By Donny Mumford - Laureate Author

Published on Dec 29, 2023




John's amnesia vanished when he saw the house where he'd lived for the past sixteen years. That instant recovery of his memory created information overload, so he suppressed most of the memories for later review, not even wanting to see what was on the cell phone he'd left behind on his bedroom desk almost five months ago.

Inside the house, unconscious that he was doing it, John had a few short episodes of acting and speaking exactly how he did it before the accident. It's as if glancing at his memories reminded him how normally he used to speak and act. John didn't realize he was doing that, but Andy took notice of it and was afraid John wouldn't need him much longer.

For now, though, the boys are in the finished basement bar area as Andy says, "Do you really need another cocktail, Darling? Why don't you put it on the bar and sit on this lovely loveseat with me? C'mon, please."

Andy was taking a chance that John would still take his advice. After hesitating momentarily, John said, his lisp back a little, "Yes, Andy. You're right. I don't need it..."

Andy breathed a sigh of relief as John put the glass of grapefruit juice and vodka carefully on the bar. Then, again without realizing he's doing it, John goes right back to his after-coma persona of doing what he's told... letting Andy decide everything for him.

"That a good, baby. Sit with me."

I like it when you call me baby, Andy."

Thinking about John talking and acting in a normal manner instead of imitating him, Andy tests how much John still needs him, "Now that you have your memory, Darling, it won't be long before you don't need me telling you what to do all the time."

When Andy said, 'You don't need me,' it scared John. He goes, "Whaaat? Of course, I need and want you with me! I depend on you."

"Oh, good! sure, that's alright, for now."

"What? Don't say 'for now'! I want you with me forever."

Andy nods to himself, mumbling in his lisping manner, "Um, okay, I'll hang around as long as you still need my help. We can decide together when you're ready to do things for yourself; until then, I'll make all the decisions for us."

John's memory is back, but for now, he's afraid of it. He imitates Andy, lisping again, now with some saliva spray, "Yes, of course, thanks, Andy," and John sits right next to Andy on the loveseat, still lisping, "You're staying with me forever, right?"

"Yeah, I'll stick with you if that's what you want, but put the brakes on the forever talk."

John leans against Andy, "I'm super dependent on you."

Andy quietly murmurs, "Uh-huh, I already said I'm staying with you."

John grins and, deeply into lisping, submissively mumbles, "I'll agree with whatever you say, Andy. Please don't mention again that I don't need you to stay with me. I do need you!!"

"Alright, already, Darling, we're good, baby..." He hugs John, who becomes as docile as a purring kitten lying against Andy, totally contended with being in Andy's arms. Andy's contended, too. He tightens his arms around John, "That's right, Johnny, snuggle in like you always do. Everything's fine..."

Feeling safe, John's happy to leave all decisions to his nurse and best Massachusetts friend, Andy Salsbury. Sighing again, he lisps out a small saliva spray, saying, "I'm always going to need my best friend, who I love."

Andy again nods to himself. He ruffles John's hair, which's growing out nicely, and murmurs, "Okay, Darling, but there's no need to keep repeating yourself. Nestle in against me and let me worry about what we'll do next."

John does what he's told, and they both relax, although for different reasons. It's so quiet they can hear the ambient sound of a furnace or air conditioner cycling on and off. After a while, they both doze off.

Andy awakens before John and nods to himself again, knowing he's still in charge of things. He tells himself, 'Don't get soft-hearted and soft-headed. Look out for Darling, of course, but you need to look out for yourself too.' You're in Wyoming, for Christ's sake!

He has a point. Andy quit his job and is in Wyoming without a job or a place to live, and the only person he knows is John Darling. If John told Andy to take a hike, he'd be royally fucked.

With John still sleeping soundly, Andy looks at his new sports watch and sees it is now early evening: six-twenty. Okay, that means they had an hour and twenty-minute nap. Sweet! They needed it as they had been up since five-thirty this morning.

Andy looks closely at John's flawless face, thinking, 'What a gorgeous young man, peacefully sleeping as though he didn't have a care in the world, looking about seventeen years old."

He's again thinking about John speaking and acting as he did before the accident, the authentic John Darling Jr. But, dammit, Andy can't shake his guilt that he had contemplated thinking of himself instead of what's best for John. Still, Andy doesn't know the best way to handle John's memory recovery. Shaking his head slightly, he realizes they need professional help.

He quietly mutters, "Fuck..." because he knows what's best for John isn't necessarily what's best for him. He makes a face, knowing he's going to be soft-hearted and soft-headed by doing the right thing for John. He'll seek professional help for him, relinquishing his control. The first step is to surf the Internet for the correct type of therapist, and then... whatever.

Realizing again that doing the right thing for John could easily jeopardize his long-range prospects, Andy mutters another quiet, "Fuck..." On the other hand, committed to doing the right thing, Andy's starting to feel better about himself. He shrugs, then affectionately moves John's bangs off his forehead and then kisses him there. John mutters, "A cup.. syboltine..." talking in his sleep.

Grinning at that, Andy feels his penis getting hard. He presses his face against the side of John Darling's head, and his penis grows into a wickedly hard boner, the head pushing through the fly of his underpants and against the rough inside of his cargo shorts.

Gently sliding off the sofa, carefully laying his sleeping patient's head against the arm of the sofa, Andy goes to the bedroom and logs onto his laptop, then Googles 'amnesia therapist after recovering memory' and starts reading titles of available articles, none of which address this specific topic.

Of course, there are a lot of articles about different types of amnesia and suggestions for treating it. Still, nothing suggests what is needed when a person has his memory back. Maybe you don't need to do anything special after that.

Frustrated, his boner only a memory now, Andy mutters, "Goddammit it. I guess we'll play it by ear." He shrugs, figuring they can always get an appointment for John with a general physiotherapist if his memories prove too stressful or become a problem in some other way.

Downstairs in the finished basement bar area, feeling good about investigating that amnesia therapist possibility, still committed to doing what's best for John, Andy sits next to him on the loveseat and pats his ass. John mutters, "Oh, you're back," and opens his eyes, then rubs them as he sits up and leans against Andy, mumbling, "I'm hungry, and I know a great little restaurant a few miles from here."

Andy mutters, "Don't you want to have a little sex first?"

"Whaat? Does the Pope shit in the woods? Wait, that doesn't work, um, the other way around. I mean, ah... Oh, heh-heh, anyway, YES, I'm not that hungry, no way! Um, my man Brian always gave me a spanking before fucking me. You're my man, so do you want to start doing that?"

Andy gets off the loveseat, muttering, "No, I don't want to do that! I'm not Brian."

John goes, "Did I ever tell you that you and Brian are the same size and both have blond hair? I saw a picture of him. It was one of the pictures Sara showed me, but I flashed through the pictures, not recognizing any of the people in the pictures. Now I remember Brian in real life, and he reminds me of you, sort of. Same size and hair color anyway."

Standing in front of John, who remains sitting on the loveseat, Andy pulls his cargo shorts and jockey underpants down, saying, "Never mind your roommate, Brian! Suck a boner on me, and I'll give you a good hard fucking. Later, maybe I'll buy a ping pong paddle and spank the shit out of you if that's what you want."

Chuckling, John leans forward and picks Andy's penis up in his fingers, "No, I never liked the spanking part. It's what Brian wanted that mattered, though. So, you can forget about the ping pong paddle as far as I'm concerned, although now it's what you want that matters most."

Andy mutters, "Oh, really? That's nice to know."

"You're my man too, Andy!" Then he puts the head of Andy's six-inch dick in his mouth and sucks on it, making a 'Mmmmm' sound, his hands squeezing both of Andy's butt cheeks.

John's leaning forward, sucking, and now using his right-hand stroking Andy's cock, the combination creating pleasure sensations percolating like crazy from the sixteen trillion nerve endings sizzling in the head of Andy's dick... to Andy, that's how many it feels like.

Andy's fingers go through John's short, silky blond hair as zipping pleasure sensations tighten his sex organ until it's hard as wood. John sucks and strokes a drool of precum from Andy's wooden boner and then smears the gooey substance up and down the shaft. Andy shudders, then John takes the boner out of his mouth and, in a deep lisp, asks, "Where did you put the condoms, Andy? I'll roll one on for you."

Andy's scrunching up his face as his wooden boner quivers in its tightness. John continued to lazily stroke it with his left hand as Andy grunts, then pushed John's hand away, muttering, "There are a few condoms in my pocket," gesturing to the cargo shorts around his ankles.

Lisping like Andy, John mumbles, "Oh, good. I'll get one," and lifts Andy's cargo shorts off Andy's feet and puts his hand in a pocket, muttering, "Two pockets, so of course, I go in the empty pocket."

Muttering, "Uh-huh," Andy can't resist taking his hard boner in his fist and squeezing. "Ooh, fuck," he groans, "That feels good."

Ripping open the condom, John lisps, "I'll roll this on for you."

Andy moans, "Ahh, ooh, yeah..." as John rolls the tight condom on Andy's boner.

Grinning, John gives Andy's nuts a little squeeze, asking, "What position do you want me in, Andy?"

Andy's eyes pop open wide as he realizes John's lisping and girlish/swishy body language is now more noticeable than his own. John's trying to impress Andy by making his lisp more prominent than Andy's. Speaking with authority, Andy lisps, "Grab the arm of this loveseat and push your ass up." He sees John quickly doing that. Andy smacks John's ass, saying, Push it up higher!"

Struggling to push his ass up higher, John goes onto his toes, "Yes, Andy."

Andy's very aroused and roughly forced the head of his cock in past John's tight anus lips with John grunting, "Ugh, oh... umm."

Inch by inch, Andy pushes his hefty, hard boner up John's ass until his crotch is against John's buttocks. He humps hard against John's buttocks, then pulls his big wooden boner back, back, back, and immediately plows it back up John's ass. John lisps a saliva spray, "Oh, Andy... feels good."

Without responding to John's submissive moan, Andy picks up the speed of his thrusting until the thrusts are smooth; his hard cock moving back and forth in John's rectum with fast, hard, and rough thrusts, "Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap," sounds ringing out with John lisping, "Oh, oh, oh, oh! Oh, Andy, feel so good..."

They're both quickly noticing the beginnings of sexual climaxes, so their moans and groans are sounding more desperate by the second, Andy's big cock tightly sliding over John's prostate again and again, over and over, creating a blizzard of sexual pleasure for both.

"Slap, slap, slap," until John's climax blows; John, making a sissy-sounding cry, "Eiiieee!" as his hips hump, and from his iron cock out shoots a streak of semen that splatters a foot in front of him against the outside of the loveseat's left arm. John's whole body shakes as he makes a face, then murmurs a lisping, "Oh, God, that felt good, Andy."

A lightning storm flashes behind Andy's eyes as he humps against John's buttocks, makes a breathy "Ssshhhh," sound, and fills up the condom with creamy, hot jizm. A shiver of intense pleasure goes out from his penis, spreading all over Andy as he shudders, then thrusts his still-hard cock wildly in John's rectum a dozen or so times before lying on John's back breathy deeply.

It's obvious that John responds to authority, the voice of authority. That must be because Brian has spanked John into a submission bottom boy. John claimed he didn't like the spankings... that's what he says now, but when John sees Brian, he'll probably get the paddle for Brian, then pull his pants down, bend over, and ask for another, please.

Maybe not, but Brian had two nine-month periods training his submissive boy, convincing John that he loves it that way. Yep, Andy thinks it would be best if they don't see Brian O'Neal at all. Best for John, as well as best for Andy.

Pulling his slippery condom-covered cock from John's ass, Andy wonders if he's doing John a favor by being authoritative with him. John sure responds positively to it, but Andy wonders if maybe he should be more dominant with John. Or, maybe it would be better if he somehow helped John get over being submissive.

Basically, Andy doesn't know what to do. John emulates him because he befriended John when he was the only person on earth John trusted, and John feels safe with him. That's why Andy's an authority figure for John and why John lisps like him and in every way tries to be like him. This is good for Andy, but is it good for John?

Andy's dick pulling out of John's ass, they both murmur, "Ahh, ooh..." John's asshole is wide open and quivering. Pulling off the condom, Andy mutters, "Here, get rid of this."

Without complaining, John takes the gooey condom and flushes it in the half-bathroom opposite the bar in the finished basement. Andy took a deep breath and then pulled his shorts up as a shiver zipped around his groin... nice! He joined John in the half-bath, both guys washing their hands with Andy lisping, "That hit the spot, huh?"

John says brightly, lisping like mad, "You make everything pop, Andy! That was awesome sex!"

Drying his hands, "Um, Darling, I gotta say that I'm not sure what the right thing to do is. For you, I mean."

Walking from the bathroom to the bar, John shrugs, "Whaddaya mean?" Then, "Is it okay if I have this drink now, Andy?" pointing at the grapefruit and vodka drink he put on the bar when Andy told him to.

Andy mutters, "Yeah, okay. Put fresh ice in it... we'll share it."

As John's doing that, Andy says, "You, um, since recovering your memory, I notice a few times that you, I guess, acted and sounded like you used to. You know, no lisping... you sounded, um, normal... not like me."

Frowning, John puts his arm across Andy's shoulders, murmuring, "You're normal, Andy. I love how you sound, and I love the way you move your body. Hee-hee, I know it's very swishy-gay, but so what? I like doing what you do."

"Omigod, you're the nicest, sweetest friend ever, Johnny. You're gonna get me crying; you're so fucking nice."

"I just wanna be like you, Andy," and they kiss with a tear rolling down both their cheeks. Breaking the kiss off, Andy rubs his eyes, muttering, "Oh, God, you're wonderful, Darling. I promise to do what's best for you as soon as I find out what that is."

John smiles, wiping his eyes, brightly lisping, "Keep doing what we've been doing, Andy. That's what I'd like, but I'll do whatever you say."

Looking into John's eyes, Andy murmurs, "Maybe we need to have you meet with a therapist. You know, as you were doing at the hospital in Boston. I'd feel better if you did that. Then, if you still want, we'll be two silly girlie lisping swishy fags fucking and having the time of our lives, and, you know, everybody else can go fuck themselves if they don't like it."

John lisps, "Perfect!" and he hugs Andy's neck, kissing his face, then lisping so much there is saliva spray after saliva spray, saying, "You're the best, Andy. Your idea sounds fantastic, you and me against the world."

Andy laughed because John's lisping was so slushy he couldn't understand most of what he said, but it sounded positive whatever it was. Andy mumbles, "Yes, whatever you said, baby. Let's get some dinner."

Letting go of Andy, John reduces his speech to a modest lisp, saying, "As I said a while ago, I like it when you call me baby... heh-heh. We can try the cool little restaurant and bar a few miles from here, but how are we going to get there?"

Andy shrugs, "Well, didn't Sara say there's a pickup in the garage?"

Talking without any lisp, John says, "She also said the battery was dead as a doornail, whatever a doornail is. No problem, though, we'll call a road service to get the pickup's battery jumped."

It's like John turned off his lisping without realizing it. Andy doesn't mention the non-lisping because he wants to let John do whatever comes naturally to him. He mutters, "Good plan, Darling. ! I'll call," and he takes out his cell phone.

The city of Cheyenne is Wyoming's largest city and the state's capital, with a population of 66,000. That's a very small population, but when you consider the population of the entire state of Wyoming was only 600,000, the city of Cheyenne has a relatively big population.

The road service said they'd be here in twenty minutes, so they went to John's bedroom to look at the cell phone on his desk. John picked it up, plugged it in a charger, looked at it, and said in a perfectly normal voice, "Thirty-four missed calls and a ton of text messages. The battery is dead, obviously." Leaving it in the charger, he goes, "I don't want to deal with any of that now anyway."

Andy wanted to say something about John's missing lisping but again thought he better not. Instead, he pointed at a cowboy hat lying on a chair, grinning and asking, "When you were home, did you wear that cowboy hat?"

With a huge grin that turns into a big smile, John picked up the hat and put it on. "When home here in Chyenne, I wouldn't go anywhere without wearing my cowboy hat and cowboy boots." He opens his closet and points, "I have two pairs of cowboy boots, but I didn't wear them all the time. Sometimes I did, though," and he sits on the chair, pulling off his sneakers. Pulling on the cowboy boots, he stands, saying, "I know you Easterners will mock us cowboys, but I liked being a cowboy here at home."

Standing, he says to a grinning Andy, "I'm a little wobbly because it's been a long time since I had my boots on."

Andy nods, thinking, 'He's feeling his old life and not acting or sounding anything like me now.' He feels okay about that and grins, taking John's hat off John's head and putting it on his head. Looking in a mirror, he says, "I want a cowboy hat and boots of my own, Johnny. I'll pay for them from my wages if you ever get around to paying me. You owe me a couple hundred dollars for taking care of your spectacular self for almost two weeks now."

John goes, "What the fuck are you talking about? You've got five hundred dollars in your pocket, just like me, or what's left of the five hundred."

Andy mutters, "Oh, yeah, I forgot about that."

John walks around the bedroom in his boots, mumbling without lisping, "I'm kidding you, Andy! I'll buy you a cowboy outfit. The boots, cowboy hat, western shirt, and blue jeans with a leather belt and big cowboy belt buckle. Your wages we'll save for your retirement fund."

Andy's trying on John's other boots, mumbling, "Whatever," then, "Damn, your boots are too small."

As John takes off his shirt and puts on one of his Western shirts from the closet, he mumbles, "My feet aren't too small; they're just right. It's your feet that are too big."

They both laugh. Then, looking at himself in the mirror over the bureau, wearing his Western shirt, John says, "Omigod, look at me! I'll be the only cowboy in Wyoming with girlie silk panties on. Check out my cowboy shirts, Andy. You can tell a cowboy shirt by the curved stylized yoke on the chest and back, plus these button-down pockets on the yoke... one on each side" Taking the hat off Andy's head, John puts it on, looks at himself, and mutters, "Goddamn, I'm back!"

Not only isn't John lisping, but he's speaking now with some kind of subtle Western accent, barely noticeable, but it's there, and it sounds kind of cool coming from John in his naturally boyish-sounding speaking voice. Yeah, even though Andy thinks John's voice is kinda cool, he needs to remind himself not to look as disappointed as he feels about losing the John Darling he's known for the past three months or so. He thinks to himself... 'I need to be happy for him.'

Then they hear a car beeping its horn. John's looking out the window, "It's a tow truck, Andy."

They hurry downstairs and go outside to speak with a young guy wearing a baseball cap. He holds out his hand, smiling and being wicked friendly, "Hello, I'm Jake Devers. Sorry about the trouble you're having with your car. Oh, dude, I like your hat!"

John's wicked friendly, too, smiling, shaking hands, and saying, "Thanks! I'm John Darling, and, um, my pickup's battery is dead. It hasn't been used for months, so the battery is dead, dead, dead." Motioning to Andy, he says to Jake, "Oh, this is my close friend from Massachusetts, Andy Salsbury."

Jake's like, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Andy!" He vigorously shakes hands with Andy, adding, "Are you near bean-town? Boston baked beans, or do I have that mixed up?"

Andy refrains from saying, 'You ignorant hick," as John laughs, "I didn't hear that baked bean one, Jake. The pickup is in the garage, and thanks for coming out so quickly."

Andy and John walk over to the two-car garage, John stepping inside the side door to hit the garage door opener button while Jake backs his truck up the driveway. Jake takes a powerpack from his truck, carries it to the front of John's pickup, and opens the hood. John has the keys for the pickup, getting in the driver's seat. Standing next to the driver's seat, Andy asks John, "What kind of pickup is this?"

"It's a one-year-old Toyota Tundra pickup truck. It's what I always drove. You'll see lots of pickup trucks in Cheyenne! My Mom's BMW was left at a service garage before we left. We'll track it down."

Two minutes later, the motor of the Tundra is humming along. Leaving it running, John hops out of the cab and says to Jake, "Thanks, partner. What do I owe you?" Jake, speaking with the same Wyoming accent as John, says, "Ah, I hate to charge you so much, but I just work there, and Sal said to charge seventy-five bucks 'cause it's after hours... sorry, John."

Giving Jake a hundred-dollar bill, John says, "That's alright. Here, you keep the change for yourself, Jake, and thanks for coming so quickly."

They do a guy hug, Jake muttering, "Ah, man, thank you so much!"

Andy shrugs, "You couldn't be more welcome. Thank YOU, Jake!" Then he waves as Jake drives off. Andy rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything because he's the stranger here. They're the locals... but GAWD!

John's like, "Let's get something to eat, partner! C'mon and get in my pickup, Andy. We'll take her for a run first to charge the battery, then get some chow."

Andy gets in the passenger side, mumbling, "Chow?"

Chuckling, John says, exaggerating his Wyoming accent, "I just threw that in there as a joke 'cause I realized that Jake and I must have sounded like a couple of hillbillies to you. You're going to notice that people in Wyoming are wicked friendly! It's nothing like the Northeast."

Andy mutters, "I'm starting to feel ill."

They chuckle as John hits the highway and is quickly flying down Route I-90 at eighty miles an hour. John turns the radio on, and it's blasting out a country music song. Smiling, John looks at Andy, "That's 100.7 Kolt FM, a great country music station."

Nodding as if he likes it, Andy keeps it to himself that he doesn't know shit or wants to know shit about country music. He's in John's world now, though, and he wonders who is going to be taking care of who. Plus, he's nervous about going eighty-five miles an hour.

"Darling, why the hell are you driving so fast? You'll get a speeding ticket!"

John snickers, "Partner, we ain't in pussy Boston no more. The speed limit in Wyoming is eighty miles an hour. I'm only going five miles over the speed limit. No state cop will stop me for going five miles over the speed limit."

To Andy, John's sounding more like a hick by the minute. That fucking accent is starting to get on his nerves! Then Andy chuckles to himself, thinking, 'Forget about the barely recognizable Wyoming western accent! These people are too nice for me to be rude to. And anyway, what must they think of my Boston accent while lisping like a fag? Haha.'

After flying down the highway like a bat out of hell for ten minutes, John screeches onto an exit ramp at fifty miles an hour and goes back the way they came, again at eighty-five miles per hour with country music playing loudly. Yahoo, cowboy!

Getting off I-90 at the exit for Cheyenne, John grins at Andy, "That should charge the battery. Let's get something to eat."

Andy realizes every muscle in his body is clenched, so he consciously relaxes and blows out a long exhale, murmuring, "I miss the old John Darling Jr."

John grins at him, "My 'Andy Salsbury' version of me is still in me, Andy," and he lisps, "I think it's my favorite version, too." Then he gets serious and makes a face as a tear runs down his cheek. He lisps, "I'll keep my 'Andy Salsbury' version of me forever. I love that version best. I love you, too, Andy."

Now they're both emotional, and a tear or two rolling down both their cheeks, Andy murmuring, "Thank you, Darling. We're loving best buddies."

At the restaurant, 'Charlie's Road House,' they're lucky to get a table because this place is busy! John orders a pitcher of beer, and when that's served, they both order steaks and fries for dinner. Looking around, Andy sees a plethora of cowboy hats, boots, and blue jeans. No one is wearing their hat indoors, but the hats are close by. John hangs his cowboy hat on the back of his chair.

There are some guys in military uniform. John nods at one, saying, "The airmen are from the F E Warren AFB, Air Force Base, which isn't far from here."

Andy nods, noticing a lot of western shirts, versions of the one John's wearing.. cotton shirts, all with long sleeves. Andy asks, "Are there any gay bars in Cheyenne?"

Shrugging, John mumbles, "What? Oh, I don't know. I never checked if there was one. Probably not. Let me Google that," and he does that on his Boston cell phone. Looking at Andy, grinning, he says, "Not only is there no gay bar in Cheyenne, there ain't one in the entire state of Wyoming. Haha. We're not as progressive as Boston."

Andy lisps, "Maybe we should move."

John says, "We're less than a hundred miles from Denver, Colorado. There are gay bars there. We can check one or two out tomorrow night if you want."

Now it's John saying they can do things if Andy wants to instead of the other way around. Andy's surprised to find he doesn't mind it too much. He prefers being the one in charge, but this is okay.

As their dinners are served, Andy asks, "What is there to do in Cheyenne?"

"Well, there are a lot of bars, ha-ha. Actually, there are a lot of bars, just no gay bars. Mostly, we do outdoor stuff... fishing, hunting, Yellowstone and Grand Teton Parks, um, hanging out with friends, going to rodeos, um, lots of stuff. There weren't any kids in my neighborhood for me to hang out with, so my friends were from high school, which meant I was always going to other neighborhoods to hang out."

The steak was a little overcooked, and the fries were soggy, so not a great dinner, although John thought it was fine, saying as they were leaving the restaurant with a slight beer buzz on, "You can always count on getting a good meal at Charlie's."

Andy glanced at him to see if he was being ironic, but John seemed serious, so he shrugged and ignored it. They were back at the house at nine-twenty, and even though they had a nap earlier, they were tired because of the five o'clock wake-up this morning. Andy asks John, "Do you want to wash up and go to bed?"

John puts his arms around Andy's neck, kisses his mouth, then says with a little lisp, "I like it better when you tell me what we're going to do, not ask me if I wanna do something. Be my boss, my leader, Andy! I like that better than me being my old self."

"Omigod, Darling, you're the most likable motherfucker I've ever known in my life. I swear to God you are. Get undressed... I'm going to fuck you up really good tonight! Hurry up and get your clothes off!"

In the bedroom, John lisps, "You're always going to be my man, Andy," and he sits on a chair to pull off his cowboy boots. Then, standing, he undressed and stepped out of the girlie panties. Andy kicks off his sneakers, then drops his pants and picks up John's cowboy hat. Putting it on, he says, "Okay, baby, you're going to get fucked up really good by a cowboy tonight."

Going in his toiletry kit, Andy brings out a two-ounce tube of K-Y jelly. Handing it to John, he says, "Lubricate that pussy of yours and do it good."

John mutters in his full lisp, but with a slight Wyoming twang now, "I get sexy shivers when you talk like that. It gives me a hard-on." Squeezing lubricant on his finger, John reaches behind to push lube into his ass, his finger easily sliding in up to the second knuckle, "Ooh!"

Andy watches, stoking his quickly firming-up penis, saying, "That's good, Darling. Now, stroke some jelly up and down my fat six-inch cock."

Squeezing lube onto the palm of his hand, John stands close to Andy and lisps, "Yes, Andy," then, with Andy's cock in his fist, he stroked up and down and over the bulbous head, leaving shiny lubricant in his wake. Leaning against Andy, licking Andy's lips, John stokes up and down Andy's boner again, murmuring with a damp saliva-spay lisp, "Please don't ever leave me."

Andy tries to say, 'Turn around...' but it catches in his throat, and he kisses John instead, then mutters, "Let go of my boner and turn around."

Enjoying the sense of being deliciously submissive to Andy, John gets incredibly aroused. He has a boner that's so hard it's sticking defiantly straight out from his groin, stretching out longer than its normal five inches. He tries to say, 'Yes, Andy,' but it's such a slushy saliva-filled lisp it just comes out as a lot of 'Sssss's' as he's turning around.

Andy is mightily aroused, holding his breath while guiding his hard, slippery boner to John's slippery asshole and, with a gasp, "Ahh!" slides his cock, very tightly but smoothly all the way up John's ass; John goes up on his toes gasping. The engorged oversized head on Andy's rock-hard boner spreads John's bowels a full six inches up inside his rectum, with it feeling more like two feet inside him as John moans in deep sexual pleasure.

Yes, all six inches of Andy's boner slid tightly up John's ass in two seconds. As it was going up his ass, John tried bending over, moaning, "Oooohh!" but Andy had his arms around John's chest, keeping his back against Andy's chest. Dizzy with sexual arousal himself, Andy pressed his crotch tightly against John Darling's firm buttocks that felt like two halves of a small watermelon.

John gives up his efforts to lean forward, Andy being stronger, dominating him. John docilely lays his head back on Andy's shoulder, his eyes closed as Andy murmurs, "That's my boy," and he pulls his ridiculously hard boner, as fat as it's ever been, almost all the way out of John's ass, hesitates, then drives it all the way back up inside him with John moaning, 'Ahhh," and going up on his toes again, leaning back against Andy.

Getting into a smooth rhythm, Andy steadily fucks John Darling hard, the cowboy hat he's wearing giving him a weird sense of being back in his high school thespian group as the lead in a play. John thinks this is the most fabulous fucking he's ever had! For only two minutes, though, because both their climax buzzers go off, and it's a race to see whose climax blows first.

Tonight it's Andy as he hammers his boner up John's ass a final time, leaving it there, grunting, his teeth clenched as he humps against John's firm butt cheeks three times with three balls of cum, one, two, three from his pulsating boner shooting cum into John's bowel as John humps his hips and out from his iron penis blows a stream of cum that flies out five feet, hangs in the air for a fraction of a second, then gives in to gravity and drops, splat, onto the hardwood bedroom floor just missing a throw rug.

Andy's blowing out exhales of moist air on the back of John's neck as John hangs limply back against Andy's body, mostly kept from falling by Andy's arms around him. After a minute of silence, Andy murmurs, "One of these days, we're going to fuck ourselves to death, Darling."

"You are truly my idol, Andy. With my memory back, I can tell you for sure that I've never had sex with Brian that was better than the fucking you just did on my ass. I can't imagine anyone doing it better."

Letting go of John, Andy says, "That's the nicest thing anybody ever told me about anything, never mind about the most important thing a person can do... make love."

John goes right back to leaning against Andy, and Andy, without thinking about it, automatically by now, puts his arms around John as John says, "Aw, you called it making love. All Brian ever did was use me to have sex."

They separate again and decide to take a shower together. After drying, they brush their teeth and climb into John's double bed. It's the first time since leaving for Boston last May that John's slept in his bed. He murmurs, "You and me in my bed, Andy. That makes me want to cry with happiness," and he cries a little, being comforted by Andy. Shortly, they fall asleep in each other's arms.

Almost ten hours later, they're awakening at the same time. John yawns, smiles at Andy, then cuddles against him. They grin at one another, staring into each other's eyes for a few seconds, then John lisps, "Aren't you going to do your nursing duties this morning and fuck me?"

Both with morning young men's boners, Andy frowning at John, murmuring, "Omigod, you're so fucking beautiful, Darling..." and then they're all over one another, Andy finally getting John under him, poking his buttocks with the head of his hard boner, wet with precum. John's struggling under Andy pushing his ass up, his face on the mattress, slowly working himself up on his knees a little. Andy's arms go around John's belly, his boner still poking around John's anus, until, "Ah!" the head hits the bull's eye... right on John's anus and spreads the lips a little.

"I got you now, Darling," Andy mutters as John whimpers with arousal, his face on the mattress and him pushing his ass up for Andy to fully mount. With precum and left-over lubricant, plus some of Andy's cum from last night's hard fucking still in John's rectum, Andy pushes his engorged boner up John's ass until, like last night, his crotch is tight against John's buttocks again. Andy grinds his hips, humping, then humping against John's buttocks some more.

John's lisping and spraying saliva so much Andy can't understand what he's saying, "Auu, umm, fuck me..." so he humps against John's buttock harder.

John gets his hand around his boner and strokes it, whimpering, then lisping, "Feels good..." Andy draws back his boner. John holds his breath, then a loud moaning, "Ooooh," when Andy drives his cock back up John's ass.

Andy shudders at the pleasure sensations dancing off his sensitized penis. His hips start thrusting fast, and it's, Slap, slap, slap," but only for a minute before they both violently hump their hips, blowing out hot creamy thick cum, climaxing almost at the exact same moment. John's making a high-pitched screeching sound while Andy's gasping out an airy sound as his climax explodes, blowing cum up John's ass. Andy tries to keep from fainting at the supernova of sexual pleasure that follows.

John's cum shoots out his rock-hard cock straight down to splash and puddle on the sheet as Andy's cum load coats the walls of John's bowels, his bowels feeling a touch of extra warmth for a second. Breathing deeply, they both were motionless for a minute, Andy's cock fully inside John's rectum.

Then Andy slowly started thrusting his cock again, and it firmed up fast, so he began thrusting faster. John's flaccid penis swaying back and forth below him as his body moves forward, then back. It felt good and went on for five minutes before John's cock tightened up into another boner as hard as Andy's.

Seven, eight, nine minutes of constant thrusting, both boys muttering a mantra of, "Oh, oh, oh..." with each thrust, and each thrust felt so good their eyes were closed to absorb maximum pleasure, "Oh, oh, oh..."

Eleven, twelve, thirteen minutes of erotic sexual pleasure, both guys in a trance of intense pleasure, and then BANG! both climax buttons got punched, and with both guys making desperate whining sounds, John sounding like a kitten needing milk, and Andy sounding like John's usual heavy panting, but only for five seconds because with every muscle in both their bodies clenched, they again climaxed together. Small spurts of cum fired out their petrified penises, small spurts, but feeling like a gush of cum.

Shaking for a few seconds, they both take loud gasping inhales, John collapsing onto the bed, his two cum shots gooey under him, Andy on John's back before falling off to the side, his cock coming out of John's ass.

They lie on the bed, breathing deeply, and then John crawls over to partially lay on Andy, lisping, "You're my God, Andy. That was sex that only you and I can have."

They're both sweaty by now, and they both have John's cum on them as well. John is against Andy's side rubbing cum from his belly, smearing it on Andy. After a minute or two, Andy runs his hand on John's back, getting down to business, mumbling bossily, "This morning, I want you to start dealing with your Wyoming cell phone, Darling."

Lisping, John mutters, "Yes, Andy, I will..."

To be continued...

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Next: Chapter 14

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