The moment mom started blubbering, the rest of us quickly followed suit. Jimothy continued to sing 'Daniel', though, despite performing in front of a human Niagra Falls. Well, it wasn't quite that bad, but he'd obviously touched a sensitive nerve in each of us. I tried my best to look cool, but I had to roll my eyes and blink several times to keep the tears at bay.
"I guess I should've sung a Pat Boone number," he cracked when he was done singing. "I didn't mean to get you all so damn emotional."
I was about to ask who the hell Pat Boone was when mom interrupted. "No, no!" she cried. "I loved it. You sang 'Daniel' beautifully! It's just that I get a little teary when I hear those lyrics -- my late husband named Daniel after that song."
"Actually, I've tried to write my own song about Daniel," our guest admitted, "but I just don't seem to be able to get the lyrics right. I mean, what the hell do you say about a guy like Daniel -- I mean, this one?"
"I can give you a few suggestions," Paul giggled. "Daniel might not like 'em, though."
After Jimothy had entertained us with a few more songs, Andy could no longer contain his curiousity about my friend. "Do you intend to sing professionally?"
"How much you got in your wallet?" he grinned. "No, seriously, Andy, I'd love to. Writing songs and performing them gives me such a high, especially when I get an audience like you guys. It's like I send out a vibe and it comes back a hundred fold. In any case, I've got college to think about. Y'know, if I don't make it in the music business, I can always be the marketing manager of Creamsicles."
"Creamsicles!" I yelled. "We forgot to get the creamsicles! We were gonna stock up 'cause I knew you liked them. Damn!"
"I'll live," he smiled. "But only just." Then he thanked us all for our hospitality and explained that he was totally pooped after the long drive, and needed to hit the hay -- especially since he had to be in fine form for the concert the following night. "Which bed is mine?" he asked as he rose from his chair, and lifted the guitar strap over his head.
"The one without the stained sheets," Paul cracked, then turned instant crimson as he realized his slip. "I mean…"
"Don't bother explaining," mom laughed. "You'll only get yourself into more hot water."
"He's already in it," I mumbled, "big time."
It was about 11 when I entered my room and turned on the light. Paul had already gone home, and everybody else had retired for the night. Jimothy was sound asleep in the spare bed, with a sheet covering the lower half of his bod. "You really do have wicked armpits," I whispered as I leaned forward to sniff the one nearest me. It was a hot night, and his odor was warm and strong, but not unpleasant. There was still a trace of some kinda deodorant which I couldn't identify.
I knelt beside his bed and studied his face for a while, and thought about how he was able to open his mouth and make music with his voice. It seemed incredible to me that a guy could do that with such effortless ease. Then I studied his fingers which were laying across his chest. They looked just like regular fingers, but they weren't. They had the power to create magic by bringing a guitar to life. But no matter how hard I tried to see with my eyes the things that made this guy so fucking awesome -- apart from his delicious looking bod -- there was nothing about his physical exterior that indicated musical talent. It had to be inside -- in his brain, in his heart, in his soul.
His mouth was slightly open, and the temptation to press my lips to his was overwhelming. I lingered there, letting the soft, warm touch of his mouth caress mine. It was as though something inside of him was being transmitted to me -- a feeling of tenderness and deep affection. Whatever it was, it gave me a gentle high, a kinda soothing sensation like I was floating.
"I always sleep nude. Sheets are people, too, y'know. They deserve a thrill just like anybody else does." I remembered those crazy words from one of his emails. I lifted the sheet and took a peek. Yup, there it was in all its glory -- well, soft glory. I'd already seen him naked in the pool, and at the barbecue, but it wasn't the same as having the opportunity to study his jewels up close for as long as I wanted. After I'd folded the sheet all the way to the bottom of the bed, I placed my face just a few inches above his pubes so that I could savor his rising warmth, and the erotic smell of his boy scent. As soon as it filled my lungs, it travelled to my brain and sent off a bunch of signals. The urge to kiss his flaccid cock was irresistible.
After kissing the length of his dick, then kissing his balls, I raised my head to see his meat uncoiling like a snake in slow motion. I watched it straighten and grow until it was at its full six inches laying across his abs, and with its swollen, sculptured knob just below his belly button. Should I suck it? While I pondered the answer to that question, I ran my tongue along the hard muscle on the underside of his throbber, then licked his nads. Once again, his wild, sexy scent filled my lungs and turned my brain into a hyperactive pinball machine.
After some deliberation, though, I chose not to risk waking him. The concert was too important, and he needed rest. On the other hand, I wasn't prepared to call it a night without jacking off. The sight of Jimothy's horny body stretched out naked on the bed was just too fucking awesome to ignore.
My problem was how to involve him somehow. My own fist didn't seem adequate under the circumstances. Hell, Jimothy was here in my very own room! My cock deserved more than my own damn fist!
I went to the end of the bed and gently cupped my hand under his ankle, then slowly raised his bare foot until it was level with my pulsating throbber. And that wasn't the only thing that was throbbing. I could hear the pounding of my heart in my ears.
I shuffled my feet a little until I'd managed to rest my balls on the sole of his foot, then rubbed them against his skin. Shit, that felt wicked! But it wasn't enough to cause me to shoot. I raised his foot a little more until I could slide my whole boner up and down his heel and instep, while my knob rubbed against his toes. That felt fucking awesome, too, but I wanted more. I placed my free hand under his other ankle and slowly raised his leg until his two feet were together. Then I positioned my rock-hard meat between them and lifted each of his feet separately, so that they rose and fell alternately while rubbing against my balls and shaft. Whoa!
The thrill of the whole damn thing was heightened by the fact that I could see him sleeping, and totally unaware of what I was doing. I was the phantom foot rapist! Pretty soon, my balls tightened and clung to the base of my shaft. My knees buckled slightly. I pushed my boner as hard against his feet as I dared without waking him, then shot my load. It went everywhere -- over his legs, the sheet, while some even landed on the floor. The rest clung in shiny blobs to his toes.
When my massive load of boy juice had been spent, I lowered his legs back to the bed, then licked my cum off his toes. There was a little bit still clinging to my piss hole, so I scooped it off with one finger, gently smeared it over his lips, and kissed them softly.
"Huh? Oh, shit," I yawned. "What time is it?"
"Seven," he said as sat on the side of my bed. "And I'm talking hours, not inches. Although inches is not completely outa the bloody picture. Did you sleep well?"
"Like a log."
"So you didn't hear me?"
"I'm not sure, but when I woke this morning, I saw cum stains all over my sheet. They were like all over the fucking place! I must've had a wet dream, but not like you're ordinary, average, everyday wet dream. I must've been bouncing around like I was on a bloody trampoline or something. Unless, of course, those stains were already there, but I didn't see any before I went to bed."
"You checked the sheets?"
"I'm in your room, Daniel. Your room! It's normal to check somebody's sheets when you meet them for the first time. It's part of the familiarization process. It's called a sheet examination. Everybody does it, although usually when nobody else is watching."
"Did you check my sheets?"
"Of course! I counted five stains and two blonde pubes. I was really disappointed."
"That your boy juice was wasted on the sheets. By the way, do you always look this delicious in the mornings? I feel like fucking you senseless. I feel like licking you all over until I'm due for a tongue transplant. But there's no rush. It was just a random thought. I'll count to ten while you think about it."
I cracked totally, and was still laughing my tits off when Jimothy leaned forward and kissed me. "Hey," he said when our lips had peeled apart, "I've counted way past ten. I'm up to like fifty already."
"It'll have to be quick, Jimothy. Breakfast will be ready soon, and it won't look so good if you and I are still in my room. Let's make it a 69."
I was lucky that I was still laying on my back. I preferred being the dude underneath -- I got the best view that way. As I watched Jimothy throw a leg over my chest and park his wicked, smooth ass just above my face, I took a moment to examine his hole. The weird thing about assholes was that they all looked as though they'd just sucked on a lemon and gone all wrinkly. But his was cute -- well, cute by my asshole standards.
Then my bud lowered his globes so that his hangers were lightly brushing my forehead, and his boner was dripping pre-cum on my neck. I reached around and bent his hard meat toward my mouth before wrapping my lips around it.
At the same time, I felt his lips and tongue working my tender knob. Jeez, what a fucking rad feeling! And to think that while he was blowing me, I also had a face full of his thick, solid six inches. This is Jimothy, I had to keep reminding myself, as my toes curled, and my whole body tensed with the awesome pleasure of his expert touch. This is really happening! Woohoo!
The strong flavor of Jimothy's pre-cum was becoming more intense as I reached up with both hands and smoothed his buns. Then I ran my fingers along his moist ass crack until they found his willing hole. Just as my finger entered his rosebud, it squeezed. A split second later, his throbber became even harder and began to stretch my lips and fill my mouth to absolute capacity. I watched his balls tighten and grip the base of his shaft. Then, as his dick went feral and bucked like crazy, I felt his body shudder. My mouth quickly began to fill with his thick, tasty boy juice. A moment later, I began to shoot my load. Both of us were gagging and swallowing, trying desperately to force every delicious wad down our throats, so that we didn't waste a single, precious drop.
"Do you like fresh fruit with your cornflakes, Jimothy?"
"Sure do, Nancy. Thanks."
"And did you sleep well?"
"Just like a baby. I feel so at home here. It's like I belong."
"You do belong. We're delighted to have you as our guest, and you can call this place home for as long and as often you like."
Mom wasn't too crazy about people being naked at the table, so we teens were dressed in shorts. We were all bare chested, though. Andy was the only one wearing a shirt, while mom wore a loose, white blouse.
"I hope you don't mind my saying," Jimothy began, looking at Greg, "but Daniel has told me a little about your mom, and how she was Philippino. You're very good looking."
"Almost as good looking as me," I laughed.
Greg's bronze complexion hid his embarrassment to a large degree, but it was still obvious that he was taken aback by Jimothy's frankness. "Thanks," he said softly after swallowing a mouthful of cornflakes.
"Takes after his mother," Andy explained. "Not only in looks, but also in demeanor. She didn't quite know how to handle compliments either."
"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, Greg," Jimothy apologized, "but some things just need to be said. Y'know? It's like when I write songs. There's something in me that makes me feel obligated to tell the truth, and to communicate it to people. I hope you understand."
"It's OK," Greg smiled. "Anyway, you're a wicked singer, dude. You really knocked me out last night. And you're helluva good looking, too."
We all cracked as Jimothy blushed.
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Diary Part 108