From: nogarder@ix.netcom.com(*** )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: The First Night (MM, gay)
Date: 6 Mar 1996 20:33:25 GMT

			   The First Night

	Randy and I were twenty-two. Fast friends since we were
sixteen, we were products of our times. We'd grown up during the
turmoil of the late sixties, sweated out the final days of the draft
as the Viet Nam War wound down, and watched Nixon self-destruct. We
talked caringly about these things - things social and political. We
seemed so unlike most other guys our age who seemed only to drone on
about the weekend's conquests or football scores. Over the years our
friendship had been galvanized by differences we'd had, and had
overcome.

	There were times when I dared to think it. I loved him - as a
friend with my head, as a comrade with my heart, but also in a
different way. It was lust, and it was because he was a man. At times
in the summer we would sit in our shorts, Indian-style, playing cards
or checkers. I'd watch on the sly as the pink head of his dick poked
through the bottom of his cut-offs. (I always wondered if he did that
on purpose, seeking an edge in the game, sensing my concentration
would be elsewhere!) I stored the sight away in my mind, as fuel for
my fantasies. I could not tell him any of this. As open-minded as he
was, it still seemed a risk too big to take. Life without his touch
was hard, but life without his presence was unthinkable.

	Try as I might to suppress it, the sight of him would always
excite me. At the beach, I'd toss him a Frisbee and marvel at his
muscles in motion. After a round of body surfing, we'd drag ourselves
back on the beach and soak in the warmth of the sun. I'd lie on my
stomach while he'd lie on his back, eyes closed tightly. I used that
precious little time to let my eyes drink him in. A myriad of little
details were in the picture before me: the tiny goosebumps sported by
his deeply tanned skin; the heaving of his chest with each breath and
the stretching his large round nipples under the strain; the blood
pulsing through the veins in his neck; his baby fine hair wafting
gently in the breeze; the pores in his skin and the fullness of his
lips. His face looked so serene and inviting. I yearned to lie on top
of him, to melt over him like butter in the sun.

	It wasn't until our annual August camping trip, that I got the
chance to drink him all in. We were on a day hike when we saw the
sign. Made of thick iron, the letters had been cut out by torch. "NO
NUDITY ALLOWED," it intoned. We two rebels just looked at each other
and grinned.

	God, it was beautiful there. At the bottom of the canyon, a
small stream, inches wide, would on occasion balloon into a long, wide
pool, flanked by reeds and shrubs on one side and high sandstone
cliffs on the other. We spotted several of these pools as we walked,
each one more secluded and beautiful than the last. Finally, we found
the perfect one, and it was ours alone.

	We decided to cross the pool to the rocks against the cliffs.
Not knowing how deep the water was and not wanting to get our clothes
and belongings wet, we stripped naked and wrapped everything up in our
towels. Out into the water we waded until it became so deep that we
had to hold everything above our heads and bounce off the bottom. Like
waiters carrying trays of food, we made our way to the opposite side.
Finally there, we climbed out of the cool water, and lay down on the
warm rocks. Nude, rolled on our sides, we discussed our good fortune.

	After a while we got out our ever-present magnetic game board
to play some Chinese checkers. I longed to play with his dick, but at
least I was able to let my eyes wander down to it. Previously
shriveled by the coolness of the water, it had now begun to grow
heavy. If he knew I was staring he didn't let on, and after a while he
drew one leg up, placing his foot on his knee. His balls shifted in
their loose sack. Gravity seized them. They rolled forward. God, this
had to be an invitation of some kind, but it was so subtle I couldn't
be sure.

	Too quickly the afternoon slipped by and the time had come to
head back to camp. We both had developed dark tans over the summer,
but being bare assed in the sun was a new experience and,
inadvertently, we'd burned our butts! Our shorts chafed against our
tender skin all the way back, but it was a small price to be paying
for all the beautiful sites to which I'd been privy that afternoon.

	We'd found an out-of-the-way place to bivouac, so it came as
no surprise when, arriving at our campsite, Randy declared it hurt too
much to wear anything. I signaled my agreement and we again shucked
our clothes. As the sky blazed orange from the setting sun, we lit a
small fire, ate dinner, and rolled out our sleeping bags. The night
air felt warm and refreshing, and made me feel acutely aware of our
nakedness. Not yet ready to sleep, we stretched out on top of our
bags for a little conversation and a few hands of cards. It was much
like the afternoon, except now the flickering fire highlighted his
light pink groin while the rest of his tanned body blended into the
darkness.

	The cards were dealt and a few rounds were played. It was
Randy's turn. He started to chew on his lip in a way I understood all
to well - his turn was going to take a while. He studied is cards. I
studied his dick. The dancing firelight seemed to set it in motion.
It was hypnotic.

	"You going to play or what?"

	"Huh?" I was caught. "God, please, help me now," I thought.

	"We're playing cards. Remember?"

	"You were taking so long my mind started to wander." It was a
feeble attempt to cover the truth.

	"Yeah, sure."

	I had expected those words, but they weren't said with
disgust. There was, in fact, the hint of a smile on his lips and a
look of mischievousness in his eyes. I was more relieved than hopeful,
but still, maybe I'd misread him all these years. We finished the
game.

	"What do you want to do now?" he asked. I always hated that
question. Only one thing ever came immediately to mind.

	"It doesn't really matter," I equivocated. I could dream about
it, wish for it, but I couldn't bring myself to initiate it. "I'm
kinda beat from the all the walking we did today,"

	"Me too. I could really use one of your backrubs... if you've
got the energy for it."

	"Yeah, I could handle that." I always could. "Backrub" always
translated to "body massage". It was the one intimacy that was allowed
between us; a line we both walked up to without hesitation, but never
crossed.

	"I've got some lotion with my stuff. Could you rub some in? I
think I overdid it in the sun today."

	"Sure, get comfortable. I'll be right back." As I returned to
him I couldn't help but think that tonight was going to be a night for
the truth. We were both naked, he had caught me stealing peeks at his
dick and was still willing to let me give him a massage. This was
either a demonstration of his trust, or a demonstration of his desire.

	I stood over him. I'd seen this sight so many times in my
dreams. I knelt down and touched him. It was no dream. I squeezed
some lotion into my hands and warmed it. Starting at the callouses on
the bottom of his feet, I began working my way up his legs. His body
relaxed under my ministrations. As I felt the firmness of his muscles,
I marveled at how they could present such a vision of strength to the
eyes and yet be so yielding to the hands. I kneaded his thighs, but
stopped at the fold marking the start of his buttocks.

	I next worked on his hands, cognizant of the meatiness of his
palms, the texture of his fingerprints, and the rigidity of the bones
which gave his hands their potent shape and structure. But the power I
knew to be in them was not in evidence that night. What was it about
his hands that made them so sensual? We interact so much with the
world by the touching we do with our hands. In those moments we were,
in fact, communicating through ours. With his compliance, he told me
of the profound trust he had placed in me. Through tender touch, I
told him of my unquestioned love for him. The messages were so much
clearer than any to be heard with the ears or seen with the eyes.

	My fingers traversed the landscape of his arms and back. The
lotion imparted to his skin a satiny sheen that reflected the
firelight. Finally, my hands were on his ass. The twin muscular
mounds exploded with goosebumps when I spread the lotion over them.
This was the only place that was really sunburned and I gave it
special attention. Starting at the base of his spine, I moved lower,
kneading his cheeks, watching them cleave in the process. As I moved
closer to his legs, he repositioned himself. He was making himself
more vulnerable! I wanted to plunge in, to live my fantasy, but he was
more than just a willing piece of ass to me. He was the love of my
life, and I wanted to see his face.

	"Roll over Ran," I said gently. With no hesitation he did. I
gazed down upon him as I proceeded to massage his feet and legs. His
submission was unmistakable and undeniable. Soon I was straddling his
stomach, leaning forward on my knees, exploring the ridges and valleys
of his abdominal muscles. With each breath his ribs rose and fell
beneath me. At last I molded my hands to his wonderfully sculpted
chest. So broad, so muscular, I couldn't feel the ribs underneath. As
I touched his nipples they contracted, forcing the nubs to attention.
I felt his heart beat stronger.

	Suddenly, I became aware of the heat between us. I'd already
lost the day-long battle against my own erection and now I could feel
a warmth - low and behind me. I turned to look. That for which I had
wished so long was coming to pass. It was his cock, filling with
blood, below and leaned to touch it, to finish the massage. As I did
so, his penis pressed hard against me. The blood rushed into my groin
and I began to weaken. Attempting to steady myself, I cupped his face
with my hands. I rubbed his strong cheekbones gently with my trembling
thumbs. He raised his hand, placed it on my shoulder, and slowly
opened his eyes. Through our eyes, the windows to our souls, it all
was conveyed - the complete truth.

	"Come here," he bid me.

	I sank down onto him. My ass pushed back against his cock,
almost seeming to cradle it. My own tool, roaring hard, was sandwiched
by our warm, moist, lotion-lubricated stomachs. My tongue met his and
our lips sealed around them. Heretofore content in my own mouth, it
went berserk in his. I held is head in my hands like the sacred object
it was. I felt the roughness from the day's growth of beard. "My God,"
I thought. "This is what it's like to kiss a man, to experience him
with every sense there is."

	I wrapped my arms and legs around him, as content as I had
ever hoped to be. We were woven together, only our tongues in motion,
but then he took the bottle of lotion and squeezed some in his hand.

	"Hunch up on your knees, Bud." I'd always loved that term of
endearment and I knew I'd love what was coming next. He smeared the
lotion in my ass and then popped a finger inside. I moved back up to
smother again his mouth with mine. His finger moved deeper inside
until it pressed upon my prostate. I felt the release of fluid rush
down the length of my penis and out onto his stomach. A moan escaped
my mouth and I felt it reverberate in his chest. I heard the squishy
sound of lotion as he stroked himself to full hardness.

	"Do it. I've wanted it for so long," I confessed at last.

	With one hand he pulled me forward against my weight; with the
other he lined himself up to plug my anxious hole. Then he eased me
back against him. I felt myself open up and then stretch wide as the
head of his dick pushed through. In startled reflex, my arms closed
tightly around him. We froze in gentle embrace until I could relax.
Gradually, more and more of his rod penetrated me. My balls nestled
into his cushiony pubic hair and I knew his dick was home. My heart
pumped blood through the vessels in my tightly stretched sphincter in
counterpoint rhythm to that of his steadily throbbing member.

	It had taken years to get this far. I slowly sat up and looked
at him. Full and deep inside me, he opened those angelic eyes and
flashed a devilish grin. I began to rock gently back and forth. His
chest rose, and with a low groan, fell. Our lovemaking progressed by
slow degrees, and as our movements became more pronounced, he reached
out with his hand to me, first touching my dick, then encircling it.

	We rapidly approached the flash point. Our bodies glistened
with sweat and our breathing had turned to panting. When the action of
his hand upon me became more frenetic, I knew I was on the brink.

	"I could do this all night, Ran, but if you keep that up I'm
gonna cum!"

	"Shit, man, we will do it all night! Nobody says you can only
cum once a day. Let it go!"

	So close to blowing my own wad, I turned my attention to him,
wanting to bring him over the top with me. I reached down and felt his
shaft sliding in and out my chute. I slid my hand down and cupped his
balls. With my thumb, I pressed firmly where the spongy underside of
his dick met his dancing nutsack. His whole body tensed and froze. I
had gotten to his prostate the easy way. He uttered no sound, inhaled
no breath, made no movement. He gripped my handle as if to keep from
falling into some deep crevasse - but he had no chance. I gently
squeezed his clutch of eggs, pushing him off the precipice, determined
myself to follow him down.

	I felt the first spasm of his meat and the explosion in my
bowels. That set me off. My ass contracted around him as he continued
to pump into me. We each fed off the orgasm of the other. My churned
cream shot out and landed on his tanned chest. A small pool formed in
the hollow at the base of his neck. The body that had been so at rest
as I massaged it earlier was now unleashed, blasting its blueprint
into me. Wave after wave of convulsive contentment washed over us. I
collapsed against him, my semen serving as mortar, cementing our
bodies together. Under me I felt him shudder one last time.

	He made no effort to withdraw, but soon that terrific cock,
which had been so hard for so long, began to deflate and, alas, slide
out.

	I straightened myself out beside him. Toe to toe, and tongue
to tongue, we intertwined our legs, kissed, and propped ourselves up
on our elbows. Neither of us said anything for a long, long time. It
was a magic moment; we were meshed together at the waist, but that
didn't seem to matter. We were meshed together in our minds.

	Randy broke the spell. "You think you could concentrate on a
card game now?" What a grin he was wearing!

	It was quite a night for firsts. It was my first night of real
sex. And it was my first night of truthful love. But it was also the
first night of a certainty that we had reached a point in our
relationship where we knew we'd be sitting together on a park bench in
our eighties, never having drifted apart, always a part of each
other's lives.