THE FIRST NIGHT

Randy and I were twenty-two.  Fast friends since we were sixteen, we
were products of our times.  We'd grown up during the turmoil of the
late sixties, sweated out the final days of the draft as the Viet Nam
War wound down, and watched Nixon self-destruct.  We talked caringly
about these things--things social and political.  We seemed so unlike
most other guys our age who seemed only to drone on about the
weekend's conquests or football scores.  Over the years our
friendship had been galvanized by differences we'd had, and had
overcome.

There were times when I dared to think it.  I loved him - as a friend
with my head, as a comrade with my heart, but also in a different
way.  It was lust, and it was because he was a man.  At times in the
summer we would sit in our shorts, Indian - style, playing cards or
checkers.  I'd watch on the sly as the pink head of his dick poked
through the bottom of his cut-offs.  (I always wondered if he did
that on purpose, seeking an edge in the game, sensing my
concentration would be elsewhere!)  I stored the sight away in my
mind, as fuel for my fantasies.  I could not tell him any of this.
As open-minded as he was, it still seemed a risk too big to take.
Life without his touch was hard, but life without his presence was
unthinkable.

Try as I might to suppress it, the sight of him would always excite
me.  At the beach, I'd toss him a Frisbee and marvel at his muscles
in motion.  After a round of body surfing, we'd drag ourselves back
on the beach and soak in the warmth of the sun.  I'd lie on my
stomach while he'd lie on his back, eyes closed tightly.  I used that
precious little time to let my eyes drink him in.  A myriad of little
details were in the picture before me: the tiny goosebumps sported by
his deeply tanned skin; the heaving of his chest with each breath and
the stretching his large round nipples under the strain; the blood
pulsing through the veins in his neck; his baby fine hair wafting
gently in the breeze; the pores in his skin and the fullness of his
lips.  His face looked so serene and inviting.  I yearned to lay on
top of him, to melt over him like butter in the sun.

It wasn't until our annual August camping trip, that I got the chance
to drink him all in.  We were on a day hike when we saw the sign.
Made of thick iron, the letters had been cut out by torch.  "NO
NUDITY ALLOWED," it intoned.  We two rebels just looked at each other
and grinned.

God, it was beautiful there.  At the bottom of the canyon, a small
stream, inches wide, would on occasion balloon into a long, wide
pool, flanked by reeds and shrubs on one side and high sandstone
cliffs on the other.  We spotted several of these pools as we walked,
each one more secluded and beautiful than the last.  Finally, we
found the perfect one, and it was ours alone.

We decided to cross the pool to the rocks against the cliffs.  Not
knowing how deep the water was and not wanting to get our clothes and
belongings wet, we stripped naked and wrapped everything up in our
towels.  Out into the water we waded until it became so deep that we
had to hold everything above our heads and bounce off the bottom.
Like waiters carrying trays of food, we made our way to the opposite
side.  Finally there, we climbed out of the cool water, and laid down
on the warm rocks.  Nude, rolled on our sides, we discussed our good
fortune.

After a while we got out our ever-present magnetic game board to play
some Chinese checkers.  I longed to play with his dick, but at least
I was able to let my eyes wander down to it.  Previously shrivelled
by the coolness of the water, it had now begun to grow heavy.  If he
knew I was staring he didn't let on, and after a while he drew one
leg up, placing his foot on his knee.  His balls shifted in their
loose sack.  Gravity seized them. They rolled forward.  God, this had
to be an invitation of some kind, but it was so subtle I couldn't be
sure.

Too quickly the afternoon slipped by and the time had come to head
back to camp.  We both had developed dark tans over the summer, but
being bareassed in the sun was a new experience and, inadvertently,
we'd burned our butts!  Our shorts chafed against our tender skin all
the way back, but it was a small price to be paying for all the
beautiful sites to which I'd been privy that afternoon.

We'd found an out-of-the-way place to bivouac, so it came as no
surprise when, arriving at our campsite, Randy declared it hurt too
much to wear anything.  I signalled my agreement and we again shucked
our clothes.  As the sky blazed orange from the setting sun, we lit a
small fire, ate dinner, and rolled out our sleeping bags.  The night
air felt warm and refreshing, and made me feel acutely aware of our
nakedness.  Not yet ready to sleep, we stretched out on top of our
bags for a little conversation and a few hands of cards.  It was much
like the afternoon, except now the flickering fire highlighted his
light pink groin while the rest of his tanned body blended into the
darkness.

The cards were dealt and a few rounds were played.  It was Randy's
turn.  He started to chew on his lip in a way I understood all to
well--his turn was going to take a while.  He studied is cards.  I
studied his dick.  The dancing firelight seemed to set it in motion.
It was hypnotic.

"You going to play or what?"

"Huh?"  I was caught. "God, please, help me now," I thought.

"We're playing cards.  Remember?"

"You were taking so long my mind started to wander."  It was a feeble
attempt to cover the truth.

"Yeah, sure."

I had expected those words, but they weren't said with disgust.
There was, in fact, the hint of a smile on his lips and a look of
mischievousness in his eyes.  I was more relieved than hopeful, but
still, maybe I'd misread him all these years.  We finished the game.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked.  I always hated that
question.  Only one thing ever came immediately to mind.

"It doesn't really matter," I equivocated.  I could dream about it,
wish for it, but I couldn't bring myself to initiate it.  "I'm kinda
beat from the all the walking we did today,"

"Me too.  I could really use one of your backrubs... if you've got
the energy for it."

"Yeah, I could handle that."  I always could.  "Backrub" always
translated to "body massage".  It was the one intimacy that was
allowed between us; a line we both walked up to without hesitation,
but never crossed.

"I've got some lotion with my stuff.  Could you rub some in?  I think
I overdid it in the sun today."

"Sure, get comfortable.  I'll be right back."  As I returned to him I
couldn't help but think that tonight was going to be a night for the
truth.  We were both naked, he had caught me stealing peeks at his
dick and was still willing to let me give him a massage.  This was
either a demonstration of his trust, or a demonstration of his
desire.

I stood over him.  I'd seen this sight so many times in my dreams.  I
knelt down and touched him.  It was no dream.  I squeezed some lotion
into my hands and warmed it.  Starting at the calluses on the bottom
of his feet, I began working my way up his legs.  His body relaxed
under my ministrations.  As I felt the firmness of his muscles, I
marvelled at how they could present such a vision of strength to the
eyes and yet be so yielding to the hands.  I kneaded his thighs, but
stopped at the fold marking the start of his buttocks.

I next worked on his hands, cognizant of the meatiness of his palms,
the texture of his fingerprints, and the rigidity of the bones which
gave his hands their potent shape and structure.  But the power I
knew to be in them was not in evidence that night.  What was it about
his hands that made them so sensual?  We interact so much with the
world by the touching we do with our hands.  In those moments we
were, in fact, communicating through ours.  With his complacency, he
told me of the profound trust he had placed in me.  Through tender
touch, I told him of my unquestioned love for him.  The messages were
so much clearer than any to be heard with the ears or seen with the
eyes.

My fingers traversed the landscape of his arms and back.  The lotion
imparted to his skin a satiny sheen that reflected the firelight.
Finally, my hands were on his ass.  The twin muscular mounds exploded
with goosebumps when I spread the lotion over them.  This was the
only place that was really sunburned and I gave it special attention.
Starting at the base of his spine, I moved lower, kneading his
cheeks, watching them cleave in the process.  As I moved closer to
his legs, he repositioned himself.  He was making himself more
vulnerable!  I wanted to plunge in, to live my fantasy, but he was
more than just a willing piece of ass to me.  He was the love of my
life, and I wanted to see his face.

"Roll over Ran," I said gently.  With no hesitation he did.  I gazed
down upon him as I proceeded to massage his feet and legs.  His
submission was unmistakable and undeniable.  Soon I was straddling
his stomach, leaning forward on my knees, exploring the ridges and
valleys of his abdominal muscles.   With each breath his ribs rose
and fell beneath me.  At last I molded my hands to his wonderfully
sculpted chest.  So broad, so muscular, I couldn't feel the ribs
underneath.  As I touched his nipples they contracted, forcing the
nubs to attention.  I felt his heart beat stronger.

Suddenly, I became aware of the heat between us.  I'd already lost
the day-long battle against my own erection and now I could feel a
warmth--low and behind me.  I turned to look.  That for which I had
wished so long was coming to pass.  It was his cock, filling with
blood, pulsing, arching its way towards me.  I looked at his
beautiful face below and leaned to touch it, to finish the massage.
As I did so, his penis pressed hard against me.  The blood rushed
into my groin and I began to weaken.  Attempting to steady myself, I
cupped his face with my hands.  I rubbed his strong cheekbones gently
with my trembling thumbs.  He raised his hand, placed it on my
shoulder, and slowly opened his eyes. Through our eyes, the windows
to our souls, it all was conveyed--the complete truth.

"Come here," he bid me.

I sank down onto him.  My ass pushed back against his cock, almost
seeming to cradle it.  My own tool, roaring hard, was sandwiched by
our warm, moist, lotion-lubricated stomachs.  My tongue met his and
our lips sealed around them.  Heretofore content in my own mouth, it
went berserk in his.  I held is head in my hands like the sacred
object it was.  I felt the roughness from the day's growth of beard.
"My God," I thought.  "This is what it's like to kiss a man, to
experience him with every sense there is."

I wrapped my arms and legs around him, as content as I had ever hoped
to be.  We were woven together, only our tongues in motion, but then
he took the bottle of lotion and squeezed some in his hand.

"Hunch up on your knees, Bud."  I'd always loved that term of
endearment and I knew I'd love what was coming next.  He smeared the
lotion in my ass and then popped a finger inside.  I moved back up to
smother again his mouth with mine.  His finger moved deeper inside
until it pressed upon my prostate.  I felt the release of fluid rush
down the length of my penis and out onto his stomach.  A moan escaped
my mouth and I felt it reverberate in his chest.  I heard the squishy
sound of lotion as he stroked himself to full hardness.

"Do it.  I've wanted it for so long," I confessed at last.

With one hand he pulled me forward against my weight; with the other
he lined himself up to plug my anxious hole.  Then he eased me back
against him.  I felt myself open up and then stretch wide as the head
of his dick pushed through.  In startled reflex, my arms closed
tightly around him.  We froze in gentle embrace until I could relax.
Gradually, more and more of his rod penetrated me.  My balls nestled
into his cushiony pubic hair and I knew his dick was home.  My heart
pumped blood through the vessels in my tightly stretched sphincter in
counterpoint rhythm to that of his steadily throbbing member.

It had taken years to get this far.  I slowly sat up and looked at
him.  Full and deep inside me, he opened those angelic eyes and
flashed a devilish grin.  I began to rock gently back and forth.  His
chest rose, and with a low groan, fell.  Our lovemaking progressed by
slow degrees, and as our movements became more pronounced, he reached
out with his hand to me, first touching my dick, then encircling it.

We rapidly approached the flash point.  Our bodies glistened with
sweat and our breathing had turned to panting.  When the action of
his hand upon me became more frenetic, I knew I was on the brink.

"I could do this all night, Ran, but if you keep that up I'm gonna
cum!"

"Shit, man, we will do it all night!  Nobody says you can only cum
once a day.  Let it go!"

So close to blowing my own wad, I turned my attention to him, wanting
to bring him over the top with me.  I reached down and felt his shaft
sliding in and out my chute.  I slid my hand down and cupped his
balls.  With my thumb, I pressed firmly where the spongy underside of
his dick met his dancing nutsack.  His whole body tensed and froze.
I had gotten to his prostate the easy way.  He uttered no sound,
inhaled no breath, made no movement.  He gripped my handle as if to
keep from falling into some deep crevasse--but he had no chance.  I
gently squeezed his clutch of eggs, pushing him off the precipice,
determined myself to follow him down.

I felt the first spasm of his meat and the explosion in my bowels.
That set me off.  My ass contracted around him as he continued to
pump into me.  We each fed off the orgasm of the other.  My churned
cream shot out and landed on his tanned chest.  A small pool formed
in the hollow at the base of his neck.  The body that had been so at
rest as I massaged it earlier was now unleashed, blasting its
blueprint into me.  Wave after wave of convulsive contentment washed
over us.  I collapsed against him, my semen serving as mortar,
cementing our bodies together.  Under me I felt him shudder one last
time.

He made no effort to withdraw, but soon that terrific cock, which had
been so hard for so long, began to deflate and, alas, slide out.

I straightened myself out beside him.  Toe to toe, and tongue to
tongue, we intertwined our legs, kissed, and propped ourselves up on
our elbows.  Neither of us said anything for a long, long time.  It
was a magic moment; we were meshed together at the waist, but that
didn't seem to matter.  We were meshed together in our minds.

Randy broke the spell.  "You think you could concentrate on a card
game now?"  What a grin he was wearing!

It was quite a night for firsts.  It was my first night of real sex.
And it was my first night of truthful love.  But it was also the
first night of a certainty that we had reached a point in our
relationship where we knew we'd be sitting together on a park bench
in our eighties, never having drifted apart, always a part of each
other's lives.

                               THE END