Date: Mon, 20 Oct 2008 07:04:23 -0700
From: Oregon Bear <oregonbear9@gmail.com>
Subject: The Guitar Lesson

This story contained graphic descriptions of adult gay male to male sex.
If this offends you or it is illegal for you to read this, please leave.


			     The Guitar Lesson


       I knew we would be lovers the moment he touched my shoulder and he
sighed, as I was showing him the fingering for the new chord he needed for
the song.  He had come over this afternoon after we talked yesterday about
our music.  He'd only been playing for a few weeks, and kept asking me
about chords, and fingerings, and whether it would be easier to learn
finger picking or flat picking.

       Bill had seen me playing at the local coffee shop one Saturday
afternoon, and, after my set was over, he had lingered and we ended up
drinking coffee and talking music for several hours.  He was learning the
guitar, after his uncle had died, unexpectedly, and his aunt had given him
the family heirloom after the funeral.

	He had always admired his uncle's ability to pick out a tune, and
sing along as he was playing.  But, like most of us, he was shy about his
musical talent and didn't think he was able to learn to play.  Now that his
uncle's guitar was staring at him every day in his living room, he felt
obliged to at least give it a try.

	The chord was pretty complex, and I soon had my hand wrapped around
his as I showed him the easiest way to finger it.  My arm brushed against
his shoulder and I could smell the coffee on his breath.  He moved into the
touch and his hand grew tender against my shoulder.

	"I can't thank you enough for all your encouragement and help these
past few weeks," he nearly whispered.  "You've really taught me a lot.  I
was pretty scared to start playing, but it's so....relaxing.  It just feels
so right to me.

	"Well, you're a great student.  You're just a natural.  I think you
inherited a lot from your uncle," I replied.

	"Uncle Ted, oh, God, how I miss him," Bill whispered, as a big tear
rolled down his cheek into his red, curly beard.

       The day he learned his uncle was dying, he came into my office at
the end of the day.

	"I need to talk to you.  I have to tell someone.  If I don't, I'm
just going to explode," Bill said and began to sob.  His tears wetted his
starched businessman's shirt, and then, he melted in my arms and sobbed and
sobbed.  In between the tears, the awful news and his love for his uncle
was revealed.

	We'd been co-workers for several years, and had confined our
relationship to working on projects, and, sometimes, having lunch together
and talking idly about sports and office politics.  A few times, we had
gone out for a beer after a long week on a difficult project.  Until that
day, I'd never seen Bill be emotional.  He was always such a straight-laced
kind of guy, always just a bit distant, and never letting anyone get close
to him.  But, that was the office culture, and there were few friendships
at work.

       The beard, like the guitar, was new to him.  He'd always been
clean-shaven, keeping up his image as the successful young businessman.
But, when his uncle was diagnosed with cancer and began to slip away, Bill
began to take a look at his life and who he was.  His uncle had always worn
a beard, and Bill said he was growing his beard as a tribute to his uncle.

	He took some ribbing at work for the new beard, as only some of the
college interns in the office wore facial hair.  He came back from a three
day holiday weekend with his stubbly face, and it filled in to a nice beard
in no time.  He looked good with it, and let it grow out so there was a bit
of curl to it, and the reddish tinge set off his cobalt blue eyes.  He
seemed more relaxed with himself with the beard, and rather enjoyed his bit
of rebellion in the formality of the office.  It was a new, but comfortable
role for him.

	We both played a few more songs, and then, I asked Bill to play
Danny Boy.  It was one of his uncle's favorites, and Bill had been
practicing it for several weeks.  He began to finger its haunting Gaelic
melody, and then he began to cry.

	I grabbed his guitar before it fell, and I grabbed his shoulder,
pulling him into my side.  My other hand grabbed his hands, and his cries
turned into sobs.

	"I'm so lonely.  Uncle Ted was the only one I could ever talk to.
Now, he's gone and no one loves me," he wailed.  His beard, now damp and
becoming wetter, pushed into my shirt, as I hugged him close and his tears
began to soak my shoulder.

	Soon, his hands wrapped around my shoulder and we sat on the couch,
him sobbing and me hugging him, and offering a few words of comfort.  One
strong hand grasped my bicep and squeezed it, not letting go.

	"You're so strong, John.  You've always been so kind to me.  You're
always there when I need you," Bill sobbed.  "I don't deserve it, you know.
I'm just so....stupid and worthless.  I don't deserve you."

	"Bill, you do deserve this.  You are a loving, kind man.  Your
uncle's death was a big blow.  You have a lot to grieve about," I said,
hugging him closer.  "You are loved."

	"I don't deserve this.  No one loves me.  I'm ugly, and no one
.... No one has ever wanted me," Bill said.

	His voice began to rise, and I could feel his body tense.

	"No one understands my pain.  No one has ever wanted me," he
shouted.  " No one has ever wanted to sleep with me.  I've wanted to be
with a man my whole life and no one has ever...."

	Bill paused, and blushed a deep red.

        "Oh, my God.  "I've never told ..... Oh, my God.  I can't believe I
said this.  And, you must think.....  Oh, my God," Bill wailed, tearing
himself out of my arms and flinging himself over the arm of the couch,
sobbing loudly.  "I think I just want to die."

	It was quiet for a minute, except for Bill's sobbing.

	I cleared my throat.  "Well, Bill, now that you've brought up the
topic, I guess you should know that I find you quite attractive.  I'm gay,
too.  And, I feel just fine with myself. "  I said quietly.

	Silence descended again, and Bill's sobs ebbed.  I reached over and
touched his shoulder with my hand.



	"This conversation calls for something special.  I'll go fix us a
drink," I said, getting up to find the ice and Scotch.  It was definitely
time for the some of the 12 year old Scotch I save for a special occasion.

	"I should leave," Bill whispered.  "You must think I'm a piece of
shit.  I just want to crawl away and die."

	"Au contraire, my friend," I replied.  "You need a drink, and we
need to talk, and you are in no shape to be alone now.  You need a drink,
and you need a friend now.  Let me be the proper host.  I insist. "

	I put a small roast I'd been marinating, into the oven and made
quick work with the ice, glasses, and the club soda in the kitchen, and
came back with healthy glasses of my best Scotch.  I found Bill, head down,
elbows on his knees, staring past the wooden floor by the couch.

	"Here, ya go, buddy.  Here's to you, and your first day as a proud
gay man out of the closet," I toasted.

	Bill swirled his drink, clinking the ice a bit, and looked up at
me, as he took his first sip.

	"I never thought I'd be toasting myself as a gay man, especially
not with you," he whispered.  "I've always respected you, and I've felt
really close to you these last few weeks.  You've been so nice to me,
teaching me about my guitar and music, and, well, just being my friend," he
added.

	We talked about when we both first realized we were gay, and how
phony the high school dating scene was, our cold and proper office life,
and we swapped stories of dating and sexual disasters, as we tried to fit
in to the phony images of studly teenaged jocks and being popular in
school.

	As Bill was laughing at my most humiliating moment on a date with a
cheerleader, he looked into my eyes, and said, "You're the only one I've
ever shared my .... ,uh, preference with, well, except my Uncle Ted."

	"I never came right and and told him I guess I respected him too
much, and I thought he'd be so disappointed, so ashamed of me.  But, then,
one time, we were out fishing for the day.  Out of the blue, he told me
that he respected me so much, and that everybody was different, and that
every one of us finds love in our own way, our own time," Bill said,
quietly, almost reverently.

	Uncle Ted told me, then, that he always realized I was gay, and
that he loved me all the more, knowing that it was hard to be a gay man,
and that it was really hard to come out to our family.  He told me then
that he was gay, too, and not many people in the family knew that.

       "We don't have the most liberal, accepting family, you know.  But,
Bill, I love you and I accept you, and I just want you to be happy and to
find someone you can love," Uncle Ted said.

       Bill let out a big sigh, and a heavy tear fell from his eye, slowly
rolling into his beard.

       "I miss that big guy.  He was always there for me.  He could always
look into my heart and know where I was in life, "Bill sighed.

       "You're staying for dinner," I announced and got up to head into the
kitchen.  "We both need a refill on our drinks, and I'm not sending you
home to be alone with your sorrow tonight.  You're staying here this
evening, and we are going to have ourselves an evening of song and
merriment and good conversation."

	Bill nodded and followed me into the kitchen.  I soon had him at
work chopping vegetables, setting the table, and stirring up an apple
crisp.

	We shared more jokes, Bill played Danny Boy through twice, as I
mixed the salad and put the finishing touches on dinner.  He played the
music well, with real emotion, and we both felt his guitar playing was
really progressing.

	Bill ate heartily, and we cleaned our plates.  As we put our dishes
into the sink, I turned around to him and said, "You are quite the man, my
friend.  You honor me by trusting me, and being with me today."

	He looked up, a bit shy.  "John, a while ago you said you found me,
uh, attractive.  Were you just saying that to comfort me, or, uh, ..."

	"Oh, I find you attractive all right, Bill.  I may be older than
you, but I'm still alive and still a man.  I've always liked your butt and
liked how you fill out your shirt, and I wouldn't mind getting you out of
your pants and into my bed," I said.  I'm not trying to do something
tonight you're not ready to do, but, when you are ready, I'd be honored to
be your first."

	Bill blushed, and took a deep breath.  He looked up at me, and
blushed again.  His reddish cheeks matched the curls on his face, and set
off his deep blue eyes.

	"I've been wanting a lover for a long time, and I've thought about
you ever since I started at the company.  You fill out your shirt pretty
nice, too, John, and I'd love to unbutton that shirt and slowly peel it off
of you.  I've been waiting for years for this, and I don't have any more
excuses any more.  Today, I've made a big step, and I just think its time
for another," he said, forcefully.

	"I'm not into any notches on my belt today, Bill.  I really do find
you attractive, and I can see us as lovers.  But, let's take our time, and
make sure we're both ready.  I want more than a quick roll in the hay, and
I think you do, too.  We've got time, and we don't have to rush into this,"
I replied.

	"I need another drink," Tom said, and moved over to the
refrigerator.  He mixed us another round, and then gently took my arm and
walked me into the living room.  We sat down on the couch, and he put one
arm around my shoulders, as we sipped our drinks.

	"I'm not good at speeches, and I've never asked anyone this before.
I'm scared, but I'm lonely, and I need a lover.  I don't know how to make
love to another man, and..."  He paused, and took a deep breath.  " I can't
believe I'm asking this, but I want you to show me how to make love.  I
want you to teach me ....  so much," he said, quietly, his eyes brimming
with tears.

	"Just like guitar playing, huh?  You're a good student of strumming
and fingering the strings on Uncle Ted's guitar," I replied.  "You're a
good student, Bill, and I think you'll get the hang of this in no time."

	Bill took another deep breath and let it out slowly.  His fingers
tightened around my neck.

	"So, what's the first lesson, teacher?"


	His fingers soon had my shirt unbuttoned, and he began to caress my
chest.  The hairs stood up and my skin began to tingle with his soft touch,
and I gasped as he found my nipple and began to tease it to a turgid point.
Our lips met and his tongue was soon touching my lips and my cheeks, and
the curves of my Adam's apple.  His beard rubbed the stubble on my cheeks,
his fingers smoothed and played with my goatee, and I began to moan with
pleasure.  I knew he'd be as good of a lover as he was a guitar player.

	Bill's hand soon wandered down my chest and belly, tracing the
hairs on my treasure trail, and he soon began to outline my stiffening cock
under my jeans.  His touch was hesitant, at first, but soon his fingers
were busy exploring my skin and what was inside my jeans.  He fumbled with
my belt buckle and then was moving my zipper down.

	"Go, ahead, Bill.  Its all there for you.  I want you and I want
you to just enjoy me," I said.  We have all night."

	Soon, our clothes were on the floor, and Bill was discovering all
of me.  His lips moved down to my hard cock, when I gently pushed his
shoulder back a bit, and said, "My turn, sport.  This is where you need to
watch the teacher play this tune."

	My fingers gently cupped his ball sac, fingering the wiry black and
red hairs of his sac, gently rubbing his balls through the tender skin, and
my tongue gently licking his balls, as I sucked each of his nuts into my
mouth, where they were gently washed and fondled.  My goatee rubbed his
sac, and I tongued the seam from his hole and over his hairy sac.  He
smelled clean and manly, as his stiff cock throbbed with every heart beat.

	His thighs rubbed against my chest and rested on my shoulders, as I
continued to play with his balls and sac, and I gently nibbled the soft,
tender skins of his inner thighs.  One hand wandered north and played with
his nipples and the rough black hairs of his muscular chest, now damp with
his ragged breathing and excitement.

	Bill tried to speak words of appreciation, but soon lapsed into a
series of sighs and moans of pleasure.  I heard a few references to God and
Jesus, but the sounds were not words of prayer.  His hands grabbed onto my
shoulders and fingers showed the tension in his body, as he moved closer to
his orgasm.

	Bill's large, uncut cock stood eagerly before me, and I wanted to
move to my dance with his manhood, and quickly bring him to a climax.  But,
we had all night, and I moved around his hardness, licking his hairy groin
and stomach, and bringing my tongue to taste the contours of his belly
button.  Then, I moved north and met my fingers on his nipples, and again
brought my face close to his hairy, hard chest, gently licking off some of
his horny sweat, as Bill's moans grew more urgent, his breath coming now in
gasps and pants.

	My other hand cupped his balls again, and I felt them rise in the
sac, getting ready to explode.  I gently grasped his hard cock, and my
finger gently caressed the steel helmet of his manhood, which had emerged
out of his long foreskin, and I slowly moved around the rim of the head.
His piss slit glistened with precum, and the head was pulsing with lust.

	"Oh, God.  I, ...  I can't stand this.  You're incredible.  I want
to come, but I.... I don't want you to stop, John", Bill moaned through his
teeth, his breath coming deeper and deeper.

	I ripped open the condom with my teeth, and tenderly moved the
latex over his turgid manhood, moving the folds down his stiff cock as the
latex firmly gripped the length of his thick manhood.

	"Now, we are ready for me to really make love to you, Bill.  I want
you now, and I want you to give me everything now," I whispered in his ear,
as I moved my hands through his chest hair and gently played with his balls
one more time.

	He began to move from side to side, and tilted his bearded jaw
upward, as he whispered, "Bill.  Bill, take me.  I'm yours."

	Soon, my tongue and mouth were busy playing sweet flute music on
his massive cock, swollen to near bursting by our lovemaking, the caressing
and mouthing of his balls, the sucking of his stiff red nipples, the
gripping and caressing of his shoulders, his butt cheeks, the touching of
the the underside seam of his balls leading to his hole.

	I soon was pressing my lips to the root of his cock, and its head
was sliding swiftly along my tongue and over my lips, again and again,
faster, and faster.

	Bill let out a loud moan, as he pulsed his first shot of cum, his
balls nestled high up under his cock, nearly out of my fingers.  Again, and
again, his cock pulsed and jerked, and his breath finally released as the
tension eased out of his balls and cock, as one last pulse of cum filled
the condom.

	The room quieted, and only Bill's easing breath filled the silence.
His hot cock now shrunk in my hand, and slipped out of my lips, and I moved
its purple-red head and hot tip filled with all of his cum onto his hairy
thigh.

	I moved up beside him, putting my hand on his sweaty chest, and
began to gently tongue his ear lobe.

	"I love you, Bill.  You make beautiful music," I whispered.

	Bill opened his eyes, and took my head into his big hands.  "Oh,
John.  I love you, too.  That was .... That was beyond incredible."

	We lied there in silence for a few minutes, just listening to each
other breathe.  Bill put his head on my chest, and sighed, his beard
meshing with my chest pelt, the weight of his body giving me a sense of
ease and contentment.

	He stirred a bit, and moved his hand down to my groin.

	"Mind if I give this new tune a run through, teacher?  I need to
practice these new chords." he laughed.


					-----

Copyright 2008 Oregon Bear