Oliver's Travels

Chapter Eight

Frankie and I are sipping beer sitting on a bench a million stars above us, not a single shooting one, which was too bad because seeing one would have topped off this super cool day. What will top off what I hope is a super cool night remains to be seen. I'd already had too much to drink, and I'm still drinking.

For conversation, I told Frankie about Tyler, and I couldn't stop talking. I told him how Tyler died, how I found his dead body and thought it was my fault, how I'd gone into a catatonic state, and how my brother helped pull me out of it. I told him about how I couldn't speak for months, about how Tyler's parents hated me, about my family moving because I was getting in fights all the time, about me missing an entire year of school, about how I was so lonely, how I couldn't make friends, and was called a geek and a brainiac-weirdo. 

I couldn't stop telling him stuff. I told him that I was gay and that I'd known I was gay when I was eleven or twelve. I told him I'd never had a gay experience till I had one with Cristobal three months ago, and about Alexander a month ago. I said that I thought I was in love with Cristobal and then Alexander, too. "But, Frankie, now I know I know I'm not in love with them because I've learned what love feels like. I know that love isn't always nice and sweet and perfect. I know love can hurt because I'm in love with you, Frankie. Loving you doesn't look like it's going to work out for me, and I'm feeling seriously hurt to tell you the truth."

Frankie hadn't said a word the entire half hour I talked. Each time I looked over at him he was staring at me, taking in every word. He had tears in his eyes a few times, and I knew he felt my pain and heartache. His compassion was palpable and it had encouraged me to omit nothing. When I was telling him about my being gay, I couldn't look him in the eyes. I looked down instead because it was as if I deceived him by doing the spit-swapping without telling him I was gay. That's when I reverted to one of my old habits: crying.  

My tears had dripped off my chin and soaked the top part of my dirty T-shirt. Finally done with my true confession, I ended with, "I know our spit swapping and hugging and all was just your way of having a laugh, acting outrageous, but for me, it was a sexy gay turn-on, and I apologize for taking advantage of you, Frankie.  For misrepresenting myself, I'm truly sorry, and I hope we can still be friends."

It was almost nine o'clock by now, and even with the stars out, it was very dark and hard to see Frankie's expression sitting two feet away. I couldn't think of anything else to say. We were both quiet; the silence was like thunder, and my tears fell like rain. 

Although it seemed much longer, about twenty seconds later,  Frankie murmured, "I don't know what to say, Oliver. I know I should say something, but I'm speechless. I mean, of course, I'm so very sorry for the troubles in your life, especially losing such a wonderful friend. It seems you've been very brave to have made it through all those hard times and come out so well. I think you're awesome."

He scooted over to put his hand on my shoulder and, in a very kind way, said, "Please stop crying, Oliver. I think it took a lot of courage to tell me about being gay.  And what do you mean you hope we can still be friends? We're best buds, you and me."  

He patted my shoulder, rubbed the back of my head, and continued murmuring, "I'm so sorry for all the tough things you've been through, Oliver. I'm proud to be your best friend, and sorry to disappoint you about the other thing. Please don't feel bad or get mad, but I promised I'd marry Darleen. She isn't like she was at the picnic. That's not her true self; it's just that she gets flustered around people she doesn't know."

Frankie began telling me about himself and Darleen. The condensed version of what he told me goes like this: His family had moved here from Oklahoma the summer Frankie turned thirteen. On his first day here, he met this chubby girl who lived next door. She was friendly and funny. She said she liked his accent, although Frankie was unaware he'd had one. She treated Frankie like he was special and like she was hardly good enough to be his friend.

As far as Darleen was concerned, Frankie was the king, boss, and rock star wrapped up in one person. Darleen was the president of Frankie's fan club. He had never thought of himself as being special, but he liked the fact that Darleen thought so. They were at each other's house for homework every night, hooked up on weekends, and were always included in each other's plans.  

When Frankie broke his leg, during the time he was laid up, their relationship changed. Darleen adopted the role of decision-maker to determine what was best for Frankie.  He wasn't in much of a position to argue, and it just became the natural order of things even when Frankie was no longer in the cast. From then on, whatever Darleen said was the last word on the matter.  He had weeks of rehabilitation to go through, and Darleen tightened her hold on him in various ways.

Darleen manipulated Frankie's emotions by claiming she knew that Frankie would dump her as soon as he was well because she wasn't good enough for someone as cute as Frankie. He pledged his loyal friendship, and in time, it became a fact that Frankie and Darleen were boyfriend and girlfriend. When he fully recovered, their relationship continued in the newly established manner; they were a couple, and Darleen ran the show. 

Listening to him tell his story, I noticed that the word 'love' was never mentioned. It was obvious from his words describing their relationship that Frankie had never been in love with her. She has been manipulating his emotions for years, playing on his sympathies to get her way.  She wangled a promise out of Frankie that they'd be married after college, and Frankie didn't want to break his word. Frankie said, "I can't back out on Darleen after all these years. It would ruin her life, and after all the things she's done for me, I can't do it."

I didn't want to say what I was thinking: he didn't seem to mind ruining his own life. This was a delicate situation here, and I didn't know what to do about it.  I said, "We're still friends, though, you and me, right?"

Frankie said, "Absolutely."  

That will have to be good enough for the moment. I mumbled, "We'll get to my house now. He nodded, and we walked to the car parked on the other side of the grounds. The walk helped sober me enough that I drove okay. It was only a short drive.  Walking into the house, I asked Frankie if he wanted to sleep in my bed or my sleeping bag. He said he'd sleep with me; he wasn't afraid of me just because I'm gay.

We needed to clean up big time after all day at the picnic ground in the hot sun. I don't have an extra toothbrush, so I just handed mine to Frankie, when I was done with it. We'd swapped enough spit in the past that we didn't give a second thought to using the same toothbrush. While he was brushing his teeth, I got undressed and hopped into the shower. I told Frankie I'd be quick. He brushed his teeth, got undressed, and got in the shower with me.

His body is skinny like mine, but no bones were showing or anything like that. Frankie and I have tight, smooth bodies.  Healthy-looking skin, a very light skin color except where his skin was lightly tan from the summer sun. Redheads and blonds usually have a pale complexion. His bright red pubes, even cut as they were, added a nice splash of color to his otherwise hairless torso. Then, there was his extraordinary penis with the large hairless balls hanging just below it. He was so close to perfect in my eyes, and my eyes began to sting with the desire I felt for him.

I mentioned being surprised Frankie was sharing a shower with me. He said, "Oliver, we've all taken showers with guys throughout high school gym classes. This is no big deal."

That explanation was good enough for me, although I knew this wasn't the same thing as showering with a lot of guys after gym class, not the same thing at all.  Without a word, Frankie surprised me again by squirting shampoo on my head and shampooing my hair for me. He was very conscientious about the shampooing, too. His fingers massaged my scalp, creating thick shampoo suds that slowly drooled down my face. I kept my eyes and mouth closed, standing still and straight for him.

After five luxurious minutes, Frankie directed my head under the shower nozzle and rinsed my hair, running his fingers through it until all the shampoo bubbles were gone. He said, "Now me, Oliver."  

I started doing Frankie's shampoo like he'd just done mine. My boner, however, would not be denied. It became hard as stone, feeling tingly and oh-so-fine. I did everything the way he had done it; then, without planning to do it, I pulled his head over so his forehead was against mine and shampooed the short red hairs on the top of his head with my right hand while using my left holding the back of his head, keeping his forehead against mine.  

Frankie moved his head slightly from side to side so we could rub our noses against one another. Shortly, this led to our lips meeting, and we replaced the nose rubbing with slow, lingering kisses and then we wrapped our arms around each other and did a slow dance to music that was only in our heads. The shower water continued rinsing the shampoo off Frankie's head, and it slid down both our faces. A little got on our lips, and our kisses tasted like shampoo.

Frankie's big cock had quickly grown into a very big boner, and it was right next to my smaller one, squeezed between our bellies. His boner reached to my belly button, three inches above the head of my boner. We were sucking each other's neck as the warm shower water continued pouring over us. When I knew I was just about ready to cum, I told Frankie, and he reached down to jerk my cock, saying, "Let's help each other, Oliver."  

He stroked my boner, and, using my whole fist around it, I stroked that long, fat cock of his. Frankie only stroked my boner five times before I saw stars and climaxed with a force that scared me, and then three more pretty good spurts followed right after that first explosion. While I was cuming, I held onto Frankie's cock like one held onto a pole in a swaying trolley car.  It helped me stay on my feet.

After a bit, I recovered enough to jerk Frankie off, and his cum shot up all over my chest as he made grunting sounds, biting and licking my ear.   Afterward, we both sat down on the floor of the shower stall, exhausted, staring at one another as the water continued to flow all over us. Frankie got his breathing under control and said, "Holy shit, Oliver. That was random and excellent, huh? I sure hope you don't get the wrong idea about this." He followed it up with a big, beautiful smile, and I swear I was in love with him again.  

We stood and began washing each other with our soapy hands, concentrating, although not exclusively, on the crotch and ass areas until the water began to lose its warmth. Thoroughly rinsed off in almost cool water, we helped each other dry off using two big fluffy towels. Were we ever clean! 

And, sexually satisfied for the moment, too. While rubbing that big towel all over Frankie, I had a quizzical look on my face, catching Frankie's eye every chance I got, hoping he'd clarify what our mutual jerk-off meant to him or meant for us...  if anything.  Frankie maintained a playful, happy expression, and I had to think he was teasing me again.  

We both took a long beer piss, sharing the toilet bowl and then I grabbed two pairs of boxer shorts for us to put on. We padded barefoot into the kitchen for something other than beer and settled on big glasses of orange juice. We didn't have much to say, but I think we felt comfortable with each other. I know I felt comfortable with Frankie. 

Frankie suggested we take three Tylenol to help with the hangover that was sure to greet us in the morning. We did that and then headed off to bed. I have a double bed, so there is certainly room for two. I have an air-conditioning unit in the window And it's very cool in here, so we scrambled under the covers.

Frankie said, "It's your bed, Oliver, so you tell me how you like to sleep. I mean, what position do you like? Pretend I'm not here, and I'll work out a space of my own that won't bother you."  I said, "Okay, let's see, you should face me. Usually, I sleep best like this," I scooted over right in front of him, squeezed my right arm under his neck, and hugged him into the front of my body.

We were both on our sides now, and I wrapped my other arm over his back to get him as tight up against me as possible. Then I insinuated my foot, followed by my leg,  in between Frankie's legs. Our noses touched for a second and then I moved the side of my face against the side of his, and I whispered right into his ear, "How's this, Frankie?" He whispered back, "This is perfect. Good night, Oliver."

It was early, a little after ten o'clock, but we'd had a very active day and too many beers, so we drifted off to sleep in each other's arms. A little later, in my dream, I had trouble getting air into my lungs. This caused me to open my eyes and see that Frankie and I had scrambled about in our sleep, and my nose and mouth were now pressed against the side of his neck, partially blocking my breathing.  

He smelled so natural and so sexy I moved my nose back and forth against his neck, "Mmmmmmm good." My arm was still under Frankie's neck, so I gently pulled his sleeping head over and kissed his forehead lightly. I couldn't help myself. He's so special to me.

In a sleepy voice, Frankie mumbled, "Is it morning already, Oliver?" I told him, "No, it's the middle of the night. I had a dream that I was hugging my boyfriend's neck too tightly, which woke me up." When I said that, I held Frankie around his neck, and he muttered, "I can't be your boyfriend. If I could, I would, but I can't."

"I said it was a dream,  didn't I ?"  He'd detected the little bit of anger in my voice and said, "Oh, I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me, Oliver."  

Oh man, I'm being a jackass again I kissed his lips and said, "I love you so much, Frankie. I'm jealous and act like I shouldn't sometimes."  

With the weak moonlight shining on his face, he opened his eyes wide for a second, and then a look in his eyes said something encouraging to me. his lips spread a little, and we exchanged sloppy kisses until we both were wearing hard boners again.

I read some gay stories online, and I read about him and his boyfriend putting their boners inside one or the other's boxer underwear. I thought that would be cool to do, so I reached down and fished out my boner and stuck it in Frankie's fly opening. Then I pushed my nuts in there, too.  Oh my God, it felt fabulous, my boner rubbing against his extra-large one with both of them right there inside Frankie's underpants. Big and little, both lying on his belly side by side and feeling warm.  

This unique experience for my boner caused it to grow half an inch longer as pre cum drooled out of its pee slit. I moaned into Frankie's mouth. We humped against each other, and Frankie said, "This is so sexy hot, Oliver. Jesus..."  He sucked my top lip and then licked over the front of my teeth four or five times as if he were getting a bit over-stimulated.  I could feel precum from Frankie's cock wetting my cock, and I wanted to taste it.

"Frankie, let me show you something I recently learned how to do." I slowly pulled my face away from Frankie's and licked down his neck and across his chest to his nipple, which was already hard. I sucked on it as my cock, and balls pulled out of Frankie's boxers, and he goes, "Ohhh." I said, "Oh yeah, let's get these off." I pulled both underpants off and tossed them on the floor.  Frankie mumbled, "This feels good."

"It gets better, too," and I finished sucking both his nipples. I licked a spit trail down his chest and stomach to his belly button, filled that with spit,  and twirled my tongue in his belly button till he was squirming and running his fingers through my hair. Lots of licking and kissing on his lower belly caused Frankie to shudder and shiver and moan.  

I rubbed my nose in his pubes and then licked through them till they were wet with spit. I was holding his boner, moving it this way and that way to allow me to lick all around it and then finally down the sides of his nut sack. I was so hard myself with that tingling and buzzing feeling at the head of my boner, as well as the same great sensations in the depths of my nuts. I could just imagine cum churning around in there, getting ready for the run of its life.  

All over me were erotic, indescribable feelings of pleasure. I stroked my boner and Frankie's, both wet with precum. My fist slid easily up and down both shafts. The smell of Frankie down around his nuts was such a turn-on I lapped under his balls and licked close to his asshole. Frankie's knees are in the air, and when he felt me licking close to his hole, he spread his legs to allow me full access to all parts of him.

With Frankie lying exposed like that, I let go of his cock and lifted his nuts so I could lap under them, soaking them with spit and then a wet lick within an inch of Frankie's hole. He groaned and scrunched his face as I gave a full, wet, warm, slow, deliberate lick right over his hairless asshole, and then did it again very slowly. I felt like I was going to shoot off myself right then.  

Frankie groaned, "Ohhh, God," and after waiting for a second to see if my nuts were going to explode, I lapped up and all around his balls, and then, from the base of his boner, I did a sloppy, wet lick up to his wide cock head, sucked on the head, swallowed the precum, and then did a sloppy wet lick down the other side of his long, fat cock.  His hips humped involuntarily while Frankie moaned and groaned some more. While sucking on the head of his boner, I forced my eyes to look upward as much as possible so I could see Frankie's face. His eyes and mouth were closed tightly, and he was rolling his head slightly from side to side on our pillow. I pushed as much of Frankie's boner in my mouth as possible and sucked and tongued it while stoking the part that I couldn't get in my mouth, and in thirty seconds, he arched his back and blew his load in my mouth. It drooled out both sides of my mouth and slid down the inside and the outside of my throat.

Letting out a long hissing noise between my teeth, I humped my hips twice and shot my load on Frankie's right thigh. We both had three follow-up spurts.  All kinds of bright colors flashed behind my eyes and my ears felt stopped up. No matter, I still swallowed as much of Frankie's cum as I could. My boner was going down, but I still stroked it. Goddamn, what an absolutely awesome climax! Maybe, my best ever.  Frankie's cum tasted slightly like beer, or maybe that was just my imagination.

He did a few more lazy humps with his hips and then collapsed back on the mattress and let go of the fistful of my hair he had been pulling on with both hands. We were both breathing hard again. After two minutes, Frankie, in a serious manner, asked, "Jeez, what exactly do you call that Oliver?" Then followed his rhetorical question with a chuckle. I'm never sure what reaction to expect from him. Trying to be funny, I answered,  "I'm thinking of calling it a blow-job."  

Frankie said, "I can't imagine why. You didn't do any blowing that I could detect." I scampered around so I was sharing the pillow with him, and I could look right at him. He has a big, friendly smile and is seemingly as happy as can be. I hugged him, and he hugged back, and then he gave me a kiss first on the side of my forehead and then on my lips.  

I felt the cum that I'd shot on Frankie's leg, smearing off his leg onto mine as we got tangled up together. I loved the feel of his naked body against mine. He muttered, "By the way, Oliver, please do me a favor."  

"If I can, I will."  

And in the same manner that you might ask someone to set the alarm for nine o'clock, he said,  "Please, don't let me fall in love with you," and then he covered my lips with the palm of his hand and said, "Shh, Oliver.  Let's get back to sleep."

I lay there in his arms and thought, "Too late, Frankie. We're two skinny nineteen-year-old boys in love with one another." I can't wait to see what sexy things we do tomorrow. 

To be continued...