walked up on me down in
the lobby downstairs and gave me a grin, it looked like the Red Cross
comin' to my rescue.

"Like I said, I'd known all along he was wantin' me to put the thang'
on him.  So, real quick, I scoped out the lobby and then out in front. 
None of my boys was hangin' so I didn't see no harm in my takin' time
for a little chat.  Know what I mean?"
"Next thing you know, man, one thing got to leadin' to the next and me
and him wound up on the roof behind the air shaft.  Never did ask where
he was comin' from that night but brother man was wearin' a bad-ass
lookin' black suit made out of some kind of light stuff.  When I moved
in on him, I got my nose full of that fancy men's cologne he had on too.

"At first, he kind of hung back when I grabbed me a good squeeze worth
of butt and pulled him up against me.  Maybe he was waitin' on some
sweet talk.  Must be used to that kind of stuff cause he's got a real
good-lookin' face; the innocent kind that makes it real easy to get you
started talkin' shit ...

"Anyway, my man wasn't foolin' nobody.  From under his clothes I could
feel his joint twitch, hard like a rock, against my leg.  But, what can
I say, my own shit was shoutin' out a word or two just as loud and if
you mean to to cop on the QT around this fuckin' beehive -- whatever it
is you want to get -- ain't never no time for bullshittin'.  I wasn't
ready for playin' man.

"Snap!  Before homeboy had a chance to blink, I had that little tight
tail of his turned my way and his suit jacket and shirt shoved up near
his shoulder blades with one hand while I was snatchin' them high
fashion pants down off of his cakes with the other.

"Gettin' in him was a little tough at first, but damn, a little extra
spit did the trick right away on the next try.  The inside of that
young-assed joker's backside felt good as any pussy I've ever had.  His
backside was tight and small but real pretty.  It was squeezin' on my
johnson like crazy.  I was pumpin' my boy's butt like a son of a bitch
in two seconds flat.

"It was gettin' good to him too cause the little motherfucker braced
himself against the wall up there with one hand and shoved the other
one between his legs and started jackin' his shit off like no tomorrow
man."  Countdown giggled as he mimicked the swift pumping motions of
hasty masturbation in the air above his belly with an empty fist.  "He
started whimperin' and pushing his butt back on my bone like he'd never
get enough of me up in him.  Then, all at once he froze up in my arms,
shiverin' like he was out in the cold.  I jerked him close up against
me and looked over his shoulder from behind.  He busted all over the
tar at his feet and splashed the bricks on the wall up there in the
moonlight.

"Seemed like I could feel every muscle inside his butt workin' while he
shot off cause his ass tightened up on my dick even more.

It set me off too.  I felt like I was fartin' gold dust when I
busted-off up his ass.  

"You left him up there and came home?" Mack asked.

"Hell no!  Man, before I got back in the crib that night, I had to hop
on that train and ride it two more times, up there at the top of the
stairwell, before my shit finally would stay down.

"You know, I hear he was on the track team at Eastside.  Must have been
pretty good too, won a few trophies.  Maybe runnin' track -- jumpin'
hurdles and stuff -- is what made his tail so tight."

Trying not to appear overly curious, "You still seein' him?" Mack asked.

"No way." Countdown spat, contemptuous in his recall.  "I messed around
with the little dude once or twice more but, man, the deal started
turnin' dangerous.  It ended up with me finally cuttin' him loose
cause he'd started actin' like he was in love with me and shit."

Countdown shrugged his wide shoulders seemingly writing the whole off
as insignificant.  "Ain't got no problem gettin' pussy no how man and
gettin' with no questions is what counts.  Besides, all it was anyway
was just a fit of freakishness that came on me all of a sudden," he
said adding with a conclusive tone, "I dealt with it."

"Regardless, I've got to admit you're right about what you said before.
 Word up, if any of my boys around here had ever got the news, one of
em would have tried to start up some shit and I probably would have
had to throw down behind it."

Countdown gave a sudden grunt.  "Damn, gotta piss man.  Be back in a
minute," he informed Mack in a soft voice.  Throwing the sheets and
blankets off himself, without lingering, he quickly padded off to the
bathroom without turning on the light.

Examining himself in the bathroom mirror, Countdown absentmindedly
surveyed the play of the muscle laying beneath his smooth, unflawed
skin.  His skin bore as rich a hue of brown as fine mahogany and took
on a satiny glow under the miniature sun of the undiffused light that
glared down from the white ceramic fixture high on the wall.  Still
waiting for his erection to diminish, Countdown slowly passed the
spread fingers of his hand over the broad expanse of his dark chest. 
His thumb grazed a dark, sensitized nipple's crest in transit. 
Remaining paused to study his reflection he waited a few moments longer
until the thick mass of his sex had sufficiently softened and, without
hindrance, he was able to aim its head into the toilet bowl.

In the bedroom alone, Mack lay on his side staring blankly at the bare,
matte white wall that the big bed was butted up against as a faint
light began slowly growing behind the shade at the little room's only
window.  He was afraid to shut his eyes because he feared he might
again think on the possibility of submission.

But, Mack did close his eyes in spite of his reluctance to look back at
the warmest part of the prior summer 


THE FRIENDLY GAME PART 2

My apologies to you.  Having considered all things relative when I
"saved" this story as "text" from the ClarisWorks application I
generally use, it's about as much as my old Mac SE can bear, I assumed
that it resultantly be converted to a form accessible to all.  I've
been informed otherwise an am reposting Parts One and Two of the
Friendly Game on the advice of a most helpful someone out there whom I
thank much.  As always ....

Please note: The Friendly Game Parts 1 & 2 constitute an erotic
rendering that's been basically written with an adult male homosexual
audience in mind.  If you are under 18 years of age please do not
download and be advised that per the law of the land you may not read
or peruse this material. The dialogue herein contains strong language
and is dialectically rough and real per my intention.  Also contained
within are verbally vivid descriptions of male to male sexual congress.
 If you're of age but of the sort who's sensibilities are easily
abraded I highly suggest you pass this up as well.  Please note:  No
slight of any sort is intended with respect to any gender, race, or
group through the manner of this story's unfolding.

Thanks.  Your comments will happily received by: 
Harry_Schultz@nycnet.com

WARNING * WARNING * WARNING * WARNING
The content of this work is essentially angled toward an adult male
homosexual readership.  If youre a person not yet past the age of
eighteen please read no further and be advised that your reading or
perusal of this material is expressly prohibited by law.
A NOTE TO THE READER:
Throughout this story the strong language within its dialogue and the
dialect used by its characters are intentionally rough and real. 
Verbal depictions of sexual acts and alternate lifestyles are graphic. 
If youre of the sort thats easily offended or disturbed by literature
of such nature read no further.  Additionally, Ive written nothing
without reason with respect to the shaping of this piece, however no
slights are intended toward any race, gender or group through the
manner of this tales unfolding.

Thanks,
Harry_Schultz@nycnet.com

THE FRIENDLY GAME - Chapter 2 of 2
by Harry Schultz - 1995

Near midday one feverishly hot Saturday, Mack and Countdown, both quite
bored, had joined together with a group of other friends, and headed
crosstown to Central Parks northern edge.  The plan for the varied
assemblage of young men that afternoon had been, despite the heat, to
find a free court where they could play basketball.  Unanimously, there
was found more gutfelt worth in working up a sweat playing ball than
sitting idly nested within the ring of project buildings for the
remainder of the day on the worn wooden benches randomly scattered
along the asphalt paths and plots of dry brown grass.  However, this
aim failed to pan out once the gathering of young men had reached their
destination.

With the afternoon still quite young after happenstances failure to
fulfill simple desires, the two separated themselves from the crowd
theyd come with.  Countdown had drawn Mack aside just before the
motley aggregate had begun to disassemble, struck by the idea that they
should leave the park and walk up to One hundred-sixteenth Street  ...
A girl named Clarice lived there hed informed Mack, saying no more as
theyd started off.  Feeling inside a pocket of his faded blue cut-off
shorts, Look home, all Ive got is three bucks on me; you got another
two? he asked quickly.  With one of his usual sly winks he suggested
they pool their funds and stop, somewhere along the way, for a six-pack
of beer.

Mack faintly remembered Clarice as being a woman Countdown had made
passing mention of on one or two occasions since the summers start. 
Though he and Countdown spent great hunks of their free time together,
Mack had never met her in the flesh.  Neither had he assumed her to be
of essential importance in Countdowns realm of thought because his
friends seldom mention of her had never bespoken any of her particular
virtues but, instead, her offhandedly accommodating lack of them.

Theyd squeezed their way inside a crowded, musty bodega to pick up the
beer just prior to their arrival at an old brownstones stoop.  Outside
the building, Countdown looked up and then handed the brown paper bag
tucked under his arm to his companion.

Mack had quietly trailed after his friend and subsequently watched as
Countdown picked bell number 5-H among the cluster of cracked and
yellowed buttons on a panel above the rusty mailboxes inside the open
vestibule.  He followed him out onto the street again as, overhead, a
window raised with rumble and a sharp pitched female voice loudly
inquired, Who?

Cant you see its me girl? Countdown shouted upward using his hands
to amplify his voice.

The plain round face of a young brown-skinned woman peered down onto
One hundred-sixteenth Street from the same window.  Recognizing him she
shouted, Wait a minute, and then disappeared.  This time without a
face, the voice above alerted the pair down on the street to, Catch
it, a second later.  A set of keys inside a balled up piece of tissue
landed loudly on the pavement at their feet.

 Bout one of the fuckin laziest bitches I know, Countdown muttered
disdainfully to Mack once theyd reentered the vestibule.  He figured
out the proper key and shoved open one of the double doors, mottled
with peeling paint.  He held the door and ushered Mack into the inner
lobby then, stabbing a finger toward the beginning of a well worn
marble stairway said, This way up.

Mack strode easily along in the wake of Countdowns exaggerated swagger
toward the door at the fifth floor hallways far end.  They saw a tiny
flash of white light as they approached.  A quick inspection of them
had been made by someone on its opposite side which had caused the
doors peephole to wink at them a moment before it began to swing open.
 The face Mack had seen at the window came into view again; this time
attached to a plump body dressed in a beige tank top and an abbreviated
black skirt.  The young woman half-grinned as Countdown raised an
eyebrow and asked, Feel like some company today girl?  Oh, he
uttered, remembering and then nodding in Macks direction, this heres
my boy Mack.

The woman, Clarice, guardedly greeted the stranger with a nod of her
own and pulled the squeaky metal door open wider.  Come on in.  Mamas
workin this weekend so Ive got the place all to myself.

There was a warm breeze of sorts moving about in the small living room
theyd entered into which originated from an oscillating fan on the
floor before the front windows.  It stirred up the aroma of cooking
food that emanated from a kitchen somewhere at the rear of the
apartment.

The room was ordered and neat but appeared to have long been in need of
fresh paint although the clean linoleum on the floor looked relatively
new.  Before an open corner window of the three at the front of the
room, a worn, low armchair sat angled toward an old grey sofa. 
Situated in the middle of the room, it faced a wall covered with
thumbtacked old photographs before which a color television had been
left to rest on a flimsy, wheeled stand.

Clarice took a seat at one end of the long sofa and Countdown,
following, hastily slid near her side.  Instinctively, Mack took the
armchair.

Hey home, break out them brewskys before the chills off of em!
Countdown chided Mack good-naturedly.  Youre havin some aint you
girl? he inquired, turning his attention to Clarice.

You know I dont drink no beer CD.

Aw come on, Clarice.  Shoot, one beer aint about to hurt you.

Could be youre right.  She sighed then shrugged in agreement and
looked in Macks direction saying, Go head, give me one then.

The loud rustling of the brown paper bag placed between his feet
challenged the din from the television as Mack reached deep inside it
and one by one extracted three cold cans from the foil faced cardboard
holding them grouped together.  He quickly sat a can beside the chair
for himself and then rose, offering one of the beers he held out to
Clarice and the other to Countdown.

Clarice offhandedly inquired of Countdown about his recent whereabouts
and what hed been up to since last shed seen him and so friendly
enough chatter began.  The trio sat, for a time, with mostly Mack and
Countdown making small talk across the room, drinking beer, and
watching a daytime quiz show run its course on the television screen.

Eventually, the quiz show seemingly captured a greater share Clarices
attention than her callers did.  Her intent gaze hung on the screen in
spite of the absentminded but bold, lengthening travel of Countdowns
hand over her thigh and into the dark region beyond the hem of the
short skirt she wore.

Countdown apparently gave no thought to the usual conventions regarding
foreplay -- particularly privacy.  In spite of Macks presence, he
perfunctorily nuzzled her earlobe as his friend looked on and proceeded
to feel for higher ground for play with his hand.

Oddly, Clarice made no effort to stop him nor did she try to return his
attentions.  Seemingly unresponsive, she sat near motionless and
unmoved, although she let him continue to feel between her heavy thighs.

Over in the corner by a window, a soft, passing breeze came and briefly
teased the back of Macks neck.  The trailing finger of an unseen hand,
it heightened his arousal when hed felt his own dick leap alive
involuntarily in response to his seeing the outline of Countdowns
begin to broaden and stretch itself out along an inside leg of the
tight denim cutoffs he wore.

Mellowed out by the beer, Mack gripped the arms of the low chair and
nested himself deeper down in its upholstering.  He pushed his cap off
his kinky red hair and tried his best to make no more than an offhanded
street scholarly study the intricate flexes of the muscle in his
dark-skinned friends thick forearm as his hand began to knead the
flesh under Clarices skirt, well out of his range of view.  Very
private longing stepped up the bloom of fire below the copper freckles
on Macks cinnamon cheeks.

Countdown whispered commands too faintly voiced to carry across the
room to his best buddys ear but Mack noticed Clarices plump knees
gradually separate more.  A commercial came on but she kept her blank
gaze aimed straight ahead the TV screen as Countdowns hand delved
deeper.  After a while, Mack heard his friend mumble into her neck,
Come on girl, help me out  do a little somethin for me.

Clarice did not turn her vacant eyes in Macks direction as Countdown
slid away to allow her room to lift her feet from the floor and lie
flat.  Bolting upright from the sofa as Clarice began to settle
herself, Countdown proceeded to hastily shove down his shorts and
underwear once hed removed his Adidas.  His dark rod sprung out
straight before him and wasting no time to free his other ankle of his
shorts, he gingerly scrambled onto the sofa and awkwardly straddled
Clarice on his hands and knees.  One hand, swift and anxious at its
task reached downward and yanked the front of the short skirt as high
onto her belly as it would go.

Mack was left suddenly but not surprisingly aware that, all along, the
plump girl had worn nothing underneath the little black skirt.  From
where he sat, the view of the exposed slit between her open fat thighs
was a clear field.

Countdown brought his strong, athletic frame slightly lower over the
chubby form of the woman waiting under him, oddly dispassionate.

From behind -- removed to the corner where hed sat, Macks light eyes
had burned bright ... half with envy, half with want as theyd drunk in
the flexing musculature of his friends dark bared ass and legs.  His
fingers light grasp of his sex as it began to grow through his shorts
was a reflex action while hed watched as Countdown centered the blunt
head of his thick, cudgellike cock in the patch of sparse, tightly
coiled black hairs sprouted along both banks of the vertical split at
the base of their hostesss brown belly.  Hand trembling, Mack took a
deep drag on his cigarette and leaned forward a little to bear intent
witness to the slow burial of Countdowns dick.

His own, equally hot and swollen hard, lay bound to his leg by the
heavy cotton of his makeshift shorts.  The prisoner in Macks lap,
lunged against it bonds once, then twice when, across the room,
momentum began taking hold of Countdowns full ass.  Mack bit into his
bottom lip to stifle a rut inspired grunt as the smooth brown orbs
before his eyes, half-draped by Countdowns tee-shirt, methodically
began rising and falling.

Mack guardedly allowed the straightened fingers of his right hand to
congregate.  Shuttling a course from its head to its base, they
tantalizingly burnished the long mass of stiff, hidden man flesh lying
against the inside of his muscular thigh.

Then something peculiar -- most peculiar --occurred.  For sights other
than the view of the apartments dingy ceiling, Clarices line of
vision was blocked, especially in Macks direction, by Countdowns
muscular neck and shoulder.  Thus, she could have had no awareness that
a slight turn of his head had allowed him to cast a backward gaze at
Mack.  A queer kind of free union began.

The two handsome young mens gazes instantly locked and held as
Countdown caught and held a steady rhythm for thrusting his dick into
the fat woman.  With gusto he began a bizarre burlesque performance
that seemed intended specifically for his audience of one  Mack.

This one-man show would hold Mack spellbound from curtain rise.  So
much so, he took no notice of the ash falling to the floor now and then
off the end of the lit cigarette hed left loosely dangling from his
fingertips.  He sat and wondered how long it would be safe to allow
himself to keep looking but then discovered hed been stripped of all
will to proprietously force his eyes from the scene on the couch.

However, his observation of what was going on hadn't seemed to bother
Countdown at all. Hed grinned all the more mischievously at Mack and
exaggeratedly set to wagging his deep brown butt before him.  He
gyrated it in the air each time his strong, supple back arched and
lifted the full halves of it high in preparation for another plunge of
the exposed ebon shaft of his dick.

Though that devils grin of his never left his face through this
uncanny, mute taunt, Countdown abruptly turned his head away but let
the show go on.  Incredulous Mack had yet to fully comprehend his
reasons.

Countdown had indeed looked away from his friend but not to peer down
at Clarice.  Images of fantasy unspoken danced only for his eye on the
wall past the end of the sofa.

Mack sat in the near distance raptly watching the rippling play of the
muscle on his best friends back beneath the tight tee-shirt as the
serpentine motions of Countdowns sinewy body grew more earnest and
intent in the pursuit to effect a rise to the most perfect pleasure. 
Yet, flashlike in the span of its occurrence, a matter of conscience
momentarily severed the tan-hued young mans line of vision though hed
fought it.

Mack somehow discovered himself considering what was to happen next
once Countdown was off Clarice.  He was worrisomely aware that he
possessed not even an iota of consequential interest in the chubby
woman who lay spread under his friend.  He also was quite aware that he
didnt want to be next in line to fuck her.

But, as suddenly as this troubling realization had darted into his
mind, his consideration of it was again lost to the overpowering animal
senses taking charge inside himself as well.  Mack grew all the more
hungry for the view of Countdowns ass as its thrashing roiled his
senses.  Tight-jawed, he sat stiff in his chair fighting the urge to
make a tiger leap from his seat and rush to the couch to kneel beside
his Countdown -- to beg him to come away with him then and there to
someplace where just the two of them could be ...

Even if Mack had gathered the strength of will to follow through on
this impulse, thered have been little time.  All the signs that
betoken a mans nearness to the brink of an intimate connections
culmination became manifest within Countdown as Mack continued to watch
him take his pleasure with Clarice with ravenous eyes.  Knowing in the
hearing, Mack easily discerned the urgent call for virile ease inside
the rough pose of his friends rasping breaths and hard grunts.

Countdowns bodily expressions heightened as well.  Mack sat gauging
his closeness to the mark by the jerky dance and roll of the muscled
orbs that composed the firm, tight span of his backside.  The hem of
his white tee shirt had ridden high above his waist and, fully
displayed, his sable brown ass erratically bunched and then relaxed
with increasing rapidity.

Macks eyes were trained on the sofa when Countdown jammed his cock
into Clarices belly for the very last time.  Upon the sight of his
friends ass and legs tensing in those last desperate seconds before
the act of sex gave him wings to fly free, it took all Mack could do to
keep the deep breaths of air he took unobtrusively slow and steady.

The very next second, Countdowns sharp cry began welling up inside his
ears.  Still, Mack maintained a steadfast vigil from the chair though
he believed it should be him there with Countdown, that it should be
him holding him.  One -- one second more and, at last, all of his
handsome friends solid frame went stiff.  Countdowns fingers dug into
the plump girls bare shoulders but he lay on her motionless save for
the shivers that coursed his hard, dark body as his seed shot deep into
the fat girls belly.

A minute later ...

Countdown lay still and silent on top of Clarice for several moments,
waiting for his racing breaths to subside.  In a minute, hed found
enough of a voice to whisper something to her that Mack couldnt
determine until he looked his way with a sly, lazy smile.

Hey, look here man.  Theres a whole lot of woman to handle,
Countdown said throatily.  Dont look like I can do the job all by
myself.  His voice acquired even more of a soft enticing rasp as he
winked and said to his friend, You know what Im tellin you?  Better
come get some of this bro.

Countdown, meaning to make way, hastily rose to his knees and
maneuvered himself from atop Clarice without much grace thinking Mack
would come quickly to take his place.

From his seat perplexed Mack watched his friends long, dark flaccid
sex, slick and shiny after its being thoroughly wet down by the flood
of semen it had spouted, slip from between Clarices big thighs.  Hed
still made no move to rise when Countdown ambled toward him.

The two pairs of their eyes again met in a disconcerting search;
hesitant Mack woefully looking upward to search his best friends face
from the squat chair  Countdown, naked from the waist down, stanced
wide-legged over him and eyes also seeking to see the truth of the
moment.  Each young man, so consciously inquisitive as to the others
true thoughts, might have pensively frozen as he posed silent questions
to the other for too telling a halt had not Countdown, understanding
the odd look of things, given a quick warning nod in Clarices
direction.  He then reissued his advisement soft and persuasively. 
Its okay Mack-man.  Its waitin on you  like it had your name on it
 All you got to do is go get it.

Mack somehow sensed an underlying pleading for his compliance, without
debate, in Countdowns voice and gaze.  And, something did cause him to
obey although he did not fully know why.

Hesitantly, Mack unfastened the chromed buckle of the dull tan leather
belt at his waist and rose.  Standing before Countdown, he set his jaw
and briskly shoved his shorts and underwear off the rise of his ass. 
The abundance of his sex primed by Countdowns nearness sprang out
erect, bobbing before his friends eyes.  There was no doubt about his
readiness to fuck, it was the specific party hed had in mind whod be
left unmentioned.  Although Mack didnt stand there lingering with him
once hed kicked off his sneakers and stepped out of his cutoffs, he
noticed in the process how slow Countdown was in making the move to put
his own on again.

Clarice supine and to all appearance asleep on the sofa waited
closed-eyed for Mack to take his turn to mount her.  What she wanted of
her next taker, reluctant and disinterested Mack, had no way of telling
for she offered no sign of welcome or objection.  Barometrically
unreadable not only in a surface sense, the big-hipped girl
perfunctorily remained flat on the couch, her arms at her sides and her
short skirt still drawn up.  The vagueness of expression spanning her
round face gave no indication of her either harboring some
unscratchable sexual itch or of her having discovered whatever strange
contentment comes to one who indiscriminately gives.  Neither did
elation nor guilt at the manner of her use register in any degree on
her face.

Looking down, nothing about the woman lying there excited Mack --
except for the sight of the slick residual of Countdowns sperm, by
then smeared all about the meeting of her heavy thighs.  The sight of
it, his knowing from whom the smeared male essence had come held enough
of a fetishistic lure to empower him to mount her.  Mack knew he could
only lie there with her because within her was some place where
Countdown had been.

Mack swiftly scrambled astride her, not allowing himself to look
directly at Clarice any longer than it took to find his position
between her legs.  That established and the shaft of his heavily veined
dick steadied by a hands forked fingers, Mack hastily fitted the
bright pink head just within the wet vestibule of the orifice between
her legs. He let his lean, hard body descend to hers as he pulled his
hand from between their bellies.  Supporting himself on his elbows Mack
speedily stretched his frame out over hers and, jamming his eyes shut,
began to rock his slim but shapely ass up and down fast as he could go,
fearing hed go soft if he didnt start moving inside her immediately.

His knowing that the loose, squishy feel of her insides could mainly be
attributed to the earlier plentiful leavings of his cherished friend,
proved to yield Mack a strange but powerful aphrodisiac.  Forbidden
thoughts it nurtured rocketed his sense of everything male high up into
the surrounding time and carried him away, at least in mind, from the
female flesh that he was using in surrogate.

Luxuriating in the private thrill of this weird ritual bathing of his
swollen dick in Countdowns sticky essence, Mack gradually became
generous with his thrusts.  He began to plunge deep within the void of
the woman he fucked, as if embarking on a probing search that could
lead him to touch on the very substance of Countdowns soul somewhere
below.

Mack eagerly crammed his mind with visions of Countdowns brown body,
lithe and moving, in every sexy pose and attitude he could conjure as
he kept dipping into the distasteful softness of Clarices slack belly.
 This to ruse offset his disdain held him in good stead as far as
keeping his dick at a stand was involved but he remained doubtful of
becoming turned-on enough to come.

Thus, hed closed his hazel eyes and contemplated a hoax.  She was
still quite wet inside from Countdowns heavy load.  All it should
take, Mack thought, were a few more fast jabs of his dick into her as
if he was beside himself with need.  Then a little put-on of an urgent
breath or two and a long extravagant groan would make the fraud
complete.  Judging from how much of Countdown was already welled up
inside her, Mack figured she might not notice that he hadnt actually
shoot if he could be quick about going through the motions.

However ...

For Mack, temptation continued to exact an  especially magnetic pull on
his gold-flecked eyes for sight of Countdown who was by then taking his
turn at being the onlooker from the armchair.  Yet, afraid that all
would be lost, along with his erection, were he to turn and have his
thoughts come falling out through his open gaze for Countdown to see
and know at last, Mack resisted.  Nonetheless, the urge for a look
behind himself, into the corner of the room, increased.  With little
difficulty the path of Macks gaze was coaxed beyond his shoulder.

Mack emitted a small, uncontrollable gasp.   A sudden strange electric
sensation raced the length of his spine to the tight divide of his
bouncing ass like a knife edge when his eyes engaged with Countdowns.

Countdowns visage identically personified all the lust Mack himself
had been burned alive with every time hed priorly looked his way. 
Mack instantly surmised his friend was keeping as close a watch as he
before.  Too turned on by then to stay self-conscious, he did not turn
his head away but gave his eyes permission to run free.

Of its own volition, like a fire gone out of control, a volatile
sensual intoxication recklessly took mastery of the moment and set to
plucking at a myriad of erogenic strings that put a fringe on the need
lurking low in Macks tender groin.  Every inch of his copper freckled
cinnamon skin and all his sexual parts had become sensitized and alive.
 Under Coiuntdowns eye, his body jerked against his will.  Even the
privately kept craving for probing touches that hed so often attempted
to deny was roused and rampant high up in his backside.

The precursor of this flurry of the senses had been his gazes plummet
from the remarkably incensing sight of Countdowns handsome, lascivious
countenance to the wide-open fly of the tight shorts hed put on again.

Dark as midnight, Macks friends long-shafted black cock stood thick
and upright, throbbing at the apex of his sprawled out legs.  The
blatant exhibition further stoked the heat source of the searing
sensation already inside Macks gut and caused the last remnants of his
inhibitions to be burned away.

In then out, in then out Mack moved atop Clarice, blatantly fantasizing
all the while that it was Countdown lying beneath him taking his
driving dick instead.  He was sure, by then, that his thoughts must
have been stripped as naked as his rolling ass but his stare
dauntlessly held to its mark, Countdowns observant eyes, as he looked
past his shoulder.

Again Countdown showed no sign of taking umbrage at Mack keen interest
and sent a strange grin his way.  It had appeared to Mack he might be
preparing to lean forward and propose some kind of dare.  Then, there
in full view of his running buddy, finger by finger, Countdown slowly
enfolded his upright cock with his right hand, putting a choke hold on
its veined shaft.  The darker young mans brow pensively lifted as
Macks freckled ass reclaimed his attention.  He intently watched its
cinnamon brown hemispheres undulate the same as the ocean swells that
sailors ride upon once set to sea.

Mack watched Countdown studying his ass as his tight fist traveled up
and down his dick.  The lanky young man might have blushed but the
color on his cinnamon cheeks was already high from his excitement.

Eagle-eyed, Countdown sat in the distance visually probing down through
the growth of kinky red hairs that lined the tight furrow cut into
Macks backside.  His coal black eyes gleamed at every new exposure of
the puckered and red circle of entry centered between the halves of
Macks ass.

Despite as wonderful and ignescent an affliction as the fever his
friends lascivious actions provoked in him, Mack, yet lucid, would
have given anything to know Countdowns mind as he sat in the chair
masturbating spread-legged.

Before his oldest friend could deduce that answer, Countdowns gaze,
hot like fire, shot past the rise of Macks ass and linked with his
eyes again, ardent as a lovers kiss.  The dark and comely street
soldiers emotional armor altogether fell away and for the very first
time he allowed Mack a small glimpse of a self hed never had the trust
to truly share with him or any man before.  His reason could only be
read in the strange look of longing inside his eyes.

Countdowns full bottom lip quivered.  All at once, the in-your-face
defiance so ordinarily on display day to day waxed on his face to a
sweet kind of boyish vulnerability and helplessness.  In the mere
instant that followed, the flurried ministrations of his dark fist
plunging on the thick ebon stalk rooted in his open lap caused his
straining body to jerk in his seat.  It was as though hed just become
a conduit for a high voltage electrical charge.  Countdown turned his
trembling lips inward and clamped them tight and held the last breath
he snatched inside so as not to alert the girl lying under his friend
of what was happening between them.  Countdowns muscular legs quivered
almost like a foals in its first attempt to stand when his tensed dark
ass began to lift off the chair.  In a silent unexplained demonstration
of something hed not for a long time make known, he angled his long
dick away from his body especially so Mack might see the first of the
white flood of semen that came spilling out over its broad, flared head.

Both men still managing to hold their peace, Countdown and Mack
silently watched his come roll off the knuckles of his trembling dark
fist in warm, sticky, opalescent streams.

Madman and animal -- and all at once, Mack, taken over by the sight of
Countdown spilling his nut, began fucking Clarice with a fury. 
Priorly, hed allowed himself to maintain no real notice of the plump
girl until that moment nor really took any then except to grab at the
sofas arm for support as his strong back arched and he hunkered over
her to deepen the thrust of his cock.  A loud slapping sound began to
fill the room as he slammed his belly against silent Clarices  over
and over again

An escalating hiss commenced an escape through the previously mute
womans clenched teeth.  Mumbling something unintelligible, she drew up
a knee and dug her heel into a sofa cushion hard.  Gaining leverage,
the portly girl pitched her lower belly up at Macks thrusting dick. 
Unable to see past him and removed and lost in her own world of dreams
anyway, how could she have known that the man whose pile driving had
just triggered the ending of her long and complacent wait for
significant sensation was not following the same path?
Mack was as good as a million miles away.  He was caught up in an act
of connection he found far more profound and tens times as sweet in
nature than any hed ever have with a woman with the man just across
the room.

No longer able to bolster facades of any kind before the pure, raw
passion in his eyes, Mack stared into Countdowns unabashed and no
longer mindful of judgement.  He continued looking toward the lean,
dark form in the chair as his hazel eyes went wide in the delirium of
his own plunge into the swirling current of a river of physical
paroxysm.  It rose and rushed over him the next instant and his cock
swollen to the extreme, at last, spit his semen in heated, forceful
jets 

Macks reverie ended ....

The toilet flushed down the hall and, an instant later, Mack heard the
brisk slap of Countdowns bare feet on the tiled hallway floor grow
louder as he neared.  Hurrying, he wedged himself into the meeting
point of the bed and wall and tried to make himself small.

Countdown slowly slipped beneath the covers again and he and Mack lay
there, quiet for some time, until he himself brought tense silence to
an end.  He put the question to his friend.  Come on Mack-man, what
about it? he asked with a jittery, breaking whisper.

No answer at all came from the other side of the bed as Mack
protectively snatched the covers high about himself.

Despite a rush of sudden anxiety over his seriousness being made
obvious, Countdown persevered.  Lets try it out.  Aint nobody but us
gonna know,  he cajoled as he inched closer to Mack.

Next moment, under the covers from behind, Mack felt Countdowns warm
fingers gently begin a journey along his side but did not pull away. 
Their path swerved toward a new trail along his spine and then, ever so
lightly, traced the tight divide chiseled into the firm muscle of his
backside.

Mack still did not push Countdowns hand away.  Instead, he suspended
his thoughts as Countdowns hand wedged in the crease of his ass. 
Macks manhood sprang alive in response and jutted out, hard, straining
the limits of his boxer shorts as he still silently kept his to face
the wall.

Although the hills of arousal hed climbed to were high enough to prove
dizzying, Mack determinedly set his jaw and held himself perfectly
still.  Neither by word nor gesture did he offer allusions of his
consent -- or -- denial.

Countdown was of an insatiably hungry breed of young man.  Piece by
piece, he habitually gulped down large chunks of life out of the heart
of every day he lived.  Much in that same manner, he consumed food,
drink, and sensuality although, until that early dawn, the banquet had
only offered very common fare.

Having grown up fatherless though not as well motherless, as his
handsome bedmate, hed learned the greater part of what he believed to
be manhood by rote in the rough cut world outside on the uptown
Manhattan streets in which he and Mack had to exist.

Hed learned young to how to estimate heart and the weight of intent in
face-offs with respect to either the politics of turf or sex.  The
street smart twenty-one year old had long been a skilled reader of the
inherent inscriptions left on a given moment through small but telling
actions and reactions as to whether man -- or -- woman was prepared to
stand pat or yield and let him have his way.

This often quite skeptical young black man had yet to be shown
convincing evidence of the worth in being of the kind who wait for
votes of confidence before making a move.  Thus, extremely nervous but
extremely turned-on, he didnt pause for retrospect of his feelings as
he might have had his thinking been otherwise.  He followed the will of
his want and forged ahead.

Every one of the handsome black urban hunters senses was whetted sharp
by the ravenous urge emanating from his groin.  With stealth he slid
his body nearer the quarry trembling and at bay just across his bed.

All in one swift but deft maneuver, Countdown made the capture.  He
quickly pushed the flat of his hand into the back of Macks shorts,
softly seizing a bare orb of his ass.  The firm flesh immediately
tensed in the grasp of his hand but Mack showed him no other indication
of a readiness for flight.  Countdown let his hand and fingers keep at
its lazy fondling of the warm flesh in his hand for a good while.

After Mack still failed to shove his hand off his butt, the lack of
resistance stoked Countdowns anticipation of a fuller meaning.  His
boldness amplified.  Slowly his dark hand probed farther into the warm,
tight cleft betwixt the downy, deep tan mounds and toyed with the
short, wiry red hairs there until his fingers grazed the small pursed
opening hed been searching to find.  Employing persuasively gentle
persistence, the straightened middle digit of Countdowns hand set to
prodding the centermost point in the field of heat.  It marauded until
finally in surrender its plunder, the tiny, tensed ring of muscle all
ablush was allowed to yield and accept the dry tip of his finger.  He
heard Mack choke back a whimper and felt his body jerk when his finger
abruptly slipped an inch farther up into him.

Drawing his dry finger with care from the clutch of Macks rectum,
Countdown agilely flipped onto his stomach and hung an arm over the
beds edge, feeling about beneath it.  He retrieved a plastic bottle
half-full of mineral oil and placed it, upright, on the floor by the
head of the bed.  Rolling close to again, he eagerly murmured over
Macks shoulder, Time to go for it, Mack-man.  Come on, get this shit
off, he said quite gently, demonstratively giving a loose leg of
Macks undershorts a downward tug.
The suns faint light was growing outside bit by bit behind the thin
plastic shade hung before the small rooms only window as both Mack and
Countdown wordlessly squirmed free of their shorts beneath the covers.

No need for us to be actin shy now  too damn warm in here anyway,
Countdown said as he abruptly sat upright and flung the covers toward
the foot of the bed, off their bare bodies.  His coal black eyes said
as little as his once more stilled lips as he pored over every exposed
inch of Mack body.  Breathing slow but deep, Countdown wet his lips and
let his inquisitive, dark eyes line of sight be dragged along in tow
with his open hand across the wide span of Macks hard, hairless chest
and then downward over the ridges etched in his flat belly.

Traveling on, Countdowns eyes and hand followed a thin trail of auburn
hair, originating from just above his lean friends navel.  It widened
as it led into the dense fiery thicket of coiled coppery hair all
around the root of Macks fully risen dick.  He slowly took the pink
capped staff, hard and warm, in his grasp and began eying it top to
bottom, noting each twist and turn of the veins at its exterior.  It
twitched once in his fingers.  Countdowns chest rose higher with each
slow, deep intake of breath as his serious study of his friends cock
continued.  Then, without warning, Countdown abandoned his
investigation and gently ordered Mack to, Roll over man  give me a
look at the rest.
Hesitant with doubt, Mack slowly turned onto his belly

Countdown stretched himself out beside Mack and insinuated his cockhead
against the warm side of a hip.  Resting his stubbly dark cheek on the
back of Macks smooth shoulder, he looked low; toward his friends
rear.  The dark-skinned young man watched the nervous play of its
cinnamon brown halves had taken to beneath coaxing his darker hand and
fingers.  For just a while longer, apparently much enthralled,
Countdown slowly massaged Macks asscheeks with widening circular
sweeps of his palm and then halted.  He quickly rolled away to retrieve
the oil.

Countdown settled on his back.  Squirming, he moved sideways and wedged
his shoulder under Macks, as he caught several drops of the mineral
oil in his cupped hand.  He grunted softly at his own touch as he
spread oil heavily over the broad head of his hardened dick.  Seemingly
starved for the pleasure before him, without ceremony he immediately
rolled onto Macks back and proceeded to insinuate the crown of his sex
into the tight crevice in Macks tail.

Macks entire frame stiffened beneath Countdown; part of the reason --
pain or the fear of it, part -- his not knowing whether fields of
daisies or a legion of demons lay on the other side of surrender.

Come on man, go loose!  Go loose! Countdown half-instructed,
half-pleaded in a hoarse, excited goading whisper that felt like a hot
wind blasting Macks ear.  He insistently pried Macks lean legs
farther apart with his knees.

Come on man! Im tryin to but the shit is hurtin me --, Mack
plaintively groaned as Countdown forced his cock against the tiny
opening that its wide head butted against.

Certainly equal both in size and strength, Mack could easily have
thrown Countdown off himself and ended the matter then and there  had
he chosen.  His calling a halt to what was going on in the little room
would never have been viewed as some failure in the test of mans
ability to endure.  Who did he know that would have cast arrows of
derision if hed decided to stop?  Yet, instead, he clenched his teeth
and held his spread, tightened form prone, flat and in place on the bed
as Countdown persevered in the attempt to enter him.

All at once a gut-wrenching yowl from Mack ripped apart the hush inside
the small apartment.  Meaning to flee sudden, sharp pain, he endeavored
a desperate scramble upward on the mattress, long legs and arms
thrashing wildly like a swimmer in trouble over the sheets while
carrying Countdowns full weight on his back.

Aint no use in you runnin man, Countdown panted most emphatically
in Macks ear from behind.  The deals just been done.  Wherever you
go -- Ive got to go.  Were hooked up now bro.  Unrelenting,
Countdown pressed his dick harder into the firm mounds of muscle
burning his hard belly for a better sample of the sensuous tightness
and heat that began to sheath him.

Spiked on just part of Countdowns manhood, Mack gasped loudly as more
rigid meat speared his ass. Oh shit CD!  My ass is killin me.  Oh
shit!

Just hold on and trust me man.  It aint gonna break, Countdown
assured him.  Itll all ease up in a little bit.  Just chill ...
chill.

And that did prove so after a little times passing.  Mack ceased to
whimper and flinch at Countdowns guarded thrusts.

See -- didnt I tell you it wouldnt last Mack-man? Countdown
whispered, digging his stubble covered chin into Macks flushed cheek
from behind as he lay on him.  He wormed his strong deep brown arms
between Macks chest and the mattress and then entwined his muscular
legs with his.  Starting to fuck Macks ass deep and slow as it
continued to open itself to him, Countdown murmured in soft-sided
desperation, Youve got to trust me  Just got to you hear? even
though somehow feeling the admission imprudent.  Nonetheless, No
matter if nobody else in the world ever does, he said, Ive got to
know that you trust me.  Thats square business Mack-man.

More accepting of Countdowns thick dick sliding within the stretched
channel inside his ass, Mack at last lay calmer and more still within
the web of Countdowns arms and legs and took note of each new thing he
felt.

Countdown shivered with pleasure as all his sex traveled in and out of
the oily grip and heat that lay deep in the split of Macks backside.

Damn!  You give me a motherfuckin good feelin, Mack-man, Countdown
swore out loud.  The clear ring of the truth in his oath lay beneath
the loud rasp of the words and phrases broken up by his gasps of
pleasure.  Its good, Countdown gasped again just before he stamped
Macks long neck with a rough kiss.

The big bed which took up so much of the little rooms area, noisily
creaked and swayed as Countdown began to ride Mack fast, hard and deep.
 Crazed by the rising sensations that rapid jabs into Macks tight butt
derived for him, the handsome dark youth was compelled to fuck his
friends ass full gallop.  He made no attempt to rein in his passion
through an effort to slow the driving of his thick cock.

Thrill hungry, Countdown man lunged into the maddeningly tight chasm
inside Macks backside that was beginning to seize up and impound his
root.  He grew increasingly desperate to sound the depths for a balm to
soothe the burning in his groin.  All at once a slave to his cock,
again and again to meet its demand, Countdown slapped the low part of
his flat belly all the harder against the seductively masculine light
brown ass beneath him and reveled in every stroke.

Urgently, Countdowns hard hands roughly grabbed the sides of Macks
hips and coaxed him to lift his ass and churn it against his heaving
dark belly.  As though a jockey spurring on his mount through the final
lap of a hard run race, Come on with it baby -- do that thing for me
-- its like I cant get enough, Countdown pleadingly growled.  His
full lips pressed into the kinky red curls at the back of Macks head. 
Come on!  Throw that brown booty on me good; he feverishly babbled as
Mack tried to respond to his need.  Straight back at me  yeah
Mack-man ... the whole thing ... the whole goddamn thing  ooh yeah 
wiggle it  kill me with the motherfucker 

The shaft of Countdowns manhood still prodded deep but its flared head
chafed and nudged sensitive parts of Macks innerworkings as it slipped
in and out of the shallows of his ass.  Thus he too was moved into the
pleasures of the moment.  Incensed by fever replicate to Countdowns,
agile bodied Mack braced himself on the bed.  Uttering a sharp grunts,
he repeatedly bucked his smooth down covered ass up at the
scintillating scratchiness he felt from the nest of coarse jet black
hair that grew thick  around the root of Countdowns meat.  Macks
insides involuntarily convulsed around the dick, moving and pulsing
deep in his ass.  Not looking back, Mack screeched his unconditional
surrender into the pillow.  Take it CD!  Go head man -- take it!

Countdown had no need of the invitation.  His long dark dick caught in
the sweet squeeze of Macks tail, he was already been overtaken by a
driving urge that sent him rushing on toward a taste of ultimate
sensation.  Strong teak brown body hunched and sweating profusely over
his work, he laid into the hairy furrow in Macks ass with determined
breakneck haste.  The girth of his cock enlarged along with this
escalation of passion and stretched Macks slicked sphincter all the
more.  Black eyes aglitter, Countdown breathlessly stammered out the
news, Im about to blow-off, Mack-man.  Ooh baby, youre gonna make me
come like a motherfucker -- I can feel it.

Panting Mack, willing to bear the full weight of Countdowns urgency
spread his long legs wider to allow his taker all of his ass. 
Nevertheless, how he lay on the rocking bed and yearned for the
connection theyd made not to be done yet.  He wanted this moment of
union to last a while longer before he was finally separated from
Countdowns driving body ... and his virginity.  Mack wanted it all to
last ... maybe for a time too long to describe.

Moaning into the pillows, Mack churned his hard ass with each new
reception of Countdowns meat which by then felt so hard it felt like
unbending steel up inside himself.

Mack-man  Its  Its  

Catlike, Countdowns back rigidly arched and he yanked Mack to himself
with all his might.  He whooped like a child overcome with sudden
surprise at every blast of his come high up inside the warmth that
caught hold of his spurting dick.  The tremulous small globelike forms
of his own comely dark ass-end shook and gleamed, satiny, in the
brighter light of the new days sun rising beyond the window as he kept
his cock jammed up cleft of Macks freckled ass.

Goddamn  goddamn, Mack murmured into the pillows, incredulous at the
feeling of the power potently pulsing inside him.  Despite its close
confines it virtually leapt inside Macks ass gut like a loose cannon
each time it spat out another warm gob of Countdowns semen.  Sensual
fires raged so high in Mack, that moment, he believed his own seed
might soon surge and spill onto the sheets, without so much as a touch
of a hand to his stiff rod

 ... butnot long after...

Save for their barely perceptible breathing, the little room had become
silent once more and the two young lovers lay sprawled atop the rumpled
bed after the last of Countdowns seed was poured out.  Together
Countdown and Macks entwined bodies composed a light cinnamon and deep
brown melange of naked limbs and male anatomy; all inert and at wholly
peace.

Now and forever more past the line of friendship, they lay as theyd
begun -- Countdown covering Mack while lazily nuzzling his face in his
soft, woolly red hair.  The two stayed that way until Macks body, of
its own accord, relinquished its claim on Countdowns soft, slippery
dick after holding it inside for some time.  It left a thin, slick
trail of oil and sperm across the back of Macks thigh as Countdown,
feeling a particularly luxurious kind of contentment, at last rolled
away onto his back.  He adopted silence once he lay close beside him.

Though anxious and fearful inside for several moments once the link
between their bodies had been broken, Mack lay still beside Countdown
for a minute more but then abruptly righted himself in the bed.  He
flung the covers off himself and hastily lifted his legs.  Using his
strong arms to propel himself, he slid on his ass to the end of the
bed.  Keeping the suddenly melancholy and shamed countenance of his
handsome freckled face turned away from Countdowns view, the tall
youth nervously rose to his feet.  Seconds later, his muscular frame
stiffened.  The warm, slippery residual mix of Countdowns semen and
the mineral oil had begun to creep from between his asscheeks and down
the back of a thigh.  Mack did not know how to pass by Countdown and
hide both the sight of opaline sperm slowly blazing a trail down the
back of his leg and avoid his face too.

The deep flood of embarrassment and guilt that Mack already felt rushed
higher about him.
An ultimate taboo of the only society he knew he could be part of, the
streets, had been broken.  Another man had just fucked his ass.  Worse
yet, not by force but by his consent.

In excuse, their friendships appreciable size would make no difference
in the opinion of others if they were found out.  Nor, if allowed to
come to light, would any or all of the love hed tried so long to keep
hidden from Countdown be understood.  He began to mourn his lost
virginity.

Fuckin fool-ass faggot! he lambasted himself silently.  Why didnt
you just get in the wind man and got your ass out of here before this
bullshit jumped off?  In the mournful but fast stepping parade of his
apprehensive meditations, Mack envisioned the ridicule hed face if it
ever became known that hed lain down and willingly let Countdown fuck
him.

Yet for better or worse, this was a day Mack had sensed would come for
a long, long time.  Sadly, now that it had arrived he couldnt handle
it.  Throwin that card game was enough of a stupid-assed thing to
do, he went on in his silent tirade.  What the hell did you stay for?
 Why didnt you just go downtown and find some stranger?  Now your
shits fucked-up for good cause you went and let the nigger peep your
hole card and didnt even make it hard for him man -- didnt even make
it hard for him.  CDs no fool.  He knows damn sure you wanted to let
him bust your butt  probably knew it all along.

Where you goin man?

Blank-faced Mack, about to pass through the door of the tiny room,
halted at Countdowns soft-voiced inquiry but did not look back.  To
the toilet, man, he replied flatly.  Think I should be puttin' my
shit on too, its about time to head home.  He still did not turn
about as bed sheets began rustling behind him.

Countdown sat up on the side of the bed and planted his feet wide
apart.  He crossed his arms then bent forward to rest his elbows atop
his hard thighs and looked down past his limp dick, still shiny with
oil, to his deep brown toes.  Boyishly wiggling them on the cool, green
tile, It aint goin down that way, he mumbled.  No, not like that. 
His dark eyes lifted as Mack hesitantly turned to face him.

What?

In a braver voice Countdown repeated himself.  I said ... it cant go
down like that, Mack-man.  No not that way.  Come here, he summoned,
vigorously beckoning toward himself Mack eagerly willing with his
hands.  Come on.

Countdowns gaze hung at Macks crotch for an instant before he again
looked upward into Macks eyes.  I know you man.  I can tell already
the shits got you buggin but how in hell could you forget youre my
friend, Mack.  Always were -- always will be.  If I take from you then
it means you can damn sure expect to take from me.  Thats the way
deals got to go down.  Fucked-up as it is -- thats what makes it
correct.

Leaning farther forward from his seat on the beds edge, Countdown
extended a dark hand and slowly slid it up the inside Macks leg.  The
spread fingers of it gently dug into the firmness of Macks ass and its
coaxing piloted the puzzled cinnamon shaded man, forward into the haven
that lay between Countdowns opened thighs.  Countdowns other hand
trailed a drifting caress along the front of one of Macks hard thighs
and, with tender care, gathered up the generous mass of the wrinkled
sack that was swinging just behind his best friends rising manhood.

Mack, at first, stood with his arms at his side, ramrod straight, like
a soldier in eager anticipation of his leaders next command.  When
Countdown lowered his head and quickly drew in as much of his hardened
dick as could be pulled into his mouth, Mack sighed and fell at ease.

Mack fanned out his long fingers and capped his friends head as he
began a slow drive into the warm, moist depths beyond Countdowns lips.
 His hips lazily started to rock and sway, dancing to the music of
desire.

Countdowns own cock found life again.  Rapidly lifting and
lengthening, it stretched out to chafe its head against the inside of
Macks calf.

Tall young Mack bent his muscular body over his seated friend.  He
began pushing in earnest as the feeling of his ass being firmly nested
in Countdowns cupped, strong hands grew more delicious to him.

Countdown, unmindful of the weight of Macks crowning hands, grew more
venturesome and toyed with the sensitive area that ringed the tiny
opening at the tip of his dick with erratic flicks of his tongue.

Yeah  yeah, Mack gasped as he firmly hooked his strong fingers on
top of Countdowns shoulders and arched backward, jabbing his cock
urgently into his friends mouth.  The tantalizing tongue lashing
Macks cock had thus far been made to endure increased as Countdown
stepped up the press of his flattened tongue against the underside of
the cockhead inside his mouth.

Macks strong, lean legs trembled, thrust to thrust, as he kept on
pumping his meat into the circle of Countdowns lips.  The heavily musk
scented hairy sack that bound his balls had ceased swinging to and fro
in kinetic reaction to the frantic pitches of his pelvis.  Macks nut
sack had tightened to a spherical form, near solid in mass and fixed
high inside the fork of his straining, muscle-etched thighs.  It
wouldnt be long before hed would be coming.

Chest heaving hard and fast, Mack sucked in hasty breaths of air
through his flared nostrils, struggling to hold steady.  All at once,
his head fell back as high sensations grip wrested away every last
scrap of control.  Shit yeah, CD, do it to me!  Go on and do it man! 
The command was ground out through his clenched, pearl white teeth. 
Im ready for it man!  Dont make me wait on it, give me a nut now  I
want it from you  right now!

Macks head fell back and he roared loud, like a young bull in rut as
Countdowns finger unexpectedly slipped inside his ass and began to wag.
 Grabbing Countdown by the back of head with both hands, he bent over
him again.  He jammed the high, dark forehead of his pleasure giver
against the heaving wall of muscle on the face of his pale cinnamon
belly.  With one last lunge, he forced as much as could be accepted of
himself into the sweet imprisonment of the lips clamped round his
aching, distended dick.

A rush of sweet spasms going on in his groin bore the force to hoist
Mack off his heels and onto his toes.  The core of its power, lying
deep inside him, caused the expulsion of the incredulous moan that
carried that continually tumbled Countdowns name off Macks lips. 
Gone rigid an instant later, Macks lean form froze into an arced
column, its every tensed muscle a telling inscription of the urgency he
felt.

Trembling, Mack desperately hugged Countdowns head against himself.

Countdown himself was vicariously caught up in Macks frenzy as the
cock in his mouth began to pulse.  Countdown caught Mack close within a
tight, protective circle by winding a dark, muscular arm about the top
of his thighs, just below his shivering ass.  His probing finger still
played between the clenched orbs of Macks ass and beautiful dark man
remained steadfast in his attendance so that his best friend might
neither stumble nor fall.  The handsome sable brown young man made no
attempt to pull away or separate himself from Mack, hunkered over him,
as the bronze-toned staff in his mouth heaved a succession of
voluminous spurts of warm semen onto his cradling tongue.

Assured the orgasmic pulsations of the glans of Macks dick had at last
passed, Countdown let it lay jammed between his tongue and the roof of
his mouth.  After but a moments hesitation, he swallowed, downing the
warm liquid content in his mouth.  This was his first taste of strange
wine.

Fully spent and gone soft inside Countdowns mouth, another loud bull
roar voiced Macks pleasure at his satisfaction.  Then he winced as
Countdown pulled his finger free.  Mack smiled thoughtfully as his
fingers gently pulled his flaccid dick free of the press of Countdowns
lips; hed at last be able to speak of such things as true satisfaction
with real authority.  Mack bent to gently leave kiss on Countdowns
forehead and then found his friends wet, glistening mouth.

Laughing softly, Mack and Countdown both tumbled backward onto the bed
in a heap, suddenly tired.  They slept together that way through the
greater part of the day.

They rose and showered late that day and, once dressed, prepared to set
out for a supermarket not very far down Broadway and find the makings
of their dinner alone that night.

At the door, just as they were ready to exit the apartment, Countdown
suddenly took a firm grip on the collar of Macks coat and roughly
pulled him near.  Come here man.  Come here right now, he ordered in
a whisper.  Theres somethin I want to see before I leave out of
here, he demanded as he snaked an arm around Macks neck and found his
mouth as he pulled him his way.

Mm-mm!  That sugar is sweet, Countdown groaned.

Countdown kissed his best friend full on the lips again and taking
further initiative in response to Macks quick, pleasured grunt he
pushed his tongue inside his mouth.  They lingered at the door, just
that way, for a good while until breathing hard they forced themselves
apart.  Soon all the stores would be closed.

The two beautiful young men held onto each other for an impetuous
moment more, relishing their liking for all the virility and energized
emotion they let run loose between themselves though neither appeared
quite sure of what came next -- with respect to anything.  It was Mack
who asked, What are we gonna do with all this, CD?  What the hell are
we gonna do with it?

Suddenly very gentle and very tender in his way with Mack, Shh,
lighten up Mack-man.  Dont worry bout it, Countdown coaxed softly,
placing a fingertip lightly to his friends lips.  All it is anyway is
just a fit of freakishness thats come on us all of a sudden, he said
adding with a wise, conclusive tone, Well deal with it.