From: DOUG@ysub.ysu.edu (Doug Sewell)
Subject: First night (story)
Date: 15 May 91 20:32:48 GMT
Organization: Youngstown State University VM system (YSUB)

This story downloaded from Rusty & Edie's BBS (216-726-2620 - 81
lines, 300/1200/2400/V.32/HST, 5GB+).  I don't know the original
source.


                              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 cutoffs.  (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 shriveled 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 bare-assed 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 signaled 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 under-
stood all to well--his turn was going to take a while.  He stud-
ied 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 steal-
ing 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 marveled 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 compliancy, he told me of the profound trust he
had placed in me.  Through tender touch, I told him of my unques-
tioned 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, explor-
ing 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 al-
ready 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 rever-
berate 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 move-
ment.  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