DOUG

     Doug and I had known each other for years. We met when we were
seven years old, became good acquaintances, then later very close
friends. It was one of those friendships that starts off good and
keeps getting better with age.

     We played football together in high school. I was a candidate for
all-city at halfback. Doug was basically my blocker on the right side
of the line.

     Without his enormous size and speed, I probably would have been
just another mediocre running back. But he opened up holes that my
Uncle could have run through. He made me look at lot better than I
actually was.

     From the time we were kids, I had liked Doug a lot and we spent
an inordinate amount of time together. Truth of the matter is that I
was in love with him. But since Doug was as straight as they come, I
never had even the slightest inclination that we would ever be
anything but close friends.

     Doug was one hot looking young boy who became an extremely
handsome young man. He was about 6-foot-5, but looked shorter because
of his 240 pounds, the stature that made opposing linemen cringe when
he lined up across from them. He had black curly hair and deep vivid
blue eyes, which always were set off by a sensational tan.

     His parents were Scottish, and there was some Spanish on his
mother's side of the pedigree, so he had a slightly dark complexion
that tanned easily and attractively. And in his white jockeys, the
combination of the stark white cotton against that dark skin and black
hair was completely irresistable.

     Doug wasn't all that great in the dick department, but with his
huge frame and well muscled shoulders, it really seemed irrelevant. He
was a handsome hunk who all the girls (and some of the boys) lusted
over. What really made him the ultimate turn-on was his uneven smile
that seemed to say, "I'm going to fuck you." Doug had complete,
unadulterated sex appeal, but he didn't seem to recognize it. And, of
course, that made him ever sexier.

     Whatever sex Doug had in those early years, he never discussed.
He dated infrequently, and I can't remember once when he talked about
one of his many admirers as a "great lay," the way most of the guys
did in the locker room. About the only sex we talked about was jacking
off, which we did told each other we did frequently.

     Aside from his massive, broad shoulders, what was most attractive
about Doug was the way he wore his Levis and his skin-tight white
t-shirt. His upper body tapered down nicely into a well-muscled
mid-section and straight, narrow hips. He had an incredibly nice and
well-formed butt that filled that faded blue denim like few I have
ever seen.

     He gave the appearance of having a great basket, mostly because
of his big hairy balls that bulged in just the right place. No
question, he could wear Levis.

     Since we spent every afternoon at practice, we'd sometimes spend
the night together. I had twin beds in my bedroom, as did he. When
we'd undress at night, Doug would strip down to his Jockeys and lay on
top of the spread.

     He drove me nuts.

     Some nights, I'd lay awake for hours, fantasizing about what it
would feel like to play with those balls through his always clean
white shorts. Laying there on his back, I could see the outline, and I
wanted to rest my face right in the middle of it.

     Of course, I'd get a hard-on for days, and would usually jack-off
as quietly as possible. I didn't want him to know that I was jacking
off and those damned bedsprings would squeak loudly if I got too
active. So I was as quiet and secretive as I could be.

     Usually. I shot my load into my shorts, knowing full well that I
had another pair in my gym bag and could change in the morning.

     After I jacked off, the need was supposed to go away.  But with
Doug laying there, his enormous basket staring me in the face, I'd
start over again. It was not unusual for me to cum three or four times
in one night.

     After our last season together, the newspapers were the first to
announce the all-city selection. I made it!!! Although only second
string. Doug did not, which really hurt me.

     Hell, he had been the primary reason for what success I had
enjoyed. And without him, I would have had none of it. As happy as I
felt for myself, I felt badly for him.

     He was naturally disappointed, but concealed in very well in
congratulating me.

     We decided to celebrate with a night on the town. Since neither
of us was the legal drinking age, of course we had to get some fake
identification. No small task in those days.

     We discovered through the grapevine that this one guy had a
Polaroid and a full-proof way of copying just the right birth date on
our existing drivers license. It looked and felt real. We were ready.

     We decided to go to a bar near the SC campus, since I intended to
enroll there in the Fall. It was a campus hangout and, we thought, a
good prep for college days ahead.

     Since neither of us drank that much, the first beer went down
slowly. But that was followed by another, and then another.  Before we
knew it, we were both higher than kites.

     On the way home, we stopped by the football field where we had
shared so many good (and some bad) moments together. Two drunks
staggered into the middle of the field, putting our arms around each
other and singing the old school song. The night was warm, but
somewhat humid. That strange mixture of warmth that can envelop a
Southern California night.

     It was when Doug had his arms around me and gave me a big bear
hug that I thought I felt a slight swelling in his crotch.

     Could it be?

     Naw, I was imagining things. He represented everything that was
straight, and regardless of how much I fantasized, I would never get a
look at his dick outside the locker room, or through his shorts at
home. Besides, I was half drunk and so was he.

     When we got home, we went through our usual ritual: big glass of
milk in the kitchen, more talk in the family room, and time to turn
in.

     Like so many other nights, we walked into the bedroom, undressed
and climbed on top of our separate beds.

     This night, however, Doug became unusually talkative after we
turned the lights out. "When was the last time you jacked off," he
asked, with his devilish sense of humor.

     "Oh, a long time again," I replied, equally amused. "Think it was
this morning in the shower."

     I thought he'd turn over and go to sleep, as he usually did, but
with the alcohol breaking down his inhibitions, he kept on chattering.

     "I wish Donna (his sometime date) were here tonight. I'd grab
that little bitch by her bleached-out hair and shove her down on my
cock," he announced. "I really need to get off."

     I started to get hard at the thought of someone going down on
him, wishing, of course, that I'd be the lucky guy who could do it.

     "I bet she'd really give my dick a good working over. I know
she's been staring at it for some time. That silly little bitch, I
know she loves me ass, and she'd probably love to get down on here
knees and suck me off," he said laughingly. "And I'm so goddam horny
that I'd let her do it."
     Looking across the bedroom, I could see Doug rubbing himself
through this shorts. Now my cock was jumping through my shorts
completely unrestrained. I stroked it progressively harder as I
watched Doug playing with himself.

     I thought about bringing up the subject of a mutual jack- off,
but restrained myself. As much as I wanted this hot man, and to share
one of life's most intimate acts with him, I did not want to
jeopardize a friendship that I had come to depend on.

     "Have you ever let a guy jack you off," he shot across the
bedroom. I froze at the question, wanting to answer and tell him how
much I wanted him, but I said weakly, "No, of course not. Remember
what happened to Bill?"

     Bill Talbert had been one of our most promising young players
several years ago. He was a tall, lanky wide receiver who had speed to
burn, and was an incredibly nice guy. He had a shock of uncontrolled
blond hair that looked like a punker, long before punks came on the
scene. And he had that warm, friendly look of a mid-western farmboy
who had just come in from the fields.

     One day in the locker room, Dan Gordon had stood naked on the
bench in front of the lockers and announced he wanted someone to suck
his dick.

     Bill startled everyone by walking over in front of him,
deliberately kneeling down and taking Dan's enormous dick in his
mouth.  Dan reponded by thrusting his cock in and out of Bill's mouth
until he shot his load. Also, much to everyone's surprise, Bill
swallowed it. Of course this little exhibition attracted quite a
crowd.

     After Dan shot his load, he looked down at Bill and growled, "Get
out of here, you fucking faggot. We don't allow any queers on this
team."

     Bill looked completely defeated and walked out of the locker room
with his once proud demeanor completely destroyed. We never saw him
much after that, and he dropped off the team, then out of school.

     I didn't want that to happen to me, so I tried to ignore Doug's
subtle invitation to get him off.

     "Come on, guy," he insisted. "There's nothing wrong with two
friends giving each other a helping hand."

     Although I was scared as hell where it might lead, I moved over
to his bed and sat on the side. I reached over and placed my hand in
the middle of his waiting basket. He moaned and started a slow,
thrusting motion that indicated approval.

     The feel of that rock hard cock through his shorts filled me with
incredible desire. My own dick was as hard as I can ever remember it
getting.

     I climbed over on top of him and put my head between his legs,
rubbing the stubble on my face against the inside of his hairy thighs.
That obviously turned him on even more. He grabbed me by the back of
the head and pushed my face into his basket.

     I could feel his cock pressing against my face through his
jockeys, threatening to tear the clean, white cotton. I put my mouth
over his long, cloth-covered shaft and started making motions with my
mouth.

     Now his head was pressed back into his pillow and I could tell he
was on the verge of cumming. My first major clue ws when he froze for
an instant, then let out a low, gutteral moan. Then I could feel the
first wet spot forming alongside the slot in his shorts.

     Although it was dark in the bedroom, I could feel that wet spot
growing in size and circumference. He had emptied his load inside his
shorts and it was filled with his hot, white manjuice.

     I pressed my mouth against the spot, stroking it with my tongue
and sucking in what I could.

     He sank into a full-rest position and let out a, "Oh god, that
felt good." By now, with no contact whatsoever, I had unloaded
everything into my shorts. One hot gush after another filled them with
what had been a three-day buildup of cum. They were soaked.

     Now I was terrified. I had just jacked my best friend off with my
mouth and had swallowed part of the load that he shot. I knew full
well it could mean the end of our friendship.

     He would call me a fag in the morning, and reject me in the same
way Bill had been driven off the football team.

     I was totally ashamed of myself! I had let my lust and passion
interfere with one of best friends I ever had. I started to leave.

     Doug turned over slowly, and even in the darkness, I could see
that incredible smile of his. "I've been wanting you to do that for a
long time," he said. "Do you have any idea how many nights we've spent
together and I've lain awake, just praying you'd come over and suck me
off through my shorts?"

     "That was hot, and it sure doesn't mean we're queers. It's just a
matter of two friends getting each other off," he said emphatically.
     "Yea, I guess you're right," I replied. "Since there are no girls
around, we gotta do something to get ourselves off."

     With that, he put his big arm around me and hauled me into bed
with him, pressing my head against the side of his massive chest and
giving me a warm hug.

     I breathed a sigh of relief.  At least it wouldn't be the "Oh my
god was I drunk" routine.

     He was fully aware of what we had done, and gave every indication
that he wanted to do it again. I fell asleep, cradled under his big,
beefy arm, completely content and unafraid. There would be no more
tormented nights for either of us. And our friendship certainly took
on a new dimension.