Greg didn’t have anything to say to me once we were eating spaghetti and garlic bread at his house. Doug and I satin the living room, eating and laughing. We discussed our misadventures in life. I refrained from discussing any of my craziness over Greg, but I didn’t need to tell Doug anything about his brother.
“You going to sit out here all night?” Greg asked, when he came as far as the dining room to find me.
“It’s like six fifteen, Greg,” I explained.
Greg had yet another reason to be pissed off when I had forsaken the surly brother in favor of the friendlier version. Once again he let me know that he didn’t approve of me being so close to Doug.
I smiled but didn’t engage with him. I didn’t take his bait. I wanted to talk to Doug and I was talking to him.
“Do you want me to get something for you?” I asked, not wanting another argument.
“No, I didn’t know where you went is all.”
He went back to the television room. Not being in the mood for conflict, I stayed where I was. Doug didn’t mention the fallout he suffered, when Greg and I were at loggerheads over the time I spent with him. Doug wanted to talk too.
Mom and Pop sat in the backyard under one of the shade trees when they ate dinner, unaware of the drama in the house. They often sat out there together for hours in the evening. Their kids were on their own. If they hadn’t learned to feed themselves by now, parents watching them eat wasn’t going to do much good.
I didn’t go near the TV room. He didn’t come out again. No matter what I did, he wasn’t going to like it. Doug and I got very comfortable in the living room. We didn’t have to talk a lot, but we did find things that we had in common. We liked each other fine and I decided that was all that mattered.
Greg was staying home over the weekend and Doug was going with his parents the next day. They’d all be gone before I got off from work. Greg and I would either go to play tennis or we wouldn’t, and we had all weekend for tennis, so I was hoping for some rest after work Friday.
By Friday each week I was beginning feeling the impact of a long week made longer with tennis after work each day. I’m not complaining. I was playing with Greg and there was nothing I liked more than playing with Greg, and he was standing next to the driveway holding the tennis rackets by the time I got there Friday.
By six I just wanted to take a break and Greg picked now to play his best tennis yet. He ran me all over the tennis court, chasing his well placed shots. It was good to see him moving so well, but chasing tennis balls had lost its appeal by that time.
Not only was he moving better but I didn’t see the limp while we played. It was unmistakable when he walked, but the more we played tennis, the less apparent was the damage to his legs. They were still inadequate to carry someone his size, but I could see he was making some progress. They might not be as beautiful as they once were, but I had no doubt they’d hold him up just fine.
There was no talking. We didn’t say a word to each other on the way to the high school and we sat in the front seat of my car afterward, drinking our milk like good little boys.
I was too tired to talk. Greg didn’t have anything to say to me, and so it worked out perfectly, although he could have given me a point for showing up. I knew better than to ask for too much.
“I stink. I need a shower,” he said, making a distinctive sniffing sound, as if he’d just discovered B. O.
I smiled. It didn’t take a lot of energy.
“Me too,” I said. “I’m a mess after working all day. Tired too.”
“What is it you do?” he asked, way too slick to be a real question.
“File clerk at civilian personnel. I told you that.”
“Filing is hard work, is it?” he said, smiling impishly.
“Screw you,” I said. “Work is work. Tennis is work. You’re fucking work. Give me a fucking break,” I snapped with no attempt to hide my anger with his constant attempts at diminishing me.
Greg did know how to cut a conversation short. He was pissed about Doug and me, and he was going to bust my balls. I wasn’t in the mood to play along with Greg all weekend. A break might be a good idea.
“I’ll go home and shower and get changed,” I said as we pulled into his driveway.
“No, shower here. We got plenty of water. I checked before we left. I’ve got shorts that will fit you and you can wear one of my tee-shirts,” he said. “It’ll be a little baggy of course, but we all can’t have my amazing body.”
“Whatever you say,” I said without enthusiasm.
“Cheer up, Martin. You could have fallen in love with Herbie.”
“No, I couldn’t,” I snapped.
I sat at the dining room table wondering if I had enough energy to go watch TV while Greg took his shower. When he came downstairs, he was naked, which was enough to get my mind off TV.
His dick was stiff. It stood straight out in front of him. He stopped to look at me, or to let me look at him. I didn’t miss much at a times like this. Greg totally naked, standing in front of me to give me a good look, was rare. There was something between a smirk and a smile on his handsome face, as he watched me study his body.
I knew this meant the current hostilities had ceased. This was another version of him telling me, ‘don’t go getting pissed off at me again and go off for a week or two.’
Greg’s nudity was an invitation to his admirers. His erection told me all I needed to know. He faced me to make sure I got a good look. He didn’t say anything. He’d just said it all. He felt his cock to be sure I got the message. He was coming in looud and clear.
Greg walked the few feet over to the table. He looked into my eyes as they studied his swaying appendage. He looked down at it too. He looked up with a big smile on his face.
“I’m going to shower now,” he said.
“Oh, I thought you might be going jogging, …or fishing,” I said.
“Very funny. My bait isn’t for fish, but you already know that,” he said in a somewhat sexy voice.
He looked back over his shoulder at me to see if I was studying his ass. He knew I would be. Satisfied, he went into the bathroom. I’m sure he smiled at me. The disagreement had definitely resolved.
Greg’s come on had me undressing on the way to the bathroom. I heard him turn on the shower.
I got into the tub behind him. He didn’t react to me, when I moved up very close behind him. I took the soap out of his hand and began coating his body with lather. I did his legs, going between them from behind. I made a point of getting all my fingers between his ass cheeks, vigorously soaping him up.
He didn’t move or object to where I was touching him. We were probably back on speaking terms, except we were both too hot to talk about it. He didn’t tell me to stop or how to soap him up. I was on my own. He was letting me fly solo.
His ass cheeks twitched as my dick slid on the lather I took care to create. My hands went around in front of him now and I gradually moved them down to take hold of him. His dick was throbbing in my fingers. I had to get very close to reach all the way out to the tip.
Absent mindedly, he leaned back against me and my dick as I used the soap to masturbate him in long easy strokes. The front of my body was completely pressed into the back of his body. We didn’t match up perfectly. He was a few inches taller, but we matched up just fine in places where just fine was good for me.
The last time my dick was that engaged with his ass, he said, “Don’t get any bright ideas. I told you I don’t do that.”
He had a different message for me this time.
“You’re going to get a handful in a minute,” he warned me.
I worked to get a handful of anything he pumped out.
He moaned. His ass cheeks squeezed my dick in a bold spasm. I made a point of sliding all the way up his crack, letting the head linger on the slick asshole as it passed that way.
“Oh!” he moaned, leaning harder against me, trusting me to keep him from falling down.
He’d grown stiffer and I could feel the sperm pumping out of him. As I worked him over his ass kept squeezing my dick in the crack. There I was, holding the hot evidence in my hands and pumping my own load into his crack.
I didn’t know I was ready to go off. I’d been hanging on while I got him off and it was over that fast.
His knees buckled and more of his weight transferred onto me. My own legs were none too stable. I was made dizzy by what Greg was letting me do. I was taken by surprise by the force of my own orgasm. Not to mention, doing it standing up wasn’t something I’d practiced. I was forced to use one hand to keep us upright in the tub.
It did distract a bit from what was a grand conclusion. It was worthy of a Hollywood production. I was sure we had discovered something new. As contrary as Greg was, his participation had been complete. We’d built a relationship with a stronger foundation than Greg made it sound. He was admitting nothing and I wasn’t denying anything.
His totally erect penis lost its rigidity. It didn’t shrink much. It became a pliable piece of gristle. I found it totally sensual but it was attached to Greg. He didn’t say to give it a rest, which he would say if he decided he was being too obliging.
“My leg is going to cramp if I don’t walk on it,” he said, turning off the water.
I stayed in place until he climbed out of the tub, breaking our aggressively physical contact, but we were still covered with soap. He was panting as he leaned against the sink. He began to laugh.
“That was cool,” he said.
“Very cool,” I said, and his light blues eyes looked into the medicine cabinet mirror, after he turned his back on me.
The expression on his face was revealing. I was naked. He didn’t avert his eyes. It was as if he saw me for the first time. All of me. He wasn’t aware I saw him looking. It wasn’t like I was hiding anything.
“Why don’t you get back in the tub. Rinse that soap off. I’ll wait out here and finishing rinsing after you’re done,” I proposed so he didn’t think I only wanted to start the sex again.
“I might fall. I want you where you can catch me.”
“That’s good too,” I said. “I want to be where I can catch you.”
When he turned around, after having his back to me, his dick brushed just above my pubes and across my slippery flesh. If he noticed he’d just rubbed his hard dick against me, he didn’t react to it, as he stepped back into the front of the tub. It was the kind of hazard you faced with two of us in the small bathroom.
Rinsing ourselves off didn’t take long. It was surprising how swiftly you could do bathroom stuff if you took the sex out.
“I make you that hot?” he asked, as I dried his back for him.
“That hot?”
“You shot off in my ass. I mean you couldn’t have touched it. You had both hands on my dick,” he calculated.
“You noticed? Yes, It does takes two hands to handle the king.”
Greg laughed. He liked me talking about his size. I rarely did it any more, because he didn’t like me talking about anything sexual.
“I make you hot enough you get off without touching yourself?” he uncharacteristically rephrased the same question.
“Oh, I’d say you do. At least that hot. Maybe hotter.”
“Just touching me there makes you get off?”
“Uh huh?” I said.
I didn’t tell him it was the way his talented ass cheeks squeezed me between them.
“I’ve got to have some serious attention before I get off. That’s weird. It must have taken you ten minutes to get me off.”
“Your weird is my heavenly body. It took maybe two minutes,” I said, not wanting him to get too cocky.
“After you finish drying me, you can blow me. What you just did made me hornier than before. Two minutes. It was longer than that, Martin. I don’t get off in two minutes, even if I’m super horny.”
“I’m game but not standing up this time. I worked all day,” I reminded him.
“Filing,” he reminded me.
“Don’t start with me, Greg.”
“We’ll go into the television room. You can get us a couple of beers. Than you can take your time.”
“I’ll take a soda,” I said.
“In the fridge. You can get what you want. Bring me two Pabst. That’ll give you plenty of time. You haven’t done it in a few days,” he said, giving me the details he wanted me to have. “What we just did wasn’t bad but you blowing me is OK too. I don’t mind that.”
“You mean what I just did,” I corrected him.
“You didn’t get off? I was sure you said you did?”
“Hard to argue with the facts. You have a point. Thank you, Greg. That was hot,” I said, risking I’d cross some imaginary line that would set him off, but I worried less about his random boundaries these days.
I took a few minutes to enjoy my root beer before getting down to business. I didn’t need to get him hard. I was in no hurry. We had until late Sunday afternoon, but I didn’t plan to taking that long.
He felt my face at one point, having lost interest in the Road Runner’s antics, as the poor Republican coyote plotted to get him. He watched my handiwork. Greg added another new wrinkle. Just hamming it as far as he could get it to go, and holding me on it was giving way to a less demanding approach to be stimulated.
It didn’t take long for him to let me know he was well on his way to doing it again. I expected it to take a bit more intensity on my part.
“Maybe back off for a few minutes. I don’t want to shoot again right away. We’ll have plenty of time later. No one will bother us tonight.”
“Okay,” I said.
“You’re becoming a real expert. You been doing my brother, Martin? I mean I know you did while I was mad at you last year, but not since my accident. Have you done him since I had my accident?”
“You been doing Tony, Ronnie, Herbie, Alfred, Timmy…?”
“All right! All right. So, I’m a whore. You ain’t no virgin Mary, Martin. I don’t want you doing Doug!”
“What if I told you what to do?”
“I’d tell you to go to hell,” he said without hesitating. “But that’s different.”
“No. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, stud. I don’t like you paying attention to my brother.”
“Go to hell, Greg. You don’t blow and you aren’t letting me fuck you. Don’t tell me where to go to find someone who does. You think you’re the only game in town because I love you? Wrong!”
Ouch! I was surprised at my own viciousness. I had come a long way. I wasn’t sure I liked being able to strike out at him so easily.
He was usually complaining about me biting him. I’d probably toughened him up enough that he couldn’t feel my teeth any longer. Maybe he liked a little teeth with his blow job. Telling me to stop halfway home was a new wrinkle.
I got him two more Pabst and when I came back he had taken off everything below his waist. His jeans were piled in the middle of the floor. His cock stood straight up. He watched me walk from the door to him with the beer. He was probably looking at the beer.
“We can finish if you like,” he said, five minutes after he said he wanted to stop.
He began to quiver as quick as my lips were parting so my tongue could lick the tip of his dick to prepare the way down glory road. His posture was different. His legs were spread wide. Except for his dick, he was relaxed.
The goal wasn’t to arrive at the finish as quickly as I could possibly get him there. Times were changing. I wasn’t sure Greg hadn’t decided to tell me to take a hike. If he thought that would keep me away from Doug, he didn’t know me very well.
Greg set the rules up a long time before I came onto the scene. I was going to do what was best for me, not what he wanted me to do, even if that ended us. We’d always been on the outs more than we were on good terms with each other.
“Yeah, I like that. Do it like that a minute,” he said, as he put his bare hands on my bare shoulders.
He wasn’t as rough as he usually was. I wondered if he wasn’t feeling well. The need to get it done had become a desire to enjoy it. At first I thought I had him ready to pop. It was way fast for him but all the signs were there. I intensified what I was doing, enjoying the idea he told me that I was doing something he liked.
He was shaking, or I was, when he moved his hands down my arms, until he reached my hands. He wrapped his fingers around my wrists. I had my hands on the inside of each of his thighs. It gave me major pleasure from a maximum of physical contact with him. He’d stopped objecting to me getting pleasure from what I did to him.
It was like he needed something to hold onto, and at the same time his hips moved toward my mouth. There was no big thrust to get me further down glory road. He seemed content with me keeping little more than the head in my mouth.
There had been a steady leak, leak, leak that ran across my tongue. I thought it tasted sweet. I could have been imagining it. At first I thought it meant he was getting ready to shoot again, but the leakage continued for several minutes.
I looked up to see if I could learn anything from his face. His eyes were closed. He looked serene. If I wasn’t blowing him, I might of thought he was sleeping. A second after my eyes were on his face, his clear blue eyes were staring back at mine. He didn’t look away. He watched until I felt odd with him looking at me holding his dick in my mouth. I doubt he was surprised by what he saw.
There was one sudden gasp that alerted me. He didn’t grab the back of my head and shove six inches of cock down my throat in one forceful thrust. He could no longer strangle me on it if he tried. I’d become accustomed to his size. My jaws had adapted to it.
I more licked than sucked, getting more mileage out of my mouth that way. His fingers tightened around my wrist. Not all at once, but I felt his grip when it intensify. It was kind of sexy, considering Greg rarely touched me, especially if I was getting him off. It was all me, never him. He believed he was just going with the flow.
With little more than the head of his cock in my mouth, maybe an inch or so of shaft, I was giving it my best tongue lashing. The quirt hit the back of my throat with some force. The first discharge was leaking down my throat when the second blast hit the roof of my mouth and the back of my throat.
The moans and spasms just made the event that much more exciting for me. One of his hands was on either side of my face. I don’t know when that happened, but my face was in his hands now, and the liquid leaked generously across my tongue as I took more of his dick in my mouth.
He gasped, lifting up a bit from where he sat.
Once again I let go with my own surprise ending. I was always hot when I was with Greg. Sexually, I was more hot the closer he got tome. Once I was engaged in satisfying him, holding of an orgasm was no easy task. I let go inside the shorts Greg gave me to wear.
I never came twice in an hour before, but it was Greg. Usually I was busy trying not to argue with him after I gave him what he wanted. He fussed most after I got him off. He never liked that I got him off. It indicated some participation on his part, although he’d deny it. He referred to it as letting me do what I wanted to do.
He never stopped me from doing it, and he’d asked me to do it to him this time. He didn’t tell me to take a hike either, and he could. I wasn’t sure what this new Greg was up to. It was different but I didn’t know where we were headed.
He sat perfectly still. His hands were beside his thighs now. His breathing hadn’t fully recovered. His head was turned down toward me as he continued watching me.
“You’re the only friend I’ve got,” Greg said sadly.