Coming of Age - 2. Craig Sleeps Over

The following Saturday, Craig came over to spend the night, something he did just about every weekend. We acted like it was a casual arrangement—a couple of bored teenagers hanging out to shoot the shit and play video games. We were sure nobody knew what it was really about—or at least there was no reason to think they did.

We’d been best friends for years, and we fell into the routine of sleepovers whenever we weren’t someplace else with family. Lots of guys do it, so it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for us as far as anybody could tell—at least, that’s what we hoped. If my parents or his got the slightest hint of what went on behind closed doors, they’d go ape-shit and put an end to our friendship. We made sure that didn’t happen by keeping everything cool until we were alone and occasionally skipping a weekend, even though we missed our fun together.

Craig was due to arrive in time for lunch. He’d be driving his car, which he had recently bought with help from his Dad. It was a used Mustang, but it looked totally cherry, and he was damn proud of it. My pulse quickened when I heard the sound of tires on the gravel drive and a car door clunk shut. A knock on the front door was followed by Mom calling to me quietly, “Craig’s here, Bruce.” As he entered, she said a little louder, “It’s good to see you, Craig. Bruce is in the family room.”

I waited for him in the spacious room at the back of the house, relaxing on the couch in front of our new forty-five-inch Panasonic TV. It was the size of a fucking chest of drawers. It even came with a 16-button wireless remote control!

As Craig came down the three steps into the airy room, I turned and stared at him with pleasure. Catching sight of me ogling him, he winked and gave me the finger. He seemed to enjoy the way I looked at him, and I wondered if he ever thought about why I did it.

Craig was five-eleven and a half and weighed one-eighty, with brown hair and eyes and a ruddy complexion. His grandparents came from some Eastern European country, and he had kind of an exotic look. He was built like a brick shithouse. The sleeveless T-shirt clung to his well-developed chest and arms, and his thighs stretching the cut-off shorts were in even better shape than mine because he ran track and cross-country.

I’ve seen Craig naked a hundred times since we first met in junior high, and I watched his hunky body develop, grow hair in all the right places, and his perfect cock and balls get bigger and heavier. No wonder I kept having sexy thoughts about him!

My best friend joined me on the sofa with a friendly grin and a punch in the arm, “How’s it hangin’, dude?”

“Up yours, asshole.” As I punched him back, I felt the familiar twinge of horniness I got every time I saw him. I would never tell him, but I was dying to find out if he felt the same way about me. I figured we were both too scared of being “queer” to say anything. But how I wished we would!

 

Picking up the Nintendo controller, Craig teased, “Get ready to have your ass kicked seven ways from Sunday.”

 

I replied, “In your fuckin dreams.”

Saturdays, we usually watched westerns or played a new Nintendo game, called Donkey Kong, except we called it Donkey Dong. A goddamn gorilla keeps kidnapping Super Mario’s babe, and we joke about the monkey fucking her while the dumb shit tries to figure out how to climb up to the level where they are.

Honestly, the game was stupid, but we pretended to play it aggressively, competing to win as if our lives depended on it. We were constantly aware of the real reason we got together, and the tension of hanging out all day and waiting for our private time was torture.

When my mother was in another part of the house, Craig turned to ask quietly, “You got it?”

“Yeah. It’s up in my room as usual.”

“Is it good?”

“It’ll fuckin blow your mind.”

“As long as it gets me off!” We both laughed at our secret pleasure.

I countered with, “Did you bring the shit?”

“In my pocket.”

“Good. I need it bad this week.”

We played Nintendo all afternoon and then watched TV in the family room after dinner until bedtime. My father insisted I get eight hours of sleep every night—no more, no less, so I dutifully led Craig up to my room at ten o’clock on the dot.

“Lights out, you two, and I mean it. No staying up till all hours talking about nothing—and stay in your room. Do you understand me, Bruce?”

“Yes, Dad. Stay in the room. Got it.”

I thought to myself, What the hell? Does he know something? Has he seen us sneaking out behind the garage in the middle of the night? Has Natalie ratted on us? Nah. He would have said something by now. He’s just fucking guessing.

I guess Dad suspected we liked to lie awake shooting the bull or something, but I doubt he would have ever imagined the other thing we were about to do.

With a kiss on my forehead and a friendly smile for Craig, Mom said, “Good-night, boys. Sleep well.”

The two of us ascended the stairs to my room with forced tediousness. It was damned hard not to run or scramble over each other to get to the top first. Once we were in the hallway, we tiptoed past Natalie’s door, trying to make no sounds. We didn’t need her sticking her goddamn nose out and lecturing us about Dad’s rules or some other crap. If she only knew what rules we were about to break, she’d fucking shit herself!

Once we were in my room with the door locked, we grinned at each other and high-fived. Saying nothing, we stripped down to our tighty-whities, which was how we always slept at night. Craig climbed into his side of my bed while I performed my duty as host and master of ceremonies for the evening’s entertainment. As I retrieved the Hustler from its hiding place, my hands shook a little.

“Is it a hot one this month?” Craig whispered, his voice dripping with lust as he bent forward across the bed and gazed down at the treasure in my nervous grip. I was as horny as him, but for a different reason.

“You bet. The centerfold is fuckin hot!” I said, ignoring the fact that she did nothing for me.

“Fuck! Hurry up and get your ass over here,” Craig urged.

I got into bed and switched on the tiny reading light attached to the headboard. We leaned back, and I positioned the magazine between us. Willing my hand to stop trembling, I opened the cover and began to turn the pages, stopping at the Table of Contents so we could examine the titillating preview images of the explicit scenes.

Our sexual arousal had ignited the moment we turned our backs on my parents and made our way upstairs. It doubled when we were inside the locked room and again as we stripped off our clothes and tossed them on the floor. Our cocks were hard as rocks and ready for action. I’m not exaggerating when I say Craig and I made a ritual out of masturbating side by side. We were two pros who knew how to prolong the pleasure until the final moment of release.

We began this routine years ago, as soon as we were old enough. We never gave it much thought, even though we knew other guys jacked off together, too. They probably had their own “way” they liked to do it, too.

Starting with the first pictures of a naked woman straddling a bicycle, we took turns flipping the pages from one sexy photo to the next. As we did it, we gently teased our cocks through our underpants.

“Shit, that babe’s fuckin hot!” Craig exclaimed over one of the models who was cooking in her kitchen, wearing only a very short apron. She was bent over the oven showing her ass and hairy pussy.

“Fuckin-A she is!” I echoed, hoping I was enthusiastic enough.

Another photo spread showed two women going at it. “That’s goddamn amazing!” was Craig’s evaluation.

“Yeah, how do they do it without a guy?” I wondered aloud, even though I knew full well that two guys could do it just as easily as two women.

Reaching the centerfold was our signal to advance to the next level. We stripped off our briefs and flung them across the room. As soon as they were released from their cotton prisons, our hard-ons popped up and slapped our bellies. It was a hilarious sound, but neither of us laughed or gave away whatever we might be thinking.

“Shit, man, look at the babe!” Craig exclaimed. “Wouldn’t you love to fuck her pussy?”

“Totally.” I’m lying, but I wouldn’t mind watching you fuck her!

Turning my eyes to the right without moving my head, I stole a peek at Craig’s dick as he stroked it. I have seen it soft and hard hundreds of times, but an electric thrill ran through me every time I did. His uncut cock stretched up his belly almost to his navel. I could tell it was longer than my six inches, even though we’ve never measured our dicks or talked about how big they were.

I was fascinated by the way he used his foreskin to rub up and down the shaft, something I could never experience, since I was circumcised. Dude, if you only knew how much I’d like to do that for you!

As we glued our attention to the naked woman, we lightly jacked off, sliding our hands up and down our cocks with a soft touch, prolonging the edging as long as possible. Pretending to study the images in the magazine, I continued to sneak glances at Craig’s erection as he massaged it, encouraging it to reach its full length.

The sexual tension in the room heightened with every minute we spent lying there bare-assed and hard. I have never done this with anyone but Craig, and I was glad we shared this secret. It was so fucking hot to lie next to him, jacking our cocks until we shot our loads. By the time we turned the page to the scene of the stud and the woman at the back of the mag, we were both getting close to coming.

Craig shocked me by wondering, “Do you think the dude’s cock is really that big or is it some kind of trick photography?”

I fucking choked. Craig’s looking at the guy’s cock! Maybe he likes to as much as I do.

“Wh-who knows?” I stuttered. “They can do almost anything with photos these days. His cock might only be a couple of inches long.”

“Bullshit. Nothing could fake a dong like his.” He hesitated, “I wish mine was that big.”

Impulsively, I responded, “Yours is plenty big enough.”

We both sat in shocked silence at my unexpected comment. Goddammit! I should never have said it. I hope he doesn’t figure out what I meant. Fuck!

I was thankful when the uncomfortable moment passed. Silently, we returned our attention to the magazine. Even though I jacked off to it a couple of days earlier, here was a new perspective: seeing how it affected my best friend as he responded to it. He was clearly into the scene, and his cock showed it.

I brushed my thumb lightly against the tip of my cock every once in a while, wary that any serious touch would make me shoot my load before I was ready. A long string of precum stuck to my thumb, and I stretched it up a couple of inches.

Craig saw it and laughed, “Shit, man. You’re fuckin ready to come.”

“Ready, willing, and able!” I chuckled as I wiped the goo on my leg. Still keeping an eye on Craig’s hard-on, I was calculating how to come at the same moment he did.

“Me, too. This shit is so hot I don’t think I can hold back.”

“Go for it, Dude! I’m right fuckin with you.”

We have done this together so many times it was like we were performing some kind of erotic dance. We’ve jacked off in my bed, in his bed, in the woods, in my car, in our pool (always making sure our cum doesn’t float in the water), and in dozens of other places. One of our favorite spots is my family’s little cabin up on the mountain—the one we call “The Hide.” It’s private, and we can hoot and holler and raise hell all we like without worrying about anybody hearing us or figuring out what we’re up to.

Craig and I always pace ourselves to prolong the pleasure, coming right up to the edge of shooting our loads and then relaxing a while, only to repeat the build-up as often as we could.

Craig’s breathing became raspy and deep, sure signs he was close. “Ah shit, man. I’m fuckin coming!” he moaned. He threw his head back as his balls contracted up against the base of his dick. His first spurt of semen shot so far it hit him in the chin, making him giggle.

Five or six smaller bursts landed on his chest and belly. As he continued to come, his balls bounced up and down, pumping out his jizz. Finally, a dribble of white droplets streamed down his cock and over his fingers, pooling in his thick black pubes.

I groaned, “Fuck! Me too. Oh, shit!” I achieved my goal of coming at the same time he did, and my load of sperm also spewed out forcefully.

The first shot hit the pillowcase above my head, and it, too, was followed by several less powerful jets. As I was getting close to shooting, I had slipped my left hand under my ass and lightly pressed on my hole. Now it pulsated against my finger as I came, adding to the pleasure.

Spent and nearly comatose, we both lay still, breathing hard and relishing the afterglow.

Craig turned to look at me. “That was fuckin awesome, dude!”

I picked up something in his voice I couldn’t pinpoint—maybe a little bit of satisfaction and some regret. I couldn’t decide what the hell to make of it. Taking a deep breath, I agreed, “Sure was. I think that was the biggest load I’ve shot in a long time.”

We lay there for a while, not wanting to spoil the moment with words. In the silence, I weighed the danger of saying anything more to Craig. He has been my best friend for years, but what would he do if I tried to talk about my feelings about him?

Closing the magazine and dropping it on the floor next to the bed, I stretched out beside my best friend in the world and peered up at the ceiling. I fucking loved being totally naked with him, with our cocks still semi-hard and cum drying on our bellies. It was so hot!

He leaned back into his pillow with his hands behind his head. “You think we’ll ever fuck women like them?” There was a hint of longing in his voice, and maybe disappointment.

“Hell, yes!” I insisted, “We’re gonna fuck our way through college!”

We were both accepted at the universities of our choice. Mine was Stanford in California—Dad’s alma mater, while Craig had won a track-and-field scholarship to Yale in Connecticut. We were silently grieving over the forced separation that was coming, but we didn’t want to talk or even think about being three thousand miles apart.

“I sure fuckin hope so.” Craig laid back, stretched his legs, and began the kinky part of our jack-off ritual. He dabbed one fingertip in the pool of cum on his belly and lifted it to his lips. He stuck out his tongue and licked the goo off his finger. Closing his lips, he savored the salty sweetness, then swallowed.

“Mmm,” he said with a mischievous wink.

“OK?” I asked, thinking, I’d love to try it myself.

“Just fine,” he turned his head and smirked at me. “A-number one prime prick-juice.” We both chuckled.

It was my turn, and I dipped my finger into the puddle of sticky splooge in my navel and touched it to my tongue. “Mmm, mine, too,” I said approvingly. I wish he would taste it, too.

Over the years of jacking off together, we learned that sometimes our cum tastes different—bitter, bleach-like, or even sour. We figured out it has something to do with what we’ve eaten. Anything with a lot of garlic made the spice appear in our semen.

I wondered what Craig’s cum tasted like, but I was afraid to ask him to let me try it. And what about other guys—was there a whole Baskin-Robbins 31 Flavors thing? For a moment, I was sure I would like to find out. Suddenly, to my amazement and delight, Craig exclaimed, “Fuck it! Lemme see,” and without waiting for my answer, he scooped up some of my jizz with his finger and popped it into his mouth.

“Hmm. I detect the tang of tomato sauce...along with just a hint of garlic and oregano. Yum-mee!”

We both roared with laughter but stifled it so as not to draw my father’s ire down the hall in my parents’ room. Of course, Craig ate the same thing for dinner as I did—lasagna and garlic bread.

He gave me a mischievous grin and raised his eyebrows. I took the dare, dipped my finger in the puddle congealing around his belly button, and popped it into my mouth. I nodded my approval , smiling silently, and he responded with a wink.

What the fuck is going on here? He just put my cum in his mouth, and I did the same to his! Does this mean he would like to do more than just jack off? If it does, should I say anything? Fuck no! I have to wait and see what he’s going to do next.

I couldn’t take my line of thinking any further without venturing into forbidden territory, so I rolled over on top of Craig, and we began wrestling, smearing our splooge together as we rumbled naked on the bed. After a minute or two, we flopped onto our pillows, out of breath. I was glad my parents’ room was all the way at the other end of the house. I just hoped Natalie hadn’t heard any of our grunts and groans.

“What a goddamn mess you are,” I chuckled, looking at the mixture of his sperm and mine, smeared all over our torsos.

“You’re no fuckin better, asshole,” he replied.

With a laugh, we got up and headed for the shower in my bathroom. Taking turns under the hot stream, we both started to get hard again. We soaped each other’s backs, being super-careful not to touch the other one’s ass. When we wrestled, our hands went everywhere, but it didn’t mean anything. Here in the shower, though, we kept our hands above the waist.

Later, we stretched out on my bed, leaning back against the padded headboard with towels draped across our middles. As we sat in contented stillness, I thought about saying the words I was dying to bring up. My worries about whether or not I was queer had nagged at me all week. I wanted an answer, but I was scared shitless of what I’d find out, and I didn’t think I had the balls to talk about it with him.

Come on, goddammit. What’s the matter with you? You’re dying to ask him, so just fucking do it!

After swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, I turned and peered into his brown eyes. “Craig...uh, do you...ever think about me when you’re jacking off?”

His stony silence terrified me. I was immediately sick to my stomach, afraid I’d crossed a line. An unspoken vow of secrecy allowed us to do things with each other—shit most guys we hung with would call “queer,” and our parents would use as an excuse to forbid us to remain friends.

At last, he responded thoughtfully, “I think about a lot of shit when I jack off. Mostly it’s girls I’d like to fuck.” He paused. “Sometimes...I think about guys at school with big dicks I’ve seen in the shower, just to see if they're bigger than mine.” He turned and beamed at me. “And, yeah, you’re one of them, you fuckin asshole!” He cuffed me lightly on the shoulder.

I lunged at him, laughing, and we writhed around on the bed again, our towels falling to the floor. Now our hands went everywhere, getting each other in holds and then squirming out of them. More than once, I found myself with his hard-on pressed tight against my chest or back, and it just made mine even harder.

Exhausted, we lay back, laughing. I rose on my elbows and saw we were both hard as rocks again. Of course, this always happened when we wrestled, whether naked or not. I flopped back down, closed my eyes, and began stroking my cock again while Craig did the same. Once was never enough for us when he was sleeping over.

Silently, we each dropped into our private fantasy worlds as we brought ourselves to another climax. Our loads were smaller, and we lay there with them drying on our bellies.

His eyes fixed on the ceiling, Craig spoke first. “Were you thinking about me?”

“How the fuck could I not? You’re lying here right next to me, bare-ass naked, jackin’ your big fuckin boner. It’s kind of impossible to think about anybody else.” He laughed. I thought for a moment. “How about you?”

“Yeah, me too.” After a long pause, Craig continued hesitantly, “Do you think...we’ll ever, you know...do it with each other?”

My heart skipped a beat. That forbidden thought had been foremost in my mind lately, but I didn’t dare think Craig might feel that way.

What the fuck? Does he mean what I think he does? Or is he trying to trap me into admitting something so he can...what? Expose me as a queer? He’s my fucking best friend. Why would he try to hurt me by asking a question like this if he didn’t mean exactly what I think he means?

“I guess we could—” I said noncommittally. Then I took a deep breath and told myself it was time to shit or get off the pot. “I mean, why the fuck not?” I demanded, turning on my side to glare at him. “We jack off together all the time. We just tasted each other’s cum. We get hard-ons when we wrestle. Makes sense if we take it up a notch someday.”

Craig rose on one elbow and regarded me with shocked surprise. “You mean like...suck...and fuck—shit like that?” His words trailed off as if he was almost afraid to say them. But he did say them.

“I’d say those were the next couple of notches.”

“Wouldn’t that make us...queers?” There was panic in his voice. This was not going the way I wanted, but I was in too deep to back out now.

Irritated and scared shitless, I barked, “To tell you the goddamn truth, Craig, I don’t know what the fuck it would make us, and I don’t give a shit. What you and I do when we’re alone is nobody’s fuckin business—never has been, never will be.” I focused on his dark eyes and spoke more calmly, “All I do know is, I keep wondering if someday we’ll grow the balls to try it.”

I rolled over onto my back, and he did the same. A long, deep silence followed, and neither of us said a word. My mind was racing, and it seemed like his was, too.

Well, Bruce, you crossed the fucking line. Now it’s up to Craig to determine what happens next.

I turned and peeked at my best friend, but he was deep in thought.

Did we just admit to each other we want it to happen? Could this be the night we go all the way? Would doing it feel as great as I’ve been dreaming it would? Would that make us queers for real? Would that be such a bad thing, as long as we’re still best friends?

I ended the mute standoff by getting up and stomping back into the bathroom, taking my towel with me to clean up. In a few seconds, Craig was right behind me. I saw him in the mirror, and to my surprise, he grinned.

"You remember when we were in junior high, everybody said if you wear green on Thursday, you're a queer?

"Yeah, it was bullshit."

"Sure it was, but let's both wear green this Thursday and see if anybody notices."

I stared at him in amazement. I made the fucking offer as plain as I could, and his answer is a goddamn juvenile joke. What the fuck? I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax and come down off my high horse. "Okay. Why the hell not?"

His reflection raised an eyebrow and winked at me mischievously. "Think you parents are asleep by now?"

I recognized his suggestion, so I chuckled and nodded back, “Of course. They always are.”

We dressed without making a sound. I opened my bedroom door as quietly as possible so as not to wake Natalie in her room across the hall. We slipped out into the semi-darkness and descended the back stairs.

I turned off the security alarm and unlocked the kitchen door, and we were soon concealed behind the garage, about a dozen yards from the house. The evening was warm and a little humid. I slid my back down the wall into a sitting position, and Craig joined me. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a plastic baggy, a tiny pipe, and a lighter. I waited impatiently as Craig filled the pipe, put it in his mouth, lit it, and inhaled deeply. Holding his breath, he passed the marijuana to me, and I repeated his action.

We held the smoke in as long as we could, then turned to face each other. I took another hit, brought my lips within a half-inch of Craig’s, and exhaled my smoke into his nose. He did the same to me in return. Our lips almost met, but not quite. Kissing was something else we never did, but this little act of blowing smoke into each other’s faces was awful goddamn close to it.

We lit the pipe several times, and Craig refilled it once. We wanted to get a buzz, but not too high, since we were athletes and cared about our bodies and our sports. My head was in a good place, so I gazed up at the stars and smiled wide with contentment.

“What are you so fuckin happy about?” he demanded.

“Life!” I said. “I fuckin love life!” I fell over on my side, laughing my ass off. The laughter was contagious, and soon he was rolling on the ground with me. We both ended up flat on our backs, star-gazing and enjoying the feeling in companionable silence.

After the pot began to wear off, we got up, dusted off, and stealthily retraced our path back up to my bedroom. We stripped down to our briefs again, climbed into bed, and fell asleep in minutes.

Usually, on Sunday morning, we would jack off together again and then shower, but this time we skipped it, and neither of us said a word about it. After breakfast, we went for a hike up the mountain and then took a swim in my Olympic-sized indoor pool. The whole day passed without either of us mentioning our conversation from the night before. I was disappointed and afraid Craig didn’t want to think about it or was pretending it never happened.

I hoped I hadn’t gone too far and destroyed our friendship. I was even more confused than ever—part of me wanted to do something with him, but another part wanted to never think about it again.

After Sunday dinner, Craig headed out to his car for the short drive home in the evening dusk. A few feet from the Mustang, he abruptly stopped and turned to me, looking very solemn. “Bruce, I think we gotta fuckin figure out what the hell is goin' on between us."

Words failed me. I nodded solemnly, trying to keep calm.

He continued, “I mean, it doesn’t fuckin have to be anything, but if it is—”

I nodded again. “I get what you’re saying...and I feel the same. The question is—is this something we really want to talk about?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Fuck if I know.”

I put an arm around his shoulder and guided him to his car. “Well, buddy-boy, we don’t have to figure it out now. There’s plenty of time for that.”

As he opened the door, Craig wheeled to face me. Other than the faint lights lining the driveway, we were standing in darkness. The shadows on his face accentuated his sharp masculine chin and pouty lips.

“Shit!” he said, spitting out the word. “Goddammit, Bruce, I do fuckin want to know. I think you do, too, and we’re just scared to say so.”

“You’ve got that right,” I said, looking into his handsome face. There was no doubt he was afraid of the answer, but something told me he felt the same attraction as I did.

I decided it was time to face it head-on, no matter the risk. Trembling with fear and desire, I reached up, put a hand on each of his cheeks, brought my mouth close to his, then bypassed it and whispered into his ear. “I want. To do it. With you.”

As I backed away, Craig grabbed my shoulders, looked me in the eye, and said softly, “Fuck! Me, too.”

We stood frozen in that position for a minute or so. Then I smiled and said, “You gonna spend the night next Saturday?”

He nodded with a smile. “You bet your ass.”

“Well, then, that’s when we fuckin do it!” I gave him a wink.

“Shit, now I’ll have to jack off ten times a day, waiting for fuckin Saturday!” Craig joked. He got into his car, started the engine, turned, winked at me, and drove down the lane. I couldn’t take my eyes off his taillights, and I missed him already.

Climbing the back stairs to my room, I was startled to see my sister Natalie standing at the top step. Home from college for Spring Break, she had resumed her ongoing mission of annoying the hell out of me. And spying on me.

“That looked a bit intense,” she observed.

“We’re planning on robbing a bank,” I tried sarcasm.

“More like you were going to kiss each other,” she accused.

“Fuck that! Don’t be so goddamn stupid!” I put all the sincerity I could muster into my indignant curses, hoping she’d take the bait.

She didn’t look convinced, but she changed her tack and went for the bait instead, “You are aware of what Mother thinks about profanity.”

“So, go fuckin tell her. She’s heard it all before.” I went into my room and slammed the door. I stood there, my back up against it, breathing hard and shivering a little.

Shit! Is it finally gonna happen?