Emerging a bit lighter from the outhouse, he nearly plowed into His Friend on the way to the bathroom himself. "It's like a real bathroom!" The Boy exclaimed to His Friend, though he just grinned by way of reply and remarked "At this point, I don't care if it's just a hole in the ground!" and hastening his step, disappeared into the little shack.
The Lake was very pretty, and although the light was quickly fading now, The Boy could see the reflections of fires and the smell the telltale perfumes of woodfire cooking. Strangely, he wasn't that hungry but his head throbbed nearly enough to set him to slamming his head against a tree. Maybe laying down would help, so he dropped himself heavily into the chunky lounge chair by the lake. It was comfortable enough, but unless his head stopped throbbing, it was going to be a long night. At this point he realised he might have forgotten to pack aspirin into his rucksack, but it's not something he's ever needed to worry about including with his usual soap and toothbrush.
It seemed to be going from bad to worse. He was wearing only his denim cutoffs and a short sleeved shirt with a thin nylon jacket, and despite his tolerance for cold, he was starting to get uncomfortable. Hearing His Friend behind him, he got up to see if there was something he could do. But His Friend had already gotten a small fire going in the stone ring just up from the lake shore, and was unpacking the steaks and wrapping the corn husks in foil to set them under the logs.
He was oddly still not hungry, despite the nice smells of burning pine needles and dry wood and the promise of tasty wood-fire grilled steaks to come. He loved grilled steak. The very smell of it on the grill was enough to make him salivate with anticipation.
\Usually, The Boy insisted on helping to make at least some of their meals together, but tonight he wasn't in the mood. He loved to cook, but of course it was never something Mother let him do except for token items at home. "Did you bring any aspirin?" The Boy asked. His Friend frowned a moment in concentration and then muttered that no, he hadn't. The Boy sighed, and headed up to the porch. His head wasn't going to give him a break. Muttering, he half-heartedly mentioned “I’m heading inside to lay down a little.”
Going inside and The Boy finds his way into the Master bedroom by just what remained of the outside twilight. It was a small but nice room with a big queen sized bed with very soft looking pillows and a feather duvet. It looked like a heap of clouds. It featured a nice big window that faced the lake, but The Boy was in no mood for appreciating the view. Taking off his jacket and shirt, he flung himself into the willowy whiteness and luxuriated in the coolness of the fabric. It did feel really good. Even though he wasn't tired, he could feel himself relaxing despite the persistent throb behind his eyes. It was an improvement at least.
Reflexively moving his legs over the various patches of cool fabric, The Boy relished these first few moments of being in bed when the sheets were still cool. It was a pleasure he was to retain well into middle adulthood. Flipping over onto his belly, he gasped a little at the unexpected shock of yet another untouched patch of coolness. It was great.
Hearing heavy footsteps, he turned to the side to look at the door and saw His Friend peering inwards trying to see, needing a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkening room. “Aha! Falling asleep at the job, are you?”, he mockingly accused. “Ugh, I have a headache, leave me alone.” was The Boy’s reply.
“Maybe I know of something that could help…”, and with that His Friend walked over to the bed, and sat down next to The Boy. It was always most strange and thrilling to be close to another person but not quite touching, especially another person with whom you have no secrets of any kind.
It's almost as if there’s something like electricity, which is invisible when the wires are either touching or far away from each other, and yet clearly visible when they get near enough to arc. Even now after two years, he’d have thought he'd be used to it, but it remained one of the most perplexing parts of their relationship. In the back of his mind he wondered if His Friend felt it too.
The Boy turned his head to face the man and felt a big hand touch his nose, and then find The Boy's forehead. “No, you’re not sick. Maybe you're just faking it.” the man declared.
“Yeah right. This sucks! It feels like there's someone hammering at my eyeballs.”, The Boy grumbled and turned his head to the other side.
His friend gently rubbed The Boy’s neck and between his shoulder blades. It was already starting. It never took long these days, but there was something like a switch inside of The Boy when he felt His Friend’s big hands on his body. It felt as if his hands were molten iron and all of that heat and electricity would flow into him like a ready vessel. At each touch, there was a tingle, a shiver, a jolt… they would zing down his spine like a Jacob’s Ladder bolt, and would concentrate in his belly and move its way down. And there was a law of the universe which mandated that IT never ever be in a good place for this sort of thing at the time, especially in last year’s shorts which were already a little tight to begin with.
The Boy’s muscles all relaxed at once, which seemed strange because he wasn’t aware they weren’t, but since he did shift and sink down a fair bit, some of them must have been tensed. They usually had their sex in the late evenings or the early mornings, when both of them could take their time - all the time in the world if need be.
Since the first time, sex was an entire meal with several courses. There was the caressing, the massage on the back, and between the thighs, as The Boy’s erection ached to have the weight released from it. The man usually would lift the boy up, or flip him over completely, to expose the swollen penis, which was softly and gently massaged and stroked, eliciting an excited response at each touch.
Each sensory plateau was savoured, and by the time the final bits of clothing were removed, his penis danced on its own as if it were possessed. Ever the little scientist, The Boy noticed that the dances were synchronous with his heartbeat, which thudded in his chest and roared in his ears.
The first time His Friend masturbated him to orgasm he nearly gasped for air. The first time he gave The Boy fellatio, he nearly screamed. While The Boy had discovered the pleasures of his body before meeting His Friend, he'd never had or even imagined oral sex.
Fellatio was the filet mignon, the caviar, the Grand Finale of the meal. It was never rushed, and The Boy would lose track of time as His Friend would bring him up the spiraling vortex of ecstasy, then rest, then bring him to the edge again, then rest. Every time, the spirals getting smaller with the periods between rests shorter, until The Boy would seize His Friend's head and grunt for him to not stop. It was a lot trickier now that The Boy as a teen, he could cum a bit, and he was less able to have multiple orgasms like when he first started. It also meant then when he did climax, it felt like a nuclear bomb went off inside of him.
As His Friend's hand moved down the right side of his back, he brought his left hand down the left side. The Boy spread his legs a bit in a vain attempt to allow his tortured willy some relief. The tingles were encircling his abdomen now and the heat of His Friend’s hands were duller but somehow felt welded to his skin. It felt good. As always, there was a twofold shock: once when first feeling his touch and once more as they released him.
As his hands arrived to the small of his back, The Boy spread his legs a bit further - an empty gesture, really, as they were already as part apart as they could go. The man's hands spread out and slowly traced the line of The Boy’s hips, and slid down the sides of his body just to the point of the upper thigh, and circled up around his buttocks. One side of his mind shrieked for the man’s hand to dive between his thighs and grab the turgid organ lurking within.
The Boy knew from quickies in the boy’s room at school that he could wank himself to orgasm in just a couple of minutes, if he really wanted to. But it was never the same as a long and slow build-up to detonation. His imagination provided ample methods and techniques for enhanced self-pleasuring which he’d not even revealed to His Friend, more out of embarrassment than anything else.
In retrospect he doubted most people would ever believe him that a ten year old boy could enjoy the feeling of slinky bikini underwear, which had been given to him as a Christmas gift by some Italian relatives, or that he saved them for those precious times when everyone was out of the apartment so he could strip naked and wear them, whilst looking at himself in the mirror with his stiffy straining to poke its head above the upper line of the briefs.
Just their feeling was enough to give him a stiffy. Sometimes, he would get hard just unwrapping the slinky briefs from their plastic tubing. So little material, so soft, and so revealing. He could almost make out all of the veins and bizarre little features of his erect penis through the material. And in another sensory distortion, he admired his body as if he were a god.
On those extremely rare occasions when he could be sure he'd be alone for an hour or two, he'd slowly stroke his penis over the material and slowly build himself up to orgasm whilst fantasising about his classmates. When it came time for the final onrush to climax, he’d flip the briefs down and enjoy the brisk snap of his penis against his belly. It'd spasm a bit in the chillier air, and then be madly stroked to oblivion. Such a marvellous thing, the erect penis. It takes on such a life of its own when it’s aroused, and it has a way of fixating one’s mind upon it to the exclusion of all else like no other part of the body.
The tight jeans shorts were now becoming a serious liability. The Boy’s penis was beginning to really hurt as it valiantly attempted to double in size within a confined space. In the epic battle between a rock and a hard place, something has to give. The man sensed this, reached down between The Boy’s soft thighs, and took his right thumb and forefinger and tried to adjust The Boy’s embattled equipment. It was a nice try, but the sensation only made it spasm twice in response making things worse.
The man put his big hands to either side of The Boy’s hips, and lifted him off the bed a little. At this The Boy, rolled over and opened his legs into a frog leg position. The worst of the pressure was a little relieved, but even through the fairly study denim his penis was clearly outlined. A hand undid the button. More relief. Another slowly unzipped the shorts… TRUE RELIEF AT LAST. It was like a missile being readied for launch, as The Boy’s penis progressively assumed a more vertical attitude.
It was around this time The Boy usually lost himself completely to his pleasure. All that mattered was his penis. It ached, burned, and throbbed with the fire and agony of an unscratched itch. But this was both worse and better than an itch.
A curious thing usually happened at this point during their sex together. The man would just gaze at The Boy, it was if he was drinking in the sight of him and it was the last time he’d ever see him. It seemed like an eternity to The Boy, because he was completely and fully aroused. But there was a feeling of being a fine statue under his gaze, as if you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever lay eyes on. It made The Boy feel a little strange, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
The man took a finger, and gently tugged down the briefs. Catching his penis partway down, he raised it slightly whilst continuing the downwards motion causing The Boy's stiffy to snap loudly against his tummy. It was an oddly satisfying sound, as if it reflected the strength of his body even if it was such a small manifestation.
The man rubbed The Boy’s belly, and in a movement which startled the youngster, he immediately took his penis into his mouth. He’d usually start very slowly, merely touching his lips to the head and lightly licking around the circumcision scar. This time was very different. His hot mouth descended with shocking speed down the entire shaft of his penis, whilst surrounding its head with a good amount of wet tongue and maintaining pressure on the more sensitive underside with the bottom lip. The Boy involuntarily buckled at the sensory assault, and stifled a small cry.
This was faster, and more vigorous than usual. And it was making The Boy writhe in pleasure. He was like a rag doll, with his legs and feet twitching, seemingly without control. The pressure was more vigourous, and the speed of the movement more sudden on each stroke, but the rhythm was slower. There was a loud sucking noise at each pass, and the man’s mouth was very wet.
The Boy was being bodily hauled up the passages of Pleasure, and he was surrendering himself completely to His Friend. It was approaching the part he wished could last forever, nearly to the event horizon of orgasm. He lay bare, completely open to whatever was coming to him. His heart hammered in his chest. His breathing became laboured. Every second breath, he emitted a small grunt - in near-syncopation with his older friend's sucking.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" It was so different this time. So carnal, so savage, so … delicious. It was close now, all that existed was his penis. His universe… His Penis. Release me! Release! YES!
The Boy had practiced many times the old techniques of holding back orgasm for as long as possible, and had varying degrees of success with it. He found he could hold it off for as long as twenty strokes, if he was sharply focused and not too greedy.
He managed to hold off his orgasm for a full pass of His Friend’s mouth. Feeling The Boy’s penis mortally stiffen, the man intensified the final sucking strokes and savaged the head with his tongue. The Boy spasmed in one violent shudder and exploded into the man’s mouth, with the aftershocks spiralling in time with each stroke. Stroke, shudder shudder shudder… stroke, shudder shudder, stroke shudder… and finally…samadhi. After sucking The Boy’s penis clean, the man withdrew and switched on the small bed lamp. He grinned at The Boy, who was already melting into the post-orgiastic bliss of contentment.
Chucking conspiratorially, “So, how’s the headache?” he asked.
It took a moment for The Boy to regain his bearings, but he thought a little, and shrieked, “Holy shit! It’s GONE! That’s .... cool!” Many things about His Friend amazed, confused, and perplexed The Boy. But he’d learned that where His Friend led him were the oft-hinted-at secrets and true delights of the human body which everyone possessed, even a chubby nigh-adolescent bookworm with braces who suffered the twice weekly humiliation of always being picked last to join a team in gym class.
He felt oddly strong and powerful in his presence. It was a feeling that sustained him over the barren weeks of the rest of the year, and made him look forward to the next summer. It was a feeling he would return to later in life, when all other hopes died out.
He felt like the Sun itself, and it was in these half-lucid moments he realised in his heart that THIS is what people talked about when they mentioned love. THIS is what spawns all of the poetry, the songs, and the operas. He wanted to be this man when he grew up, no… he wanted to be this man, NOW.
It was this event which forever struck him perplexed when he heard that sometimes people give an excuse of “Not tonight, I have a headache” when one partner didn’t want sex.
“Hey! Are those steaks ready yet? I'm HUNGRY”, The Boy announced. And getting up from the bed, he pulled on his briefs and shorts over his already flaccid penis, and trotted outside to check on dinner.