Date: Thu, 11 Mar 2010 04:07:17 -0800 (PST)
From: Peder Pederson <pederdagreat@yahoo.com>
Subject: "A Visit to Remember" Chapter 4

Chapter Four
Friday night, later

	The uncontrolled sobs filled the room, creating in Tom, unbearable
pain. Suddenly, unconsciously, he was vaulted into action.
	Getting out of his chair, he knelt in front of Bill, put his arms
around him, laid his head against Bill's, and he began to rock him as he
had six months before. He didn't say a word, just held and rocked his
friend. After what seemed like an eon, the sobs subsided and were replaced
by short, shallow breaths as Bill fought for control.
	"It's okay, Bill, it's okay," murmured Tom as he continued to rock
his friend. He could feel the tension in Bill's body drain away.
	Minutes later, Bill lifted his head, unwrapped his body, sheepishly
glancing into Tom's eyes and apologetically said, "Sorry."
	Tom stood up, looked down at his friends' drooped shoulders, "Hey,
that's okay." And, not knowing what else to say, " A good cry clears out
the cobwebs."
	Glancing up, Bill genuinely smiled his appreciation and slowly
lifted his frame from the chair, "Think maybe I ought to get some
sleep. Sorry about this. I'll be better tomorrow."
	"Come on. Don't worry about it. Yeah, get some sleep. It'll cure
what ails ya."
	"Thanks," came the reply, appreciating the understanding and a
little embarrassed for losing control. Bill walked, a little unsteadily to
his room.
	Tom watched his friend disappear behind the closing door, picked up
the two glasses--one almost empty and the other hardly touched, took the
paper napkins and wiped the wet rings off the table's surface. Turning of
the lamp and stereo, he walked to the kitchen, poured the contents down the
drain, put the glasses in the washer, snapped off the lights and walked
past Bill's room to his own, glancing at the light flowing from under the
closed door. His heart ached.
	He closed his door, slipped off the sweater, loafers and pants, and
uncharacteristically threw them across the chair by his closet. "I'll hang
them up tomorrow," he thought as he drew back the covers and slipped in
between the crisp, cool sheets. Somehow he always enjoyed the shock of cool
winter sheets on his nude body, the weight of the heavy wool blanket and
the gradual infusion of warmth as his body heated up the under covers. He
breathed in deeply the cool room's air, locked his fingers behind his head
and reflected on this evening's events. "I hope that this will get him out
of his funk," he thought. Slowly, he began to drift into the arms of sleep.

	His senses reluctantly drug him back to wakefulness. He didn't know
how long he had been asleep, or even if he had slept at all. But, his
senses, his ears picked up sounds from Bill's room. Low sobs could be heard
through the wall. His eyes snapped open, he threw off the covers, reached
into the closet for his short robe, hastily tied the belt as he padded down
the hall to Bill's room. The light was out. He paused a moment, then
deliberately opened the door and entered the room.
	As the muted light from the street lamps filtered through the sheer
curtains, he made out Bill's form curled up, fetal-like, in the center of
the double bed, back toward the door. The soft sobs continued to wrack the
solitary form. He sat on the edge of the bed and gently placed his hand on
his friend's shoulder. He could feel a shudder run through the pain wracked
body.
	"It's okay," he said gently, patting his shoulder.
	Bill had somehow felt the presence of Tom when he entered the
room. His touch and words were not a total shock, but were accepted and
welcomed. He turned towards his friend and managed to say, "Oh, God, I feel
so shitty, so alone, so helpless," and then, "don't leave. I need to talk."
	"I won't," Tom whispered. The night chill permeated the room. Tom
shivered. He hesitantly lifted the covers and slipped in next to his
friend, a little tentatively and being careful not to make direct contact
with his body. He lay on his right side, right hand cradling his head, his
left hand again touching the blanket covered shoulder of his friend,
gently, knowingly patting it.
	Suddenly, the dam broke and words poured from Bill's
mouth. Recounting the emotions, the feelings he experienced since that June
night when the call had arrived knelling the accident and Karen's
death. All the plans that he and Karen had made, the love, the passion that
they had shared, all the time that they had been together, gone, all
gone. The anger, the pain, the disbelief, the terrible unrelenting
loneliness and guilt--all this tumbled forth in an awesome and total,
all-cleansing catharsis.
	All that Tom could do was to listen to the violent range of
emotions that flooded and flailed the room. Somehow, he knew that he was
not required to say anything, just listen to this soul-confession, just be
there, just keep his hand in contact with Bill's shoulder and to feel the
warm, moist exhalings of Tom's words. He didn't even bother to wipe the
tears that flowed down his own cheeks, grateful in the knowledge that this
emotion charged time would help free his friend from his self-imposed
prison. The words, like some inexorable and cleansing flood continued for
some time. Finally, they stopped and a deep, deep sigh escaped from Bill's
lips.
	Everything was cleansed. Exhausted by the incredible emotional
release, they lay there trying to internalize, to analyze all that had
happened.
	Neither was aware of the full implication of this 'opening up.' Tom
knew that it was necessary for his friend to do so. And, Bill? he only knew
that this release, under any other set of circumstances would have been to
embarrassing to allow. Yet it had happened. And, he was glad. The walls of
their 'guarded-friendship' had been breached, and it felt strangely good to
both of them.
	After a few minutes of renewing silence, Bill, devoid of the
strictures that had inhabited him over the past months, and with a new-felt
freedom to express how he felt, said, in a quiet, calm voice, "I'm glad I
came here. I'm glad you're here."
	"Me too," was all that came from Tom's lips.
	Without a word needing to be uttered, inexplicably Bill slipped his
right arm around Tom. Pushing aside his robe, Bill's hand came to rest in
the middle of Tom's bare back. Maybe, it was the need for the closeness of
another human being. The touch of Bill's hand brought them both a strange
tingle and he moved closer. Tom released his head from his right hand-rest,
slipping his hand under Bill's head, gently he drew it towards him, and
brought it to rest in the hollow of his shoulder. They felt eminently at
ease. Then he moved his hand back and forth over Bill's back in a soothing
motion.
	Tom knew not what else to do. He knew that Bill's release had left
him with a feeling of relief and happiness for his friend.
	"Mmmm, that feels good," sleepily Bill said, reacting to Tom's
rubbing hand. He adjusted his head against the robe-covered shoulder,
reciprocating with the same action on Tom's back.
	Tom increased the pressure of his rubbing hand in a little hug of
acknowledgement. Bill returned the same. They both felt so comfortable, the
comfort experienced after some titanic exertion when the whole body
relaxes, all tension gone, no immediate problems. Breathing, which before
had been labored gasps, now overtook both in a deep, cleansing
rhythm. Their individual warmth infused each other.
	Tom turned his head and placed a soft kiss on the sweat-matted brow
of his friend. Why? He didn't know. It was right to do.
	"Thanks," Bill murmured as he raised his head and looked into Tom's
eyes barely visible in the half-darkness. Half-smiles spread across their
faces
	Then slowly, pushed by some indescribable force, Bill tentatively
pressed his warm moist lips against Tom's, not taking his eyes from those
of his friend. He withdrew an inch or two, still their eyes locked on each
other's. Again, an incredible energy began to oscillate between the two
pair of eyes, equally as strong as the emotion laden energy that had
manifested itself earlier that evening, but this time it wasn't
unbearable. It was inexorable, wonderfully inexorable, frighteningly
inexorable.
	Tom's hand slowly slid up Bills back, leaving a wake of
indescribable sensations. It came to rest and capped the back of Bill's
head, feeling his tousled hair matted by the sobs. Slowly, its pressure
drew Bill's lips across the infinite distance for which those inches
stood. Both knowing and yet not knowing what this short, but incredibly
important space implied. Their eyes, questioning, searching, questioning,
fearful, questioning, suddenly desiring, were inextricably locked. In that
eternity of time, their lips were slightly parted and when contact was
made, nothing could have pulled them apart. Their eyes closed.
	Without conscious control, their bodies came together along their
whole length and held. Their encircling arms did not move as they were
locked in that primal embrace. The only movement was the externally
invisible was their lightly twitching bodies. Their tentative probings of
their tongues and the electrically charged sensations that their touching
shot through their bodies opened new doors. This embrace, this kiss, this
uniting continued with out breath until finally Bill pulled back, opened
his eyes.
	"Oh, God!" was the first sound. It was disbelieving, it was
wondering, it was prayerful, it was a statement, it was all of these.
	Tentatively, so tentatively, Bill removed his arm from around Tom's
back, moved it, palm down, up and over his chest, feeling the beat of the
heart, up and over the pulsing shaft of the neck and lovingly touched the
side of his face--tracing his fingers over the eyebrows, down the ridge of
the nose and over the full, chisel-edged lips. The feel of his fingers sent
indescribable sensations through Tom. The touch was hesitant, Bill was
hesitant, moving his hand as if uncontrolled yet somehow, subconsciously
aware. They kissed again, this time not lengthy, but passionate.
	Slipping his left arm under the bed-covers, Tom encircled Bills
waist, feeling the quivering flesh beneath his hand and came to rest on the
small of the back. He pulled Bill even closer.
	Bill slipped his motionless left hand from beneath his body and
under Tom's, clumsily untying the robe's sash so that he could feel warm
flesh beneath his hand. Likewise, he pressed his hand into the quivering
small of Tom's back.
	They both could now feel each other's erections, reacting in jerky
response to their movements. But they were not ready to deal with this,
yet. They weren't sure that they wanted to deal with that issue. This was a
slow, carefully choreographed dance that demanded tentativeness in order to
solidify emotions and desires.
	Again their lips came together, not quite as tentative as before,
their probing tongues explored their new found sensations--sensations that
automatically fueled their entire bodies and caused unconscious movements
that exponentially unleashed unknown, unfathomable passions and
movements. Hands began to explore each other's bodies--up the spine,
causing uncontrollable arching, further forcing their already enmeshed
bodies into stronger contact; over shoulders, clutching drawing the other
closer; into the warm moist recesses of the underarms, running their
fingers through the silken hair, sending additional megavolts of shock
through their bodies; over chests, pausing with sensitive finger tips to
feel, to roll equally sensitive nipples into erectness; down over the
quaking belly, spasmodically reacting to the slightest touch and fingering
the navel's depression; feeling muscles, skin, underlying bones, all
becoming increasingly reactive to the touch.
 Their whole bodies miraculously became an uncontrollable erogenous
zone. Even their feet, legs and thighs twitched, probed and rubbed in
automatic, sensation seeking, sensation giving movements. And, little by
little their cocks began to assert a kind of undeniable dominance to the
whole ritual--this dance of life.
	Their increasingly passionate probings, and movement had brought
Bill momentarily on top. He raised his lips from Tom, again gazed down deep
into his friend's eyes, seeking, questioning, but he saw only his own
quandary mirrored. He shook his head in disbelief and he lowered his open
mouth over Tom's in unrestrained, undeniable desire.
	They turned over, as one, Tom's hands momentarily trapped under
Bill. He broke the kiss and began to cover Bill's face with quick kisses,
each depositing pleasing and mounting sensations. He moved to that soft,
sensitive area just under the angle of the jaw. His lips alternately kissed
and licked this garden of delight. Chill-like contractions, pleasingly
painful shot up Bill's spine and forced uncontrollable low moans from his
lips. The tongue found the ear and with moist, hot probings brought forth a
breathless, "Oh, God," from Bill's lips. Somehow, the fact that he was able
to bring such expressions of uncontrolled passion from Bill fueled Tom's
own desire. He drug his tongue down the by-now-sweating neck, across the
hollow at the base of the throat and on to the broad plane of his
chest. This was accompanied by a long, low, guttural moan that increased in
intensity. His lips encircled one of the rigid nipples. A hissing intake of
air across clenched
 teeth issued from Bill as the nipple was sucked past those warm moist lips
and tongued.
	Bill could take no more. He grasped Tom's head with shaking hands
and corkscrewed his body, bringing him again on top. He brought his lips
roughly down on Tom's. With quick, half-sucking, half-licking movements
Bill trailed his mouth over the chin, down the neck to the hollow of the
collar-bone.
	Almost unable to stand these sensations, Tom's arms flew up over
his head as he tried to whip his body to the right, to the left. He could
not dislodge Bill, nor did he want to, so consuming were these feelings. As
lips released that most sensitive place, Tom momentarily relaxed, only to
experience a multiplying of feeling as the searching lips and tongue found
his exposed armpit.
	That warm, light-musky-smelling hollow surprisingly increased
Bill's passion and brought a sympathetic jolt from his arched cock. He
lingered for a second or two before moving over to Tom's blue-black, erect
nipple. Its hardness against his caressing tongue and sucking lips only
seemed to increase. Unaware, by now, of Tom's groans, unaware of anything
but the mutually fueled desire which had reached a critical mass, he
shifted his body and trailed his tongue over the arched rib cage and down
towards the navel as if he were being drawn by some primal urge to a
centering point.
	Subconsciously knowing the course, the direction, but consciously
blacking it out of his thought. Bill's hand reached out and haltingly
touched Tom's erect cock. It jerked stomach-ward, propelled by some inner
energy. Suddenly, its angle changed. Tom had sat upright, and Bill felt
hands on his shoulders lifting him up too.
	Eyes wide with wonder and surprise, their whites making them stand
out in the half light, Bill could see Tom's head slowly shaking in
disbelief, a slow, questioning "No." With deliberateness, Bill placed his
hand in the middle of Tom's chest and gently pushed him back onto the
crumpled bed covers. Again, as before, their eyes locked, questioning,
asking, probing, disbelieving.
	Now bodies did not move in this slow-motion, premier, intensely
erotic dance. Only Bill's hand moved, propelled by some unknown force, as
it reached down to cup the ball-sac of his friend--eyes still
locked. Slowly, very slowly he moved his hand up the rigid cock-shaft until
he could feel its swelling head--eyes still locked. He felt the soft, loose
velvet covering, that silky sheath that hid the swollen cock-head, and
without haste retracted it, exposing the satiny, sensitive head--eyes still
locked. He leaned over and gently kissed Tom's lips and moving up,
kissed-closed his eyes. The next step was taken, directed by a primal
power.
	Their bodies quaked in passion and in conscious disbelief. This
dance had brought them to what had before been considered the brink. Of
what? They did not know the answer and were even fearful of the question.
	Slowly rotating, Bill brought his face over the turgid cock, its
exposed head glistening in the half-light of the bedroom. He brought his
nose within a fraction of an inch of the cock-head and sniffed. A light
musky order was detected. A heady sensation suffused his whole being, not
knowing whether it was a sensual-olfactory reaction or the fact that he was
embarking on a new and hereto for unthinkable path--the next step.
	He was at the brink, the dark abyss yawned beneath their
feet. Pushed by his own unacknowledged passion, he slipped over the
edge. His lips eased over the flared cock-head, making mental note of every
sensation, texture and form. Down over the ridged, flared edge his lips
slipped. He held his mouth there while his tongue explored every square
millimeter. He moved further down its length noting the taste--slightly
salty--gently sucking this wonderful instrument, and slowly withdrawing his
lips causing the head to be re-encased in its sheath. From deep within
dawned the conscious realization of what was taking place--of what he was
doing! "Sucking a . . . ." His inner voice could not finish the
phrase. But, the void of the abyss did not draw him down, rather, we was
lifted up--away from the darkness below. He was lifted up into the light of
what was, the light of life--the next step.
	He sucked the fluted edge of the soft, elastic covering into his
mouth. His tongue again explored this incredibly sensual delight--all the
time his right hand explored the tightly curled pubic hairs. His left hand
moved around the incredibly soft skin of the inner thigh--the next step.
	Pushing the prepuce back over the pulsing head, this time with his
tongue, he again lowered his head until almost the entire length was in his
mouth. As the swollen glans reached the back of his mouth, an
uncontrollable gaging sensation wracked his throat and he quickly
withdrew. He sat back on his heels taking deep breaths to subdue the
reflex.
	Tom was breathless and tingled with a newfound desire. Unable to
comprehend what had--what was happening he sat up, enfolded Bill in his
arms and whispered, "Sorry."
	With a warm partially accepting smile, Bill replied, "I'm not." He
brought his lips again to those of Tom.
	Tom's tongue explored frantically the inner reaches of Bill's
mouth, searching for some taste-trace of his own. His arms encircled Bill,
twisted him around and gently lowered him down onto the pillows.
	In a low voice, husky with rampant desire, Tom stated, "It's my
turn," --to dance
	Tom inched, backing up, down Bill's body, gently insinuating his
knees between those hairy thighs until his chin encountered the silky
thatch of cock-hairs. He crouched back resting his buttocks upon his heels
so that he would have his hands free as he debuted this new experience,
this new dance.
	Fired by what Bill had inexplicably done, his right hand grasped
Bill's cock, hard, pulsingly rigid, its circumcised head, mushroom-like,
and crimson with desire. His left hand hefted Bill's balls, feeling their
size between his thumb and fore-finger--the next step.
	He inhaled a long deep draught of air, ran his moist tongue over
his lips and lowered them over the up-standing cock. He noted how its skin
was tightly, but smoothly stretched over its entire length, not like the
loose skin of his uncut dick. He, too, savored the slightly salty taste of
this rigid tool as his lips slid up and down its length. His right hand was
replaced around the shaft by the left. The free hand moved up over the
tight, muscled stomach and up to the hard nipples that his lips recently
remembered and he began to lightly pinch and twist them--the next step.
	The combination of Tom's hot mouth on his cock and fingers
manipulating his nipples began to focus all feeling in those lushly
sensitive areas. Tom's lips continued to move up and down his cock with a
gentle sucking motion--the next step.
	Bill felt the cock-grasping hand release its grip and move down the
length of his inner thigh. The movement shot wave after electric wave of
ineffable sensations throughout his body--all returning and concentrating
their energy in his mouth-sheathed cock. He didn't think that he could
stand any more.
	He reached down, hooked his hands in Tom's armpits and pulled him
up face-to-face, nipples to nipples, stomach to stomach and cock to cock,
and hoarsely whispered, "Enough, I'm about ready to cum." Did they believe
that the denial of their orgasms would preserve them from the
inexpressible? Maybe! Yet, the inertia of their actions, of their passions
drove them onward--passion's momentum.
	And so, this newly premiered choreography continued--each mirroring
the other in this primal dance that seemed perfectly synchronized. They
turned together onto their sides, mouth to mouth, rotating their hips
outward to expose their hard erectness. Each gently grasped the other's
torrid cock and began to sensually manipulate it. As their mutual desire
mounted, so did the speed of their pistoning hands and uncontrolled moans
of ecstasy. The edge was reached, their orgasmic moans were low, guttural,
primitive--mirroring this new indescribable, guarded experience, not the
cries of uncontrolled, freely expressed passion. They showered each other
with the pearly, lustral fluid of their new-found passion.
	Slowly the cock-being-centered explosion of their orgasm
subsided. Their breathing returned to normal. Their hearts no longer beat a
tympanic rhythm in their heads, their conscious awareness of each other,
which was always there, took precedence and they turned their faces towards
each other.
	The dance was ended, the choreography was complete, the bows taken
and their whole bodies smiled. Nothing was said--nothing could be said--the
unthinkable had happened, it was undeniable, inexplicable, who could
explain? The accepting knowledge of their actions was at this moment beyond
the pale of their consciousness, beyond their ability to verbalize, yet
they were filled with wonderment, and strangely content.
	They pulled the rumpled bed-covers up over their sweat stained, cum
spattered bodies, turned towards each other and embraced. Entwined, they
both slipped wordlessly into a deep, satisfying and forgiving sleep.