Date: Sun, 21 Nov 1999 03:02:06 EST
From: jmmt@hotmail.com
Subject: Best Buddies Hookin' Up
I wrote this story on a rare burst of inspiration and energy. Infrequently,
I write fun fictional pieces such as this.
Now, this story takes place somewhere in the 2nd half of the '90s, in and
around Boston and maybe some of New England. The characters are real only
in that each one is a collage of people I know. It's a slice of myself,
though, as the main character is a part of me that I needed to express at
the moment. I won't be censoring the words and ideas - should you be
offended please remember that it was your choice to read. Should you be
amused - feel very encouraged to contact me.
THE STORY::::
The pretty, fluffy trance music was conjuring up little pixies prancing
around on the clouds in my head, infusing me with relaxation and feelings of
pink and baby blue.
"Fluffy-fuckin'-pretty music. Fairy shit", I muttered to Lena - a
purist junglist - at my side.
"Yeah, dude. Well", she sighed, fluffing up the back of her
meticulously accomplished hairdo (an iron-flat swath of hair on either side
of her face and a chaotic pin bed of hair at the back - lacquered to a T).
"Jungle's next".
Something suddenly poked me in the back. "What?!? Jimmy here doesn't like
the fairy shit?" Damn, the Fucker's here.
Trying to keep my scowl from twitching into a big-ass grin, I turned
around and cuffed Francis on the side of his black-visored-buzz-cut head.
Laughing, we gave each other a quick bear hug.
I looked at his outfit. "Y'think this dark get-up'll make you look all
tough n' shit?" I sneered at the black visor pulled down low over his eyes,
the black hooded sweatshirt, and the big black pants he was wearing. He
can't ever not look cute, can he? That not-quite-pug nose, those
heavy-lidded eyes, those full lips (the lower of which was encircled by a
hoop - gross on most other people).
"Bitch!" he reached up to pull my caps' brim from being centered over my
right eye to over my right ear. "Tougher than this country club fag shit!"
I laughed at that, looking down at my sweater vest and khaki cargoes.
Lena turned towards us with an exasperated old bitch's look on her face.
"All right, asshole, quit picking on Jim and bust out yer bowl." She
glanced at me knowingly. Being one of my girls, she knew of my crush on
this kid.
"Word", Francis said, putting an arm around each of Lena's and my
shoulders. "Let's boogie to my car. I left my bowl there so mothas like
you two wouldn't mooch, but, oh well..."
If Lena and I weren't familiar with the people throwing the house party and
the people attending, it probably would have been obnoxious of Francis to
not let go of our shoulders as we squeezed our way out of the densely packed
apartment. Little things like that were what endeared me to the guy in a
week's time.
I had met Francis around a week-and-a-half ago at his cousin Jade's house.
Jade lived in Boston, but Francis was on a solitary road trip that had begun
in Orlando, FL. Jade was having a small gathering in the college ghetto
area - nothing big, maybe a dozen people hanging out and getting fucked-up.
Being a new face that happened to be very attractive, I made sure Francis
enjoyed chilling with me that very first time. We had each other laughing
like madmen in no time. I had not only managed to entertain the guy, but
had given him what he called, "My Best Friend In Boston." He discovered a
day or two later that I was a 21-year-old party kid who would buy him booze
(he'd just turned 20) and enjoy getting sloshed with him. He had, in his
car, a 2 gallon Coleman jug that we filled up with ice, Bacardi rum, and
pineapple juice and took to the Fenway Park one afternoon. We'd invited a
few people to come sit with us by the nasty lake/river, and some had passed
by, but it was us two who demolished the booze. He had rolled up his pants
legs at one point, letting me see his feet (not bad) and his shins and
calves (very fine brown fuzz evenly distributed over thin but not scrawny
legs-wow). I had seen him once since then and before tonight - at The
Eagle's Nest where we stood together and made fun of people dancing. He'd
mentioned something about hooking up with some chick, but told me that he'd
tell me all about it later because he wasn't sure. Needless to say, it is
pretty strenuous being the best friend of someone you're obsessing about!
We didn't exert too much effort on being discreet in this ghetto
neighborhood, so we hung around half a block down by Francis' 4-door black
Honda and passed a blunt around. Lena was going through Francis' music and
put a jungle mix tape in. I started dancing on the sidewalk, already
feeling very baked (on top of a little acid and beer). Lena guffawed and
squealed at me from the drivers' seat, and from the black shadow in the back
seat, "isn't he cute?" Damn, I love it when straight guys say that about
me. I allowed myself a little shiver. We finished half the blunt as I
busted more moves for my audience and then stubbed it out to go back in.
The jungle set was in full swing as we squeezed our way back into the
apartment.
"Nice", I murmured. "The half-assed ones are bailing." It was approaching
dawn, and the place had emptied out to a comfortable density. There was
enough space to dance if you wanted to and enough space to stand around
smoking your butt without having to worry about burning someone else. Lena
and I did a few moves together, but I stopped to watch Francis when I
noticed him dancing on the other side of the room. Very cute. He did
mostly minimal, controlled moves that occasionally dipped into powerful
squat-spins when he had enough space.
Lena motioned me down to her mouth. "You're so in love, dude, aren't you?"
I shrugged. Fuck, yeah. "I'm trying not to be..."
Francis came up to me at around 6 a.m. "What are you doing after this?"
"Well, I should go home and sleep a little. I've got work this afternoon."
"Can I come over and chill at your place?" he asked, rubbing his thumb on
his slightly-stubbled chin.
"That way, I can give you a ride too so you won't have to take that fuckin'
train."
Oh, my heart melts. "Well, you're probably gonna be bored. Nobody else is
coming over, and I'm just gonna pass-the-fuck-out." My place never was a
hang-out, and I always felt awkward about having people over. My ex-raver
roommates (the worst kind if you're still one) weren't in town, though, so I
felt a little less funny about Francis coming over. Besides, he was
Francis.
We stopped at a convenience store somewhere along the way and Francis went
in while I smoked in the car. "You're lucky to be my boy, my stepmother
chokes me with money and credit cards so I won't be asking my Dad for
attention. I'll hook you up, kid!" He said, dropping the paper bag in my
lap. A glance inside revealed three packs of smokes as well as half a dozen
assorted bagels and some chocolate and gum. Raver food.
The sun was coming in pretty strong this morning, making him get out of his
black hoodie. He half-spoke, half-motioned me to get the sunroof open while
he drank coffee, munched on a bagel, and drove.
I would have slung something witty at him as I was doing it, but I didn't
even have the energy to make a complete sentence.
"Y'all cracked out, buddy?" he asked, hitting my knee. I nodded and
grunted a yes, and found out that I had enough energy to focus on looking at
his arm and hand, which were the only parts of him I could stare at without
looking stupid.
He had on a flannel gray short sleeved T-shirt that must have shrunk a bit
because the sleeves rode up pretty high, affording me a view of the lower
half of his upper arm down to his hand. His arm was long but cut, like he
had done some sports or was active but didn't do gym stuff. Not very hairy,
I noticed while watching the muscles play under his pale but flushed skin as
his long fingers shifted gears. Images of his torso flashed across the
uncontrollable landscape of my cracked-out mind as I turned to look out the
window. My whole body tingled and the bastard under my zipper reminded me
of his presence without waking up.
"You like guys, huh?" Francis asked causally while I was lighting another
cigarette. "Can I have that one? Thanks, dude." He grabbed it out of my
mouth. What a rude fuck!
"Why, do I strike you as a guy who likes guys?" I light another cigarette
for myself. I'm suddenly awake again...
Francis shrugged. "Nah, you actually don't. I just overheard your name in
a conversation and so I asked someone and it turns out that everyone knows
Jim likes guys. I honestly would not have been able to tell from the way
you act and shit..."
"Well, I can act like a flamer too, for your information, mofo."
"Ha, I'm sure you can!"
I half-turned to face him. "Why, are you a fag too, punk?"
"Me? Nah. Actually, you're the first homo-boy I ever considered a friend.
He, he. I mean, I don't attack gay people and all, it's just that I never
knew any who were cool. I mean, they were cool, but none of them were my
boys, y'know?" Another goofy-sexy grin.
"Or, numbnuts, you didn't know that some of the kids you found cool and
hung out with were actually gay," I said. I'm gonna start calling him
Frankie.
Francis nodded. "Right."
It was only some really crappy house mix tape making noise for the rest of
the 10 minutes it took us to get to my place. I stood and watched him take
a black messenger bag out of the trunk and sling it across his broad
shoulders. Just to look at his backside, I deviously maneuvered myself
behind him as we walked up the ramp to the front door of my apartment
building. Like how his wide shoulders taper down to his waist? And there's
no denying that tight little booty beneath those oversized pockets.
I gave him a quick tour of the house and ran into the bathroom - I could no
longer deny my angry tummy. Some weird shit's goin' on, I told myself as I
sat on my white porcelain throne. I looked down at Junior and tugged at it.
Bastard's tired.
Before positioning myself in front of the mirror for my daily "pantomime",
I unlocked the bathroom door and left it open a crack; I sometimes think I'm
claustrophobic. I must have forgotten that I wasn't home alone, so I jumped
at the sudden knock and creak of the door as it opened. Stiffening up and
holding my breath, and then realizing I wasn't naked and had boxers on, I
let out my breath. "Dude, you fucking scared me!"
"I'm sorry, I-" Frankie said from the door frame.
"No, I just forgot that I wasn't alone in the house. It's cool."
"Can I come in then? Why, what were you doing in here? Beating the meat?
Pulling the pudding?" Snigger.
Sarcastic laugh from me, then "I'll be done in a sec, then it's all yours."
But he was already inside the door and was heading around me for the
mirror, which was wide enough for two anyway. He'd changed into a pair of
boxer-like sweat shorts and was shirtless.
Moles on his smooth back, the small but evident butt under the shorts, the
reflection of lean, long, hairless (except for a little line of fuzz under
his outsy belly button going down to..) torso, the small, reddish-brown
nipples. The coltish calves dusted with fine brown fur...grrrrrr. I needed
to be vigilant or else something would soon be poking out of my boxers' fly.
He heaved his ass up onto the sink's counter and sat there facing me, his
arms around his bent knee.
"Oh, I saved you the trouble of telling me to make myself feel at home".
Grin.
I shook my head in mock exasperation. "Yeah. One week of being friends
and you're acting like we're married. Fuckin' raver." I laughed. "I was
just, y'know, posing in front of the mirror and spending time with myself."
"You spend time with yourself in your underwear?" Just then, his upraised
leg moved slightly and I caught a glimpse of some slightly darker toned
flesh up his pants leg. What was that? Damn, it was too fast...
"Well, yeah, most of the time. I don't feel comfortable running around
naked." I smirked, and then changed the expression on my face to grill him.
"So, Frankie, you never fooled around with other guys? I mean, being a
raver and all, there must have been some incident somewhere or something..."
He made a grin that was half a grimace. "By accident, yeah. You know,
kissing and shit when you're rolling too hard."
"And I guess like every American boy, you experimented with your buddies
when you were little up in your tree houses." Damn this fuckin' neck! I
poked at the muscles that were stiff where my neck and my shoulders met.
Frankie winced at me wincing. "Dude, let me get that. Then it's my turn."
He jumped down and got behind me. I felt his big hands ease away the
knots. With precision, he targeted the stiff parts and forced them to
loosen. He then went down my back and worked more wonders. Sweet thing he
was, he ended the backrub with a quick, crushing bear hug.
"Can we do this in front of the TV or something?" I asked as he put himself
in front of me. "I just wanna sit, y'know."
He didn't seem to care, so we went to the living room and plopped on the
carpet. He rolled on his stomach and rested his chin on his hands. "Hey,
just sit on me and give me one of those full body rubs."
My heart was about to explode. "What the fuck?" I laughed nervously.
"Just don't, y'know," he looked at my crotch, "stick it to me without my
permission."
I punched his shoulder, "oh, yeah, and what the fuck makes you think I'd
wanna fuck you up the ass, you fuckin' slut? Jeez!"
"Don't talk shit! Lena told me you thought I was yummy. Admit it. And
yummy was your word." He began to poke my sides, making me squirm violently
and laugh.
"Quit!" I gasped for breath, shoving him away. That bitch!
"The truth," he taunted, winking.
Is he asking for something? I immediately caught that thought. Watch it,
don't get your hopes up!
"Yeah, I'd hook-up with someone like you. But since I hang with you, I
won't. Too much drama. Satisfied?"
"So I guess you don't get to hook-up much, seeing how you like hanging out
with just about everyone."
He scratched at his crotch. "Do you really think I'm yummy?"
I shook my head. "Are you trying to seduce me, ass-wipe? Quit, because I
won't!"
"Why should anything change because of a small hook-up incident?" He
rolled on his side and propped his head up on his hand. That's his dick,
right there. Caught in the fold of his shorts. I looked away, wondering if
he noticed. My eyes were drawn to the line of fuzz below his belly button.
"Look. I'm not gonna suck your dick just because you're cute and in need
of relief." I said, trying to sound firm and final. "Besides, do you
really wanna make-out with me, or do you just wanna expand your ego by
adding me to your list of dripping cunts?"
He looked at me in silence for a minute or two. "Honestly, I wouldn't mind
fooling around with you."
"Wouldn't mind?! That should convince me! You're so full of shit, dude!"
I stood up and got out to the front porch. I stood facing out, thinking a
mad jumble of no-thoughts.
He was behind me almost immediately, even before I had taken the first drag
off my butt. His arm snaked around my shoulders. It felt awkward on me but
I didn't shrug it off. That would be too sulky. I felt his warm, soft skin
on mine. The scratch of the hair under his arm on my shoulder. The smell
off his deodorant. I reached up and perched my hand on his shoulder. We
were about the same height, 5'10". He might have been half an inch taller,
but it wasn't much.
"I meant that. I mean, I actually do wanna try doing shit with you.
Swear-to-fuckin'-god!" Grin and Goofy Grin.
"I have to be convinced," I commented coolly, responding to his 'give me a
toke of that butt' gestures by holding my cigarette up to his pursed lips.
He turned to face me and put both hands on my shoulders. "I promise to not
change after this. We'll still hang out and be best buddies like we were
last week. You promise not to tell anyone what we -"
"Ha, me not tell anyone? You already crack jokes about me n' you to peeps
that ask. And when they ask me, I play along too, of course. I tell them
that you can't get enough...the horny slut that you are."
Frankie burst out laughing. "Right on!" He pulled me in for another of
his crushing hugs. This one wasn't quick, though. His embrace loosened up
slightly after a moment, and I had one hand running through the buzz of hair
on his nape and the other one going up and down his back. He had both hands
rubbing my back. Our heads were each kind of nestled in the crook of the
other one's neck. I felt a hand migrate to the front of my torso and touch
it. This is what he does to his chicks, I bet. And that one too.
To my slight surprise and utter amusement, he began to kiss my neck. Each
little kiss moved closer to my mouth. Even though I was right then starting
to poke out of the fly of my boxers, I avoided his mouth, starting a chase.
I managed a look down and saw my boner totally poking out of my shorts,
sending a rush of embarrassment through me that I didn't act upon. Sweet
surrender. Ahhh, there you go, mofo! Frankie had a boner too, it pushed
out the front of his sweat shorts. If you were to approach us from our
side, you would see a cute 7 shaped tent on the front of his shorts.
"Does this convince you, oh high Queen?" he murmured, closing in on my
mouth. Fuck, yeah.
Frankie had the very arousing habit of running his hoop-armed lower lip
over my lips. We played lipsies for a while, during which I took the
opportunity to poke around down there. I easily found his boner with mine,
and his followed mine when I pulled away.
I suddenly realized that we were on my front porch and my apartment unit
was on the first floor. Two half-naked young guys making out, their
hard-ons sticking out, were in almost plain sight of the street, sidewalk,
and entrance to the building. I pulled away from Francis. "Dude, look how
fucking retarded we are! Man!"
Francis looked around and laughed, then looked down at himself and slipped
his hand under the elastic waistband of his shorts. He scratched around a
bit down there. His upper body was flushed, there were tiny beads of sweat
on his upper lip, and there seemed to be a spot on his shorts.
I lit a cigarette and tucked my thing under the elastic of my boxers. "How
many inches ya got there, Frankie?" I asked, gesturing.
"This?" he held it loosely through his shorts. "It was almost 6" when I
last put a ruler to it, but I was, like, 14 or 15." He came up to take a
few puffs from my fingers again, meanwhile my other hand reached down and
gave him a little squeeze-feel.
He doesn't seem to be regretting this. He sure seems like he needs to get
his rocks off. Hehehe.
I looked steadily at his face as he looked away for a moment. "So..." I
began as soon as he caught my glance. "Feeling weird so far?"
His eyebrows knotted over his eyes, giving his face an 'i can't really
explain' expression. "Yeah, fuckin' bizarre shit, but...I'm definitely
having fun," he said, lifting his gartered waist away from his belly and
leaning in towards me. "Jeez, Einstein, can't you tell?" His pale, smooth
dick stood out in the semi-darkness inside his shorts. It jutted out of
it's dark bush, seemingly straight up at me.
"Aight, bonah-boy. Time to hide this shit from the neighbors." I pushed
him, then myself in the sliding door and closed the slats behind us. The
room would've been dark if it weren't for the flickering dance of light and
shadow from the TV set we didn't turn off. I went to the kitchen to drink
some water and he followed me.
"Some fuckin' soldier ya got there, dude. It hasn't even twitched, huh?"
It was still in the same condition, but maybe the spot was bigger now.
"The sluts back home used to call him Old Faithful or Old Ironsides. Shit
like that. I was the only reliable dick around for those cracked-out
nymphos, y'know. Once it gets up, it stays up."
"Huh," I muttered, turning around to wash the glass I was holding. Not a
second later I felt his presence behind me. I felt his arms go under mine
and around to my stomach. Down went the drinking glass and rinse went the
soapy hands at about the same time I felt his hard-on press against the
crack of my ass.
His mouth placed little, wet dots around the back of my neck and my upper
back. He was rubbing my nipples like he would with a chick's tits - which
wasn't objectionable, it felt nice - but I took one of his hands down for
some naughtier stuff. I left his hand - which was the same squarish shape
and size as mine except for the slightly longer fingers - right under my
belly button and on the waist of my boxers. Right away, I felt his palm go
down and over my cotton-covered dick. Fingers went into my fly, found my
bone, and pulled it out. I felt him grind against my ass and his hand jerk
around my cock, but I wanted to do my own shit.
"Relax, jerk-off," I said, turning around. I put my mouth on his and
sucked his lips between mine, and then I licked them lightly before parting
them. He let my tongue in with no resistance and met it with his.
I held on to his back with one arm, sending the other one down into his
shorts. My hand fit comfortably around his dick, and his pretty heavy nut
sack fit nicely in my palm. In the meantime I was slowly pushing him
backward into the living room. We both unfolded the sofa into a futon.
Frankie flopped back-first on it on one side. I got up from the other side
on all fours and crawled toward him, pushing him down when he tried to get
up. With both hands I pulled his stained and sticky shorts down, first over
his erection in the front, and then from under his ass as he lifted up. We
were now facing each other in opposite directions
His firm thighs framed a nice package. His dick rose straight up, not a
single blemish on it, not even a circumcision scar. The shaft was almost
cylindrical in its' consistency. Dick head was just a bit wider around than
the shaft, just enough to make a distinction between the two parts. Under
it hung his balls, surprisingly not cramped up tightly. The sack was smooth
and pinkish, weighed down by his heavy nuts. I took these in my hands as I
ran my tongue along his dick. Salty, sweaty raverboy. He squirmed. I
could feel his eyes on my face as I fit my lips around his dick. I made
sure the barbell in my tongue rubbed against him.
Hands began to rub my belly and then travel down my waist, pulling my
boxers down along with it. I sucked harder as I felt him begin to jerk me
off. I felt something wet, soft, and warm on my dick. His tongue! I guess
the taste was acceptable to him; the tongue continued on. He stopped when I
suddenly took my mouth off from around his end.
"Whatup?" he asked, bewildered. I shrugged, giggled, and fell on him,
crushing my mouth to his. I sucked on his tongue when he offered it to me.
I lay on top of him, his tongue in my lips, our dicks rubbing up alongside
each other.
He rolled us around 'til he was on top, and we continued on with him in the
lead. He seemed to be slower than me, with more soul. He made longer,
steadier thrusts with his dick against my belly and my dick, and his mouth
wasn't always on mine, but also on both sides of my neck and shoulder area.
His lips and tongue traveled a lot, sucking here, licking there, tasting
here. He probably left lots of little hickeys on me. The motherfucker even
bit me .
"I'm really close," he whispered under my ear. I felt him speed up, so I
did too, I held his ass with both hands and pulled him closer to me. I felt
him licking and kissing the right crook of my neck. He began to whine kind
of, and I felt his warm, wet explosion on my belly as his teeth clamped down
on my skin. When the pain registered I came too, screaming, "Owww! You
fucking asshole!"
We lay close to each other gasping for a moment or two. We drew apart,
looking down at each others' and our own sticky bodies. Our eyes met and we
burst out laughing.
"Asshole. What the fuck's up with that Dracula shit?" I scowled, trying
to look at the bite mark.
"Well, you liked it. It was what made you bust your nut, right?"
"I lose. Fine. So what do you think of hooking up with guys now,
straight boy?" I asked.
He gave me a little slap on the cheek. "This was definitely an experience.
Hardcore. You're not gonna see me doing this shit with other guys, though.
Still gonna be bonin' those pussies -- coz they gonna be getting' me high..."
"So I can call you a crack whore and myself-" I start to say.
"Francis Abernathy's Private Fag. Yup, that's you! And, I will personally
bust your faggot-ass if you start making peeps believe that we really did
hook up and that it wasn't a joke after all."
"Don't forget that you're now a fag too. Homo!"
We gave each other a quick hug, momentarily forgetting how sticky we both
were.
"Motherfuck!"
"Fuckin' sick!" We both shoved each other away, laughing hard.
I sent him to take a shower, which I did not take with him, but I did sit on
the toilet and gave him a hard him while he did.