Images of Jeff were controlling my thoughts. I couldn't close my eyes, without seeing him in some fashion. I saw him from all aspects . . . ass, chest, dick, balls, treasure trail, strong legs, armpits, and the smile. Then there were the extensions of that . . . my nose buried in his crotch or armpit, sucking his cock, licking him, him fucking me, me fucking him, which was totally mind blowing.
Then I went off into a tangent of being at the cabin with Jeff . . . skinny dipping, sitting around the fire, sleeping together, and just having time to explore his body.
Someplace in there I drifted off to sleep. When I woke, I was completely entangled in my blankets and sheets, with a dripping hard cock. I gripped it and squeezed. I moaned. I wanted Jeff to do that to me. I wanted to do it to his cock.
I groaned again, and quickly stroked myself to a massive climax. I captured the cum in the sheet, and laid there, getting my breath under control.
It was dark outside by the time I came back to reality and untangled myself. I went to the bathroom and took a leak. I could only picture Jeff standing at his toilet pissing. Fuck! Would I ever get these images out of my mind?
I flushed, and wandered down the hall to the kitchen and, without turning on the lights, found the bread, peanut butter and jelly, and made a sandwich. Then I got a glass of water.
I was going to go to my computer room and lose myself in some online gaming, but as I headed to the room, I got a glimpse of Jeff, naked, in his living room. The lights were on; he was naked, and his cock looked like it was bigger than usual. Was he just getting done jerking off, or just getting started?
I set down the plate with the sandwich, and the glass of water. Then I opened the curtains just enough so I could see where he was. I wasn't going to watch; I was just curious.
But there he was, sitting in his recliner, and he had his dick in his hand. I opened the curtains a bit more; I didn't want to attract his attention to my window.
I sat down in my chair, and was mesmerized, once again, by his perfect form and that rigid cock in his hand. He was looking at the TV. I looked, and saw that it had two naked men and a woman. It seemed that they were all touching each other everywhere, but my attention was drawn back to Jeff.
He was slowly stroking away on his dick. However, this time he was using his other hand, and using a different technique. He held his dick between the fingers, and stroked, rather than using his fist.
I was instantly hard, and couldn't bring myself to look away. I had vowed I wouldn't do this any more, that I wouldn't succumb to his control, even if it was passive like this.
But I couldn't help myself. He was so amazing to watch!
I matched him stroke for stroke, only using my standard fisting technique to do it. I couldn't take my eyes off of him, and all thoughts of eating were gone.
I just went with it. Soon, I felt the boiling, as it were, in my balls, and knew it was fast approaching. I love that feeling of the approach; the momentum builds, and you know you are going to be overwhelmed at any second by that rush, that powerful rush that assaults your senses, and the one that you want to just go on and on and on!
And there I was, shooting rope after rope across my stomach, as it engulfed me. Oh Fuck! That was so fucking hot!
I watched, as he shot as well, his blasts going as high as his face. He, too, seemed to be enveloped in it, as his head thrashed back and forth.
While he caught his breath, I watched in amazement, as he wiped up a gob of cum and brought it to his mouth. Was he eating his own cum? Again?
I looked down, and saw the white strand of cum on my stomach. I put my finger in it, and wiped up the strand. I had done this once before, but this time I was thinking, and not with my little head. I cautiously brought it to my lips, and tasted; not nearly the taste that I was expecting. There was a salty underlying taste, but the rest was unique, and that immediately made me wonder what his tasted like.
He wiped up his cum with a towel; that made me think of the shorts he had given me. I raced to find them, and saw that they were, indeed, the ones with the crusted smudges of cum, and there was the towel I had stolen!
I smelled them both, and was rock hard instantly. I wanted more of him!
I looked at my phone, and saw it blinking. I had voice mail, 12 of them!
I sighed, and resigned myself to what they would say. I decided to play one; rationalizing that it couldn't spoil the high I was just coming off of.
"Hey, Paul, I am really sorry. Really sorry; I must have done something that upset you or embarrassed you, or something. You left so suddenly, and seemed so upset when you left. I apologize for anything I might have done to upset you."
He paused, and then continued on, "I just wanted to make a good impression on you. I really like you, and wanted to get to know you better."
He sighed, "Dumb me; I have pushed it, and gone over some social boundary that I shouldn?t have."
Another pause, "Please call me, or better yet, come over. I want to get this straightened out, so that at least we can be congenial neighbors."
He seemed so genuine; was that emotion in his voice real? "Paul, please just call. I promise to just listen, as you tell me what's wrong, and I won't get defensive, and I'll try to filter what I say, so I won't offend you."
One more pause, and then, "I know I pushed the nudity thing, and that you obviously aren't comfortable with it. I'll wear clothes when you come over. Notice I said when, not if.
"And, I really meant it when I said, ?I thought you were cute!? I hope that doesn't come across wrong, but I do think that there is something unique and awesome about you.
"So please call me, or better yet, come over."
The rest of them all had similar messages. The last one was just a plea, "Please call!"
I now found myself all wound up emotionally. I looked out at Jeff, and realized he had moved from the living room. I moved to the next room, and there he was getting into bed. Again, he laid on the bed and read, while he absentmindedly played with himself.
I could watch him all day! Tonight, when he turned off the light, I went to my bedroom and crawled into my bed. I fought with the covers to get them to cover me, and thought of Jeff again, as I drifted off to sleep. I would call him tomorrow.
My dream was fraught with sexual fantasies and nightmarish social exchanges. In the latter, I was the butt of some joke, and standing around naked on some college campus, while students stood around and pointed at me. I had my hand clutching my crotch, but tormentors were pulling my hands off.
In some other scene, I was in a classroom on my hands and knees on a desk at the front of the room. I was being inspected thoroughly by the students, and my dick was being pulled back between my legs. Fingers were squeezing my nuts, and fingering my hole.
Once again, I woke up tangled in my covers, but this time, sweating. I took a moment to clear my head before taking stock of the morning. I looked at the clock, and then looked again. Fuck! I had 20 minutes before I had to leave for work.
I jumped out of bed, got in the shower and out, in minutes, with a quick shave with one hand in the shower, and brushing my teeth with the other. I was out drying, getting dressed, combing my hair, and heading towards the door. As I opened my front door, something fell to my feet. I grabbed it and headed off to the car.
I tried to pull myself together at the first light. At the second light, I looked at the envelope, and it just said, ?Paul,? on the front of it.
I put it in the outside pocket of my messenger bag, and continued to work. Once there, I was up to my ears getting everything done, things that I normally did in the 10 to 15 minutes prior to the start of the day.
I had no time for anything. I had phone calls from clients about web sites, and from data services about a new set up. E-mails were coming in from the various departments asking about designs and HTML code, and what did I think of this and about that.
My boss called, and wanted an update on projects; I finally got a breather at 11. I grabbed my second cup of coffee, and then stopped in the men's room to get rid of the first one.
As I stood at the urinal, images of Jeff, standing and peeing, flashed through my mind. That brought back all his voicemails and the envelope. "Shit!" I said, as I hurriedly shook my dick, and put it back in my pants, zipped up, and went to the sink. That's when I noticed one of the guys from a cubical near mine, looking at me strangely in the mirror.
"Sorry, just remembered a deadline," I said, as I poked my hands under the dryer and ran out the door.
Back at my desk, I dug out the envelope and opened it up. There was one sheet of handwritten writing inside. Who hand wrote anything these days?
"Paul,
Obviously, I have greatly offended you. You have not returned any of my calls. I didn't want to knock on your door yesterday, but, this morning, I had to make one more attempt.
I am so socially inept, and I know that is no excuse. A guy my age should know how to behave better.
I am not sure whether it was my over sharing about myself, or my nudity, or that I took the liberty of removing your clothes before putting you to bed, that offended you, or a combination of these.
I am truly sorry, and ask you to please forgive me, if you can, and to give me another chance; I will be better.
I do enjoy your company, and was enjoying getting to know you and about you. And I was really counting on the trip to the cabin as a chance to really bond.
I am probably, once again, way out of line assuming that you would want to give me another chance, but I have to try.
We are neighbors and, as such, should at least be on speaking terms. So if you want to tell me to go take a flying fuck, that's okay, too; so long as we can at least be cordial when we see each other on the street.
Paul, please give me a chance to make up for my ineptness, and to offer you a chance to tell me what an ass I am, and where I screwed up.
If you won't or can't call me, would you at least send me an e-mail at jeff@gmail.com. I would really like to hear from you.
Your friend,
Jeff"
I sat there looking at the letter for a long time. I reread it, looking for some sort of hidden meaning, some sort of put down, or some sort of sarcasm, or ridicule, but there wasn't any that I could find.
He seemed so sincere, both in his letter, and in the messages he had left.
I opened my personal e-mail account, and tried to compose a response. I started, deleted, and started again, at least a dozen times.
Once I had it finally written, I read it through five times, making small changes or correcting typos or choosing different words.
In the end it said,
"Jeff,
It is I who should be apologizing. I acted in a childish manner, and with improper behavior.
You were sincere in your friendship, and it was me that couldn't accept it at face value. No one has ever called me ?cute,? so I was sure that was some sort of sarcasm, or something. So, again, it was in my head, and my issue, not yours.
And, yes, some of your sharing of sexual experiences are beyond mine, but I shouldn't put my standards on yours, and maybe I should change some of mine. I must admit that mine are not very many, varied, or even experienced.
And, yes, your nudity put me on edge, but not because you were too bold, but because I was too prudish. And, truthfully, I couldn't get enough of looking at you. You are such a striking young man, and it captivated me. I have never been around someone so open, so naked; it was an entirely new experience for me.
And, again, that is my issue, not yours. I should be tolerant of other peoples? lifestyles and habits. If you accept my apology, and we ever get together again, I promise not to stare at your body.
Lastly, you undressing me . . . I guess that goes to the same prudish issues I have. I am going to go out on a limb here, and be very candid with you. Since gym classes in high school, and not too often then, no one has seen me naked, except my doctor once a year, and I am on edge all through the 'turn your head and cough' procedure. (I hope you are laughing at the last line.)
So, Jeff, I was overcome by your voicemails and your letter. And, if you would accept my apology, then I would like to get to know you better, and I, too, was looking forward to a weekend at your cabin, and ?bonding,? as you put it.
Sincerely,
Paul"
I hesitated, wondering if it was too much, or too little; had I shared too much, or not enough; was I coming on too strong, or what?
In the end, I pushed ?send,? and sighed. I went to grab a yogurt out of the fridge and a bottle of juice, for lunch. I was starving, but couldn't eat, because I was too nervous about how my e-mail would be received.
Back at my desk, I saw that I already had a response from him. With trepidation, I opened it and read,
"Paul,
I ACCEPT!
Again, I think it is me that needs your acceptance, but let's not get all caught up in the ?he should, no he should? thing. Suffice it to say that, yes! I want us to give each other another chance.
I don't want to be pushy or anything, and want to take things at your speed. But, I was wondering if we might have sort of a peacemaker?s dinner tonight. I can grill some steaks when you get home, bake potatoes, and have corn on the cob.
If this is okay, please let me know what time you get home, and what time you would want to come over.
I can't wait to get a chance to make up for my previous blunders.
Your friend,
Jeff"
I shot back the time I would get off work, and that I would be over about 5 minutes later.
The rest of the day, I was bouncing off the walls, eager for the day to be done. I finished project after project, and cleared my calendar of ?to do?s.? I sent my boss a note, asking for Friday off, thinking that Jeff might want to leave early to head out to the cabin.
Then I spent 20 minutes in the stall in the men's room, with my hard dick in my hand, picturing Jeff's naked body in all aspects, until I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning, as I filled a toilet paper ball with cum.
When the day was done, I raced to the car, and tried to make every green or yellow light, so I could get home faster. I had the music on, and banging the steering wheel, to Glee doing "one for Artie," with ?Rolling on the River.?
I parked in the driveway, ran to the door, grabbed the mail, and was inside. I dropped my stuff at the door, and ran down the hall, stripping off clothes. I put on the shorts that Jeff had lent me, and no underwear . . . I was going to be bold, with a loose t-shirt, and some flip-flops.
I ran out the front door and over to his. I opened his door, pulled off my t-shirt, kicked off my shoes, and went careening through his house, yelling, "Hello?"
I found him in the backyard, tending to the grill. Actually, I thought it was someone else, because when he turned to greet me, I saw that he was wearing fresh-pressed khaki shorts, a buttoned up shirt tucked into the shorts (which had a belt), and he was wearing a t-shirt, socks, and tennis shoes.
He looked at me, while I looked at him, and then he laughed! "Good to see you, Paul!" he said.
"You, too, Jeff, but I can see that I need to run back home and change. I am sorry!"
He laughed. "No, you don't. I just think we are both trying to over-compensate!"
He walked by, patted me on the shoulder, and said, "Thank you! Watch the steaks, and I'll be right back."
He left me to ponder the closeness of the pat on the shoulder. I poked the steaks. They smelled amazing! In seconds, Jeff was back, wearing another pair of baggy shorts like mine. "That feels much better," he said.
"Looks good, too!" I said, just a little bit braver than I expected of myself.
He laughed and said, "This is going to be a good dinner!" He reached over and pulled out the back of my (his) shorts and looked inside. "Going commando, too! Very nice!"
Thanks to the many guys that wrote me about the story. It is always appreciated. harryrod575@yahoo.com
You can find my other stories if you go to authors at the top of the main page and select Prolific Authors. Under H you will find Harry Rod and a listing of all my stories.
have fun
harry