Date: Sat, 8 Jan 2011 10:31:12 -0800 (PST)
From: Mark Searles <msearles16@yahoo.com>
Subject: Adult Friends: Obsession with Drew

<All characters and events in this story are fictional.>

Drew and I were friends from the age of seven to fifteen.  We were
virtually inseparable.  We experienced all of a young boy's life ups and
downs.  We had everything in common, and even looked like brothers.  Both
of us had brown hair in nearly the same style, and brown eyes.  He was a
year older than me, and was always taller and lankier than I.  Overall, we
knew we could count on each other.  Drew was a patient, sweet, and kind
kid.  He always put up with me and my mood swings.  He was a shoulder to
cry on when I was mercilessly picked on in middle school, and I was there
to show him compassion when his family life was in turmoil.

You could say that it was because of him that I realized my sexuality at a
very young age.  There was no doubt about it, what I felt for Drew was more
than friendship, it was love.  Drew was a year older than I, so puberty hit
him first, and as a gay boy in love, I was fascinated by his changing body.
He even took one innocent chance to allow a quick peek at his maturing
manhood.  Other than that, he used to torture me, we'd wrestle on the front
lawn shirtless, hot and sweaty, and he'd force my hands or even my nose
into his hairy pits.  He was always bigger and stronger than me, and would
always manage overtake me.  I feigned disgust, but enjoyed writhing on the
ground with my chest touching his.

Sadly, at the age of fifteen my parents moved us away.  I was too hurt to
actually say goodbye to him, and always regretted that.  I always remember
waving goodbye to him as the moving truck left our driveway.  I did keep in
touch with Drew briefly until his own family moved to a different state.

For the next thirty years there was never a day that went by that he wasn't
on my mind.  Once during those thirty years I was able to get in touch with
him.  When I had graduated from college and the Internet was in its infancy
I was able to find his e-mail through a popular online service.  We
e-mailed one another and I found out that he had gotten married and had
started his own business.  Again, we lost touch.

Being in love with Drew was a lot of baggage to carry.  I was only
attracted to guys that looked just like him.  None of the men I dated
measured up to the fantastical standards that were Drew.  As hard as I
tried, for the next twenty years, I simply had no luck in hanging on to
relationships for any significant length of time.  I had been out of yet
another relationship for about six-months and feeling exceedingly lonely; I
needed to get away and decided this was as good time as ever to do some
traveling.  Thanks to the Internet, I was able to track Drew down.  He was
still in the city that I remembered, and even found the address of his
shop.

I drove four hours and arrived at his shop around noon. I entered and saw
two men working the counter.  I asked if Drew was working and they called
him out from an office around the corner.  In almost every way, he still
looked like that teenager I had left on the curb some thirty years ago.
His dark brown hair was still in the same style, still slicked down with
just enough gel to make it glisten.  The only difference now was the light
flecks of gray that penetrated through.  He was much still taller and
thinner than me, but bigger than I had ever expected.  He carried himself
with the kind of authority that a business owner and boss would.  He was
always fascinated with having a mustache, and he had one now, along with a
beard that just covered his chin.

The men at the desk pointed him in my direction.  He asked, "Can I help
you?"

I hadn't decided what I was going to say before entering, and I didn't know
how to answer, but only a few beats passed when I heard myself say, "Drew
its me, your old friend Rich."  He knew right away who I was.  He stood
shocked in silence for a moment, and then ran around the desk to greet me
with a firm handshake, and then one of those masculine hugs/chest bumps.
We were both so excited to see each other, we exuded the same energy as we
had when we left things at fifteen.  Drew called to the guys behind the
counter, "I'm taking the afternoon off and taking Rich to the diner for
lunch."  He told me to leave my car there at the shop, and we got into his
red pick-up truck and headed through town.

When we arrived at the diner, it was nearly empty, but the waitress knew
Drew right away.  He ordered some coffee for himself and I, and we began
catching up on the last thirty years of our lives.  I felt so comfortable
with him that coming out to him was in the course of conversation.  I don't
even think either of us really took note of it consciously; we just kept
talking as old friends do.  He told me that he had been divorced for a few
years now.  Owning his own business in a didn't offer her enough security,
and he was too proud to give it up or work for anyone else, so she moved
out on him and out of town.  He hadn't dated anyone else since then, but he
claimed he was too busy with work and that he didn't make time for dating;
I could tell that he still loved his ex.  Day turned into night, lunch into
dinner, and several pots of coffee later, Drew finally asked me where I was
staying.  I told him that I had booked a motel nearby and that I would just
stay there tonight.  He said, "The hell you are, you're staying with me at
my place tonight."  How could I pass up on that offer?

He drove me to his condo in an old factory that had been turned into loft
condos.  Clearly they were built to attract people from the major city to
the suburbs for a better quality of life.  His condo was impressive.  It
was almost new, with concrete floors and exposed ductwork.  Bricks lined
three of the four walls, and the ceilings were so high that none of the
walls of his three bedrooms and two baths reached the expansive ceiling.
He hadn't been expecting me, so the condo looked like a forty-five year old
businessman had lived there.  It wasn't a mess -- no dirty dishes or
laundry like you'd expect of a young bachelor -- but there was unopened
mail and books and papers piled on every flat surface.  The spare bedroom
held his desk and papers and books were scattered everywhere in there as
well.

He offered me a beer and we sat on the sofa.  He turned on the TV, but it
was nothing more than background noise to our continuous conversation.  He
excused himself to the restroom and I waited for him on the sofa watching
the news.

He emerged shirtless.  He had the body of your typical forty-five year old
man who had worked outside for most of his life.  Sure, there were no
six-pack abs, but there was definitely some bulk there.  He was tan
everywhere except where the tank covered.  His arms were well-defined.  His
chest was still hairless, but it was definitely not the young teenage body
that I had remembered.  He sat down next to me, and stretched his arms
across the back of the couch, his arms reaching around me.  I was surprised
by the show of affection.  He said, "Remember this?"  I laughed,
remembering how he used to torture me with those sweaty and hairy pits.  He
let out a couple of chuckles, but then he stopped.  A new found intensity
came across his face, something that I had never seen before.  With one
fluid motion he used the hand behind my head to grab it and push my face
into his pit.  "Lick it!" he demanded.

I was incredibly turned-on, though I could barely breathe, my nose shoved
against him.  I took in his musky scent.  I did my best to open my mouth
and got a mouthful of hair.  I licked his pit, it tasted sweaty and musky,
the result of a days worth of work combined with the lingering soap of the
deodorant he had applied that morning.  He released the pressure on my
head, but kept his hand there, just enough that I could lap his pit like
the hungry animal that I had become.  My face and his pit were thoroughly
wet, dripping with my saliva.  He'd had enough.  I tried to push my head up
to kiss him, but he had other ideas.

He grabbed my head again, and pushed it down to his hard pink nipple.  Now
I knew what he wanted, and couldn't believe that my fantasy after all these
years was coming true.  I took his nipple into my mouth.  He pushed my head
harder.  I bit down on it.  His body hardened.  His hips had jerked into
the air, his head thrown back.  He was enjoying the rough nipple work.  My
hands reached to touch his sinewy back and well-muscled arms.  He pushed
his arm between our two bodies and pushed his pants down to his knees.  He
grabbed my head and pushed it down between his legs.  I stopped my face
just above the head of his cock.  I was stunned by what I was seeing.  It
was about six inches long, but it was the thickest cock I had ever seen in
real life.  I'd heard many men brag about having a beer can thick cock, and
seen some online, his was truly beer can thick.  It had a small head, and
though cut, still had a generous amount of foreskin.  He clearly did not
manscape; he had a thick brown bush of pubes at the base of his flaming red
and hard cock.  There was no way I was getting that into my mouth.  Pushing
on the back of my head, he forced my head down, my lips hitting the tip of
his engorged cock.  He thrust his hips and pushed his cock into my face.
My mouth opened.  I took the head of his cock in my mouth.  My tongue
licked around the head of his cock, I ran my tongue around the glans and
pushed it into his ample foreskin.  He pushed my head harder and forced his
cock further inside my mouth.  My mouth was opened so far it hurt.  The
head of his cock hit the back of my mouth.  I choked.  He started fucking
my mouth.  He pushed my head down while he rocked his cock up.  I was
gagging, drooling all over his fat cock, mixing with his pre-cum.  Tears
welled in my eyes.  He pushed the back of my pants down past my hips.  He
slapped by ass, my ass was red hot.  "Is that what you wanted?  Did you
want to suck my cock?  Suck it man!"  The face fucking continued in
earnest, he forced my head down and held my nose into his musky pubes He
grunted and his body rose in the air.  Stream after stream of hot creamy
jizz struck the back of my throat.  It filled my mouth so that cum oozed
out the sides and down his cock.  I choked on it.  I had no choice but to
swallow his creamy load.  He held me there forcing me to clean his cock of
every last drop of his hot cum.

He powerfully pushed me off him, still grasping my shirt and it ripped open
atthe buttons.  I slammed into the arm of the sofa, my hairy chest exposed.
Drew stood up and left the room.  Despite his forcefulness, I was turned-on
by his manliness.  I took off my clothes and grabbed my cock, I needed to
cum.  Drew came back his cock still swinging between his legs, clearly
ready for more.

"Who the fuck gave you permission to do that?" he yelled.

He raced across the room, grabbed me by the arm and pulled it behind me; he
practically ripped it out of the socket.  I flipped over to avoid the pain.
He grabbed my other arm and pulled it behind me.  Now I was on my chest, my
arms behind my back.  With his knee on my ass, and pulling my arms back, he
pushed me up to my knees, positioning my ass in the air, my face against
the arm of the sofa.  Again tears welled in my eyes, I cried out in pain.
With his other hand he slathered Vaseline into my hairy ass crack.  Then he
lubed up his cock.  Soon, I felt the head of his cock pushing against my
waiting hole.  In one fell motion he thrust that beer can sized cock deep
inside me.  I screamed out.  He reached around and covered my mouth.

"Shut the fuck up! The neighbors will hear you."

He held his cock there, grabbed my hair and held my head back.  He
whispered, "Relax your hole, and don't even fucking think about pushing me
out."  He let go of my hair.  He grabbed onto my hips and started thrusting
his cock in and out.  The pain was unbearable, but the head kept pounding
my prostate.  My cock grew to its full eight inches, I didn't know whether
to cry or cum.  I wanted it to stop, but I didn't and neither did the
pounding.  The pounding kept getting faster, harder and harder still.
Finally he thrust all the way in, his pubes against my ass cheeks.  He
slapped at my ass, and then his cock began pulsing inside my ass, another
round of streaming hot cum hit my prostate and filled my insides.  Without
even touching myself, I shot a massive load all over the sofa.  Drew pulled
out; he pushed me off the sofa on to the floor.

"Clean up that mess," he demanded.

He grabbed my head and put my nose into my own cum.  I cleaned up it with
my tongue.  Drew let go, I fell over.  We were both covered in sweat, just
like when we were kids.  Drew started out of the room; I was lying on the
floor, spent.  Drew said, "Don't even think about leaving tonight, besides
your car is still back at the shop.  I haven't fucked a bitch in a very
long time, and I'm not finished with you yet."

<The End>

If you like this story, I'd love feedback...msearles16@yahoo.com