Sunday, July 10, 2011

Summer Sleepovers

Hot summer nights. Sleep over at Jeff Henry’s. He’s in bed. I’m on the floor. Each just in our underwear. We talk in the dark. About sports. About girls. Our dicks. “I’m so hard thinking about…” Some long forgotten girl. He won’t stop chatting. Every now and again his dad will shout out from the living room to go to sleep.

Eventually, his dad will come in and flip on the lights. Mr. Henry’s a stocky man. Not fat. Muscular. Handsome in a rough way. Furry. With a big package. Usually stands there in nothing but his tighty-whities. Jeff still keeps talking.

I know why. I’ve slept over a dozen or so times. Since I was 11 or 12.

About 20 minutes after we’re out, Mr. Henry comes in. Thinks we’re asleep. Well, thinks I’m asleep. Crawls into Jeff’s bed.

There are quiet whispers. Gentle whispers. Whispered protest. Whimper. Then soft sucking sounds. His dad grunts when he cums. A little too loud. Like he wants me to wake up. I lay still.

The first time Jeff protested to his dad I was still awake. Mr. Henry calls my name. I know to lay still. Play dead. “See? Asleep. C’mon boy…” slurp. slurp. slurp…

His dad leaves. Jeff cries quietly into his pillow. I know the feeling. I have a brother with needs, too. I know the shame of desire. Of enjoying it. I quietly crawl in with him. Hold him. He's hard. I tell him it's okay. I tell him I understand. The first time he cries himself to sleep in my arms.

We never speak of it in the daylight.

Next time. He doesn’t cry. I still hold him. We’re on our sides. Me behind. I try not to press against him. I’m hard. He pushes back. Feels it. We just lay there. When he’s asleep, I jack off.

Third time. Holding him. Hard. He reaches back and plays with it. I play with his dick. I try to get him to blow me. Only if I do him. We argue over who goes first. We settle on 69ing. He cums first.

It progresses.

Fourth. He reaches back. I pull up his leg. I start fingering his hole. He protests. I tell him it’s okay. I tell him I won’t tell. He pushes me away.

Next morning. Just before dawn. I’m on the floor. I get up to get dressed. He makes a comment about next time. I tell him I don’t think I’m coming back. He asks why. I shrug. I tell him I won’t tell anyone about “…stuff.” He nods.

I turn to leave. He pulls me close. “I’m sorry.” He’s choked up. “My dad…” He stops. He knows he can’t talk about it. But he knows I know. “I promised…” he stops. I nod. I tell him it’s okay. “I just thought we were best friends…” It’s a manipulative move. It’s a dick move. It works.

I make him run naked to the kitchen for Crisco. He takes forever. He couldn’t find it. “It was way in the back of the pantry behind the oil.” Makes me laugh. Who fucking cares where it was? He gets on the bed. I turn him around. Knees just on the edge. He faces away. “Will it hurt?” I lie and say “no.”

He tries to stop me three or four times. I say what my brothers say to me: “shut the fuck up and take it like a man.” I grease up more. I push. Tell him to relax. Push. I’m in. He’s tight. It’s awesome. I tell him he feels amazing. I like it when my brothers tell me that. He likes it too. The groans of pain become more of a moan. Bitch is loving it.

The bed squeaks. We move to the floor. I put him on his back. There’s just enough light I can see his face. I love how he’s grabbing my arms. My sides. My neck... I’m looking into his eyes as I fuck him. He’s enjoying it. He’s enjoying me. I can literally feel the adoration flowing from this guy.

“How long have you been waiting for me to do this?” I huff into his ear. A long time. I ask if he’s loving it. He nods. I ask if he loves me. He nods harder. My dick swells. I can feel it building. I start fucking him as hard as I can. He let's out a deep moan. It's beautiful. I tell him I’m cumming in his ass. I feel my spunk pouring into him. My final thrust starts his orgasm. He spews out a big load of sperm onto his stomach.

I wipe up using his t-shirt. The room smells of sweat, shit and cum. And a bit of Crisco.

The next half a dozen times or so it plays out the same way: He blows his dad. After, I fuck his ass. The last night I spent the night was different.

MUCH different.

Jeff is lightly snoring. It’s only been about two minutes since he stopped talking. I get up to pee. Wander down the hall in the dark. Long pee in the dark. I miss the toilet on the first two blasts of pee. Aim slightly off. The rest is a loud roar of foam as I release into the middle of the bowl.

I walk out and hear “Gotta work on your aim” from the darkness of the living room. I see the soft glow of a cigarette. Mr. Henry is sitting in the big EZChair by the window. I tell him I’ll clean it up in the morning.

The light from the moon casts a long bright light along the floor. It just catches his knee. It makes it harder to see him in the dark. However, his underwear seems to glow slightly. As if it’s calling to me. He tells me I should be in bed. I tell him it’s hard to sleep in someone else’s house.
“You’ve never had a problem in the past…”

“I just pretend, hoping I will fall asleep.”

I step forward. The moonbeam hits me at waist level. My hard-on in my shorts is illuminated. No more pretending.

I’ve asked Jeff about his dad’s dick. He says it’s big. Thick, goopy load. I want it. I want it bad. I tell him Jeff’s asleep. Snoring. I’m scared he’s going to tell me to stop. I can’t stop. Won’t stop. I step forward. His hand touches my thigh. If he reaches for my dick, I know I’ll cum fast. I drop to my knees. Pull the elastic. His thick cock is in my mouth. I barely get it wet before Mr. Henry shoots.

Just like Jeff said: thick, goopy load. He lets out a slight gurgle as he releases. Swallow it all. I look up into the darkness for approval. Mr. Henry stands me up. Pulls me forward. Pulls down my shorts. They’re damp with precum. The way he’s pulling me throws me off balance. I’m standing on one leg, trying not to fall. I can barely concentrate on his swallowing my hairy dick. It takes me a few minutes to cum. I let loose quite a load. I drain into his throat.

I lean down. I’ve never thought of kissing Mr. Henry before. It seems right. His tongue is in my mouth. This is all too weird. I kiss back. Swirling my tongue around. I have no idea what I’m doing. I sit on his lap and we make out for a while.

Mr. Henry moves us quietly into the kitchen. A small nightlight by the breakfast table casts a yellow glow. We rub all over each other. We make out some more. He grabs my ass and squeezes. I’m hard again. Dripping a lot of precum. His finger probes my hole. I spread my legs…

He pushes me away and starts looking through a cabinet. Tells me he’s looking for Crisco. I tell him to look behind the oil in the pantry…

I lean over the cold counter as he enters me. It’s thick. Not enough grease so it hurts a little. I tell him to add more. I whimper when he tries to push in hard. A little more grease. I’m golden.

Mr. Henry goes slow for a few minutes. Rubbing my back. My leg. My neck. I ask him if it feels good. He grunts. He starts to pump faster. He’s going to cum again. I hold onto the corner for balance. His thrusting is causing my dick to bang into the counter. I can feel the precum oozing out. Mr. Henry grabs my arms as he nuts. He’s louder this time. The kitchen isn’t a quiet place. I’m sure someone will hear.

We stand there for a few minutes. His cock pulsing in my ass. Slowly he pulls out. He turns me to kiss him and feels my hardon. He drops down on his knees to finish me off. I close my eyes and let him slurp on my rod. Mr. Henry sucks cock better than his boy.

I’m getting ready to cum. I whisper that I’m close. He sucks harder. It feels so amazing. I start cumming in his mouth. It’s so intense I see stars and flashes of light. Then it feels funny. He’s not sucking me. I open my eyes.

The lights are on.

Jeff stands in the doorway. He just stares at us. I look down at his dad. Mr. Henry is looking at Jeff. Still holding my dick. I’m still pulsating spunk. It’s dribbling on his furry chest. We remain frozen for what feels like forever.

Jeff turns out the lights. Walks back to his room.

We remain frozen. I’m waiting for Mr. Henry to do something. Say something.


I grab a dish towel . Start cleaning up. Me, then Mr. Henry. I clean up all the drippings. Put the Crisco away. Toss the towels into the washing machine. Mr. Henry just stands there.

When he finally speaks it’s in whispered freak-out. Worried Jeff will say something. I’ve had enough experience with sex with family to know that no one talks. “Go to bed and talk to him later.” Mr. Henry stumbles off.

Jeff lays there, his back to me. I try to talk to him but he tells me just to go to sleep.

Morning. Jeff tells me he doesn’t think I should sleep over anymore. He’s right. I’ve laid there all night thinking about it.

I don’t want to stay for breakfast but Mrs. Henry insists. It’s oddly quiet. The dishes are cleared. Mrs. Henry wonders what is all over her lower cabinet. In my haste-filled cleaning, I missed where my dick rammed the cabinet. A little Fanstastik and my precum ooze is gone…

…minutes later, so am I.

Mrs. Henry moved out with the kids over the next Christmas break. Mr. Henry sold his business and left town shortly before the next summer.

I ran into Jeff on the streets of Chicago about seven years ago. He recognized me right away. We went for drinks. Caught up about our lives. Jeff doesn’t speak of his dad. The sleepovers were never discussed.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Dance, Bitches!

The Assistant sent this to me this morning as a response to my request to schedule two meetings next Monday. This is the type of passive/aggressive attitude I deal with every day--but he's clever about it, so I forgive him (plus, he's got a hot ass).

On a sad/pathetic note, I went dancing with The Boyfriend this weekend... I'd like to think I've got dance moves. Actual quote from the BF: "How can such a strong athlete who's so in tune to his body be such a lousy dancer?" Me: "I got moves. Guys were all over me." BF: "Gays will forgive anything if you're good looking enough. I'm sure they'd forgive Hitler if he looked like you."*

*Not sure how I should feel about this. He did stroke my ego, but equated my dancing to the horrors Hitler brought upon the world.