Date: Fri, 21 Aug 2015 12:32:05 +0000 (UTC)
From: Hairy Jacques <hairy.jacques@yahoo.com>
Subject: "Anything you want," Part 6

This is a true story, modified to protect the anonymity of those involved
and simplified to enhance the narrative's flow.

Reader feedback is welcomed, and the author will do his best to answer
questions and respond to comments. Contact him at hairy.jacques@yahoo.com.

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"Anything you want," Part 6

I awoke to the sound of him taking a piss in the bathroom. The bedside
clock told me it was 2:05. The light streaming in through the window told
me it was 2:05 p.m. Talk about oversleeping. The good news was that neither
one of us had to be anywhere for a couple of hours. When the pissing
stopped, I turned over and watched him standing over the toilet. His back
was to me. He stood there, unmoving. He was naked and the overhead light in
the bathroom caused the light blond hairs of his muscular legs and buttocks
to almost shimmer. I realized that he was trying to piss through a hard-on
when I saw his ass muscles clench. He pissed and then paused. He pissed and
then paused. He pissed again. Finally, he flushed.

I smiled when he turned around. He smiled back. I had worried that things
would be weird between us. They weren't.

His dick still at full mast, he walked toward the bed. He got back in,
facing downward with his arms outstretched. He turned his head to the side
and looked at me with sleepy eyes. "My back's stiff, too," he said.

I straddled him and began my massage. There were some knots in his back so
I worked his muscles tenderly and thoroughly. Not only my hands were
touching his back. So was my dick. Soon I was hard and leaking. We never
used massage oil but my precum added just a bit of lubrication to help me
as I worked his muscles. I made my way down to the base of his back and
then the top of his ass. I started to knead the muscles of his cheeks. His
spread his legs just enough. I knew what he wanted, so I pulled his cheeks
apart and went to work with my tongue. He sighed as I tasted him. His ass
lips were swollen from last night. No doubt they were also kind of
tender. I did my best to soothe him--to thank him--for what he'd allowed me
to do.

I switched things up, moving my hands to the backs of his thighs and calves
and then down to his big feet.

He turned over, presenting me with his erection. I started with his
balls. Already, they were tight and retracted. While I sucked and tongued
them I stroked the tip of my nose across the underside of his dick. He
smelled really good: a little soapy, a little musky, and a lot like him.

I couldn't resist. I released his balls from my mouth and let my tongue
find its way around his cock. I took him into my mouth and started to suck
him. Really, what I was doing was loving him. I was loving giving him
pleasure. I was loving how I couldn't get enough of him. I was loving the
taste and the texture of his precum and his skin. I was loving the fact
that we had finally grown comfortable sharing with each other such
intimacies.

I reached up to his pecs and stroked his nipples. I dipped my fingertips
into the pits of his arms, which were warm and just slightly damp with
excitement. I moved my fingers down to trace the ridges of his abs and then
grasp his balls, pulling down on them gently while my lips pulled up from
his crotch.

He was breathing harder now. I knew the signs. I touched a finger to his
ass, pressing but not penetrating. My thumb massaged his taint. Suddenly
the palm of his hand landed on my head. His hips bucked. His dick
throbbed. He grunted. He flooded my mouth as I swallowed and swallowed. I
didn't want any of his cum to escape. And to tell the truth, I felt a lump
in my throat. I knew that this would be the last time for a long time. I
wanted all of him.

He collapsed on the bed. I leaned back on my knees. My dick jutted out,
still hard and dripping. I waited a moment, gratified but not
satisfied. For a few long seconds I was hopeful but not expectant. The
seconds passed. I left him on the bed, walked to the bathroom, and took
matters in hand. I came while standing over the toilet. Then, finally, I
pissed and flushed.

I stepped into the shower. Mostly, I just wanted to give him time to
recover. As I dried off, he presented himself to me, fully dressed and
cheerful, like nothing had happened.

My parents stayed in a hotel, but my little brother and sister thought it
would be fun to stay with me in my dorm. We had a big dinner the night
before graduation. Of course he was there, but our time alone together was
up.

Close to twenty years have passed. We've never lived closer than 500 miles
apart. I visited him twice while he was in grad school. We went back to the
old pattern of back pops and massages--and me sucking, rimming, and
swallowing.

He was a groomsman at my wedding. Then he got engaged. We shared a room
during his bachelor party weekend at Steamboat Springs. The first night, I
rubbed his back and sucked his dick. The last night, I massaged him and
sucked him and then he fucked me.

I haven't seen him since, but we've done a fairly decent job of staying in
touch. I'm still married. My wife and I have a boy and a girl. He's still
married, too. He and his wife have a girl. She's very blonde and very
tall. She looks just like him. He's into Crossfit and running. He's still
muscular and amazing.

I don't really regret how things turned out, but I also don't regret what
we shared with each other. Usually when I beat off I think about him. I
love my wife and my kids. Sometimes, however, I wonder what it would be
like if he and I were a couple. We could marry now. But of course this sort
of thing wasn't really imaginable back when we were in college.

I got a text from him a couple of months ago. We exchanged pleasantries,
caught up a bit, and compared notes. Then, he wrote that he was "missing
us. Remember 'us'? We had some crazy times. I'd relive it all. I'd do
everything all over again."

"Everything?" I asked.

There was a slight pause. "Everything," he replied.

So would I. I thought for a second about how to respond. My fingers touched
the letters on the screen of my phone: "Me, too," I wrote. "Everything and
anything." Then I added: "Anything you want."

That's the end. And that's the truth.

Capturing all these memories has been cathartic. But I'm still not sure
I've figured everything out or arrived at the point of full closure. Based
on what happened, what's your take on what unfolded? Sometimes I worry that
I was using him. Sometimes it's difficult to deny that he was using
me. Other times, however, I think that probably we were using each
other. More than that: We were enjoying each other and loving each
other--as best we could given the definitions and distinctions under which
we believed we needed to live.

These memories still turn me on. They also make me feel somewhat
confused. Maybe you can consider what happened with more objectivity.

I'd love to hear your thoughts.