Greg was still asleep when I woke early next morning. He hadn't asked me for a blow job the night before, so I figured Lindy must've given him one. She was pretty good at it, too. I knew that from previous experience. Woohoo! Anyway, the sight of his bronze-colored bod lying spreadeagled, face-down on the bed was too much to resist. He had one knee raised so that his golden buns were spread, revealing his piss boner and hairless balls, and his sweet, tender asshole. Damn, that thing was inviting!
Before daring to touch him, I leaned forward and stuck my face to within a few inches of his goodies. The warm, spicy scent from his delicious furniture drifted into my nostrils and stirred my brain, not to mention my throbber. Should I offload onto his globes and lick it off? Nah, he might wake and give me a hard time. Then again, he might not! I decided to risk it. Besides, risk always heightened the thrill.
I placed my left hand on one of his buns and gently moved it to one side, exposing more of his wicked rosebud. I froze as he stirred a little but, to the relief of my thumping heart, he soon settled again. When I was confident that it was safe to continue, I spat on my right hand and began to stroke my rock-hard seven.
As I ogled his brown and pink hole, I fantasized about how it would be to slowly push my boner into it and feel his ass muscles gripping my shaft. Whoa! What a thought! It made me so damn excited, I'd offloaded a bucket of thick, sticky boy juice within a few minutes. Most of it was stuck to his globes and balls, while one blob had landed right smack dab on his pinky. Should I lick it off?
I was in the shower when my bro slid open the stall door. "Mind if I join you?" His piss boner was at a 45 degree angle to his awesome, well-defined abs.
"You looked so fucking horny laying on the bed, man, I had to come in here and jack off," I lied.
"Again?" he smiled as he stepped inside the stall and closed the door.
Shit! Had he been awake when...? "What d'ya mean, again?" I demanded, trying to sound completely innocent.
He put his head under the hot water, then let it spray over his face before he answered me. "I was awake the whole time, Daniel," he laughed. "But I thought, 'oh, fuck it, just let it happen.'"
"Well, dammit, Greg! You shouldn't be laying nude like that with your fucking ass..."
"Shuddup and blow me."
Well, I didn't need to be asked twice! It was the most incredibly funky sight to be looking up at the water cascading off his shiny, natural tan while my firm lips glided back and forth along his morning six inches. Pretty soon, he'd grabbed hold of my head and was ramming his monster all the way to the back of my throat as my hands ran the length of his muscular, brown thighs.
"Fucking hell, Daniel!" he sighed. "I don't know how you do it, man, but you could sure teach Lindy a few tricks."
What tricks? Maybe it had something to do with being a guy and understanding dicks better than girls could. Anyway, Greg kept pumping my face like it was gonna be his last blow job, and flattening my nose every time he pulled my face to his groin. I figured it didn't matter much whether a guy was straight, gay or fucking Calathumpian, once his dick was sliding between a pair of loving lips and being massaged by a busy tongue, he was at a place where the only important thing was offloading his boy juice.
"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!" he screamed as his throbber grew even harder and banged around inside my mouth like a bucking bronco. My face was jammed against his pubes, and his tight balls were resting on my chin. Jet after jet of his warm jizz exploded from his knob and slid down my throat as I swallowed like crazy. Once I'd forced the last of his tasty wads past my tonsils, I stood and faced him.
"Were you really awake?"
"Hey, it's no biggie, bro. I fucked your sweet ass, remember, and you were totally cool," he smiled, and roughed up my blonde hair.
It took a couple of hours to swarm over the house with a duster and vacuum cleaner, and to load the Whirlpool with all our washing. By the time mom and Andy had arrived home, the house was spick and span -- not that mom noticed -- she was hugging the shit outa me from the moment she walked through the front door.
"How about one for me?" Andy asked with outstretched arms.
I hugged him for a minute, then shook his strong hand. "Great to see you guys back," I grinned. "So how was the honeymoon?"
"Well," mom laughed, "I think I spent most of it gazing at the ceiling."
Andy's face flushed immediately. "Nancy! What about all the sightseeing trips we went on?"
"Two! Or was it three? Anyway, I'll remember that motel ceiling for the rest of my life."
Greg and I were cracking up something serious, but it took a little while before Andy chilled. He was gonna have to get used to the way mom shot straight from the hip. But that was a quality that I admired about her. You always knew where you stood with mom, but you had to learn not to take her too seriously when she was joking. Or was she?
For the next week or so, we were busy building Greg's room. We were still on summer vacation, so I'd managed to get a lotta the guys to help out -- Paul was there every day, while Dick, Jo, Freddie, Nick and the others came around when they could for maybe a couple of hours most days. It took about eight days for the room to be completed apart from painting, so we invited everybody around for a painting party, followed by a barbecue lunch. With so many willing hands, the job was done by midday. Greg had chosen pastel blue walls, a white ceiling, and a polished timber frame around the large sliding glass door that led directly to the yard. The carpet was burgundy. It was a way cool room, and Greg was over the fucking moon with excitement!
As usual, after the barbecue lunch, all the guys and I took to the pool -- nude, of course. We'd been nude all week. Andy, on the other hand, was always in his shorts or a swimsuit. Was being nude a teen thingy? I got a chance to find out when my step dad and I were sunning ourselves on the lawn. "Did you go through the original Woodstock thing, Andy, and the flower power trip?"
"A bit before my time, Daniel. That was in the late sixties. '69, I think. I was a teen in the seventies. John Travolta, Welcome Back Kotter, Saturday Night Fever, all that kinda thing. Why do you ask?"
"I was just wondering about being naked. Lots of peeps were naked at the Woodstock concert -- I've seen the movie. But you always wear shorts."
"I didn't when I was your age, son. Do you mind if I call you son? I used to go on summer camps where we'd all swim nude. It was as natural as the river and the woods that surrounded us." He paused for a few moments to reminisce. "Anyway, I know what you're thinking, Daniel. Why don't I still wander around in the buff? I dunno exactly. I think something happens when you get to my age. You're supposed to be more responsible or something. It's like you can't act like a kid anymore." He put a hand on my shoulder. "Enjoy it while you can, son. Enjoy it while you can."
Early the next morning, Andy rented a truck and we all helped to move Greg's furniture from the storage depot to his new room, plus a few other things for the house. When it was done, I put my arm around my bro's shoulder. "Well, bud, there it is! It looks totally awesome!"
"Yeah. I can't believe it. Just over a week ago I was drawing diagrams on paper, and sleeping here on the lawn before it was even built." He walked into the center of the room and stretched his arms to full length, then spun a 360. "Woohoo! This is even better than I thought it would be!"
I approached him, threw my arms around his neck and planted a big, sloppy one on his cheek. "Welcome home, bro." We hugged for a couple of minutes, swaying to and fro. It was a very special moment, and one I'd probably remember for the rest of my life.
Paul had been bugging me all week about sleeping over, so I invited him to dinner. The five of us sat around the table hoeing into mom's special "Daniel" meatballs, mashed potato, steamed beans, lots of home-made gravy and fresh, crusty bread. Greg was so damned excited about his room, he couldn't stop talking about it.
"Greg," his dad said, finally, "shuddup!"
"Sorry, dad. It's just that it's so f..., I mean, awesome. This house is so much better than the apartment." He looked a mom and grinned. "And I have a new mom."
"Oh, God, Greg!" Mom wailed, wiping the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. "Don't you go getting me all damn teary for heaven's sake!"
As we chatted over dinner, I kept wondering about how I should refer to Andy. Should I call him 'dad'? I wasn't sure, so I figured I'd let it happen naturally, if it happened at all. At this point, he was Andy. My dad had been dead since I was five, but his memory was still very much alive in my mind. Don't get me wrong -- Andy was a totally cool guy, and I was glad for my mom, as well happy to have a wicked step bro like Greg, but thinking of Andy as my dad... well, that might take some time.
After doing the dishes, Paul and I joined Greg in his room and listened to the Backstreet Boys on his CD player, and just talked about all kinds of shit. He'd already put some posters up on his walls -- mostly chicks -- but there was one of River Phoenix.
"How come you've got River up there, dude?"
"He's way cool. I liked the one in your room, so I decided to get one, too. I guess he kinda reminds me of you in some ways -- y'know, like a rebel. But I don't have one of you."
"You'd put a poster of me on your wall?"
"Sure, why not?"
"I would too," Paul cracked, "but all the pics I have of Daniel are nudies. My folks would freak big fucking time!"
"What the fuck are you guys talking about? I'm not some famous movie star!"
"You're pretty famous around these parts," Greg grinned. "And I'm kinda fussy about who goes on my wall."
Before we called it a night, the three of us took turns at punching the bag. While I watched my bro laying his fists into the heavy, tough vinyl, I couldn't help admiring his muscle tone, especially his lats which stuck out from his ribs like iron rods sheathed in bronzed satin. He was light on his feet, too -- and the way his long, shiny black hair danced around on his shoulders as he ducked and darted looked way fucking hot. Paul had a slighter build than Greg's, but he was still a horny little fucker and a lot stronger than his slim, tanned body would indicate to the unfamiliar eye.
By the time we'd worked out for an hour or so, we were all kinda sweaty -- not to mention smelly, ew! -- so we hit the pool for a while. Then it was time for bed.
"Daniel," Paul said as I pulled down the covers, "gimme a hug." We stood with our arms wrapped tightly around each other, and our faces buried in the crooks of each other's necks, for a long time. "I know I've been with you most every day this week, Daniel, but I've really missed being alone with you. I jacked off every night thinking about this moment."
Our lips met and our warm, wet tongues searched each other's mouths for several minutes before I pulled away. "You've got me as horny as hell, dude."
"Cool!" he smiled, with that mischievous, trademark twinkle in his electric blue eyes. "I can't wait!"
Paul laid on his side on my bed facing the wall. I was behind him, drinking in the sweet smell of his jet-black hair. The second I felt my skin-splitting boner touch his ass, it was like I'd never wanted to fuck somebody so much in all my life! I spat on my hand a couple of times and lubed his hole as well as my hard meat. As soon as I'd pressed the head of my cock against his relaxed rosebud, he lifted his leg. "Fuck me good, Daniel."
Slowly, my throbber inched its way into his willing hole, while I nibbled his ear and ran my hand over his smooth chest. "Thanks, Paul," I whispered. "I really needed this."
After I'd emptied my balls of a truckload of boy juice, I allowed my boner to get lazy inside my bud -- and that's the way we fell asleep. Yep, I was a lucky dude to have a wicked friend like Paul.
Copyright © 1999 All rights reserved. mrbstories
Diary Part 94