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    Geron Kees
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

My Crimson Year - 1. Chapter 1

It was Donnie Blydon that got us into trouble, as usual.

"I told you not to keep pushing those guys," I said, as we walked through the field towards home. "Now look at us."

We were covered in mud, head to toe. That wasn't that unusual for the aftermath of a football game, but the thoroughness of today's covering of muck wasn't due to the game play itself. It was due to three factors that I should have seen coming and taken steps to avoid, but hadn't. As usual.

Firstly, we'd been playing the Royals, who were a bunch of thugs to begin with. They wore attitude like a second uniform, and played like we were a rival gang. There must be something about living in the deep, dark city that brings out the worst in some people. For the Royals, football was a street fight with sidelines, with the refs being cops and the end zones a clean getaway. The Royals were great at sneaky shit - the cruddy stuff that guys do to each other on the field that somehow manages to get missed by the refs. Most of the team would have bruises tomorrow that were not earned in the actual play of the game.

Secondly, we'd won the game. We were league champs last year, and we are pretty good. But the Royals are fast, and they're strong, and they're organized. It was a combination of things that caused them to lose, I guess.

For one, their quarterback, Vinni Pascatori, kind of sucks. He's got a great arm, but he's wild, and more than half of his plays were incomplete because he couldn't tag the receiver downfield. Our guy, Mikey Mitchell, is way better, and all of his plays in the game today were complete save one, and that was called on interference. And, the Royals think they specialize in the sack. They spent a lot of time going after our quarter, and if Mikey was the type to just stand there and be a target, he'd have spent a lot of time down on his back. But Mikey can dance, and dance well. It was a stern chase, as my naval Uncle Brad used to say, and Mikey had speed just like he had eye and hand. A defense built around the sack leaves too much other stuff open.

And, our guys are not a bunch of punks, either. Our line is just as big as the city's, and some of our guys are pretty mean, especially after you do the kind of shit to them that the Royals had been doing. But I think a lot of it was that our guys, the Crimson Demons, were playing to win a football game, while the city boys seemed to be playing to prove something else. I'm not sure what, but in the end all they showed us was what a bunch of jerks they could be.

So, we have the first two factors, one being that we were playing the city, and the other being that we beat them. The city doesn't like to be beat, but at least they took it this time with some grace, just glaring at us and sulking as we walked down their line to shake hands. A couple of them grabbed my hand and tried to squeeze my knuckles into powder; but I'm not exactly weak myself, and I just squeezed back. Damn city assholes.

No, what had got me and Donnie so dirty was hanging out at the field after the game, after most of our team had had the sense to leave. Saturdays are busy for people and the stands empty pretty quickly after a middle school game. Coach Duncan gave us a quick appraisal and then left, because he had family in town and wanted to be home. Most of our guys had other stuff to do than to just hang out, and even our friend Greg Batner took off to be with his family. It wasn't long before it was just Donnie and me, kicked back in the grass, getting our rest on.

Our school is actually not that far from home. The county measures how far we would have to walk to get back and forth by roads, not by a straight line. Our neighborhood was a long way around by road, and we were the first kids to be picked up by the bus each morning, and the last to be dropped off each afternoon. But that was determined by the roads that men had built over time, and not by how the crows covered the same distance. Crows are much smarter, I guess. By cutting through the woods behind the school and then across the fair acreage of the old Myerson farm that lay behind our neighborhood, it was about a fifteen or twenty minute walk, and Donnie and me and Greg always walked it home after afternoon practice or a game played at home. It's an uncomfortable walk in full gear, but it's easier to wear it than carry it, and we don't really mind. It gives us a chance to talk over the game, and to kid around, and to hang together a little longer.

Staying late wasn't what got us in trouble, though. It was when we got up to leave that Donnie got curious, and when Donnie gets curious, anything can happen. And often does.

The Royals had come up from the city in a big rented bus, and Donnie had wanted to go over and watch them load up for the trip back. It had rained the night before and the shaded area where the bus was parked was still squishy and muddy. The Royals had their gear piled near the bus, and one of them was standing there like he was guarding it. He was helmetless and had removed his shoulder pads, and his jersey now seemed a little large for him. But the look on his face was not pleasant, and there was no doubt in my mind that he was not happy about losing the game. That by itself didn't ring any alarms for me, but when he looked up and saw us standing there watching, and came over, I should have just grabbed Donnie by the arm and hauled him off.

"What're youse hicks lookin' at?"

Donnie got all tense at that right off, and I did grab his wrist then to keep him in place. "Just watching you guys get ready to go," I said calmly. "We're not bothering anything."

The Royal pinched his face up and glared. "Yeah, ya won. Go on and get outta here."

Donnie laughed at that. "We live here, turkey. You're the ones that need to get your city asses on the road."

I think I cringed. Donnie...he just doesn't have any sense sometimes. He's my best friend, and I'd do anything for him...but, man, he's got no control over his mouth!

I pulled on his arm. "Come on, Donnie. Let's roll."

"Yeah?" the Royal said, coming closer and balling up his fists. "Who's gonna make us go? Youse punks? This I gotta see."

Donnie pulled at me, trying to free his arm. "Yeah, get your little mafia together and get outta here. You cheatin' pricks play football like you're robbin' parked cars. Smash and grab, right? Got a lot of broken glass where you live, I'll bet."

I did cringe then. "Shut up, Donnie!" I hissed out of the side of my mouth. I was carrying my helmet, but now I put it back on, and fastened the strap. Donnie was still wearing his, although the chin strap was unbuckled, and I could only imagine the ire probably present on his face.

By now some more Royals were coming over, having noticed their boy talking to the enemy, and seen his warlike stance about it.

"What's up, Mahco?" asked a bigger boy, coming to stand beside the first. It was Vinni Pascatori, the Royal's quarter. Five more of their guys were right behind him.

Marco, apparently, wasn't bashful. "Deese yokels is shootin' off dere mowfs at me."

Amazing, the size range you can get in a bunch of thirteeners. Me and Donnie are light and fast, both wide receivers, about five feet tall, and a shade over a hundred pounds each. Vinni and the mob now assembled before us had both of us by as much as a couple of inches in height, and up to twenty pounds in weight. It's hard to recognize faces when the helmets and mouth guards go away, but I think we were facing the Royal's offensive line. The pack-a-sackers, as Mikey called them.

Now...you'd think that the odds of seven against two would kind of make Donnie wake up a little. Make him smarter with his mouth. Especially when it was seven big guys against two not-so-big guys. Most normal people would see the potential danger of the situation, and back off a little.

But not Donnie.

"Oh, now you need some of the other girls to back you up, huh? That's what you guys do, right? We saw how three of you would gang up to fuck up one of our guys. I hate a bunch of whores that cheat."

Vinni's eyes narrowed immediately. "Man, fuck you, ya little wood-suckin' weasel. Go back to da bahnyahd and milk da cows, why don'cha? Ya lookin' ta get punched out?"

Donnie laughed. "Yeah, I'm scared. If you throw a punch like you do a football, I can stand still and you'll still miss me."


Vinni's face clouded over like the sky during a summer thunderstorm. "Yeah? I could toss your stupid narrow ass downa field no problem, ya dick-poachin' hillbilly."

Donnie shook my arm off and whistled. "Ooh. That hurt. Bet when you practice this stuff on your little sister she cries, too, right?"

Shit. What happened next was a little bit my fault, I guess. Despite seeing that we were walking on the edge of a cliff, I, uh...I laughed.

What? I couldn't help it. Donnie's kind of funny when he gets on a roll.

Vinni looked around at his buddies. "Youse guys hear dis fuck?"

I guess in the city, that's the signal to jump on your enemy and bust him up. All seven Royals piled onto us, and in a split-second Donnie and I were down in the mud.

I have to say, the guys that designed football gear knew their shit. Helmet, pads, cup - all the stuff designed to keep you from being smashed into pieces on a football field and also ensure you'll still be able to have kids later in life - it's also great stuff to have when it comes to a rumble. I hated to wear a groin protector, and some of our guys still didn't wear them. They're uncomfortable as hell. But after watching a guy on another team cry for ten minutes after one of his own guys accidentally kicked him in the nuts during a fight for possession - Donnie and I had agreed that a little discomfort was worth it to protect our favorite toys.

For a minute or so all I felt was a weight of bodies atop me, and the occasional fist that slammed into my shoulder pads or the back of my helmet. That apparently hurts, if the yelling and cussing on the part of the Royals was any indicator. It was probably a good thing there were seven of them, because they kept getting in each other's way, and they probably landed as many hits on their own guys as they did each of us. But my face got pushed down into the muck real good, and the gunk just oozed through my face guard until I had to close my eyes or go blind.

You ever taste mud? I mean, get a really good mouthful of it? Nasty. I got to sample some good ol' New York grain corn special, along with some other stuff that I don't even want to think about. I was just imagining worms taking up residence in my stomach when I heard a lot more yelling, and the guy on top of me was yanked off.

"Stop it!" someone yelled, and then there was even more yelling. The next thing I knew, me and Donnie were sitting up. My face guard was full of muck, and the shit in my mouth crunched between my teeth as I tried to force it out with my tongue. Finally, I just spit it out hard, and looked up.

The Royals had all been pulled to their feet and were now standing behind three men, who had placed themselves between their boys and us. The Royals all glared down at us, not looking sorry in the least.

One of the men - I recognized the Royal's coach now, glared down at us. "Are youse boys okay?"

I looked at Donnie, and he nodded at me, and spit some dirt out of his own mouth. Briefly, all I could think was, serves you right!

I looked back up at the coach. "Yeah. We're okay."

The man turned around and leaned toward his players, hands-on-hips. "Get...on...the...friggin'...bus!" He sounded like he was pissed.

The Royals did this kind of group gulp, gave us a last evil glare, and turned and walked away.

"Jeez, what a buncha knuckleheads," one of the other men grated, and turned to follow them.

The Royal's coach swiveled back to us. "Youse fellas sure every'ting is okay? Can ya get up?"

Donnie and I hauled ourselves to our feet. The coach smirked at us then, probably delighted that his guys had managed to grind half the field into our uniforms. "Wouldn't wanna be youse guy's muddas, gotta wash dem unifawms" he said, and I could tell now he thought it was all funny.

"Yeah?" Donnie began, taking a step forward. "Look you --"

I jumped over, put an arm around his back, and yanked him away. "We'll be going now," I said over my shoulder. "Have a nice trip back."

I pretty much dragged Donnie away. "Don't you ever know when to shut your face?"

So here we were.

Donnie was silent as we trudged along in the late afternoon sunshine, little chunks of drying mud falling off of us into the grass as we moved. I took my helmet off, thumped the goop out of it, and rubbed the shit out of my hair. What a fuckin' mess.

I could almost hear Donnie thinkin' - he always does that after he shoots his mouth off somewhere.

"You're somethin'," I said, shaking my head. "We coulda got our asses pounded back there."

Donnie pulled his helmet off and shook it, sending blobs of mud flying. "Stupid city jackoffs. Why do they gotta be such assholes?"

I could tell by the way he was acting that he was sorry he had gotten us into trouble. He usually didn't say he was sorry, but I could always tell. I gave my helmet a last shake, and then draped an arm over Donnie's shoulders and gave him a fond squeeze. "You're crazy, you know that?"

He looked at me and grinned, and I couldn't be mad at him anymore. "Yeah," he said. "I don't mean to be. It just comes out sometimes."

We just walked on, taking in the autumn sunshine. Most years, it would be cold by now. But summer had decided to extend itself this year, and the season had started with sunny, warm days, and a round of luck for our team that didn't seem to be drying up. Course, just being with Donnie made my days sunny, for the most part.

You know, sometimes people ask if me and Donnie are brothers? Maybe it's the fact that we both have blond hair, and blue eyes, and little dimples in our chins, and both of us smile a lot, and like to laugh. Maybe it's that people can see how close we are, like family. Donnie's been my best friend since kindergarten, and I already know I wouldn't know what to do with myself every day without him by my side.

I always kind of knew that I loved Donnie, and recently I have been feeling it even more. That started last year, when we had discovered sex as something to do instead of just something to laugh about, and started jerking off. Of course, we shared it. We share everything. First, we just compared notes, and then we did it together, and then we started jerking each other. We knew that other guys did it, and we also knew it was kinda gay for one guy to jerk another, and we didn't much talk about that aspect of it, even when we were doing it.

We still don't talk about it, really. But I'm not stupid, and neither is Donnie. We have progressed from just dropping our pants and pulling each other off to laying in the bed next to each other, completely naked, and jerking each other. There's a lot of contact, and we both do a lot of laughing and grinning, and I think we enjoy it way too much for some other shit not to be going on, too.

I've admitted it to myself, at least. I love Donnie, and I'd sleep with him in a heartbeat. But...I'm scared of that, too. It's one thing to jerk a guy, another to kiss him and hold him close. That would be gay, and I don't know if Donnie is as ready to be gay as I am. I'd simply ask him, if I was brave enough. But I'm not. Not yet.

Our shoes made little crunchy noises as we crossed the field, and every step we took was accompanied by another dry dirt clod hitting the ground. First it was annoying, and then kind of funny, and then we were laughing about it.

Donnie looked over at me, his blue eyes looking contrite. "I'm sorry, Andy. Me and my mouth again, huh?"

Wow. A real apology!

I looked at him a long moment, and then sighed. "You can't help it if your mouth has a brain of its own. And that it's mentally challenged."

He laughed then, always a sound that made me smile. "Showed those city pricks a thing or two, right?"

It was my turn to laugh. "Uh...we were the ones that ate mud. Remember?"

He shrugged, his face brightening. "Oh, a little dirt! They didn't take us, even though there were a mess of 'em."

I rolled my eyes. "Brother, if we didn't have our gear on, we'd probably be on the way to the hospital about now."

Donnie frowned at that. "You think?" He sighed. "Aw, man. I sure don't wanna get you hurt, Andy."

I looked at him then, but he was looking away, across the field, to where our neighborhood sprawled among a tall stand of trees. The almost woods, the stuff that stands between the fields and the real woods. Beyond our neighborhood, and not that far, were the real woods. Yeah, you had to go clear to the base of the mountains to get there, but the mountains weren't all that far, either. The tree line was a dark blob that hugged the base of the peaks, and crawled up the flanks of them almost to the top. Pretty as a picture, my mom likes to say.

I love this place, no doubt about that. How anyone could live in a city beats the crap outta me. No wonder those Royals buttheads were so unhappy.

Donnie squinted at the nearest house, and let loose a great sigh. "Well, that's something. My mom ain't home yet. I don't have to listen to her ranting about what a mess we are."

I couldn't help laughing at that. Donnie's mom was as sweet as they come, every bit as cool as my mom. She'd been looking out extra special for Donnie ever since the divorce three years ago, and doing a hell of a job, in my opinion. I knew that Donnie loved her to death, but sometimes he talked about her like she chased after him with a whip.

"I guess I'd better get home, too," I said. I grinned and rolled my hips a little. "Feels like my cup's got something in it besides my dick."

Donnie laughed, his eyes sparkling in the sun, and I felt that crazy little zing! bounce around inside my head. When he looked at me like that, kissing him would be easy.

"Aw, don't go. Come on over for a little?" He asked then, giving me a begging puppy look that made my heart flutter.

I patted my uniform. "We're really a mess," I said. "I doubt your mom would appreciate us stomping around in your house looking like this."

Donnie shrugged, reached into his jersey, and fished around beneath the pad. He bent one shoulder back and produced a key on a string, obviously placed around his neck. "I got the key to the back door, by the mud room. We can take off our stuff and throw it in the washer, and run it while we get something to eat."

Well, I was pretty hungry. And going to Donnie's house meant at least seeing him in his underwear, and he wore these really cute little briefs, just as sexy as hell. I loved that almost as much as seeing him naked, and my heart skipped a coupla beats at the idea of it.

He saw me thinking, and decided I was debating. He leaned closer. "We could jerk off." His eyebrows bounced up and down. "I'm horny as shit."

I nodded eagerly. "Okay."

He laughed. "That was fast."

What could I say to that? I was always horny where Donnie was concerned. "Well, I could eat something after all that running," I teased. He beamed at me, and I had to look towards his house so that I didn't show what I was thinking. Damn, the world sucks sometimes!

We crossed the field, entered Donnie's backyard, and headed for the door. Donnie went straight to the garden hose attached to a faucet by the door, and suggested we hose off the outsides of our shoes, and also our helmets and shoulder protectors. So, we peeled off our jerseys, and laid the pads and the helmets on the ground. Hosing them out turned out to be a smart move, because the amount of black dirt that came out was impressive, and I couldn't see us doing that to Donnie's mom's kitchen sink.

"Leave 'em in the sun to dry," Donnie suggested, releasing the trigger on the hose nozzle. I nodded, letting my eyes settle briefly on his bare upper torso, which was muscled, but also sleek and beautiful. Donnie's skin was sun-browned - also like mine - from a summer of swimming at the local pool, and I guess I just stared a little too hard or too long.

"What?" he asked, grinning at me and looking down at himself. "You see a hair?"

I laughed at that. We both had a little half-moon of short, light brown hair above our dicks, but other than that, we were still smooth like a lot of the guys I saw online. On the sites I sometimes visited, that is.

"Nah. Just making sure those city freaks didn't do any damage."

He closed one eye and gave me a doubting look. "You sure?"

"Would I lie? The way they piled on us, anything could have happened."

Donnie let his eyes rove over me, and he smiled. "That would be a damn shame, wouldn't it?"

I nodded, already knowing that Donnie liked to look at me as much as I liked to look at him. Eyes give away a lot of things, and Donnie's were never shy about letting me know what he was thinking. I knew he liked the way I looked, and I knew he would like to do more with me than just jerk off together. And he knew I wanted more, too.

But neither of us, it seemed, had the courage to bring up the subject of gay. The way we were together, I was pretty sure that Donnie felt exactly the same way about me as I felt about him. But he never said anything, and so I never said anything, and so he never said anything...and it went on and on that way. It was stupid, and sometimes my head cried out for me just to say one thing - anything - that might serve to acknowledge the way that both of us felt.

But I was scared. Scared of somehow ruining what we had. The fact that Donnie had never once suggested we do other things was enough to make me wary of suggesting it myself. I was of the mind that if he wanted to be closer to me, he would let me know. What we did do together we seldom talked about, other than to ask if the other felt like jerking off. This sort of mutual silence on the subject meant to me that Donnie liked the way it was now. I was miserable in many ways, but I would not make things worse by forcing something on Donnie that he didn't want.

Jerking off, as really intimate a thing as it is, seems somehow okay. I mean, guys do that shit without actually being gay. But touching, as in running your fingers over someone's skin, or holding their body against yours, or the big one, kissing - in other words, all the things I really wanted to do with Donnie - guys don't do those things together unless they are gay.

And I'd come to the conclusion that we just were not ready to be gay.

We got our socks off, and our uniform pants, and piled them atop our jerseys. I was bent over, fixing the pile, when Donnie squirted me right in the ass with the hose. I jumped, and whipped around, holding up my hands. "What are you doing!"

He had this big grin on his face, and then he started laughing. "You got dirt all over you. I'm just cleaning it off!"

He got me good, head to toe, chasing me around in a big circle while I bobbed and weaved, and laughed my stupid head off. Finally, I stepped on the hose while he was moving, and it jerked out of his hand and hit the ground at my feet. I grabbed up the nozzle, and went after him. "My turn!"

He laughed, and he ran, but he wasn't really trying to get away, and I doused him but good, washing every bit of mud off of his body. Finally, I let the stream die, and just grinned at him. "We're both pretty clean now."

He gave me a look like he was annoyed, but there was a smile hiding just underneath of it. "Put the hose down." He went over to the faucet and turned off the flow, and came back over. "Now look. We're all wet. How can we go inside like this?"

"Excuse me. It was you that first squirted me, remember?"

He sighed, but his eyes twinkled merrily. "And?"

I shrugged, took a hand, and smoothed it down the front of my chest, pushing the water drops downward, and then shaking them off my hand. "And...we can just wipe it off."

We did that, rubbing ourselves down in front, and then getting our backs as well as we could. It wasn't hard, and most of the water came right off. A few more minutes of standing in the sun and the light breeze, and only our briefs and our hair still felt wet.

"Come on inside," Donnie said then, pulling the key from around his neck and heading towards the back door. My eyes landed on his butt, moving so gracefully inside the little blue briefs he was wearing. I smiled, and bit my lip. This was just awful!

Donnie turned and caught my look. "What? Are you okay?"

I nodded, coming forward. "Yeah. I'm just hungry."

He turned and put the key in the door, and opened it. We grabbed up our uniforms, shook as much of the gunk out of them that we could, and went inside.

Donnie's house was different from ours. Whereas our back door came into the family room, the back door of Donnie's house let into a little room off the kitchen, which held a washer and dryer and some shelves, and was called - very appropriately - the mud room. "Put your shit right in the washer," Donnie said, tossing his own stuff inside. I added mine, and then Donnie grabbed a big jug of detergent from the shelf, filled the cap, and dumped the liquid inside with the uniforms. He banged down the lid, started the thing running, and then turned and smiled at me.

"Got some pizza in the fridge, left over from last night. How's that?"

"Twist my arm," I said, grinning.

Mmm. Sausage and pepperoni. We plopped a couple of large slices on two paper plates, nuked them in the microwave, and grabbed some root beers out of the fridge. Donnie led me down the hall to his room, and we went inside. When he shut the door he locked it, and grinned at me. I understood. Nothing dampens the fun of a wank session like the idea that mom might come home and open the door.

We sat on the edge of his cedar chest and talked over the game and ate our pizza and drank our root beers. I can't even remember what we said. Donnie's leg rested against mine, and I could feel the sweet touch of his skin, the warmth of his body. All I could think about was that touch - how close Donnie was, and how much I wanted to bring him closer. I knew I was just making myself miserable with all this, but I just couldn't seem to help it.

We finished the pizza, and the drinks. Donnie glanced over at the clock. It was nearly four. "Wonder where my mom is?"

We didn't take our cells to games because there was nowhere to keep them, and we didn't want them getting lost, broken, or stolen. I had left mine on Donnie's nightstand, and he handed it to me as he retrieved his own. I looked at it, saw I had a text from Greg Batner - probably about the game - but no voice mails waiting.

Donnie looked at his own cell, and shrugged. Then he looked up at me, his eyes widening in surprise. "Oh, shit. What a dummy. My mom wouldn't call my cell. She knows I leave it laying all over the place. She would have called the house phone...hold up."

Donnie had a portable phone in his room, connected to the land line. It was one of several spaced around the house, all on the same little Bluetooth network. He went over to it, lifted the phone, and looked at the small LCD screen. "Shit. Here it is."

He pressed the button for replay message, and his mom's voice popped right out of the little speaker:

"Hi, honey, it's mom. Angie and I got caught up at Mrs. Coldner's after the fair, and she invited us to dinner. I know that leaves you hanging - I'm sorry. Maybe you can warm some of the pizza from last night?"

Donnie grinned at that, but didn't take his eyes off the phone.

"I'll be home after we eat and I drop Angie off. About six-thirty or seven, I think. See you then, okay? Stay around the house until I get back, please. Love you, sweetie. Bye."

"Who's Angie?" I asked.

Donnie turned off the phone and set it back in its stand. "My mom's best friend. They do everything together, kinda like us." He looked at me, and I could see the playfulness in his eyes. "Just makes it even better. It always makes a little nervous to be wankin' while my mom's in the house."

I laughed. "Well, let me call my folks first and tell them I'm eatin' dinner here, okay?" I turned my head to one side and stared at Donnie's crotch. "And then we can have some fun."

I did that. My mom asked how the game went, was I okay, and what time did I think I'd be home? I told her we'd won, that I was fine, and that I'd be home sometime after seven.

One thing about my mom, she's reasonable. Most Saturdays, she pretty much lets me do what I want, within reason. My dad goes with whatever my mom says, because he's not good at posting boundaries for me or my sister, and prefers to let mom do it.

"Good to go," I said, putting my cell back on Donnie's nightstand. "Now," I continued, playing the game, "what were we going to do next?"

Donnie simply reached down, stuck his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, and pushed them to the floor. His dick popped right out, getting harder even as I looked at it. And Donnie had a nice dick to look at, too. But that was to be expected...Donnie was nice all over. Wow. I felt a momentary feeling in my chest like it was hard to breathe, and my nutsack had that little rush that said the floodgates had been opened. Donnie went and found a box of tissues in the little bathroom off his bedroom, and went and got onto his bed. He plumped the pillows up, laid himself down on his back, and patted the mattress next to himself, grinning at me. "Well, come on."

I pushed down my own briefs and stepped out of them, and crawled into Donnie's bed, and laid down on my back next to him - right up against him - and felt that sudden weakness in my body that I got whenever I touched Donnie like this. It went everywhere, making my dick harder than a rock. Man.

Donnie reached over and carefully wrapped his fingers around my dick and gave it a little squeeze. I jumped, because I couldn't help it. I did the same to him, leaning against him a little bit harder in the process. We stroked each other slowly for a little, and I stared at Donnie's dick, seeing Donnie's toes curl and uncurl farther down as I rubbed.

I sighed, because I was happy. Happy is something you have to find, you know? For some people it's just there; but for me, I have always kinda had to go and look for it. But when I was with Donnie, it was never very hard to find.

I looked over at him, and he turned his head from watching my dick and his eyes met mine. He grinned, and I grinned right back. "I love doing this," he said.

I had to laugh at that - just a little. "Me, too."

For just a minute we looked at each other some more. Donnie sure has pretty eyes. They're blue, just like mine, but it isn't just the color that makes them so beautiful. It's the things I can see down inside of them. When I look in Donnie's eyes I see everything we've ever done together, all the way back to my first memories of him. Everything we've ever shared, all the things we've laughed at together, all the times we've been scared together, or in trouble together, or just together. Everything. And all the times we've been close like this, our skin touching, and our hands full of the private parts of each other's bodies. How much better could it be?


I had kinda zoned out, I guess, and now I let my eyes go back to meet Donnie's. "Yeah?"

He bit his lip a second, and then let go of my dick and turned on his side to face me, coming up on his elbow, with his hand propped under his head. He looked at me then, and I could see all the wheels turning inside, but didn't have a clue about what kind of tracks they were making.

"Aren't you tired of doing this?"

I stared at him. Tired of jerking off with him? Was he kidding? He'd just said he loved it!

He saw what I was thinking, too. He frowned. "I mean...aren't you tired of just doing this?"

I felt a sudden cold surprise inside. That sounded awfully like he was asking me if I wouldn't rather do more.

His eyes were on mine, like he was trying to see my thoughts. "Andy, I just gotta ask you something, okay?"

I nodded. I felt breathless for some reason, and my voice came out as a whisper. "Okay."

He stared at me, and I could see him working up his nerve. "Um...how do you...how do you feel...about me?"

I wasn't expecting that, and I didn't know what to say. "I like you. You know that."

He frowned. "Is that all?"

I knew I was screwing up big time. "Um...I like you a lot."

He nodded. "Yeah. I just...wondered." Somehow, he seemed very disappointed.

He had wanted more, and I saw then that this was it. We were standing by the wall, looking over it at each other. I couldn't let it go, because if I did, it might never come back again.

I slid my hand up to his shoulder and squeezed it. "You're the best friend I ever had, Donnie. I'd do anything for you."

The disappointment ebbed away, and he smiled. "Yeah, me, too."

The door was open now, so I just had to ask: "How do you feel about me, Donnie?"

He looked surprised, and then a little scared, and then his face screwed up, and for a moment I thought I'd upset him. His eyes dropped to my chest, and he lifted a hand and laid it there. His fingers spasmed, and then he was rubbing me.

It was not a touch that friends did. The way he was rubbing me carried a weight of emotion that I could only just see the tip of. The fondness of the action ran deep. I raised a hand and laid it on his, and rubbed his fingers. It felt wonderful, and special, and better than anything I had ever done before.

Donnie's eyes came up, and his gaze touched mine. His eyes moved over my face, and all I could do was smile.

His eyes smiled first. And then the rest of his face broke into a beautiful grin...and then he was climbing on top of me!

Holy shit snackin' crackers! Donnie squirmed up onto me, pushing me back into the pillow, and lay down, his belly against mine, his legs against mine, his feet touching mine, and...and...his dick pressing against mine.

The feeling was just...just...what can you call it? My body loved every second of it. My muscles twitched and my skin tingled. All that softness and warmth and...and...Donnie against my skin...it was like opening your eyes and suddenly finding out you were leaning over the edge of a roof and looking straight down for fifteen floors. For a second I just kind held on for dear life.

"What are we doing?" I whispered into the moment.

"Andy." It was just my name, said very quietly. Donnie closed his eyes a moment, maybe feeling some of the amazing stuff inside his body at our contact that I was feeling inside mine; and then his expression became the make-or-break one I had seen on his face countless times just before he did something absolutely crazy.

He lowered his head to my shoulder and pushed his face into the side of my neck, took in a huge breath, and let it out slowly.

"I mum mew."

His mouth was pressed against my skin, and I couldn't understand him. My heart was racing, and I was having trouble catching my breath. "What?"

He pulled his face back, just a bit, but didn't raise it so that I could see his eyes.

"I love you," he whispered.

I felt so still, like the world had stopped. It grew silent, and far away, and all I could hear was my own heart pounding in my chest.

Donnie had just told me that he loved me. Me! My arms came up, without me telling them to, and I laid my hands on Donnie's back. My fingers began to move, also on their own, against Donnie's skin, but in all the years I had known him, I had never touched him like this.

And my eyes leaked tears, which ran down my face, and I turned my head and pressed my cheek against Donnie's.

"I love you, too." And I didn't even have to tell myself to say that.

We laid like that - just like that, for I don't know how long. I lost my boner, and I didn't care. My hands continued to rub gently over the warm skin of Donnie's back, and I just lay there, my eyes closed, and felt him against me, everywhere. I could feel him breathing, and the soft and distant beat of his heart, and even the bubble of gas that worked its way through his gut and soon arrived at the back door and emerged in a loud fart.

He giggled, and then lifted his head and grinned at me, and I grinned right back for all I was worth. "There goes that moment."

He laughed, and drew up a hand and wiped at his eyes, and I could see that his were wet, too. "Sorry. Pizza makes me fart."

All I could do was grin, and laugh. I was so happy I just didn't know what else to do.

"Why'd you say that?" I finally had to ask. "What made you tell me?"

He sighed. "It was burnin' me up, Andy. I had to." Then he closed his eyes, and took a deep breath and sighed it out, and opened his eyes again. "Talk about fuckin' scared. I didn't know how you'd take it."

I nodded. Boy, did I get that. "I know. I know just how scared you were. Because I was scared just like that, every time I thought you might find out how...how I felt about you."

He shook his head, and I could see the wonder in his eyes. "You really mean to tell me that I love you, and you love me, and we've been goin' on all this time, afraid to tell each other? That's crazy."

I could only nod. "Yup. Looks like."

"I wanted to tell you so many times."

I nodded. "Me, too. I was scared, though. That you'd stop being my friend."

"Aw. That's not ever gonna happen."

I squeezed him. "I don't know what I'd do without you around."

He grinned, and nodded, and his eyes seemed to be searching for something in mine. I just smiled back, because I couldn't help it one bit.

He sighed, and licked his lips. "I wanna kiss you so bad," he said quietly. "Can I?"

"Oh, hell, yeah," I breathed, puckering up just a little.

He grinned, dropped his face slowly, and our lips touched together, gently. And then he let the pressure increase, and we both puckered a little more, and I felt him smile, and I smiled too. He laughed, and lifted his head, and I knew then and there that this was going to just get better and better.

His eyes bounced from mine to my lips and back, his gaze still full of smiles. He dropped his head again, stuck out his tongue, and ran it daintily across my lips. My dick did a oh, hell yes!, and immediately started to get hard again. I stuck my own tongue out, touched Donnie's with it, and we played at that, laughing and touching our tongues together, until he finally dropped his head again and I let his tongue come inside.

My dick got very hard, and it pressed very hard against his. He'd gone kinda limp while we were talking, too; but his boner came right back at the feel of mine pressing close. He blew a little air out at the sensation of it, and gently rolled his hips a couple of times. That sent a feeling through my middle that just made me gasp, and I hugged him closer again, because I just had to.

We kissed for a long time. I just couldn't get enough of it. At one point I spread my legs and let him slide in between, and then wrapped my legs around his thighs. He gulped and gave a little pant at the magic feel that action handed over to both our dicks as they pressed even more tightly together, and lifted his head to grin down at me. "What do we do next?"

Wow. Everything I'd ever dreamed about doing with Donnie bubbled to the surface. "Anything goes?" I asked, with the same look I gave Donnie when I was daring him.

He looked down at me, his eyes wide, and I slid my hands down and squeezed his butt cheeks just to let him know I was serious. His mouth dropped open, and he grinned at me. "Anything? What do ya mean by that?"

I gave him a little, patient sigh. "Can I touch you anywhere I want?"

He didn't even think about it. "Sure."

I nodded. "Can I kiss you anywhere I want?"

His eyes got wider at that, but so did his grin. "Sure."

I nodded again. "Can I...um...put any part of you in my mouth that I want?"

He tilted his head back, squeezed his eyes shut and laughed, and all I wanted to do was hold him as tightly as I could. He tilted his head back down, looked into my eyes, and smiled. "Sure."

I nodded. "That goes both ways, okay?"

He closed his eyes again, nodded slowly. "I can't wait, Andy."

I did pull him closer then, and kissed him.

And that's how I learned what being in love was really like.

Copyright © 2017
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Wood-sucking' weasels, eh? That was a good one.   Very erotic chapter. Liked it.

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5 hours ago, GanymedeRex said:

Wood-sucking' weasels, eh? That was a good one.   Very erotic chapter. Liked it.

Thank you, sir. :)


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