Surprises From My Body 02 (Patreon)

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Chapter 2: Sunset

After a long time, we finally parted our mouths, but his hands still held my sides. I had never been so aware of every inch of my body before. I looked down at our firm flesh radiating heat between us as the rain bathed us in cool sensations.

I compared our hips and the muscle tone beneath our belly buttons. I was thin, and taller than him. My dick was pressed against his abs, which were more defined than mine. They popped more. They were like a row of biscuits that pressed together while they were baking. I was hungry, and I wanted to eat him. 

“Your abs are fire, dude,” I said, breaking the silence. 

“Thanks,” he said. “I earned it from wrestling training.”

“You ever kissed a guy before?”

“No way, dude,” he said, like he was surprised at the question. 

“Me neither.”

He stepped away without ceremony, and I watched his naked body from behind as he stepped back toward the stream, finding the deep spot of the water hole, and getting back in. I was more stunned about what happened, whereas he seemed to be adjusting rather fluidly to the rapid change in the nature of our friendship.

It was strangely warm for how much it was raining, but I would have followed him in even if it were ice cold in there.

We stayed still in the water as the rain got heavier. Neither of us moved to get out.

I don't know how long we stayed like that after the first time, just standing there in the stream with the water up to our navels, the rain coming down hard and flattening our hair against our foreheads. We both adjusted our hair repeatedly to make it flip back, and look more “cool”, but it mostly didn’t work. Rich was looking down at the water most of the time. I was looking at Rich.

He wasn’t just looking at the water. He was looking down, through the ripples, at the general area of my body below the surface.

"How many inches is it," he said after a while. Not exactly a question.

"I don't know," I said. "I didn’t measure it."

"You should measure it."

"Maybe," I said as I wafted my arms through the water on either side of me.

He was quiet for another second, then smiled, then stopped smiling. 

"It's bigger than all my brothers," he said.

Something about the way he said it made me go still. I knew his brothers by reputation more than anything else. Everybody in town knew the family. The oldest one had gone to state for football. The others were the same way, some variation of a big, athletic success. Rich was the youngest, but he was on his way toward their level. He got the genetic muscle tone. He just hadn’t pushed hard in sports yet. And knowing Rich, I had always understood without being told that his brothers set the standard for everything in his life. He looked up to them, and there was some weight behind the observation that I had one up on them in some way.

"You've seen their dicks?" I asked. "Hard?"

He looked up at me with an expression that was almost amused. "I mean, morning wood, who cares," he said, then a second later, looking back down at the water, "And don't tell anyone, but sometimes we don't care who's in the room when we beat off. So yeah. We've compared a bit, here and there."

I just shook my head, but I didn’t want him to feel weird about it.

"Okay, cool," I said. 

“But do you guys practice together, like for girls?” I don’t know where the thought came from. It was a joke among guys at my school that we would “use each other for practice.” 

When he didn’t answer, I went on. “Did you ever do handjobs and kiss?”

He shook his head. “Shut up.”

He didn’t really care about my jokes. He seemed more enthralled with looking down at me. I represented some physical measurement that he couldn’t earn. No one could. He just looked at the water where my body was. I watched him looking and felt something nice inside. The sense of being admired, maybe.

But it was special because it was him.

"I wouldn't do that with anyone else, I think," I said. My voice came out quieter than I meant it to. "Just so you know. You're my coolest friend."

He looked up at me then. Really looked, and the corner of his mouth rose.

"Thanks for doing that with me," he said. Then: "You're cool too, man."

The rain kept coming down. A bird somewhere made a loud sound that almost took my attention away.

He looked up at me with a sort of a nervous smile.

"Do you wanna do it again?"

I looked at him. His hair was flat against his head and his skin was pale from the cold water and he was looking at me like in that moment, his entire world depended on my answer to the question.

I nodded slightly, unable to speak, somehow still nervous even after everything, my virgin hands moving unsteadily through the water as I tried to stay cool. He moved through the water toward me and I let him. He reached down, wrapping his hand around me before I was even ready, and I felt myself respond immediately, the way I always did, even by myself, too fast and too much, amplified by Rich’s presence, and his tenderness. He made a sound that was almost a laugh, but wasn't.

I sat up on the edge of the water hole, bringing my body back to the air for easy access. I knew what he wanted, and he was more interested in touching me than me having anything done to him.

He worked me slowly, not rushing it. I reached for him too, finding him already hard under the water. I felt his balls curiously, learning what other guys’ packages feel like. The sounds of the rain and the stream and everything else went a little distant. The first time had been fast and surprised and essentially accidental. This was neither of us pretending it was a joke. He kept his eyes down, watching, his jaw set with a concentration that I had only ever seen on his face during sports.

"I wanna see it blow again," he said quietly, looking down at his hand moving on me, increasing the pace to a sloppy, perfect lack of rhythm.

I pulled his head toward me, leaning forward to kiss him. He kissed back immediately, his free hand coming up to the back of my neck, and then we were just standing there in the water, which was warmer than it should’ve been in the rain, with our mouths together and our hands on each other and I felt like every nerve I had was awake and confused and happy. His tongue was pushing mine around and I let it, and we stayed there like that, the kiss going long and slow while his hand kept moving.

When I felt myself going toward the finish line, I couldn’t help but ask for what I wanted, but I didn’t know how to say it right.

“If you wanna see it blow, why don’t you kiss it?”

He looked at me kind of scared. He looked down at my thick, red organ in his hand, and he didn’t look back up. He dropped lower into the water and held me in his hands.

He started by actually kissing it, like from base to tip, and his toned shoulders tensed as he moved his head up and down my crotch. 

“Can you put it in your mouth?” I asked, suddenly desperate to feel the climax. 

He shifted subtly, and quickly pushed the head of my dick past his lips. The sensation was amazing. The first time I had felt the warm velvet of a tongue treating my sensitive body part, and it was Rich doing it.

I held the hair on the back of his head and guided him quickly around the head of my dick. I didn’t want to choke him, but the feeling was too good, and I needed it in the moment. The slurping sound was all I could hear, the sounds of the rest of the world fading to nonexistence.

I finished in seconds. I couldn't help it. I felt it coming and I said his name, just once, and he groaned gently in return through his nose. His eyes opened wide as I felt myself pulse in his mouth, the sensitive underside of me rubbing against his soft tongue. He kept me inside him as his eyes moved up to me. His body flinched, and I saw his hand shifting quickly under the water. I knew that he was finishing too.

When he pulled away from me, I watched him swallow several times, like he was trying to get the taste out of his mouth, or else savor it. I couldn’t tell for sure.

We stood there for a moment with the rain coming down.

He lifted his head.

"Damn," he said.

"Yeah," I said.

He waded over to where the water ran faster and rinsed his face, and I did the same, and neither of us said anything for a minute. 

“I have to pee,” he said.

“So go.”

“I already am.”

“Me too.”

We chuckled, and he started climbing out of the stream. I followed him, and we found our clothes on the bank where we'd left them in a wet pile.

We didn't bother with our shirts. Pants only, socks stuffed in our pockets. The rain was getting softer as we climbed the hill.

We talked a little before we got on our bikes. About how good it was, mostly, in a vague, circular way where we didn’t say the exact words of what we did. Neither of us used the word “gay” or “dick” or “handjob”. While the words circled my brain relentlessly, he seemed careful to avoid them, and I just followed suit.

Then we got on our bikes.

By the time we reached asphalt, the rain had stopped, and the sun was setting. The streets were slick and dark and mostly empty, usual for this end of town. Rich rode ahead without thinking about it, the way he always did, and I followed.

I decided to ride with him back to his house, rather than split off toward mine. His street was wider than most others in town. The houses were bigger, and set farther back from the road. I had been to his house before but I had never looked at it the way I looked at it now, pulling up to the curb behind him in the rain, both of us stopping with our feet down on the wet asphalt.

The house was big and well lit and looked like a house where a lot of people lived. I thought about his brothers. I thought about morning wood. I thought about him standing in the stream looking down at my body with that focused expression, and then I stopped thinking about it because he was looking at me.

"This is you," I said.

"Yep."

He just sat there on his bike for a second, one foot on a pedal, looking up at the house. Then he looked back at me.

"I wonder if gay guys are into that stuff we did."

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

He had already pushed off, rolling up his driveway, dropping his bike on the lawn without looking back. I watched him until he was gone.

I rode home in the rain with my mouth still open, my shirt still tied to my handlebars, the wet air cold on my chest.