The house Elam had lived in all his life was built in a style called Craftsman, but it wasn’t a very good example of the true Craftsman style. Besides the living room windows that opened onto the wide front porch, there was a large picture-window on one side of the room. The only view from this window was the wall of the house next door.

That was a two-story house clad in wood shakes, painted white. The wall facing Elam’s large window was blank, except for one small window which could have been in a bathroom or a closet. There was also a window high up on the end of a second-floor gable.

The house belonged to a widow named Mrs. Prentiss who Elam barely remembered. She’d died several years ago, and the house had sat vacant ever since. It had passed down to a couple of distant nieces who were fighting over what little consisted of the estate, and nobody was profiting from it except the lawyers.

At seventeen, Elam was about 5’10” and weighed somewhere around 185 pounds. He wasn’t fat, but had a solid, chunky build. He should have been on his high school football team, but in junior high it had become apparent he was incredibly clumsy. He tripped over his own feet, and constantly fumbled the ball.

He didn’t have a girlfriend even though he wasn’t a bad looking guy. Most people would use words like “nice looking” “fine looking” and “a healthy looking young man” when describing him. But his clumsiness extended to his interactions with girls.

Therefore he spent his afternoons at home alone. Both his parents worked. He wasn’t a particularly good student, but he’d always earned a passing grade. On these afternoons on rare occasions he did his homework when he got home.

There were days his mother left him a note telling him to do some chore, such as rake the fallen leaves from the sycamore tree in the back yard, take the clothes from the washing machine and put them in the dryer or wash out the garbage cans. And he usually complied.

In front of the side window in Elam’s living room was an old maroon colored sofa. On the opposite wall hung a large flat-screen TV. Most afternoons Elam sat on that sofa and played with his Xbox until he got bored. Then he’d masturbate.

Masturbating was his favorite activity. He’d pull off his T-shirt, and push his jeans and briefs down to his ankles. He loved playing with his dick until it was stiff and pointing toward the ceiling. He liked the way his dick looked. He was pleased with the size of his dick. He liked squeezing his balls just to the point of discomfort. Sometimes he’d get something to slick up his dick, and sometimes he simply used his spit.

He started slowly, letting his hand gently caress his dick, thrilling to the tingle that spread throughout his body. He tightened his grip and swiveled his hand as it went up and down. When precum oozed from his piss hole he paused and spread it over his dick head.

He’d run his free hand over his chest and stomach and go back up and pinch his nipples, feeling them quickly grow hard.

He’d return to jacking his dick harder, often bringing himself almost to the point of climax, and then stop and hold his dick tightly until the moment passed. For him the idea wasn’t a race to the climax, but the erotic feeling of his fist on his dick that permeated his body.

Tuesday the 22nd was the same as all the other week days, or so it seemed to Elam. But there had been a change he didn’t know about yet that would influence his life for years to come. The house next door had at last been sold to a family with a seventeen-year-old son named Cong.

In 1953 Cong’s grandfather had fled North Korea as the war reached its end. He had deserted the army and sought refuge in the south. Since he’d worked in intelligence he was welcomed by the U.S. brass.

He eventually made his way to the United States and married a young American woman. They had several children, and when Cong was born to one of them, he was named after his grandfather.

He was what is known as a nerd. He was brilliant at math, loved working on computers and figuring out what made things work. He kept to himself most of the time, holed up in his bedroom with his books and computer. His parents wished he was more sociable, but gladly accepted the fact he was both smart and respectful, never causing them any grief.

On Tuesday the 22nd, Elam was masturbating as usual. He was approaching the moment when he’d let the process run its course and send his cum flying in the air and land on his bare stomach. His body stiffened and he threw his head back, his eyes closed tightly.

He opened his eyes and was staring up to the roof of the house next door – up at the window high on that blank wall. And he realized there was a body leaning partly out of that window. It was the body of a young man staring down at him. And it was clearly apparent that the right arm of that young man was mirroring the movement of his own arm. He knew at once the young man was watching him masturbate, and was masturbating too.

Elam stopped masturbating and released his grip on his dick. He raised that hand above his head and signaled to the young man to come down. Cong seemed startled to be discovered spying on Elam. Elam turned his body so he could better look up at the window and energetically indicated he wanted the young man to join him.

Cong ducked back in the window, but in a couple of minutes appeared outside of Elam’s window. Elam motioned for him to go to the back of the house. He didn’t bother to get up and go meet him or to invite him to enter. He just assumed the young man would do it on his own.

After several minutes it appeared the young man had taken the initiative and come into the house. He called out, “Hello?”

“In here,” Elam answered.

Cong came into the room, and then stopped. Elam dick had gone soft, but he hadn’t pulled up his pants or attempted to cover himself.

He looked up at the young man. “Hi,” was all he said.

The young man said, “Hi,” but didn’t move.

“Sit down,” Elam said, patting the space on the sofa beside him.

Cong walked over the sofa and sat, not taking his eyes off Elam’s dick.

Elam looked at him. “What were you doing in that house?” he asked, using his head to indicate the house next door.

“I live there,” Cong said with a shrug.

“No shit! Since when?” Elam asked, taking hi soft dick back in his hand.

Cong said, “We moved in three days ago.”

“Oh,” was Elam’s response. Then he recovered.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Cong.”

“Kong? Like King Kong?” Elam grinned.

“No. With a ‘C’.”

Elam’s grin changed to a frown.

Cong had been through this before. “C-o-n-g.”

“Oh,” was Elam’s response again, and then silence.

“And you?” Cong asked.

“Huh?” Elam asked, but then the light bulb came on. “Oh, Elam.”

He let go of his dick and offered his hand. Cong looked at it for a moment, and then took it in his hand and firmly shook it.

“So you were watching me jerk off, huh?” Elam said.

The term was new to Cong. He frowned. Elam gripped his dick again and with his chin pointed at it. Cong caught on, but he didn’t know what to say. Elam didn’t wait for him to recover.

“I figure you were doing it too, so why not do it together? Want to?”

Normally Cong would have been too shy, but Elam’s sense of ease had thrown him off kilter. There didn’t seem to be any reason for not pulling his dick out and joining Elam. Also, he was entranced by Elam’s dick, its size and shape.

He unzipped his chinos and was pulling it out, but Elam said, “No, not like that. Let it all hang out. Get your pants off. Let’s see what you got.”

He’d never spoken like this to anyone before, but he’d never had the occasion to. This was his first sexual interaction with another person.

Cong undid his pants and raising his butt from the sofa, pushed them down to his ankles to match Elam’s. Elam reached over and pulled Cong’s T-shirt up. Cong took the hem and pulled it off over his head.

Elam noted Cong had black air in his armpits and a thick patch around the base of his dick, but the rest of his body was smooth, unlike his own which had a light dusting of hair over his arms, chest, stomach and legs. His cock hair was curly and not as thick as Cong’s.

They both began playing with their dicks, flopping them around and squeezing them, coaxing them to erections. It wasn’t until then that Elam realized Cong had foreskin that almost completely covered his glans. He’d seen a couple of guys in his gym classes who were that way, but only from a distance. Now he was fascinated by the way the skin moved over the head, revealing some of it and then covering it up.

As Cong’s dick got harder the foreskin pulled farther back, showing more of the head. For his part, Cong admired the clean, simple look of Elam’s dick. He was also impressed by the size. It was at least an inch longer than his own, and thicker at the base.

Elam’s dick was hard and he began jacking it as he gripped his balls. He stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles and the uncrossing them so he could grip his balls more firmly. He emitted small grunts from the energy he put into jacking his dick. Every couple of minutes he’d let go of his dick to spit in his hand, and return to jacking his dick.

Cong was jacking his dick, but more slowly and with less intensity. Part of the reason was he was watching Elam’s hand and dick, mesmerized. Finally his thoughts became words.

“Your dick’s so big,” came out almost as a whisper.

Elam had to smile. He glanced at Cong’s dick. “Thanks,” seemed the appropriate response.

He’d stopped jacking it and held it as if he was showing it off.

Without thinking Cong reached for it, but then caught himself.

“Can I?” he asked.

For a second Elam didn’t know what he was asking, but then realized. He shrugged.

“Okay, I guess,” he said.

Cong wrapped his hand around Elam’s dick and ran his thumb over the piss hole, smearing a drop of precum that had oozed out. Elam gasped and Cong squeezed his fist harder.

Elam started to pull Cong’s hand away as a kneejerk reaction, but then let his hand fall onto his leg. Cong’s hand felt too good.

“Jack me,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

Cong moved his hand up and down slowly, marveling at how another person’s dick felt in his hand. Elam tried to bend forward to spit on his dick, but wasn’t successful.

“Spit on it. Get it wet,” he whispered in the same voice.

Cong bent over it and spit. When he rose back up Elam reached over and grasped Cong’s dick. It just seemed like a natural, spontaneous reaction. They continued stroking each other’s dick, not trying to race to a finish yet. The feeling of having their dicks jacked by another person was increased by both the feeling of a strange dick in their hands, and the fact they were doing something new and unusual, something forbidden.

“Spit again,” Elam asked.

Cong bent forward again and spit, but only a little came out. He was trying to collect more saliva in his mouth when he did something he hadn’t contemplated doing. He bent farther forward and pressed his tongue against the end of Elam’s dick.

He loosened his grip on Elam’s dick and spread his hand as he moved it down, so his hand rested on Elam’s patch of hair and Elam’s dick was between his thumb and hand. Cong opened his lips in a circle and slid his head down, taking first the head and then the shaft of Elam’s dick into the confines of his mouth.

Elam sucked in air and instinctively laid his hand on the back of Cong’s head, perhaps to prevent him from escaping. Cong raised his head back up, but Elam gently pushed it back down. He’d never thought of anyone sucking on his dick, and now that it was happening it seemed like such a logical thing to do.

Cong forced his head up. He sat up. They gazed at each other. Elam looked down at his dick and back up at Cong. His facial expression was one he’d never made before. It was one of imploration. He didn’t have to speak.

Cong bent forward again and took Elam’s dick back into his mouth, this time purposely moving his head up and down, swirling his tongue around it, sucking on it as he came up, flicking his tongue against it as he went down. None of this was premeditated, all of it was experimental.

Elam placed his hand on Cong’s bare shoulder and felt the smoothness of his flesh. He moved his hand, covering more of his body, thrilling at the feel of his skin. He bent forward, wanting to embrace Cong. He was able to kiss the top of his head.

He leaned to one side and found Cong’s dick. He squeezed it and jacked it in the limited way he could. He felt his balls contracting and knew he was going to shoot his cum. In some way he felt he should warn Cong, but the words wouldn’t come.

He grabbed Cong’s head with both hands and felt his cum shoot up the length of his dock and spurt out, filling Cong’s mouth to overflowing. He held Cong there until his balls had emptied all his cum into Cong’s mouth.

He let Cong go and Cong sat up. Elam smiled a weak smile.

“Sorry,” he said. “I should’ve told you.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” asked Elam.

“For doing that.” He half pointed at Elam’s soft dick. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t know why I did that. I never did it before.”

“Are you serious? It was great. I loved it. I never done anything like that before, too. It was great.”

“You said that.”

“You’re still hard,” Elam pointed out.

“Yeah,” was all Cong could think of to say.

“Come here,” Elam said, although Cong was still beside him.

He grasped Cong’s dick and proceeded to jack him rapidly. It wasn’t the same way that Cong jacked off, but he lay back and spread his legs, watching the blur of Elam’s hand as he jacked it. Every few seconds he’d cut his eyes over to look at the concentrated look on Elam’s face. At that moment he really liked the face of his new friend. He moved his eyes down over Elam’s naked body, and decided he liked that too.

He suddenly came, surprising even himself. His cum spurted high up, the first glob hitting Elam on the chin, just missing his mouth. Two more high spurts, and then the rest flowed out covering Elam’s fist.

“Holy shit, you cum a ton,” Elam laughed. He began to wipe Cong’s cum from his chin, but realized his hand was covered. Cong picked up his T-shirt and wiped Elam’s chin for him, and then wiped his hand.

“Yeah, I always do, but you gave me a lot, too.”

“Yeah, I said I was sorry.”

“And I said it was okay. I kind of liked it.”

Suddenly Elam began scrambling, trying to stand up and get his pants up at the same time. “Jeeze, I forgot the time. My mom’s gonna be home any minute.”

He pulled Cong onto his feet and they both got back into their clothes in minutes.

“I want you to meet my mom, but maybe not now. Okay?” He’d put his hand on Cong’s back and was urging him for the back door.

“Can we get together again?” Cong asked as they went through the kitchen.

“Sure. Okay. Maybe tomorrow,” Elam said, hurriedly.

“No, I’ve got a tutoring session tomorrow,” Cong began to explain, but he was out the door and Elam had closed it.

But the day after, he leaned out the window and waited for Elam to look up to see if he as there. He came down and they got down to business very quickly.

“Would you suck my dick again?” Elam asked very directly.

Cong simply said, “Yeah.”

And thus did a year’s long commitment begin.

That day they discovered that they both attended the same high school, which was a no brainer since they were neighbors. In the weeks that followed Cong offered to help Elam with his math, and Elam’s grades improved.

Elam’s parents adored Cong and got along well with his parents.

With time Cong expanded to sucking Elam’s balls and even rimming his asshole. It took over a year before he tried taking Elam’s dick up his asshole, but they succeeded. However, they never abandoned the pleasure of sucking, and Elam never tired of jacking Cong’s cock to make him cum.

It was almost four years after that first meeting when Cong finished his courses at the local community college and went away to the state university to study.

But that didn’t mean the end of their occasionally getting together for old time’s sake, nor did Elam’s marriage to a young woman who was as socially awkward as he three years later.

Real friendships last.