Following
the fun evening Barry and I had when we formed part of the night
security for the carnival at the rugby club (See my story – A
Fun Evening With Dean And Barry.) our friendship just grew and
grew. Often Barry would stay the night at my place, such
were always great times for us both. On the odd occasion,
usually at the week-end, he would stay for a couple of nights
then came the time when two became three, three became four and
eventually he simply never left. That pleased me.
Then came the week when I was laid up sick. Perhaps it was
the flue, perhaps it was a virus or perhaps I was just plain
ordinary knackered. Anyway I was generally low and off
work. As my story begins late one afternoon Barry had just
come in from work and for the first time in ages I wanted to
eat.
“I fancy a pizza,” I said.
“I’ll drive over to Domino’s, what would you like?”
I thought for a moment. “Hawaiian, but there’s no need to
drive, phone them and have it delivered.” Barry hadn’t
long passed his test and was trying hard to be admitted to the
clan of boy racers.
“But they don’t deliver alcohol,” Barry smiled.
“I’ll call into the off-license and pick up some cans.”
"Oh I don’t think I could manage beer.”
“What about some whisky ?”
“Yeah, that’d be good, it’ll warm the cockles of my
heart.”
“Let’s also hope it warms the heart of your cockles,”
Barry winked an eye.
“Get a couple of scratch cards for the lottery,: I
added. “Let’s see if we can win back the cost of our
meal.”
“Sounds good to me.”
It was a good idea. We ate and I felt a whole lot better
for it.
“Did you get the lottery tickets ?”
“Sure,” Barry said reaching into his pocket.
“I’d almost forgotten all about them.” He handed me
one of the little cards and we began to scratch away the silver
patches.
“Hey Barry we’ve won a tenner. That’ll pay for the
meal, well part of it.”
Barry was still scratching the silver squares with the back of
his thumbnail and didn’t answer.
“We’ve won ten pounds,” I repeated.
Still Barry didn’t answer.
“Hello ! Anyone at home ? We have won, we’ve got
a tenner.”
“No we haven’t,” Barry said with a croak in his
voice. He handed me his ticket.
I looked at it then looked again more closely. “Bloody
Hell !”
Those small scratched rectangles showed that both cards were
winners save that Barry’s card was not worth a tenner, like
mine, this card had a prize of two thousand pounds. Bloody
hell !”
As you would expect there then followed an extensive debate as
to how we would spend our good fortune. It wasn’t long
before we decided to take a trip abroad with San Francisco, the
legendary city by the bay, as our destination.
“Let’s go tomorrow, first thing,” Barry enthused.
“But –“
“But what ?”
“We have to get the money first,” I tried to explain.
“I mean you can cash in the ten pound card over the counter at
any lottery shop but don’t you have to send away for the
bigger prizes ?’
“So send away ! I’ve got that much in my account at
Barclays, we can use that until the lottery cheque comes
through.”
Lucky bugger, I wish I had a couple of grand stashed away.
Some how I never had Barry down as a thrifty saver.
“But what about work ?”
“You’re off work aren’t you, nobody’s expecting you
back. I’ll just bunk off for a week.”
“But –“ I continued.
“But WHAT NOW ?” Barry said with a note of frustration
in his voice.
“We don’t have any tickets,” I tried to explain.
“Well let’s ring a few airlines and see what’s available,
we can pick the tickets up at the airport in the morning.”
Barry made it all sound so easy.
And so it was.
Heathrow Terminal Three was incredibly busy even at that early
hour. Virgin Atlantic’s flight to San Francisco was due
to take off at eleven o’clock and we presented ourselves at
the sales desk five hours earlier. We had reserved the
ticked by phone the night before and were assured there would be
no problem paying for them and picking them up the next morning.
I had made a joke about we two flying Virgin Atlantic; we
certainly weren’t virgins any more.
But back to the story. There was a problem – a big one !
For some reason all the economy seats were taken and we would
have to be placed on the standby list. There was a
possibility we would not be able to get on the flight.
In situations like this my reaction is to get angry and demand
everything I have been promised. It seldom gets me
anywhere. But Barry took a different strategy charming
first the ticket sales representative and then her supervisor.
The result was we walked away with two business class tickets
for the price of bog-standard economy.
“I don’t know how you do it,” I said.
“She was after my body,” Barry said a little too
loudly making a couple of heads turn in our direction.”
That I could understand.
“Shame for her though, that I’m gay I mean.” Again
several heads in the busy airport turned to see who was speaking
and I felt a dozen sets of eyes penetrate me.
“Shhhhh !”
Barry just laughed.
How comfortable it was seated in the luxurious surroundings of
business class at the front of the aircraft, what a world away
from the cramped conditions in economy where passengers were
squeezed in like fluoride into a tube of toothpaste.
Ice-cold champagne and pre-flight nibbles were handed round then
handed round again. Alcohol so early in the day made me
feel high, light and airy – a welcome sensation after being so
under the weather for the past week.
Our flight lined up with many others slowly edging its way
forward to the take off slot at the end of the runway.
Finally in position the four giant engines roared into action
and we were propelled forward in the direction of San Francisco.
Barry smiled, winked an eye and squeezed my thigh.
“Fancy joining the mile high club ?”
“What ?”
“You know, once the seat-belt light is off.”
I laughed at the suggestion and said that this was Virgin
Atlantic so shouldn’t we behave like virgins ? But I
knew Barry was serious. Would we get away with it ?
Surely somebody would notice and besides there really isn’t
much room in one of those tiny aircraft toilet cubicles.
But the idea did have a certain appeal.
“What shall we do when we get to San Francisco ?” I
asked changing the subject.
Barry turned and whispered in my ear. “We are going to fuck
each other stupid !”
“And what about in-between that ?”
“Who says there will be any in-between ?”
“Remember I have been ill and I need some time to recover my
strength !”
“Exercise is good for you !”
Once everyone had eaten a fantastic meal and tipped back even
more champagne the aircraft settled down to watch the in-flight
entertainment. The cabin crew took a break and somewhere
high above the frozen North Atlantic Barry and I confirmed our
membership of this exclusive club.
With smiles across our faces and bigger smiles beneath our jeans
we returned to our seats for the remainder of the flight.
We made all kinds of silly jokes about the airline now having to
rename itself and drop the Virgin logo. Outside the
window, way below us, were mile upon mile of ice and snow.
It was difficult to tell if we were flying over sea or land.
“Looks cold down there,” I observed stating the
obvious.
“I bet we are hot enough to melt it !”
Enough said.
San Francisco is a truly amazing place, for those who have never
been I strongly recommend you make a trip to see its famous
sights: The Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz Island, The
Trans-America Pyramid, Coit Tower, China Town, the Cable Cars
and Room 702 in Motel Six – Belmont !
We were both tired after such a long journey and I was still not
feeling one hundred percent fit, so when Barry suggested we
crash out for an hour before venturing into the city I happily
agreed.
“A couple of hours rest then let’s go in search of a good
place to eat.”
“You and your stomach, it’s a wonder you aren’t as fat as
a pig.”
“Jealous.”
The room had two very large double beds but we used just the
one. We were quite naked but intended only to close our
eyes and adjust to the new time zone. While it may have
been only four in the afternoon back home it was midnight.
I closed my eyes, turned on my side and drifted into a light
doze.
I lost any sense of time and don’t really know if I had been
properly asleep or not when I felt Barry tracing a finger slowly
down my spine. He began at my neck, moved all the way down
then continued lightly between my bum cheeks.
“Nigel,” he whispered. “I can’t sleep until
I’ve had a wank.”
“You never can,” I said drowsily. “Man your balls
must fill up faster than a bath with the taps turned on.”
It wasn’t the best metaphor but then I was tired.
But not too tired to accept my friend’s invitation.
Throwing off the quilt to expose Barry laying on his back with
one of his beautiful hardons I moved his legs slightly apart
then knelt between them. Holding his throbbing shaft in my
right hand I pulled it to form a right angle with his body then
dragged the foreskin hard upwards until it stretched and bunched
over the head.
Barry sighed with pleasure, pushed his head back into the
mattress and arched his back so that he forced his dick harder
into my fist.
I began the stroking motion and felt the blood surging through
his rock solid erection as my fingers stimulated his manhood.
Faster and faster I beat. My own cock had been solid ever
since we had got into bed together and it was now declaring its
impatience. But good things – even better things – the
very best things – come to he who waits. Soon enough it
would have the pleasure of fucking my friend’s brains out, a
pleasure it had come to know and enjoy to the full.
Our entry into the mile high club had been fun but clumsy,
different but something I would not hanker for again. I
have lost count how many times Barry and I had sex together at
that point but I would hanker again and again to repeat every
second. This was one of our best sessions. Our first
time on American soil and it would be a truly memorable
occasion.
Faster and faster I beat until Barry erupted with volcanic fire
thrusting forth a jizz of lava high into the air. He
squealed with delight and I feared someone may hear him but it
didn’t stop me continuing to wank him until he was dry.
Momentarily dry he may have been but the result of my causing
this situation in my friend was everywhere. Amidst all if
covering us both and the sheet of the bed I rolled him over in
order that I may take my own pleasure from between those tight
bum cheeks. Pleasure I would also give and my balls were
full and bursting with desire.
I teased Barry with the foreplay of stroking my cock along the
line delineating his cheeks before using the tips of my fingers
to part them and steer my way inside. Deeper and deeper I
pressed until all of my throbbing cock was safely docked and
secure in the place destiny had mapped out for it.
How very, very good it felt and how even greater was the
sensation as I began to withdraw, thrust and withdraw in a form
of motion we both loved. Since the start of our friendship
Barry had taught me to be an expert fucker and this Californian
Fuck was going to be one of my best.
Safe sex is important, of course it is, but Barry and I had no
other partners so not even a gossamer thin condom came between
us. At these times our bodies melted together into one.
I could have fucked my friend for the rest of the afternoon,
through the evening and well into the night – all previous
tiredness was gone – but the sooner I came the sooner the
pleasure could be repeated.
We had rented a car, but not without some considerable
difficulty. The hire company only wanted drivers over the
age of twenty-five and we were both well short of that age.
With a lot of persuasion and a high deposit we eventually got
them to agree to take me on as a driver but poor old Barry, with
only six months since he had passed his test, was a non-starter.
Yours truly was, therefore, left to negotiate driving on the
wrong side of the road and on highways that would make the main
roads back home resemble country lanes.
I managed the drive from the airport pick up to the hotel well
enough but making our way into downtown San Francisco filled me
with trepidation. American cops all carry guns don’t
they ? Not like the English bobby I mean. What if I
made too big a traffic violation I could end up being shot !
When we eventually pulled into a multi-storey car park opposite
pier 39 on the waterfront I heaved a sigh of relief.
“I’ll drive back if you like,” Barry offered.
“If only !”
We found a 1950’s Rock and Roll diner and decided it would be
a fun place to eat. It was like something out of Back To
the Future.
“But San Francisco is more famous for flower power in the late
sixties,” I explained.
“I wouldn’t know,” Barry giggled, “more my
grandfather’s time. Wasn’t it all about free love ?”
My mouth was full and so I just nodded in agreement.
“And it is still the gay capital of the world of course.
I propose we celebrate this fact and honour the city to the
full.”
Swallowing a mouthful of burger I suggested we make a plan when
we returned to the hotel.
“Why wait until then ? Let’s make a plan now. We
must include The Golden Gate Bridge.”
“Agreed. How about skinny dipping in San Francisco Bay
?”
“Aren’t there sharks in there ?”
“Could be.”
“Well I aint up for being circumcised I like my foreskin too
much.”
I laughed and replied, ”So do I, so do I.”
We did go skinny dipping in the bay, well we went in the water
first wearing our boxers then dropped them once the water
reached above our waists. It was bloody cold and I fair
shriveled up to nothing any shark would have wanted to get hold
of. But that didn’t stop Barry and it didn’t stop me
from taking fun with him. Mmmmmmmm…..
We found a secluded spot just off the approach to the Redwood
Highway in full view of the Golden Gate Bridge and there, as
dusk was falling, we sucked each other off.
Amazing – jet lag had no effect – perhaps the opposite, that
was four times in one day. When we eventually climbed into
bed late that night we both joked about a fifth time but that
would have been just a little impossible.
I slept well and when I awoke Barry wasn’t there.
Strange, I thought – where could he be ? Not far, I
guessed. But he still hadn’t returned when I fumbled
into the shower.
As the water began to cascade over me I had a terrible thought,
no he wouldn’t ! YES he would ! I rushed back into the
bedroom, water dripping all over the floor. My mind was
racing but before I had the chance to see if Barry had indeed
taken the car the door opened and in he came.
“Nice one Nigel, time for our morning wank ?”
I drew breath ready to launch a tirade of anger, I knew how much
Barry liked driving and that he was put out when the rental
company would not let him loose on the Californian roads but I
was boiling with anger that he may have abused my trust.
“You all right mate ?”
“Not really,” my fury was showing but nothing to what it
would be in a few moments time.
“What’s up ? You feeling ill again ? You were
still asleep when I got up.”
“Where have you been ?” I demanded.
“Been to see my new lover down the road. Did you miss me
? Ah, no I just went out for a walk.”
“Walk ?”
“Yep, I found a drug store a couple of blocks away –
that’s how they talk here in the States isn’t it ? Got
some magazines.. hey there’s a good place to eat down the road
when you’re ready for breakfast or do you want a morning wank
first ? But what ever don’t you think you should get dry
?”
My eyes spun round to the table where I had left the car keys
the night before. They werestillthere.
Shit I felt bad, Barry hadn’t taken them after all. Sure
I felt greatly relived but that was nothing to the sense of
guilt that filled me. I guess that guilt never left me all
morning, try as I did to push it to the back of my mind.
What ever I did, how ever much I tried there was always this
nagging guilt somewhere not far beneath the surface.
We didn’t have a morning wank either before or after a vast
breakfast at the diner Barry had found. If it hadn’t
been for the fact that my friend was so extraordinarily excited
about something I guess he may have noticed that I was every bit
as down as he was high. Silly really that a silly thought
crashing through my brain first thing could have made me feel
that way. But what if I had opened my mouth or hadn’t
seen the keys on the table then calling my friend a liar ?
I couldn’t stop worrying about it all.
“Isn’t this a great place ?” Barry said.
“I’d like to live here.”
“We haven’t been here for a day yet,” I smiled.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit too early to judge.”
I have to admit it was a spectacular setting. We were on a
ferry to Alcatraz Island. The sky was a clear blue,
sunshine sparkled on the city skyline behind us and away to our
left the Golden Gate Bridge majestically spanned the headland.
“I mean it Nigel I don’t want to go back.”
“We have to, more’s the pity. What about work and all
that ?”
”I’m a builder’s laborer, you know – out in all
weathers.”
“But you earn good money, better than I do.”
“I can earn even better here,” Barry explained.
“look at Alcatraz man, isn’t it great ?”
“I bet the guys who were locked up there wouldn’t agree with
you. They had the electric chair you know. You’ve
seen The Green Mile.”
“That was San Quentin,” Barry corrected, “and they
use the gas chamber these days. Alcatraz was where they
locked up Al Capone and Machine Gun Kelly.”
“Don’t forget the Birdman of Alcatraz and what about Bugsy
Malone ?”
“Yeah, yeah funny man and I suppose they had Ronnie Biggs and
all the rest of the Great Train Robbers in there as well !”
I laughed, it was the first time that day.
“Trust me Nigel I want to stop here. Stay with me.”
I humored my friend and nothing more was said about his wish to
emigrate, nothing that is until we were in bed that night.
“Nigel ?”
“Mmmm.” I groaned as I felt Barry’s exploratory hand
move up my thigh.
“If I stay here in America will you stay with me ?’
“How can I ? Be serious, I’ve got a flat and a job
back in England and so have you.”
Barry sprang from the bed, jumped across the room and grabbed
for his jacket. He reached to take something from the
inside pocked then handed the folded magazine to me.
“What’s this ?’
“I picked it up this morning while you were still in bed.”
No, not that again. The memory started to return and I had
tried so hard all day to rid myself of it.
“Take a look,” Barry pushed the magazine into my hand.
“Look where I have marked it.”
The magazine was folded open at a page close to the back.
Barry had circled an advert with a ball-point pen. He had
drawn round it several times and I pictured him excitedly
scribbling those semi-elliptical; shapes in order to highlight
his find.
“This ?”
He nodded.
I quickly read the advert then flipped the pages to see the
cover and find out what kind of publication I was looking at.
The San Francisco Gay Times.
I folded it back quickly, almost automatically in case anyone
should see me reading it even though I was alone with my friend
in our hotel room. Fool !
“Don’t worry,” Barry smiled, “it is estimated that
twenty percent of this city is other than heterosexual. So
what do you think ?”
“About this or about twenty percent of San Francisco being gay
?”
“The advert you idiot !” Barry feigned a punch at me.
I read it again. The advert had been placed by a video
porn company seeking models for gay films. The offer was
$100 an hour.
“One hundred dollars is about sixty pounds,” Barry
translated the fee into real money – well sterling anyway.
“Sixty quid an hour mate; that’s as much for an hour as I
earn in a day.”
“But they won’t want guys like you and me.”
“What’s the matter ? Don’t you think we look horny
enough ?” Barry took up a pose – yeah he certainly did
look horny enough.
“I bet it’s con,” I said. “You’ll end up
as a rent boy in a seedy brothel.”
“For sixty quid an hour mate –“ Barry looked into my
eyes and transferred all his thoughts to me.
“Nah –“
“Tell you what, now I’ve shown you this let’s call them in
the morning and find out more. But say you only work five
hours a day and for three days a week; that’s nine hundred
quid. Do it for six months and we would be rich !”
I shook my head.
But Barry knew how to play me and he knew it was best to leave
things there for the moment. “OK mate let’s sleep on
it, let’s have a fucking good night’s rest. Fucking
being the operative word rather than rest.”
I grinned. Yes, I would go along with that.
“Nigel ?”
“Yeah.”
We were laying flat on our backs during a pause in our
activities.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a nice dick ?”
“No.”
“They never will !” Barry burst into a guffaw of loud
laughter.
“You evil, cheeky bugger – you’ve never complained.”
I rolled him over, sat in the small of his back facing his feet
and slapped his backside with the open palm of my hand.
“Ouch that hurt.”
“It was meant to.” I slapped him again. A red
patch began to show where my hand had made contact.
“OK, I submit. You have a nice dick.”
“More than that !” I administered another playful but
hard slap.
“Ow ! Nigel you have got the most beautifulest, wonderful,
handsome dick in the world.”
“You sure ?”
Slap !
“Sure.”
“Positive ?”
Slap.
“Cross your heart and hope to die ?’
“Yes !!!!”
We fooled about for a while longer then fell into a restful
sleep, Barry to dream of his becoming an international porn star
and me to catch up on the jet-lag. But for Barry it was
not a dream as the first few hours of the next day were only too
clearly to show.
We slept in that morning and I didn’t open my eyes until
nearly ten. Again Barry was awake before me and as soon as
I was safely back in the land of the living he went on again
about our staying in the States and making our way to Las Vegas.
“How are you going to get there ?”
“We Nigel –WE,
we’re both going.”
Weweren’t.
I was certain of that, but I wasn’t awake enough to argue.
“We’ll find out later today. There’s bound to be a
Greyhound Bus or perhaps a train or we could even fly.”
“What ever.”
“I’m going to ring the film company.”
Barry picked up the phone and was very quickly talking to
someone in the modern day equivalent of Sodom and Gomorra,
commonly known as the sin city of Las Vegas. I listened
carefully but from only the one side of the conversation it was
clear that Barry’s preliminary application to become a porn
star was being received with a fair degree of enthusiasm.
When the talking eventually came to an end my friend clenched
his right fist and punched it high into the air.
“Yes ! Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES !”
“I take it that went well.”
“You bet it did ! I spoke to a guy called Malcolm, he
said he loved my British accent. He also said that
providing I wasn’t exaggerating in what I said to describe us
both (Barry was not exaggerating.) there would be work for
as long as we both want it. And, he promised a minimum of
two thousand dollars a week.”
“Won’t you need a work permit or something ?” I
nearly said we but checked myself.
“It’s cash,” Barry confirmed. “no questions
asked.”
I am just a bit older than Barry but I felt then a generation
lay between us as I adopted, or at least tried to adopt, a more
cautious and wise stance. Our conversation went on for
some time but I was getting nowhere in trying to explain the
folly of Barry’s idea.
We didn’t leave our hotel in the Belmont district of San
Francisco until well after noon. The plan had been to
drive over the Golden Gate Bridge and up into the Redwoods.
I wanted to see the world’s tallest trees but Barry was more
interested in searching out the legend of Bigfoot. He said
he had been enthralled by the Disney movie when he had been a
boy.
“It won’t be a Walt Disney movie you’ll be acting in,”
I said.
“Yeah true enough and it won’t be called Bigfoot.
Could be calledbigsomething
else though !”
Before we could start our way North to the Redwoods Barry
insisted I take a detour by way of the Greyhound Bus Depot.
It was there he purchased two one way tickets to Las Vegas.
“I told you Barry, I am not going !”
“You’ll change your mind.”
“No, I won’t.”
The road out of San Francisco crossed the Golden Gate Bridge,
passed through a tunnel in the headland and left the City By the
Bay behind us. It was even an oldie in my parent’s day
but I found myself humming the tune to the song I left my heart
in San Francisco. I guessed that very soon I would be
leaving that and more behind as I flew back home to England.
But surely I would be able to change Barry’s mind.
Barry was always kind to me, he was that sort of person and we
got on very, very well. But that day he was making an
extra special effort. Perhaps he was trying to win me over
or perhaps he was simply trying to make the remaining time we
had together as special as possible.
To be honest I didn’t think Barry would really go through with
this, at least I didn’t at first. I even had my doubts
when he got so far as buying those Greyhound tickets and as his
determination became clearer and stronger I still thought I
would be able to change his mind. Eventually I began to
suspect that I was wrong, Barry was not going back to
England and if I was then it would be alone. But I was
going home, I had to. No matter how our friendship had
developed in the short space of time we had been together, no
matter how much I cared for him, I was not prepared to change my
entire way of life on such a whim.
It was quite late when we finally drove into the Redwoods and
when we parked up we found a local scout group running a
barbecue as a fund raiser. We paid our money and ate well.
The aroma of cooking mingled with the scent of the trees, it was
good. So we ate, drank and relaxed. This was our third day
in California, tomorrow would be our last. We were booked
on the overnight flight back to Heathrow. Best to make all
I could of the time remaining.
Those trees surrounding us in that small clearing were hundreds
and hundreds of years old. They were a living but silent
witness to times in history that are like fables to we mere
mortal human beings. Wars, conquests, empires, fortunes
all came and went without causing any trouble to those
giants. And so it would be after my generation and many
after had all gone. What folly our little lives are
compared to the real and proper purpose of creation.
“What are you thinking ?” Barry asked.
“Just about these trees.”
“Great aren’t they ?”
“Magnificent.”
“Let’s stay here for a while this evening,” Barry
suggested. “No hurry to get back to the hotel is there
?’
There wasn’t.
“Remember that night at the rugby club ?” Barry
continued.
“Of course I do.” I smiled at the memory. (See
my story A Fun Evening with Dean And Barry.)
“When that git Steve nicked our clothes and we streaked round
the field.”
“Good wasn’t it ?”
“Fancy some nude outdoor fun here ?”
“With all these people about ?’
“They’ll be going home once it starts to get dark.”
“OK, why not.”
Dusk came early, those cooking and selling the food from the
barbecue packed up and left. Everywhere became silent and
deserted, save that it wasn’t silent. The air was just
no longer polluted by the sounds of humankind but alive with the
tunes of nature. Nighttime birds called to one another and
animals could be heard scampering about. High, high above
our heads the wind passed through the pine branches of these
gargantuan trees creating a sound all of its own. It was
incredibly dark, the canopy of forest above us kept away the
moonlight.
We wandered away from the car park and it’s clearing, up along
a trail path and within a few hundred yards we were in a world
quite void of the human race. It could have been that we
were the last two of our species alive on the planet. So
dark was it that it was only just possible to see one another
but the sense of sight was no of any significant importance to
us.
I moved to stand behind Barry and placed my arms around his
waist. I held us together for a brief moment then allowed
my right hand to move up the front of his shirt to the point
where it’s top button was unfastened. I knew from the
earlier daylight that Barry was wearing a blue casual
short-sleeved shirt which was buttoned to some three inches
below the collar. I deftly unfastened the highest button
then moved to the next in the centre of his chest. Down to
the third at his navel and finally to the last at his waist.
He was wearing the shirt lose from his trousers and so it fell
open with ease and exposed his torso. How delicious that
was and I did not need eyes to see it.
My hands seductively explored the skin I had opened to the night
air. I stroked round his nipples, traced a line down his
breast bone and onto his stomach where I knew a line of downy
hair lead all the way to his thick, dark pubes.
With the very minimum of fuss I removed his shirt and let it
fall to the ground. My hands now rested on Barry’s shoulder
blades with my thumbs pressing into the space between them.
I massaged his spine for a time before dropping my fingers to
the belt of his trousers where I allowed them to pause in
anticipation. Barry groaned sensuously and I reciprocated,
the sound not out of place in the symphony of music nature was
playing all about us.
Placing a kiss on his spine just below the cervical vertebrae I
unfastened the brass button which joined the two side of his
jeans waist band together. The sound of the small zipper
was quite audible as it separated the teeth and parted a way
which would soon allow my friend’s manhood to be exposed.
Barry assisted the fall of his trousers, kicked off his trainers
and stepped out of them. He moved to stand facing me, his
shadowy outline just inches away.
“Nigel, you are the best – the very best – friend I have
ever had.”
I smiled. Perhaps he was able to see that smile, perhaps
not but for certain he knew it was there.
It was now Barry’s turn to remove my clothing, something he
did in such a way as to arouse within me a male passion and deep
hunger for my friend which exceeded anything I had previously
known in our highly active relationship.
Our mutual undressing of one another took some time, it was
unhurried and a arousing act of the finest foreplay. Now
we stood with just the thin material of two pairs of briefs
between us. They too would not be hurried in their
removal.
I placed a hand over the top of the bulge at the front of
Barry’s underpants. It felt so good and I contoured his
solid erection being aware how it twitched slightly at my touch.
In response Barry reached round behind us and slipped both of
his hands into the rear of my own pants, placing a palm on each
buttock cheek. Heaven.
I changed my position to make it possible for me to do the same
for him. Simultaneously we pulled the other’s body closer to
our own, two cocks which we the dearest of friends pressed hard
against one another. I could feel Barry’s heart beating
hard. Our faces too were close and engaged in a deep and
incredibly long man-passionate kiss.
Love is not a word I use all that often but I am not ashamed to
say that I loved my friend Barry.
Eventually it was time for those pants to come off. Now
naked I took Barry’s hand and lead him to one particularly
thick tree. There I faced it, legs slightly apart and
hands spread against it’s bark a little above my shoulder
height.
Barry’s fingers parted my cheeks and began to explore. I could
not see, it was so dark and he was behind me now, anyway I had
long since closed my eyes as I entered a time of waking dream.
I could not see but I heard him kneel down behind me.
The first kiss came on my left buttock, long firm and warm with
pleasure. Then the right, Barry’s lips making contact
while my brain was still appreciating that on the left.
For a micro second it felt as if he was there on both sides at
the same time. Finally a third, the best of all, right in
the centre marking out the target area for Barry’s next
campaign.
Sometimes the penetration would hurt and on other occasions no
so. I always thought that the better the sex the more it
hurt. That night in the Californian Redwoods it hurt like
hell.
There are, of course, differing kinds of pain. Paint that
does nothing more than hurt and pain that through the hurt can
bring much pleasure. This was the latter.
I felt Barry’s oh so solid dick probe between my cheeks and
with it the first inclining of any hurt. He pressed
forward to a state of initial penetration and I gasped for
breath before pushing back to make it easier for him to slide
all the way in. I have a tight bum and have often wondered
how it is that it can accommodate all of Barry’s manhood
inside. Perhaps it is something to do with these
dimensions of physics that contributes to the pain factor.
Who knows ? Certainly that night Barry was swollen to a
size I have not known in him before and I was holding tighter
than ever.
My whole body racked with that fearful pain as he began to fuck
me. Although it was more than cool in that night forest
air my naked body was perspiring all over and I could scent the
smell of Barry behind me.
Faster Barry began to thrust, faster and harder. My hands
pressed against the patterned surface of the tree in an effort
to steady myself. I wanted to reach down and take my cock
in my hand but dared not move it from its place against that
tree.
My head fell naturally back and I opened my mouth to gulp in
high lung-fulls of air. I could taste the forest and I
could taste my friend.
I could feel my own juices rising, they were boiling like a
cauldron inside my balls. I knew I was going to cum.
Barry must have been so deep inside me that he was stimulating
the gland which would trigger ejaculation.
Go for it Barry, I thought silently. Fuck me stupid.
Harder my friend, much harder.
Barry sensed my thoughts and responded in excess. I did
not know how much more I could take. My balls were like they
were gripped and every fraction of my dick yelled out me to
allow its purpose to be fulfilled.
A little longer, a little longer.
Barry’s hands which had previously been on my back now reached
to my chest and began fondling my nipples. How much more
could I take ? He tweaked them, he fondled them, he played
with them in every way possible. The tiny muscles
surrounding each peak tightened and became firm and hard.
Yes !
As Barry moved a hand away and onto my breast bone at the front
of my chest I knew I would be able to hold back for just a tiny
bit longer. That hand now moved down to my navel and as it
found my throbbing cock I came.
How I came ! Fire after squirt after ejaculated joy.
Time and time again my manhood fountained forth and at the same
time, and with equal force, Barry was coming inside me.
Such was the pleasure I though my very heart would burst.
Wonderful !
Wonderful !!
Wonderful !!!
When it was finally over we lay back on the soft ground, looking
up into the blackness above and fell asleep.
That was the very last time Barry and I made love together.
What a perfect memory.
Yes, Barry did stay in America when I left to return home to
England. Tears, there were plenty of those, and dire
efforts of persuasion from each could not change the mind of the
other.
The long hours of the flight back to Heathrow took years to
pass. At times I wanted to scream aloud and span the
growing miles between us calling Barry back to me.
At other times the words from that old Tony Bennett song filled
my brain:
I left me heart in San Francisco –
High on a hill it calls my name.
Where little cable cars –
Climb half way to the stars.
The morning fog may chill the air,
I don’t care.
I left me heart ……..
Well something like that
anyway.
Never a day goes past now without those words haunting me.
Sometimes I would do anything to make them go away. How I
wish they would, how I wish we had never been to San Francisco.
How I wish Barry were back with me.
