Date: Sat, 14 Dec 2002 08:36:38 -0500
From: reed@dreamwriter.us
Subject: BURRHEAD, Chapter 2, A Talent for Secrets

WARNING: This story contains sexually-explicit information involving
alternative sexualities. Do not list read the contents if they will offend
you. If accessing this story causes you to break local laws (village, town,
city, county, province, state, or country, etc.), please leave now.

This story is for you, Mike. I hope it finds its way home.


Chapter 2. A TALENT FOR SECRETS


The thing I always notice about Donny, and what I remember when he's not
around, is that he's pretty - almost too pretty. He doesn't act like a
pretty boy, but he has these big, liquid eyes that deserve to be on a girl,
and a tumble of dark curls frame his cream-colored face. It's definitely a
boy face, and a strong, chunky boy body with an ass so round I call him
Bubblebutt. But he's prettier than a boy deserves to be. Probably the best
thing about him is that he has no idea he's good looking. He thinks that
because he wears glasses he's automatically ugly.

How do I know him? We went to the same junior high school and the same high
school, until I had to transfer in the beginning of eleventh grade. He's
the only Jewish boy I know, the only person whose parents are divorced; and
he lives with his mother in the biggest house in our neighborhood. In spite
of all that, he's a pretty regular guy at my old school, except he's
smarter than most of us, and he doesn't go out with girls.

Donny and I found ourselves in the same places a lot. We were on the debate
team together, and we were both in the school orchestra. He was sitting
across from me in Latin class when we heard that President Kennedy had been
shot, so he was the first person I looked at in that moment of
disbelief. We got the two highest scores for language on some statewide
test - this got turned into a big deal since we went to the same
school. Sometimes he and I would study together; sometimes we'd just hang
out. I liked going to his house because we could do pretty much anything we
wanted since his mother never seemed to be around. We've been spending time
together for a year, but I could never say for sure that I know what was
going on for Donny. He doesn't talk about himself, and he's a lot more
serious than people like Mike and the rowdies I hang around with now.

I did start to pick up clues that Donny might be hot for me - or his
version of hot, which, I guess, would be more like smoldering. Whenever I
looked up in class, I'd catch him looking at me. Sometimes he'd smile, but
usually, he'd instantly look away. He started sitting next to me in
math. When class got dull, he'd draw and label the reproductive organs of
plants in the margins of my geometry book. That made me laugh, and it
impressed me. I couldn't be sure, but it seemed like Donny touched me more
than most people - or maybe just in a different way from the usual
backslapping and jabbing. He'd put his hand on my arm when he was talking
to me, or sometimes he'd touch my face the way old people do. Or we'd be
walking along and he'd jump me and wrestle me to the ground "just for fun."
It was fun, but it wasn't like regular horseplay. Was there something
behind it, or did I just want there to be?

At the beginning of the summer after tenth grade, Donny's mom took him to
Europe for a month. I got a postcard, and he called me the day after he got
home. He said he'd had a great time and talked about a lot of places I've
never been and don't know much about. The kids he'd gotten to know over
there sounded a lot more cool than anybody I know. I admit I was jealous.

A few days later, he called on a hot-as-hell afternoon.  "Hey, Reed, why
don't you come over and we'll go for a swim?"

"We can't swim in that bathtub in your back yard, man."

"Okay, why don't you come over and we'll play in the water? I haven't seen
you in like forever, man."

"Cool. But I promised Dad I'd mow the lawn today. What about tomorrow?"

"Today's better. My mom's out, and the maid's still off; we'll have the
place to ourselves. We can hit the liquor cabinet. C'mon."

"Oh, man, my daddy is gonna be pissed. I was supposed to mow yesterday."

"So...when will you be here?"

"Fifteen minutes. I gotta make up something and call him at work."

When I get there, I'm surprised. Donny has a tan, which I've never seen on
him before. (He's usually either very pale, or he's sunburned.) He looks
kind of amazing this color. And his face has changed somehow; he seems
older. Plus, he's got a keyed-up energy about him, like he's just won a
bike race or a debate. All this makes me edgy. We pour scotch into glasses
of Coke, which helps. He's still talking about the trip, which I kind of do
and don't want to hear about. I probably don't do as good a job of hiding
that as I ought to.

"Wanna go get wet," he asks.

"You bet."

"C'mon up and let's get changed."

I already think maybe one of the reasons he's asked me to come over to swim
is just this - so we can get out of our clothes together. We've seen each
other naked in gym lots of times, but I've never been swimming at his house
before. Undressing together in his room, my hands are sweating, and there's
a tingling in my balls. I know he's watching me; he knows I'm watching
him. Neither one of us can come up with anything to say.

Donny strips down and puts on this swimsuit that's not even as big as a
jock strap. It's something you would never wear - even under a swimsuit --
at school. I can't help but stare, and I see his skin turn pink beneath the
tan across his chest, up his neck, and over his face.

"What the hell are you wearing, Donny?"

"I got it on the Riviera. It's what all the guys wear in Europe. You like
it?"

"Well...I...I don't think it'd be a good idea to wear it to the pool club."

"I wore it on the beach in Italy, but don't worry; I know better than to
wear it anywhere but home here."

"You wore that in front of your mother!"

"She's pretty open minded, Reed; you'd be surprised. And besides, everybody
wears them over there. Feel it. It feels cool."

There's nothing to feel that's not a couple of inches from his dick or his
asshole. I touch the top, right in front, and, sure enough, his dick pulses
- just once, but I see it - right below my hand. I have to admit I think
it's weird that Donny is getting turned on by wearing funny clothes. I
don't really like it, but I don't hate it either. My dick smells
action. Donny's hot; he's making me hot.

So I do what I figure he wants me to do; I cup the cock and balls
stretching at that little cloth pouch and squeeze hard enough for him to
know I'm not just feeling his swimsuit. You should see his face
change. Everything about him changes. First of all, he grins at me - this
big shit-eating grin. Then it's like his whole body relaxes. That energy I
felt on him when I got here drains off somewhere. I feel pretty good
myself.

"I thought you'd like it," he says. Right away, he puts his hand on my
all-too-ready dick. He wrestles my hardon free from where it's somehow
tangled up in my suit, kneels down right there in front of me, and buries
his face in my pubic hair. I can hear him breathing in deep. Last year I
learned to suck cock from my cousin, who's two years older than I am, so I
know what crotch smells like, and I can't see why anyone would want to
smell mine like this. But Donny looks like he knows exactly what he wants,
and pretty soon it's clear he's learned to suck cock from somebody too.

He nibbles at mine, which is so hard it almost hurts. He licks the head. I
want him to put the whole thing in his mouth, so I sink my hands in his
hair and urge him toward me. But he's got his own ideas. He goes down on me
part of the way, then he backs off, licks me, scrapes his teeth on me just
a little (wow!), then takes further into his mouth again. I like it but I
can't get a rhythm going; I want to be plunging into his face over and over
again. Then he takes his mouth off my dick and starts to lick down toward
my balls. When his tongue touches my sack, I nearly jump out of my skin.

"Goddamn! What the fuck?"

He's laughing. "You don't like it?"

"No, man, it's...like...too much feeling."

"C'mon, Reed. Relax. You'll get to like it; I promise."

"Right," I think, "I'm supposed to like a guy licking my nuts. Next he'll
be telling me I'd like getting my ass kissed."

Hell, what do I know? I try to let him do it again, but it tickles, it
makes my skin crawl; it's just too much. Besides, I want to suck him too. I
reach down to feel his dick, which turns out to be fat and kind of
short. But the shocker is that it's completely slippery; he's already shot
his load without letting on.

"Donny, did you cum already?"

"Yep, but I can cum again."

"Good for you," I think, but I'm disappointed. I wanted to suck him, but
there's no way I'm gonna put my mouth on a dick that's got cum all over it.

He's starting to suck me like he means it now, the way I wanted him to at
the beginning, pulling my dick almost all the way out, then going all the
way down to the bottom of it. He's been practicing somewhere; he's way
better than my cousin. He pulls me so far into his mouth that I can feel
something squeeze around the head of my dick at the back of his throat. He
holds me there for a few seconds, pulls away and gasps for air, and then
does it again. I don't know how he's doing this, but I know it's sending me
to the moon.

"You gotta stop, Donny. You're makin me cum, man."

He keeps doing it, and I'm thinking I'm gonna shoot in his mouth, which my
cousin would never let me do, and I wonder if Donny realizes this.

"Donny...Donny, I'm gonna cum in your mouth if you don't let go."

I guess Donny wants me to cum in his mouth - not that I'm in much of a
position to decide anymore. He goes all the way down again so the tip of my
dick is in that really tight place, and I start thrashing around and
bucking like a crazy man, holding onto Donny's shoulders to keep from
falling over. He wants to keep sucking even after I'm finished, but I have
to pull him off because my dick is too sensitive to stand being touched
anymore. When I look at him, his face is all pink, and his eyes are
sparkling; he looks like a goddamned angel (or whatever the Jewish
equivalent of an angel is), but he's grinning like the devil.

I'm trembling. I lie down - practically fall down - on the floor. "Holy
shit, man, where'd you learn to do that?"

"Same place I got my swimsuit," he chuckles. C'mon, get up. I thought you
said you were ready to get wet."  .....

Donny's taught me plenty since that afternoon. One of my absolute favorite
things about him is that he likes to get fucked - no, he loves to get
fucked. I had fucked my cousin - the one who taught me about sucking cock -
twice, and I liked it a lot. But he said it hurt, so I wouldn't let him do
it to me. I can't really figure out how anybody could stand to have a dick
up his ass, but all I have to do is look at Donny to see he's not kidding
about wanting it. When I start to fuck him, once I get past that tight
place and he gets used to me, something happens to him. He turns those big
eyes on me, and it's like he's opening up, wanting to take more and
more. I'm always afraid I'll hurt him, but the longer I last, the harder
fuck him, the happier he is. A lot of times he cums just from me inside
him, without even touching his dick. When I cum, often as not he says,
"Don't stop, Reed. I know you can do it again." A lot of times he's right.

.........

Feel free to send comments and constructive criticism to
reed@dreamwriter.us.