Amiga ISO Collection/AmigaDemoCD2.iso/ASCII/TEXTE/SEX/ADULTSHARE/O/OLDTIME.TXT

Text File | 1994-03-26 | 11.1 KB | 213 lines

@BEGIN_FILE_ID.DIZ
Subject: ARCHIVE: for-old-times-sake.Z@END_FILE_ID.DIZ


This story is another from the archives, and is not written by me.
Requests for just about anything concerning these posts will be ignored.
See the FAQ in a.s.s.d for more information.

                     FOR OLD TIMES' SAKE
     Rusty and I had been friends all our lives.  After high
school graduation, we had gone our separate ways, but somehow
managed to keep in touch.  Three times I had had to call his
mother to get his latest address, but we kept exchanging
letters and occasional phone calls.
     I liked the guy, a lot.  But why was I so distant from
him, you might ask?  I'll tell you.  Rusty and I grew up in
a hick town in the back hills of Arkansas.  If I had just been
able to tell him I was gay....
     But what would Rusty have thought of that?  We'd been
best friends at school, and as only children and neighbors,
had done our experimental sex play with each other.  I had my
first orgasm at the age of twelve under Rusty's ministering
hand flogging my growing cock.  A few months later, he spurted
his first clear ejaculate over my hand.  I licked at it
curiously (my father had gone into a good deal of detail
hoping to keep me from thinking sex was dirty), and once I
tasted that salty flavor I was hooked.  Rusty and I had a
vague idea that what we were doing was wrong, or at least that
we weren't children anymore, and so our explorations slowed
and stopped entirely.  Shortly after graduation, I had tasted
my first cock, giving a blow job to a guy in a car at a park
I'd heard about.  I moved out from my family's house entirely
as I went to college.
     After schooling (Rusty went to a different college), we
spent years living in different cities.  But when I turned
twenty-eight, I was tranferred by my company to Cincinnati one
summer, which is where Rusty lived.  I got his number from
information, and was at his place in no time.
     Rusty had fleshed out nicely.  He'd obviously been
working out, but at that age, the strain of weightlifting is
less and you don't get those "strings" of tendons that stretch
across your chest and legs.  Rusty arms were lumps of muscles
with no bulging veins or "strings" at his elbow and wrist.
He never had had a lot of hair on his body, and he wore a
tank-top as he opened the door to his place.  I was surprised
at the address; I had picked the neighborhood because I'd
heard it was a gay area, but hadn't expected to find Rusty
living less than a mile away.  His shaggy reddish-brown hair
(he kept it combed, but it never quite looked really neat with
its curls and wild hairs that stuck up here and there) was
the same as I'd remembered, and his smile showed that he had
finally fixed that overbite he'd always had.  A perfect grin
met mine.
     I had been working out myself, and wore a string-top
which I thought showed off my muscles nicely.  I was much
hairer than Rusty, and at work covered myself, but I had
decided that after Rusty and I talked would be a great chance
to check out the local bars and the local studs.
     "Let me look at you, man!" Rusty said and I obligingly
turned around for him.  I was also wearing purple shorts,
white socks and white sneakers, so he saw a mass of hairy man
in front of him.
     "Now let's see you." I retorted when I made it all
around.  And he turned the same way I had.
     His freckles were still there, on his back and neck, but
he had bleached out the ones on his face.  His biceps were
twin balls on his arms, his pecs firm triangles that poked at
the edge of his tank-top.  His shorts (neon green) were as
short as mine, and showed off his well-formed legs and thighs.
His thighs actually had lines of hair down his inner thigh,
and his navel which showed slightly as he spread his arms as
he finished the turn, was also covered in hair.  Three lines
that converged at his basket which bulged the thin material.
No underwear! But I wasn't wearing any either, and my cock was
a line down one leg that threatened to expose its head at any
moment.  Carefully calculated to turn on the studs.  I was
horny that night, and my cock swelled the leg of my trousers,
and as Rusty's eyes locked at my crotch, I realized that my
cockhead must be showing itself at the bottom of my shorts.
I turned away and said, "You got anything to drink, Rusty?"
     Three beers each, later, we were laughing and carrying
on as if the ten years hadn't been at all.  I felt like a
high-school kid again, and I suspect Rusty did as well.  We
were living in the past.
     l looked at the time and realized that it was nearly
midnight.  If I wanted to go pick up a stud and release the
load my balls were groaning about, I had to get moving.
Rusty's talk had turned to matters of sex, and I was getting
turned on again.  I had a raging hardon.
     "I'd better move on out of here, Rusty." I said.  Rusty
shrugged.  "Nice seeing you, man."
     I stood up from the couch, and my shorts were bunched up,
stayed bunched up.  My hard cock was now on view, the head and
a couple of inches showing at the end of one of its legs.
     I hastily yanked down the material over the cockhead, but
Rusty laughed easily over my stumbling apology.  "Don't worry,
Gordy." he waved a palm at me.  "I used to play with that all
the time, you know."  And his eyes locked with mine.
     "I remember." I said, and couldn't help it, I looked at
his crotch as he stood up.  His own groin was a tent on his
shorts, and his cock was definitely as hard as mine.  "I had
a hold of yours all the time, too, you know."
     "I know."  Rusty rubbed the front of his shorts.  "I miss
those times."
     I reached down and rubbed at mine in response, grinned.
"Me, too."
     "Hey, man." Rusty's voice got low and husky.  "Why don't
we do it one more time?  Just for old times' sake?"
     "Huh?  Now?"
     "Sure, why not?"  Rusty said.  "You aren't going to find
a cute chick this late at night.  I'm horny as a hoot-owl."
     I had to laugh at that old-fashioned saying, but inside
I was quaking.  I wanted to do a lot more than just jerk
Rusty's cock.  But why not start with that?  We could always
heat it up, later?
     "Okay." I gulped and met his eyes.  "Why not?  I could
stand to shoot a good load.  You were always the best jerk I
ever had, except for myself."
     "Yeah." Rusty said.  "My bedroom's in here."
     I practically raced in there.  Rusty sat on the bed and
and unbuckled and pulled off his sandals, and I hastily
balanced on one foot, yanked off my sneaker and sock, then
repeated the act.  It was a practiced act of mine, I matched
his speed, and as he shucked his tanktop, I was shucking mine.
     His nipples were dark brown circles of bumps with a
button on top.  I couldn't resist, I reached out and grabbed
those buttons with both hands, pinched them lightly.
     Rusty had his hands on his shorts, about to yank them
off, but he stopped, grabbed my own bigger orbs and returned
the favor.  He pinched hard, and I yelled, "Ouch!"
     "Sorry, dude." Rusty said, and he moved closer, into my
arms, and our hardons clashed, straining to get out of the
material that bound them in.  I rubbed against him, horny as
hell, and rested my chin on his shoulder for better leverage.
     "Enough of this, man." Rusty said.  "Let's get out of the
shorts before my cock bursts the seam."
     I didn't let go of him, just lowered my hands so that I
could run them down into the shorts, squeeze his buttocks
before grabbing the elastic waist, pulling them down over the
round cheeks.
     Rusty groaned as his cock burst free, a wet spot that
stabbed my navel as I stopped slightly.  I would have knelt
and took it into my mouth, but Rusty hadn't let go, either.
I straightened up, leaving his shorts at his knees; Rusty
squirmed and I felt them brush my feet.  He tried to get his
hands into my shorts, but they weren't elastic, he couldn't.
He broke loose from my grip, grabbed the fly with its steel
buttons, and yanked them open, reached in and fished my cock
out.
     He hand his hands on my rod, I grabbed for his, and he
moaned, slapped my cockhead against his iron shaft.
     "Let's get on the bed." I groaned.  "I'm so damned horny,
I'm about to shoot right now!"
     He let go and stepped out of his shorts, I yanked mine
down and we were both naked in the dim light of the one lamp
by the bed.  He started to pull back the covers and/or turn
out the light, I don't know which, because I stopped him in
mid-reach.  "No." I said.  "I want to see all of you.  Get on
top of the covers and leave the light on."
     Rusty obeyed, and crawled into the bed, scooted over so
I could lie beside him.  I stretched out to to rest my head
on his arm, our faces touched, our cocks pointing at each
other.  Just before we had stopped as adolescents, we had done
each other this way, to let our loads splatter each other's
stomach.  We had then gone to sleep like that, and I had a dry
patch on my stomach the next morning I didn't think would ever
come on in the shower.
     We were lying very close together, and our hands collided
as we reached for each other's dicks, fumbled, grabbed them.
Rusty wasn't gentle, his hand was a demon on my cock, pounding
me furiously.
     I groaned, flogged his cock as hard as he was mine, and
as lust took over my mind, I reached for his face, and kissed
him, sending my tongue into his mouth.  And he didn't fight
it at all, but sent his tongue, a pink invader, into meet my
assault on his mouth.
     Rusty was expert at manipulating my cock, and I found I
still knew how to handle that foreskin of his well.  The
doctor had cut him a little short; it took a firm grip to keep
sliding it over his mushroom-shaped cockhead.
     Rusty moaned with my tongue, and erupted, a powerful load
that splattered me from stomach to thigh, thick wads that
clung to me like living things.  And I was turned on by the
feeling of his come on me, I blasted him as his moans
subsided, spraying him with a copious liquid load that
actually hit his chest, spashing one nipple, dripping off in
satiated pleasure.
     As we rested, caught our breath, Rusty said, "Damn, I've
missed that, Gord."
     "Me, too." I huskily replied.
     Rusty looked at me.  "You just got here.  You need a
place to stay?"
     And though I had an apartment, I answered, "Yes, Rusty.
If I can sleep here with you."
     His kisses answered for him.  After all, we still had a
lot to do with each other, to learn and re-explore.
It's great to find old friends again.
                           THE END

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