Date: Sat, 14 Jul 2012 10:48:41 -0700 (PDT)
From: Joe Cable <joecable2001@yahoo.com>
Subject: My Buddy Mike

Comments welcome: joecable2001@yahoo.com


                          My Buddy Mike



     I never have figured out why Mike insisted on being friends
with me.

     We didn't have a lot in common, to put it mildly. We both
went to a major Southern university, but he was an archetypal
Tennessee good ole' boy. I was from New York. He was outgoing,
popular, socially graceful. I was an introvert and it took a
while to break through my shell. I was never comfortable in
crowds. He soon joined one of the top frat houses. I never joined
a frat. He liked to party. I liked to read.

     But insist on being friends he did after we met in the dorm
freshman year. His room was two doors down from mine and he would
just drop in unannounced, in his charming way ("OK, put away the
books and let's talk about me for awhile"), and start shooting
the shit. I enjoyed his company and he was plenty smart, although
not bookish like me. He had a great sense of humor and could
always make me laugh. We had a couple of classes together and he
shamelessly mooched off my work, which was OK with me. He was
pretty lousy at math and I more or less tutored him in a subject
that I found so simple.

     His easy charm was magnetic. As tall as me (about six feet),
he had dark blond hair and blue eyes, a trim body, and a dazzling
smile. Girls found him quite irresistible and he took full
advantage of that fact.

     As it was too far for me to go home for Thanksgiving that
first year, he invited me to spend the holiday with his family on
their farm in West Tennessee. It was quite a farm, several
hundred acres of top-quality farm land, and his father owned the
John Deere dealership in town. In other words they had plenty of
money. His family was very nice and made me feel welcome.

     I hated the dormitory with its raucous, towel-snapping
culture, and so sophomore year I got an apartment near campus,
just a small living room and a kitchen. The kitchen had once been
an upstairs porch and as it was big enough, I put the bed in
there. Mike was always dropping in to hang out and he often
brought a six-pack of beer (which wasn't allowed in the
dormitories). Sometimes we'd get pretty sloshed.

     One night he started talking about the co-efficient of
expansion that he'd been studying in chem class. I'd never taken
chemistry, so I barely knew what he was talking about. Then he
said, "What's yours?"

     "What's my what?" I asked.

     "Your co-efficient of expansion."

     "Mike, what are you talking about?"

     "What's the difference between your dick soft and your dick
hard?"

     "Isn't that a little bit junior-high-schoolish?"

     "Yep, sure is, but let's find out anyway."

     Without waiting for me to agree very typical of Mike he just
dropped his shorts and boxers and picked a ruler up off my desk.
"Three inches soft," he announced. "Now let's get it hard." He
began stroking and in no time was hard as a rock. He measured
again with the ruler. "Six and a half," he said. "But my dick
curves up, we should measure along the curve. You got a tape
measure?"

     I went and got one from the tool drawer in the kitchen.
"Seven and a quarter!" he announced triumphantly. "Beat that, if
you can."

     I couldn't. I was a six and there was nothing to do about
that. Mike had watched me measure, still naked from the waist
down, completely comfortable and relaxed. After I'd measured and
conceded defeat in the dick contest, he said, "Well since we both
got hard-ons, we might as well beat off, right? Let's see who
shoots first." As usual, he just assumed I'd go along and started
stroking, his legs stretched out from the chair he was sitting
in."

     I started stroking too, but I had an advantage over Mike in
this new contest to see who could cum quickest. I was deep in the
closet, but I was totally into guys and dick. I'd already
discovered the action in the third-floor library john, where guys
went to find cocksuckers and cocksuckers went to find dick to
suck. I'd been sucking dick since I was 14 and it was by far my
favorite kind of sex.

     So sitting across from this hot, self-assured guy as he
stroked his beautiful cock, his balls rising and falling with
each stroke, it didn't take me long before I shot my load, which
arched over my head and partially landed in my hair.

     "Whoa, man!" Mike said. "You must have been hot to trot." He
started stroking furiously and soon shot his load as well.

     I went and got a towel for him, cleaning the cum out of my
hair with it first.

     "You know," he said, after he'd cleaned up and put his pants
back on, "Sex shouldn't be enjoyed alone. It's interpersonal by
its nature. I've always liked jerking off with a buddy instead of
just doing it alone."

     "You get laid plenty," I said, winking at him. "At least you
claim to."

     "I do," he answered. "I can't help it if girls insist, can
I? It wouldn't be gentlemanly to turn them down." He smiled as he
said it, but I knew he was mostly telling the truth. I'd seen
girls making moon eyes at him often enough. "But still," he
continued, sometimes even I swordsman extraordinaire! like to
just rip off a piece without all the complications girls always
create. You know what I mean?"

     "Yeah," I said.

     "And anyway, you're the most antisocial guy I know. You
never get laid. So beating off IS your sex life, right?"

     I didn't dispute the fact or, of course, tell him about my
frequent visits to the library john, with its carefully tended
glory hole between the two stalls.

     "Right," he said. "So if either of us feels like dumping a
load, we don't have to feel shy about sharing the moment, right?"

     "OK by me," I said, secretly elated at this unexpected turn
of events.

     From then on, if Mike was horny and he usually was, despite
all the pussy he was getting we'd end up side by side on my bed,
stroking our dicks and blowing loads.


                          *     *     *


     One night, maybe six months later it was in the spring,
maybe a month before the end of school our sophomore year, I'd
gone out for a hamburger around ten thirty. On my way back I
walked passed the woman's dormitory complex and ran into Mike as
he was taking a girl back home from a date.

     He greeted me and introduced me to the girl but said he had
to get her back before curfew and so couldn't talk; he'd see me
later. I didn't think he meant that literally and so when I got
home, I just stripped down to my boxers and piled into bed.
Within a few minutes, the doorbell rang. I answered it and there
was Mike, his dick hanging out of his pants.

     Without really thinking about it, I just grabbed it and
shook it as though it were his hand. "How do you do, Mr. Cutter?"
I asked, using his last name, making a joke of it.

     "Doing fine," he said, a shit-eating grin on his face.
"Doing fine." He'd obviously had a few beers that evening and was
feeling no pain. "You know how I hate jerking off alone, and,
man, I'm on fire to dump a load. Join me?"

     Naturally I said yes and he headed into the kitchen where
the bed was, stripped off his jeans and boxers and lay on the
bed, his legs dangling over the side. He was already hard. I sat
down beside him, slipped off my boxers and started stroking.

     "Hey, buddy, do me a favor?" he asked.

     "What?"

     "Jerk me off?" he said very low.

     "Your hand paralyzed?" I asked, my heart beating fast.

     "It's OK," he said, "just buddies helping each other out. It
doesn't make you queer or anything to touch a good buddy's dick
when he needs some help. And anyway, you've already touched it,
right? It's not like you've never had it in your hand."

     I knew I was going to do it. I'd been dreaming of his dick
for months now, hoping against hope that one night in the library
john it would be Mike slipping his dick through the glory hole
for me to suck. But I was still in the closet, still playing
straight. I was so afraid that if he found out I was a homo, he'd
cut me off and our improbable, but very real, friendship would
end. I tried to make a joke of it.

     "The things I do for you, Mike, I swear. You'll never be
able to pay me back for all the favors you owe me."

     "Don't worry," he grinned at me. "I'll think of something.
Trust me."

     I took his dick, rock-hard at this point, in my hand. I
could just close my thumb and finger around its beautiful
thickness. He was circumcised, which is my favorite kind of dick,
and his big balls hung low in their sack between his firm thighs.

     He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. "Feels
so good," he said quietly as I began to stroke him.

     His cock was magic in my hand, so beautiful, so powerful, so
utterly desirable. I was in homo heaven being allowed to give a
hand job to this handsome, magnetic man off. His balls began to
move up towards the base of his cock. He was close.

     "I'm cumming, man," he said and then shot a big load that
landed on his chest and stomach. He just lay there, his chest
heaving a little, my hand still on his dick.

     "I'll get a towel," I said, standing up and going to the
kitchen end of the room. I was naked and had a raging hard-on as
I came back with the paper towel.

     "Looks like you enjoyed it too," he said, smiling at me.

     "It was cool. As you say, you're my buddy. Buddies help each
other out."

     "You need me to return the favor, buddy?" he asked.

     "Nah," I said, "I'm OK." I thought immediately that I should
have said yes, so he wouldn't figure out that I was queer. But I
didn't really want Mike to jerk me off. It wouldn't have been
right, somehow. Homos help out straight guys, and a straight guy
doesn't need to return the favor. He's doing the homo a favor
just by sharing his dick with him, letting him touch it.

     Mike didn't argue. I think at some level he had figured
things out already. He was lousy at math, but he had enormous
people skills, able to read others intuitively, see into their
souls, so to speak, without their even being aware of it.

     He put his jeans back on, said, "thanks, buddy. You're the
coolest guy in school. Even if you are a total recluse and
antisocial fuck." He grinned at me and headed for the door. As
soon as he was gone, I got into bed and jerked off. Within
seconds I had a massive climax as I thought about having had
Mike's cock in my hand, how it felt as he pumped his cum out onto
his handsome chest, how it had left a faint masculine musk on my
hand, which I breathed in as though it were perfume, which to me
it was. I rolled over and fell asleep almost instantly.

     From that point on, of course, every time Mike and I jerked
off together, I took care of him and then I'd take care of
myself. He never again brought up the subject of returning the
favor and neither did I. It just seemed natural to the both of us
that that was how it should be. Mike never took advantage of his
alpha status, he just took it for granted, like he did his good
looks. And, since I'm a cocksucker, serving alphas just comes
natural to me.


                          *     *     *


     This is not to say that Mike and I didn't have a normal
friendship. We did. He'd invite me to come along with other
buddies to go for pizza or whatever. He was always trying to get
me to loosen up in a crowd, with limited success. Sometimes he'd
just come over so we could watch television together. When we
went to visit his parents, we'd go hunting together in season, go
out with his old high school buddies, get drunk together.

     But there's no denying that his dick was a growing bond
between us and I was just so grateful to have access to it.

     Then one night he showed up at my apartment late and horny
and more than a little high. He'd been at some frat function and
had stopped by on his way home to get a hand job from me. I
stroked him and, as I had started to do when I jerked him off, I
just started looking at his magnificent penis and balls, as
though inspecting them, caressing them gently, feeling him up.

     "You like my cock, don't you?" he said matter-of-factly.

     "It's a nice one for sure," I answered.

     "Why don't you get better acquainted with it?"

     "What do you mean?"

     "Suck it for me?" he asked quietly.

     "What makes you think I'm a cocksucker?" I asked, alarm
bells going off in my head.

     He could sense my panic. "It's OK," he said. "It's OK."

     "We're friends no matter what, man. You sucking my cock
would make me feel real good. If it would make you feel good too,
then let's do it. If it wouldn't, then that's OK. I've just had a
feeling for awhile that you might like it as much as I would. The
way you like to fondle my dick while you're jerking me off, the
way you look at it. There's a look of such longing on your face."

     Old Mike, ever the acute observer and reader of other
people. I'd tried hard to make him think that my giving him a
hand job was just one buddy helping out another. He'd seen
through it in a minute. He knew I was homo not hetero. I felt
liberated in a way. I now had nothing to hide from him, so I
might as well give him what he wanted, as I sure wanted it too.

     I'd been playing with his dick as we talked. Now I just bent
over and took him into me.

     Oh, God, it was such bliss. I could feel the power of his
sexuality flowing into me as I sucked him for the first time, his
beauty, his alphaness, his masculinity came through his beautiful
cock and into me, making me whole. I could have sucked him all
night, but after a few minutes, I felt his hand on my head and
his body tense up. He erupted, sending a flood of cum down my
throat.

     We didn't say anything for a few minutes, just lay there
while he recovered. He left his penis in my mouth until it was
soft and I nursed on it contentedly, needing nothing more.

     Finally he said, "OK, gotta get back to the dorm and get
some sleep."

     "Wait," I said, "I'll get a towel." I went into the bathroom
and wet a washcloth and brought it back with a towel. He was just
lying there, as always totally unashamed of his nakedness. I
washed off his cock and balls and dried them gently. He took the
service casually, realizing, I think, that I wanted to serve him
in that way because I was now his cocksucker. He had said that
he'd figure out a way to pay my back for jerking him off. And he
had, he had given me, a total queer, the gift of his manhood and
allowed me the privilege of serving him sexually.

     Then he got up and got dressed. "Hey, buddy," he said as he
headed for the door. "You want to come with us tomorrow night? A
couple of frat guys and me are going to check out some new place
across town that's supposed to have great ribs and is cheap too."

     "Yeah, sure," I said, "If I wouldn't be in the way."

     "I wouldn't have asked you if I thought that might be the
case, asshole" he said, smiling that dazzling smile of his at me.
"You really got to come out of the old shell a little, OK?"

     "OK," I said, smiling back at him.

     "You were great tonight. Just totally great," he added, as
he left, "I'm so happy this happened. Happy for both of us."

     He hardly ever mentioned it again. If he wanted to be
serviced, He'd just give me that look and reach for his fly.
Because of his up-curved dick, which was always flat against his
stomach when he was hard, even when he was standing, it was
difficult to suck him well from the classic cocksucker position.
We soon figured out that if he lay on the bed and I approached
his cock from the "two o'clock position," I could take it all in
and deep throat him with no problem, his cock all the way down my
throat, my nose in his balls. Once we figured it out, that's the
way we always did it. He loved how my mouth felt on his dick as I
slid slowly down the whole shaft and he entered my throat.

     He'd come over for a blow job maybe once a week. If he had
any guilt about it, I could never see it. I think for Mike it was
just a very superior form of masturbation. And he was helping out
a buddy, something he always liked to do, giving me something I
needed, his dick.

     For me, it was heaven on earth. Here was this big guy on
campus. He was vice president of his frat and would certainly be
president in his senior year. He sat on the student council and
was managing editor of the newspaper. He was famously successful
at bedding girls.

     And I was his cocksucker. It was to me he turned when he
just needed to get off, to have his masculinity worshiped, his
penis adored, to have sex be all about him for once. I was only
too happy to take care of him. For a bottom homo like me, serving
an alpha straight guy like Mike was as good as it ever gets.

     By that time I'd hooked up with other students on campus who
were into guys too. We'd get together sometimes and have a "homo
night" at someone's house, eight or ten guys, naked and having
fun. But this was before Stonewall, when to be openly queer was
instant social death. We all had to be straight on the outside
ninety-nine percent of our lives, however queer we were inside.
But on homo nights, for once we could just be ourselves,
unashamed of our love for sex with other men, and revel in the
pleasures of male flesh.

     It would have been a huge feather in my cap to have told
them that I was Mike's down-low cocksucker. They would have been
insanely jealous. But, of course, I never breathed a word about
it. They knew I was his buddy, but none of them even asked if
there was something going on. I just don't think they considered
the possibility. Not Mike. They did ask if he knew I was queer
and I told them we'd never discussed it, that perhaps he didn't
want to know. And that was true, as far as it went.

     And Mike was always so casual about it. I really don't think
he thought much about it. He was nothing if not certain as to his
own sexuality. Mine didn't threaten him at all. I was just
another way to get sexual pleasure, while he helped a buddy get
what he needed at the same time. A win-win. I remember him asking
me once after I'd sucked him off if I remembered one of his old
high school friends I'd met on one of my visits to his family. I
said I did.

     "He was my cocksucker in high school," he told me casually.
"We had some good times together."

     I wasn't surprised that he'd had a cocksucker before.

     One night the doorbell rang after I'd gone to bed. It
couldn't have been anyone but Mike, probably a little drunk and
certainly horny. It was him. I asked how he was.

     "Horny," was all he said as he came in. He just went to the
kitchen/bedroom and started taking off his clothes, assuming
(correctly) that I would service him. He lay down on the bed. He
was already hard by that time so I just went to work and got him
off in short order.

     "You want to jerk off?" he asked after he had cum.

     "Nah, it's OK," I said. "I'm happy."

     He smiled. "You really like my dick, don't you?"

     "Yeah, Mike, I do. As much as you do, I think. I'm so
grateful you let me suck it."

     "Hah," he said, "my pleasure. But enjoy it, buddy. I love
sharing my cock with you, letting you have something you need.
That's what friends are for, right?"

     I figured that he'd get dressed and go on to his dorm room,
but he said, "you want some company? I don't want to walk home."
I said sure and he got under the covers of my double bed, buck
ass naked. I got into bed also (I was wearing boxers and a
T-shirt) and turned out the lights.

     "Hey, thanks, man," he said, "I really appreciate your
taking care of me when I need to blow a load." With that he
rolled over and was asleep in maybe thirty seconds.

     That was Mike. I don't know how many straight guys would be
comfortable sleeping naked in bed with a guy they knew was queer.
But he didn't think about it at all, just piled in and went to
sleep without a worry in the world.


                          *     *     *


     For the rest of our time at the university, I was Mike's
devoted cocksucker. I must have taken a hundred loads from him,
probably more, and loved every one of them. What a privilege it
was to serve this wonderful guy sexually and be allowed to share
the pleasures of his alpha manhood.

     We stayed good friends after graduating. I moved back to New
York. He went to work for his father and took over the business
when his old man retired. He ended up owning half the John Deere
dealerships in West Tennessee. We'd talk on the phone several
times a month and when we saw each other, it was like old times.
I'd almost always suck him off and it was as good as it had been
that first time, back in college. But the sex stopped when he got
married. He was not the kind of guy to fool around. He was as
good a husband and he was a friend.

     He got involved in politics. And with his good looks,
infinite charm, and ability to make friends and size up people,
he ended up in the governorship. He could have gone farther, but
he chose not to, as he didn't want to spend so much time away
from his family or from his beloved Tennessee.

     We still talk and visit. His kids all call me uncle. I love
to go to the farm and just veg out, away from the bustle of New
York. I'm always more than welcome.

     I've had a good life, a lot of friends, success, no regrets.
But of all the things I'm glad happened to me, nothing means more
to me than the fact that I'm Mike's oldest, dearest friend, his
best buddy.

     And, of course, for two wonderful years, I was also his
cocksucker.

     Making me his cocksucker was, in fact, an act of generosity
on his part, typical of this generous, outgoing man. Sure he got
pleasured sexually. But I got the immense privilege of serving
him sexually. If you're a cocksucker too, you understand exactly
what I mean. If you're not, you probably never will understand.
But Mike, so intuitive, did. He shared his cock with me so that
he could make me whole with the gift of his manhood. It's what
every cocksucker needs and it's the most precious gift a straight
guy can ever give someone like me.



Check out my other stories under "Prolific Authors."