His name was Charlie and I’d known him forever, or so it seemed. We were kids when we first laid eyes on each other; only just entering adolescence and for about ten years or so, we remained very much in love. I can’t begin to describe the closeness and affection that grew alongside us all those years ago, and I can only put to words the affirmation of this and hope dearly that you’ll understand what it means to truly love someone, as I did Charlie.
We were in love, yes, I’ll say it again and again and I’ll even put emphasis on the word we, because I know he loved me too and nothing or no one can ever convince me otherwise. But we grew apart, you see, like all childhood friendships do in the end and this devastated me to the core. He went away one day and though he assured me that he’d never forget to write, he forgot me altogether. The last time I’d heard of him was seven years ago; he’d come back to his old town to visit his old folks and guess who he ran into? His old friend and lover. He looked too gorgeous for words and I doubt very much my description will do him justice. When we were growing up, he’d suffered from bad acne and he was scrawny and small for his age and even so, I loved him and saw no flaw in his appearance, but when I’d encountered him years and years after he left me, I saw right away the change of air did him some good. He’d grown taller and gained a few pounds which, I could see clearly through his tight jacket, were transformed to muscle. He still wore glasses, but they were fashionable and went well with his stylish clothing. He still had that eye of mystery about him, but it was tinged with a haughtiness I could not comprehend, until I spoke to him. His entire persona was changed and disappointment gripped my heart. We spoke nothing of the beautiful past we’d shared, just the present and strangely enough, I wasn’t interested in what he had to say about it. We didn’t see each other for a very long time after that chance encounter and when we did, once again his character was altered, but this time, for the better.
I saw Charlie once again, seven years after the encounter I described, and like before, I was wonderfully confounded by his beauty. We were both in our mid thirties now and my appearance was worsening with age and stress, whereas Charlie’s was enhanced with striking maturity. His hair was combed straight back and partly curling, especially at the ends, and his sideburns were long and streaked with a little grey. As always, he wore glasses, and his bright blue eyes glared intensely behind these, lit with the fire of fine life and happiness. I felt embarrassed to meet with him after so long, a little resentful too, but once I saw him, I couldn’t stay mad at him. He looked incredible, better than he did those seven years ago; fresh faced and young. He was a man now, and how I wished, how I yearned to call him my man.
He was back in town for a short while, but the real reason behind his visit was a mystery to me. His parents had long been deceased and he had no other reason to come back.
“I came here to see you,” he simply said, squeezing my shoulder. “Only you.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I said, shrugging his hand away. I was offended, of course I was, also a little scared of what he might say. “The last time we saw each other--”
“I was a total prick, I’m sorry, Joe.”
“You never wrote.”
“I wanted to forget you.”
“Why?” Charlie bit into his lip, looking thoughtful and nervous. “Well?” I urged.
“I don’t know,” he answered, shifting his look to the ground for a moment. “I was scared, I suppose.”
“Of me?”
“Of everything, Joe, of us, and everything else.”
“You wanted to escape from your past, is that it?”
“I tried to for a long time.”
“So why’d you come back, huh?”
Behind his glasses, his eyes glimmered strangely, out of anger or hurt, I don’t know, but they grew intense and he stared at me the way he used to before he went away. “To see you, to talk to you.”
“About what?”
He shifted in his seat tensely before saying, “I’m getting married.”
There was a silence between us. I simply stared, unable to voice my confusion.
“Joe,” he said, squeezing my shoulder again. “What are you thinking?”
“Who is he?” I could only manage these words.
“Her name is Annie.”
I could not hold back the laughter. Charlie’s eyes flashed.
“What's so funny?”
“Since when have you liked women?”
“I’ve always liked women,” he quickly answered. “Only I never told you.”
“Bullshit!”
I could only laugh and laugh and he didn’t utter a single word until I was silent and sombre again.
“I’m getting married,” he repeated firmly. “Hopefully, to a woman and I realize that it upsets you.”
“Hopefully?”
“I haven’t proposed yet.”
“A ha!” I said, pointing a finger at him. “You’re scared! You can’t spend the rest of your life with a woman and that scares you, doesn’t it?”
“She makes me happy, Joe.”
“Happy like a sister, Charlie?”
“God, no!” he said, an expression of deepest revulsion coming alive on his face. “We’re in love and we want to get married as soon as possible.”
“Oh, how romantic, did you fuck her yet?”
“Why are you acting like a kid, Joe?”
His patience, which had always been steady and unexcitable, was slowly tiring out with my behaviour.
“I’m not acting like a kid, I’m just asking a simple question, what’s wrong with that?”
Charlie stared at me, considering me for a moment, then answered, “A few times.”
“How is it?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Good.”
“Is she better than me?”
“Jesus Christ!” said Charlie, starting up. “What is it with you?”
“Sorry, sorry, it was only a question.”
Subsequently, we sat there for many minutes without a word to say. Charlie turned to the window to do some heavy meditating and I seized this opportunity to get a proper glance at him. One thing I hadn’t noticed before was a small scar just above his left eyebrow. I noticed it then due to our proximity and this proximity I could not easily ignore. We were seated at a small table in a café not far from my house and though I hadn’t mentioned the location before, I do now, just so you’d get a better imagery of our position. Our knees were touching and when Charlie broke free of his meditation to ask a waitress in passing for a glass of ice cold water, he drew it closer until it was no longer knee against knee, but thigh against knee. I dared not to move, not even a little, lest he should shift his knee away. He didn’t. The water came and the waitress, a young blonde with an eye for rugged blue eyed men with specs, asked if we needed anything else, furtively adjusting her cleavage. Irritated, I ushered her away with a wave of my hand.
“That was rude,” said Charlie, glancing over my shoulder in concern. “Why’d you do that?”
“What? I don’t know what you mean.”
Charlie eyed me doubtfully a few seconds, then picked the glass up. I watched him. He gulped it all down and set the glass noisily down on the table. I simply watched him.
“There’s another reason why I’ve come, Joe,” he said, after debating a few minutes.
“Oh? Then tell me, I’d love to know.”
“The reason I haven’t proposed to Annie--”
“Yes?” I said, eager, leaning forwards just an inch.
“—well, I haven’t got any money.”
“What?”
“I’m officially broke.”
“You were doing just fine when I last saw you,” I said. “How long have you known this Annie? Has she spent all your hard earned money?”
“No!” he said. “No, she met me when I had nothing and I want to change that before we start a new life together.”
“I don’t understand, Charlie.”
“I need a loan.”
“From me?”
“Why not?”
“It’s out of the question.”
“You’ve got some, don’t you, Joe? Please say you do,” I could see pure desperation in his eyes. “How about your folks? Can they loan me some money until I get back on my feet?”
“I should’ve known you came here to squeeze me,” I said, making to rise, but he grabbed my arm and sat me back down.
“Joe, please, I came here to see you, I told you that.”
“You came here to see my money, not me.”
“Joe,” he lowered his voice drastically, still gripping my arm. “I came to you because I have no one else, don’t you see? I’m desperate.”
“You don’t mean to say that you picked some girl off the street and decided to marry her? Surely she must have some cash lying around?”
“I’m the man, Joe, I have to provide for the woman I love.”
I hated the sickly sweet look in his eye when he said that, but I didn’t hate him; I could never, not even after this brutal revelation. I was still madly in love with him and in love with everything about him; even the tiny scar above his eyebrow meant something to me, though I had never seen it before. I felt the pressure on my arm and decided it was too much strain, not physically, but emotionally, for it reminded me of old times, of happier times when his touch was all I had.
We were in love, yes, I’ll say it again and again and I’ll even put emphasis on the word we, because I know he loved me too and nothing or no one can ever convince me otherwise. But we grew apart, you see, like all childhood friendships do in the end and this devastated me to the core. He went away one day and though he assured me that he’d never forget to write, he forgot me altogether. The last time I’d heard of him was seven years ago; he’d come back to his old town to visit his old folks and guess who he ran into? His old friend and lover. He looked too gorgeous for words and I doubt very much my description will do him justice. When we were growing up, he’d suffered from bad acne and he was scrawny and small for his age and even so, I loved him and saw no flaw in his appearance, but when I’d encountered him years and years after he left me, I saw right away the change of air did him some good. He’d grown taller and gained a few pounds which, I could see clearly through his tight jacket, were transformed to muscle. He still wore glasses, but they were fashionable and went well with his stylish clothing. He still had that eye of mystery about him, but it was tinged with a haughtiness I could not comprehend, until I spoke to him. His entire persona was changed and disappointment gripped my heart. We spoke nothing of the beautiful past we’d shared, just the present and strangely enough, I wasn’t interested in what he had to say about it. We didn’t see each other for a very long time after that chance encounter and when we did, once again his character was altered, but this time, for the better.
I saw Charlie once again, seven years after the encounter I described, and like before, I was wonderfully confounded by his beauty. We were both in our mid thirties now and my appearance was worsening with age and stress, whereas Charlie’s was enhanced with striking maturity. His hair was combed straight back and partly curling, especially at the ends, and his sideburns were long and streaked with a little grey. As always, he wore glasses, and his bright blue eyes glared intensely behind these, lit with the fire of fine life and happiness. I felt embarrassed to meet with him after so long, a little resentful too, but once I saw him, I couldn’t stay mad at him. He looked incredible, better than he did those seven years ago; fresh faced and young. He was a man now, and how I wished, how I yearned to call him my man.
He was back in town for a short while, but the real reason behind his visit was a mystery to me. His parents had long been deceased and he had no other reason to come back.
“I came here to see you,” he simply said, squeezing my shoulder. “Only you.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I said, shrugging his hand away. I was offended, of course I was, also a little scared of what he might say. “The last time we saw each other--”
“I was a total prick, I’m sorry, Joe.”
“You never wrote.”
“I wanted to forget you.”
“Why?” Charlie bit into his lip, looking thoughtful and nervous. “Well?” I urged.
“I don’t know,” he answered, shifting his look to the ground for a moment. “I was scared, I suppose.”
“Of me?”
“Of everything, Joe, of us, and everything else.”
“You wanted to escape from your past, is that it?”
“I tried to for a long time.”
“So why’d you come back, huh?”
Behind his glasses, his eyes glimmered strangely, out of anger or hurt, I don’t know, but they grew intense and he stared at me the way he used to before he went away. “To see you, to talk to you.”
“About what?”
He shifted in his seat tensely before saying, “I’m getting married.”
There was a silence between us. I simply stared, unable to voice my confusion.
“Joe,” he said, squeezing my shoulder again. “What are you thinking?”
“Who is he?” I could only manage these words.
“Her name is Annie.”
I could not hold back the laughter. Charlie’s eyes flashed.
“What's so funny?”
“Since when have you liked women?”
“I’ve always liked women,” he quickly answered. “Only I never told you.”
“Bullshit!”
I could only laugh and laugh and he didn’t utter a single word until I was silent and sombre again.
“I’m getting married,” he repeated firmly. “Hopefully, to a woman and I realize that it upsets you.”
“Hopefully?”
“I haven’t proposed yet.”
“A ha!” I said, pointing a finger at him. “You’re scared! You can’t spend the rest of your life with a woman and that scares you, doesn’t it?”
“She makes me happy, Joe.”
“Happy like a sister, Charlie?”
“God, no!” he said, an expression of deepest revulsion coming alive on his face. “We’re in love and we want to get married as soon as possible.”
“Oh, how romantic, did you fuck her yet?”
“Why are you acting like a kid, Joe?”
His patience, which had always been steady and unexcitable, was slowly tiring out with my behaviour.
“I’m not acting like a kid, I’m just asking a simple question, what’s wrong with that?”
Charlie stared at me, considering me for a moment, then answered, “A few times.”
“How is it?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Good.”
“Is she better than me?”
“Jesus Christ!” said Charlie, starting up. “What is it with you?”
“Sorry, sorry, it was only a question.”
Subsequently, we sat there for many minutes without a word to say. Charlie turned to the window to do some heavy meditating and I seized this opportunity to get a proper glance at him. One thing I hadn’t noticed before was a small scar just above his left eyebrow. I noticed it then due to our proximity and this proximity I could not easily ignore. We were seated at a small table in a café not far from my house and though I hadn’t mentioned the location before, I do now, just so you’d get a better imagery of our position. Our knees were touching and when Charlie broke free of his meditation to ask a waitress in passing for a glass of ice cold water, he drew it closer until it was no longer knee against knee, but thigh against knee. I dared not to move, not even a little, lest he should shift his knee away. He didn’t. The water came and the waitress, a young blonde with an eye for rugged blue eyed men with specs, asked if we needed anything else, furtively adjusting her cleavage. Irritated, I ushered her away with a wave of my hand.
“That was rude,” said Charlie, glancing over my shoulder in concern. “Why’d you do that?”
“What? I don’t know what you mean.”
Charlie eyed me doubtfully a few seconds, then picked the glass up. I watched him. He gulped it all down and set the glass noisily down on the table. I simply watched him.
“There’s another reason why I’ve come, Joe,” he said, after debating a few minutes.
“Oh? Then tell me, I’d love to know.”
“The reason I haven’t proposed to Annie--”
“Yes?” I said, eager, leaning forwards just an inch.
“—well, I haven’t got any money.”
“What?”
“I’m officially broke.”
“You were doing just fine when I last saw you,” I said. “How long have you known this Annie? Has she spent all your hard earned money?”
“No!” he said. “No, she met me when I had nothing and I want to change that before we start a new life together.”
“I don’t understand, Charlie.”
“I need a loan.”
“From me?”
“Why not?”
“It’s out of the question.”
“You’ve got some, don’t you, Joe? Please say you do,” I could see pure desperation in his eyes. “How about your folks? Can they loan me some money until I get back on my feet?”
“I should’ve known you came here to squeeze me,” I said, making to rise, but he grabbed my arm and sat me back down.
“Joe, please, I came here to see you, I told you that.”
“You came here to see my money, not me.”
“Joe,” he lowered his voice drastically, still gripping my arm. “I came to you because I have no one else, don’t you see? I’m desperate.”
“You don’t mean to say that you picked some girl off the street and decided to marry her? Surely she must have some cash lying around?”
“I’m the man, Joe, I have to provide for the woman I love.”
I hated the sickly sweet look in his eye when he said that, but I didn’t hate him; I could never, not even after this brutal revelation. I was still madly in love with him and in love with everything about him; even the tiny scar above his eyebrow meant something to me, though I had never seen it before. I felt the pressure on my arm and decided it was too much strain, not physically, but emotionally, for it reminded me of old times, of happier times when his touch was all I had.
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I pulled away from his grip and stood up, but again, he sat me down and pleaded with me.
How could I say no? How could I deny him the same happiness he had given me all those years ago? So I accepted. I told him I’d not lend him the money, but give it to him, on one condition and one alone: I could have my way with him one time. For one hour, he was mine and I was free to do as I pleased with him. He accepted, though a little hesitant at first. It hurt, I won’t lie, when I saw that hesitance, that cruel grimace, but when he agreed, the hurt went away and my heart was elevated, it swelled with pure bliss. I could’ve cried I was so happy.
Charlie said he had to get back that same day to the city, so we concurred that the most appropriate time would be then. We went straight back to mine; we walked a good fifteen minutes and the afternoon was hot. As soon as we stepped through the door, I offered to wash his shirt, as it was dripping with sweat.
“Oh, thanks,” he said casually, pulling it over his head.
His body was still in form, though he was a little heavier than before, and only a shadow of his former stomach muscles lingered there now. In short, my Charlie was still that strapping man of long ago, but not as thin and muscular, but I preferred this Charlie, plagued with maturity and heterosexuality, than I did the Charlie of seven years before. I even loved him more than the Charlie of my youth.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I asked pleasantly, as he handed me his shirt.
“What do you have?”
“How about a beer?”
“Thanks.”
I went into the kitchen and humming a tune, I was engaged in sniffing his shirt for such a while that Charlie called out to me from the living room. As though awakened from a stupor, I called back lazily and seized a beer from the fridge. His shirt I left on the kitchen counter.
“What took you so long?” asked Charlie, already making himself at home.
His jeans, shoes and socks were lying in a heap on the floor. I could not react. Without knowing it, I was gripping the beer in my hand so tightly that my clenched fingers turned white and I could not release them, not until Charlie walked right up to me and prized it from my hand.
“I have to get back soon,” said Charlie, taking a swig of beer. “Shouldn’t we..?”
“Yes, yes, we'd better.”
I was quick and confident to reply, but my movements were sluggish and nervousness got a hold of me. I hadn’t been prepared for it. It was all, this entire situation, too good to be true. How many nights (and days) had I fantasised about him, about touching his body, feeling his hard, quivering cock in my hand?
“Do you want to back out, Joe?” he asked, eyeing me dubiously.
“Of course not,” I replied, terrified that he would back out. “Let’s get on with it.”
I got undressed hastily and every garment was tossed aside, including the boxers which were much too tight since arriving from the kitchen. Charlie looked down, an even expression on his face, but in a second I saw his mouth twitch. I took his hand and guided it down to my cock already pulsing, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.
“You’re over excited, aren’t you?” said Charlie and he smiled.
His smile triggered something in me and I felt my cock give a tiny shudder in his grip. My hand travelled down towards his own Little Charlie (or should I say Big Charlie) and I fondled it for a few seconds over his boxer shorts, until I slipped a hand inside and felt it properly. It was hot, pulsing like my own, and rock hard. I went a little lower and cupped his balls, gently lifting them, massaging them as I did so. Charlie suppressed a groan and instead let out a throaty sound that sounded very beast-like, very masculine, very arousing. I kissed him with a thirst I never knew existed in me, and he kissed me back, our tongues entwining with longing and spit, both fondling and jerking each other’s cock. I parted from him, my lips wet and sore after minutes of heavy kissing, kneeled whilst grabbing each buttock in my hands and filled my mouth with his cock. I began to suck slowly first and at once, I gagged horribly and my eyes watered so that I could hardly see in front of me, but I didn’t stop and soon tears were streaming down my face as I sped up. Charlie grabbed my hair and pulled me back and as his cock sprang out of my mouth, so did a cascade of spit, which dribbled down my chin.
“Are you okay?” asked Charlie, my sweet and considerate Charlie. I nodded, unable to find my voice just yet. “Stand up, it’s my turn.”
I rose and he kneeled. He looked up at me, his eyes bright with exhilaration and I took his glasses and set them on the coffee table not two feet away. He licked the tip first, then slid his tongue down to the very base. He did this repeatedly, before putting it in his mouth fully. He sucked smoothly, effortlessly, taking a break once in a while from my cock and moved on to my balls and jerked me as his efforts were focused on these alone. Then I asked him kindly to lie on the couch while I slipped upstairs for some lube and condoms. I wasn’t sure if he’d go so far as to let me penetrate him; I remember that even in the old days he had trouble adjusting; he was always eager to fuck me, but he grew anxious when I suggested we try it the other way round. We actually did try it a few times, but the experience for him was generally unpleasant, lube or not. I was fiercely determined to ask him if he’d make an exception this time alone. I was, after all, giving him thousands of dollars, practically my life savings. I returned, condoms and lube in hand, and as though he had read my mind, Charlie was kneeling on the couch, head down, ass in the air, ready for me.
“Slowly, Joe, that’s all I ask.” he said, gripping a cushion against his chest.
“I promise.”
I rolled the condom on, slapped some lube on my cock, and dabbed a little on my middle finger. I kneeled behind Charlie, my cock throbbing against his leg, and introduced my finger. He uttered a pained moan.
“Is it in?” he said, gritting his teeth.
“It’s my finger,” I said, pulling it out with care. “Let’s try with two.”
“No, no, just do it already.”
I obliged. As soon as the tip entered, his entire body tensed as opposed to mine, which quivered as though I’d just touched the stars. I penetrated him entirely, slowly, as I’d promised, but deeply and I felt an insatiable rush travel throughout my body with each gentle thrust; I was soon out of breath and sweating from head to toe. Charlie then suggested another position, one which seemed far more comfortable, and I agreed, keen to kiss him again. He lay on his back and lifted his legs onto my shoulders. Again, I penetrated him, again he grimaced and groaned with soreness and inexperience and I reached down and kissed him and did my best to comfort him. He seemed to like that, so I sped up just a tad, glad that my kisses distracted him a little from the pain and I came quickly and collapsed on top of him, tonguing the inside of his mouth.
“You can have a turn now,” I said against his lips. “If you want.”
“Get on top,” he answered breathlessly.
I jerked him a little while until he was hard again, then rolled on the condom and dabbed only the tip with lube; I disliked using too much lube. I kneeled on top and together we guided his cock into my ass. It felt like heaven, like a thousand bells ringing jubilantly from afar, and while I bounced and rocked on his cock, all I could do was look into his brilliantly blue eyes scorching me from below, inviting eyes, the eyes of the Charlie I once knew and loved with my soul. We kissed with a passion like fire and seconds away from filling me with his own ecstasy, I whispered three words, three wonderful words:
“I love you.”
He closed his eyes as he came and reopened them again when I stooped down to kiss him. We looked nowhere else but into each other’s eyes.
“I never stopped thinking about you, Joe,” he said, hoarse and exhausted. “Not once.”
“Why didn’t you write?” I said, resting my head on his chest.
“I’m an idiot, that’s why.”
“Charlie?”
“Hmm?” he seemed to be dozing off.
“Will you visit me sometime?” in a tone of repressed expectation, I added, “After your wedding, of course, I’m still giving you the money.”
“I’ll try to visit you whenever I can.”
“Can I come to your wedding, Charlie?”
“What!” he raised his head an inch. “No, that’s completely out of the question.”
“Why not?”
“Annie knows about—about my former life, she might suspect something’s going on.”
“Oh, you told her about us?”
“Not about us, but she understands the general idea.”
“Oh, fine, I won’t go,” I said, planting a dry kiss on his chest. “Just promise me you’ll come back and visit from time to time.”
“I promised you, didn’t I?”
“I love you, Charlie.”
“Hmm…what?”
“Come on, say it back.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to hear it. You used to say it.”
“All right, all right, I love you and if you make me say it again, I won’t come back ever.”
I raised my head and my eyes met with his face. He was smiling. There he was, there was my Charlie, his lost youth suddenly recouped and alive in his dancing eyes, smiling and dreaming his worries away and for a moment, it seemed we were only sixteen, learning each other’s bodies by heart and proclaiming true love for one another. Yes, we were young and naïve, but when I think about me and Charlie, how we grew together and did all that we did, I have come to the conclusion that boys too can love.
How could I say no? How could I deny him the same happiness he had given me all those years ago? So I accepted. I told him I’d not lend him the money, but give it to him, on one condition and one alone: I could have my way with him one time. For one hour, he was mine and I was free to do as I pleased with him. He accepted, though a little hesitant at first. It hurt, I won’t lie, when I saw that hesitance, that cruel grimace, but when he agreed, the hurt went away and my heart was elevated, it swelled with pure bliss. I could’ve cried I was so happy.
Charlie said he had to get back that same day to the city, so we concurred that the most appropriate time would be then. We went straight back to mine; we walked a good fifteen minutes and the afternoon was hot. As soon as we stepped through the door, I offered to wash his shirt, as it was dripping with sweat.
“Oh, thanks,” he said casually, pulling it over his head.
His body was still in form, though he was a little heavier than before, and only a shadow of his former stomach muscles lingered there now. In short, my Charlie was still that strapping man of long ago, but not as thin and muscular, but I preferred this Charlie, plagued with maturity and heterosexuality, than I did the Charlie of seven years before. I even loved him more than the Charlie of my youth.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I asked pleasantly, as he handed me his shirt.
“What do you have?”
“How about a beer?”
“Thanks.”
I went into the kitchen and humming a tune, I was engaged in sniffing his shirt for such a while that Charlie called out to me from the living room. As though awakened from a stupor, I called back lazily and seized a beer from the fridge. His shirt I left on the kitchen counter.
“What took you so long?” asked Charlie, already making himself at home.
His jeans, shoes and socks were lying in a heap on the floor. I could not react. Without knowing it, I was gripping the beer in my hand so tightly that my clenched fingers turned white and I could not release them, not until Charlie walked right up to me and prized it from my hand.
“I have to get back soon,” said Charlie, taking a swig of beer. “Shouldn’t we..?”
“Yes, yes, we'd better.”
I was quick and confident to reply, but my movements were sluggish and nervousness got a hold of me. I hadn’t been prepared for it. It was all, this entire situation, too good to be true. How many nights (and days) had I fantasised about him, about touching his body, feeling his hard, quivering cock in my hand?
“Do you want to back out, Joe?” he asked, eyeing me dubiously.
“Of course not,” I replied, terrified that he would back out. “Let’s get on with it.”
I got undressed hastily and every garment was tossed aside, including the boxers which were much too tight since arriving from the kitchen. Charlie looked down, an even expression on his face, but in a second I saw his mouth twitch. I took his hand and guided it down to my cock already pulsing, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.
“You’re over excited, aren’t you?” said Charlie and he smiled.
His smile triggered something in me and I felt my cock give a tiny shudder in his grip. My hand travelled down towards his own Little Charlie (or should I say Big Charlie) and I fondled it for a few seconds over his boxer shorts, until I slipped a hand inside and felt it properly. It was hot, pulsing like my own, and rock hard. I went a little lower and cupped his balls, gently lifting them, massaging them as I did so. Charlie suppressed a groan and instead let out a throaty sound that sounded very beast-like, very masculine, very arousing. I kissed him with a thirst I never knew existed in me, and he kissed me back, our tongues entwining with longing and spit, both fondling and jerking each other’s cock. I parted from him, my lips wet and sore after minutes of heavy kissing, kneeled whilst grabbing each buttock in my hands and filled my mouth with his cock. I began to suck slowly first and at once, I gagged horribly and my eyes watered so that I could hardly see in front of me, but I didn’t stop and soon tears were streaming down my face as I sped up. Charlie grabbed my hair and pulled me back and as his cock sprang out of my mouth, so did a cascade of spit, which dribbled down my chin.
“Are you okay?” asked Charlie, my sweet and considerate Charlie. I nodded, unable to find my voice just yet. “Stand up, it’s my turn.”
I rose and he kneeled. He looked up at me, his eyes bright with exhilaration and I took his glasses and set them on the coffee table not two feet away. He licked the tip first, then slid his tongue down to the very base. He did this repeatedly, before putting it in his mouth fully. He sucked smoothly, effortlessly, taking a break once in a while from my cock and moved on to my balls and jerked me as his efforts were focused on these alone. Then I asked him kindly to lie on the couch while I slipped upstairs for some lube and condoms. I wasn’t sure if he’d go so far as to let me penetrate him; I remember that even in the old days he had trouble adjusting; he was always eager to fuck me, but he grew anxious when I suggested we try it the other way round. We actually did try it a few times, but the experience for him was generally unpleasant, lube or not. I was fiercely determined to ask him if he’d make an exception this time alone. I was, after all, giving him thousands of dollars, practically my life savings. I returned, condoms and lube in hand, and as though he had read my mind, Charlie was kneeling on the couch, head down, ass in the air, ready for me.
“Slowly, Joe, that’s all I ask.” he said, gripping a cushion against his chest.
“I promise.”
I rolled the condom on, slapped some lube on my cock, and dabbed a little on my middle finger. I kneeled behind Charlie, my cock throbbing against his leg, and introduced my finger. He uttered a pained moan.
“Is it in?” he said, gritting his teeth.
“It’s my finger,” I said, pulling it out with care. “Let’s try with two.”
“No, no, just do it already.”
I obliged. As soon as the tip entered, his entire body tensed as opposed to mine, which quivered as though I’d just touched the stars. I penetrated him entirely, slowly, as I’d promised, but deeply and I felt an insatiable rush travel throughout my body with each gentle thrust; I was soon out of breath and sweating from head to toe. Charlie then suggested another position, one which seemed far more comfortable, and I agreed, keen to kiss him again. He lay on his back and lifted his legs onto my shoulders. Again, I penetrated him, again he grimaced and groaned with soreness and inexperience and I reached down and kissed him and did my best to comfort him. He seemed to like that, so I sped up just a tad, glad that my kisses distracted him a little from the pain and I came quickly and collapsed on top of him, tonguing the inside of his mouth.
“You can have a turn now,” I said against his lips. “If you want.”
“Get on top,” he answered breathlessly.
I jerked him a little while until he was hard again, then rolled on the condom and dabbed only the tip with lube; I disliked using too much lube. I kneeled on top and together we guided his cock into my ass. It felt like heaven, like a thousand bells ringing jubilantly from afar, and while I bounced and rocked on his cock, all I could do was look into his brilliantly blue eyes scorching me from below, inviting eyes, the eyes of the Charlie I once knew and loved with my soul. We kissed with a passion like fire and seconds away from filling me with his own ecstasy, I whispered three words, three wonderful words:
“I love you.”
He closed his eyes as he came and reopened them again when I stooped down to kiss him. We looked nowhere else but into each other’s eyes.
“I never stopped thinking about you, Joe,” he said, hoarse and exhausted. “Not once.”
“Why didn’t you write?” I said, resting my head on his chest.
“I’m an idiot, that’s why.”
“Charlie?”
“Hmm?” he seemed to be dozing off.
“Will you visit me sometime?” in a tone of repressed expectation, I added, “After your wedding, of course, I’m still giving you the money.”
“I’ll try to visit you whenever I can.”
“Can I come to your wedding, Charlie?”
“What!” he raised his head an inch. “No, that’s completely out of the question.”
“Why not?”
“Annie knows about—about my former life, she might suspect something’s going on.”
“Oh, you told her about us?”
“Not about us, but she understands the general idea.”
“Oh, fine, I won’t go,” I said, planting a dry kiss on his chest. “Just promise me you’ll come back and visit from time to time.”
“I promised you, didn’t I?”
“I love you, Charlie.”
“Hmm…what?”
“Come on, say it back.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to hear it. You used to say it.”
“All right, all right, I love you and if you make me say it again, I won’t come back ever.”
I raised my head and my eyes met with his face. He was smiling. There he was, there was my Charlie, his lost youth suddenly recouped and alive in his dancing eyes, smiling and dreaming his worries away and for a moment, it seemed we were only sixteen, learning each other’s bodies by heart and proclaiming true love for one another. Yes, we were young and naïve, but when I think about me and Charlie, how we grew together and did all that we did, I have come to the conclusion that boys too can love.
