"What? Just normal coughing. Every morning. Gettin' better, anyway," I explained once they had subsided. "Jeeze. Nine. Gotta go this early?"

I felt myself blush. I had promised myself to be less obvious about Jeff when others were around, but I found myself repeatedly falling short of that goal.

As I stood up and walked toward the bathroom, I remembered the dream of dying in the van turning into one of Jeff giving me a blow-job.

Didn't I wake up? I was about to die again, and then somebody was feeling me up. Yeah. And then I was in the van, dreaming Jeff was blowing me. Or was it? I think it was. Maybe.

I did what I had to do in the bathroom, pondering whether the blow-job had been a dream or not. I began to lean toward the events being real, once I got a whiff of my sweaty odor, and noticed the matting of my hair, and the telltale condition of my pubic hair. I decided on a shower, even though it would be such a chore. It wasn't too hard to keep the water from striking the sore burns now, but keeping the shampoo away from my temple sutures was difficult.

How could Jeff blow me when Tom stayed over? It had to be a dream. Why didn't I think of that last night? If I was awake and it was real, then I would've, right? But I never really woke up, just kind of, then went right back to sleep.

Or was it all just a dream? How do I find out? Ask Jeff? Shit. Give Tom the third degree? What if he had left, and it was real, and I ask him a bunch of questions about last night? Damn it. I gotta know!

I was panting again as I stepped out of the shower and began to dry off. I hadn't brought anything clean to wear, not planning on a shower. I slipped into the sweatpants and plodded out to my dresser where I quickly slipped into fresh shorts and sweatpants. I walked back to my bed, sat down, and considered how much to ask Tom.

"So, anyway, what happened to you last night?" I finally asked, knowing he wouldn't say much, if anything.

"Uh, can I ask something embarrassing?" Tom asked, turning to face me, obviously a bit embarrassed himself.

I was instantly on guard. Tom and I had been close enough friends that anything he was afraid would be embarrassing to ask me was certainly going to be one hell of a doozy of a question. I was instantly intently curious.

"Well, you don't have to answer, but..." his words putting me even more on guard. "Well, you ever look at my ass like that when I left a room?"

Is that all? I wondered. He's asked way more embarrassing stuff than that! Maybe not what he was really going to ask?

I answered after rolling my eyes a bit, "Sure. Like every time you left the room, dude. You got a great ass. Honest."

He said, "Sure," as if not convinced before turning his attention back to the game.

"No, honest, Tom. Especially those black jeans with the small pockets? The ones that go straight down your legs? They hug your cheeks real good."

I snickered a bit, letting myself seem a bit embarrassed. I was, but only a little. Talking to Tom about things like that had long ago become more easy and comfortable than embarrassing.

"Tom, honest. More times than once you looked back and caught me, you know!" The grin that he tried to hide showed that he believed me and remembered catching my looks. I went on, "But those light blue jeans with the zipper on the pocket is the best at showing off your package! When you wear those, it's like, I don't know, like really hot and shows off your stuff real good!"

His blush was a welcome reward. His grin widened and he looked back at me. His dark eyes sparkled a bit as he raised one eyebrow at my stare.

"Yea, well, you better stop thinking about that stuff. You might get caught thinking it, ya know?"

I laughed a bit more and said, "Jeff isn't jealous, at all. We talk about you sometimes, ya know."

That obviously surprised him. Or maybe scared him. It was hard to tell with Tom. He could always throw me off the trail of what he really was thinking or feeling and had proved that he could more times than I was even aware of.

Wanting to remove some of the surprise, I said quickly, "Well, when we can talk. When we can get away from Todd. The little bugger is so great at spying, ya know?"

Tom laughed and nodded. "Dude! You guys... talk about that?" he asked, still seemingly concerned.

"Sometimes he asks if I regret not choosing to be with you instead of him. I keep telling him it wasn't my choice since what you think of me isn't the same and all. But he still thinks maybe you do, you know, are gay."

"Can't blame him," Tom said gently. "I mean, not like I never said no about it or anything."

"Dude! Please say you don't talk about, you know, about, like about anything we did!"

He shook his head side to side very slowly, as if he were trying to explain physics to a special classes student who kept eating his pencil and picking his nose. He put his face into his hands and said around them, "About me, about how I, stuck it in you."

Tom had always been able to confuse me, but this was certainly one of the biggest times he had ever done so.

"Dude. I think he knows you have. I mean, we talked about it some, never said you did. So?"

He looked out from behind his hands, and was about to say something when he shrugged and said softly, "Never mind. Guess it doesn't matter anyway, huh?" He turned back to the Atari and asked, "Is it okay if I stay until Jeff gets back?"

I looked at him the same way again, almost wishing that he was facing me to see.

"I just thought, maybe, he might wanna just be alone. Ya know? And it'd be awkward I guess, you know, how to leave."

"Whenever you wanna. Shit. Jeff and I got all night. And tomorrow until noon at least."

"Besides, you went to sleep at home last night so we could anyway. No big hurry today."

"I mean, and stay in one of the downstairs bedrooms! Geeze. Jeff'd kill you for even thinking that," I said around the laughs. "God, I thought he was gonna last night!"

Tom shrugged while still laughing, and said, "Maybe if we get Jeff used to things first..."

We were laughing harder, but I couldn't help but think of it seriously. It wasn't a new thought, the idea of a threesome between us. In fact, I'd fantasized about any possible combination of the guys in the Circle. Even friends from school. But Jeff and Tom had always been a favorite. But Tom actually suggesting that the three of us jack-off to see who shot the furthest in order to decide who picked the pizza place last night had been stunning.

He grinned his grin that meant he was enjoying my situation and wouldn't answer. He turned silently back to the game, proving his intentions.

I took my time using the bathroom again, then wandered downstairs. Mom insisted on hot oatmeal with honey, toast with apple-butter, and a lot of orange juice along with the morning pills. Then Mom insisted that she change the bandages.

"Oh, nothing, dearest," he said, still from behind the paper. "And I wanted to ask you, son," he said as he lowered the paper. "What are we going to do about a car for you?"

I brightened, even though I also felt a twinge of loss for the van, and the inevitable wave of terror. And thoughts of the old Plymouth. And that guilt over his pain.

"Hmm. Just thought you might have a, hesitation over another van," he said, glancing at Mom.

I glanced at her, too. Her expression at Dad told me something was up. I knew about the Plymouth, but as far as they were concerned, I didn't.

"I mean, it was a one-in-a-million thing. I don't know if it backfired, a wire sparked, a spark-plug wire arced, what. The leaking gas was the big cause. Tell you what, I ever smell gas leaking out of any car I ever have, I'm gettin' out of it."

"I shouldn't have been messing around with it while it was leaking gas without getting that cowl off first," he said, his face and tone telling me that he felt responsible.

He shrugged, then said, "If I had taken it to a garage, it wouldn't have happened." he said simply, but with a heavy scowl.

"Sorry," I said with a roll of my eyes. "It wasn't your fault. You had no idea the leak was that bad. Or that something would start a fire. Or that it would end up... trapping me in there."

"To tune it up? We needed to do that, so we'd know something about it. We'd of taken it to a garage for the things they needed to do. We were just sorta getting to know it. Checkin' it out."

"I said pretty much the same thing," Mom said with a small frown. "But your dad is your dad. He'll feel that he should have done something else, no matter."

"He'll get over it. Now, how about you think about what type of car you'd like. We can go looking around lots and checking in the paper."

Since they were playing me over the Plymouth, I decided to make their prank a little harder to enjoy for a while.

"A shortie Chevy van. So I can turn it into something like I had, if I can't find one already done like it."

"You could really be comfortable with another van like that one?" Mom asked doubtfully.

"But I doubt I'll find one, so I'll take the ads upstairs and have a look at what's in it. Maybe find a nice older car," I said, taking that section from him. "Something without four doors. Or big, wide, flat, bench seats. Especially nothing green," I finished, already facing away from them and half way to the hallway.

Back upstairs, I apologized for taking so long as I sat down, looking through the ads.

"Might as well pretend to, right? They asked what I was thinking about for one."

"I said I wanted to replace the van. As close as I can." I paused, then said, "Anything not green. Like that awful Plymouth. And only two doors."

I found one Chevy van of about the right year, but it was a full-sized workman's van. Unsuitable. I put the paper down on my desk, where my parents would see it if they came up, then sat on the beanbag next to him to start playing Atari.

For the first time in a long time, Tom and I didn't watch television, get high, play video games, or listen to music. Instead, we talked. It started with him asking how I was doing, really doing. He wanted to know how the burns were on my side and back, as well as my legs. He asked how my temple was doing. I sensed a bit of guilt still over that wound, and tried to convince him that I should have been more cautious approaching a Tom with a powered device under his control.

We talked about school, and what the talk was about me. He assured me there wasn't anyone talking about jumping me when I got back. He also told me that if anyone did, they would have a couple of dozen guys jumping them in return. Charlie Derek had not bullied or shoved anyone since the fight. He had even talked to Tom a few times, asking how I was doing and when I would be back in school. We joked about the old green Plymouth, and what we would do in it, and where we would go in it.

I asked Tom how he was doing, and if he was ready to tell me what had been bothering him so much on Sunday night. He said he was fine, and what was bothering him wasn't a concern anymore. It was the way that he said it that alerted me that it was still bothering him, and that he had no plans on discussing it with me. At all. And that bothered me.

We talked about movies that were coming out for the summer, like Return of the Jedi, Porky's Two, and a hinted at 3-D Jaws Three. And a new James Bond film that we were sure wasn't actually going to be named Octopussy; it had to be a publicity stunt, we agreed. We talked about the new music lately, how the electronic sounds were taking over, and for the most part sounding really good. We spent some time discussing Styx's new album, Kilroy Was Here, due out in less than two weeks.

He said the guys at the breakfast table was being kept up to date on how I was doing, and they all were glad I was doing better, and were looking forward to seeing me back in school. He said that Puppy Dog was still down, and would probably be moody until I got back. I tried to pry a new clue as the identity of Puppy Dog from him, but he was enjoying my blindness too much to bring it to an end yet.

"I gave ya some, and you still don't see. So no. Besides, you got Jeff, you don't need to worry about who it is."

"No one," I said quickly, hoping that neither of them noticed my eye and hand twitching.

As he took off his coat, I really looked at him and his body, and I wondered why I found him so attractive still. He no longer was the little, cute, shy Jeff that I fell for almost three years ago. He was tall, strong, firm, athletic looking, even though he wasn't muscular and had soft edges.

There were plenty of others built like him at school, and I hardly gave them a glance. Jeff could easily fit in with any of the jocks, and would look right at home on the baseball field. He was not what my eyes were usually drawn to.

After lunch, we sat down to play Dungeons and Dragons again. We played and smoked grass for hours until dinner. Between the three of us we had enough for pizza again, and again we had to decide who was delivering it.

After my luck with the die throw last night, they were unwilling to go that route. Tom saved us the trouble, and spared us a repeat of his insane proposition to decide where to order from.

Jeff and I both perked up instantly. It had been a long time since we had braved the massive burritos, and as we all loved them, it was an easy decision. Tom called next door, and after offering to pay for Jon's burrito and supply desert, it was settled. All we had to do was wait for Jon to return. We made sure to remind him to get plenty of the jalape"o-soaked sliced carrots.

"Yep," I said, rolling a twenty-sided die twice. "You both can make it out after some time studying them. They tell the highlights of the story of the king of the realm that existed here a long time ago. It seems that this is his burial vault. The symbols end with a warning that anyone who enters this doorway will face the wrath of his specter until their impending, horrible death by the cold of the grave."

Tom said, "If these were real characters and not ones we just made up for practice for ya, I'd be worried about it. But since they're just practice ones, why not? We just be careful and if we end up dead, we just call it. Burritos'll be here, and Sven starts soon anyway."

"Fine with me," Jeff answered. "So we examine the walls and the doorway for traps."

"Alright, that spell that opens portals," Jeff said, looking through his list of spells.

He saw how long it took to cast, made sure he had the components. I described the opening of the stone doorway and the blackness beyond it once it swung silently inward.

"Dunno. But it can kill a light spell and loves the dark, not gonna be friendly."

"Jeff, you notice the darkness is creeping out from the room, as if the shadows on the floor were moving toward you guys."

The magical battle began. Tom and Jeff did an admirable job of it, but soon their spells were exhausted and the battle turned physical. Once that happened, they had little chance, but battled to the end. Within minutes both of them lay desiccated on the floor.

The phone rang. I answered and Jon told me the burritos were next door. A nod at Tom and he threw on his coat, grabbed the joints, and headed out the door.

"I'm fucking starving!" Jeff said enthusiastically. "I just wish enjoying them going down was the last experience you had from them!"

When he took on that expression during correcting me, his braces glinted between his luscious lips in that way that I found inexplicably adorable. In that moment, he was nearly the Jeff I had fallen so hard for again.

I moved slowly toward him. He backed a bit, but didn't move. I reached him. I placed one hand on his thigh and my lips over his. He replied in kind. I was hard instantly. I easily found that he was too. We had no time, but we made use of what time we did have. We heard Tom thumping up the steps and drew apart.

Jeff tisked nicely. I grinned and tried not to blush too much. Tom handed us our two-pound burritos and silence reigned as we devoured the monstrosities. We all knew we would regret them in time, but they were too good to not enjoy fully. I managed to get down less than half before my stomach cried uncle. It was the first time I had not been able to finish an El Farol burrito. It was also the first dose of jalape"o-soaked carrots for over a month. I knew I would pay.

* * *

"Let's see," Tom said, leafing through the sheets of characters. "Seven fighters, two thieves, four clerics, three paladins, and four magic users."

"I was running out of random idea sheets, too," I said. "Another couple sets of characters and the stories would've repeated."

"We got about enough time for a joint before Svengoolie, right?" Jeff asked hopefully, looking at the clock.

"Always!" I answered, stretching carefully to reach the box of combustible comestibles.

By the time the roach was snubbed out, we had relived most of the adventures, laughing at their stupid mistakes and admiring their insightful victories. Jeff had to admit that he did indeed love playing Dungeons and Dragons, as Tom and I had told him that he would. He even admitted that he was looking forward to next weekend and our continuing gaming adventures.

I felt that he was ready, so with a knowing nod at Tom, I reached into my pile of folders and pulled out one marked "Fort Knights," handing a character sheet to each of them.

"Each one is identical except for abilities, which were random. If you guys want to swap that's fine. You are knights in the employ of the king. Your job is to handle any problems that might arise within the kingdom. And it seems that a problem needing your immediate attention has arisen. Next weekend, you head out of the king's fort to deal with it."

"We name them?" Jeff asked, noting there was no name on the appropriate line at the top of the sheet.

"Yup. And there's some other blank lines you get to fill in to make it your own character. But otherwise you got standard supplies and such from your service to the king. You're experienced fighters. You have a horse, a squire, a tent, and armor and weapons. And you're in charge of as many men as you request, within reason, for your needs."

"Cool!" Jeff said in near awe. "And full armor. And a plus-onel weapon! And shield! What an armor class!"

"Don't get too excited. I'm sure Al has something awful we'll have to deal with if he's equippin' us up like this!" Tom said with a sneaky grin.

"Can't say a word about it until next week. You'll just have to wait until then. You got some goodies, but you're still first level," I added, switching on the television and turning the dial to channel thirty-two just as Svengoolie's opening credits were starting.

There were two beanbags at the end of the bed in front of the television, so I took to my stomach on the bed, chin on palms, elbows on the edge of the mattress. I was between them as they sat on the beanbags and leaned back against the bed. The box was on one corner of the bed and I kept my soda between their beanbags. My head was barely behind theirs, and my peripheral vision began at their laps.

It was an interesting and enjoyable time. As Svengoolie finished his opening bit and introduced, "The Man From Planet X," everything was all normal. But during the commercial break, Jeff went to the bathroom. When he came back he sat on the chair at the desk. He'd never done that while something was on TV or while playing Atari. He didn't even move the chair closer, or even to where he could see the screen clearly.

I rolled a joint and waved him over. He smirked for a second, then rolled his eyes, then came and sat back down to my right. The joint burned down quickly. By the next break it was a roach.

"Worse than, uh, what was it? The dark alien in the cave, and the woman with the smoker's voice as the hypnotized scientist's wife?"

"At least it didn't feature a guy in green greasepaint and latex gloves as the main alien," Tom reminded us.

"Gawd, this is awful," Jeff said this time. "There's dramatic lighting, then there's...this."

Svengoolie's bit at the end was worth it, and frosting on his into- and out-of-break bits. The next movie, "Flight To Mars," was another horrible, cheap, terrible movie. I hadn't seen it for years, and thought how it would probably never make it onto VHS, not unless they made so many millions of VHS tapes that they started showing up all over the planet. I pulled another doobie from the box and prepared to light it.

"You really don't have to go," I said before I really thought about it. I winced at how pleading I sounded.

"Yeah, think I do. If it was me, I'd a pushed one of ya out the door and the other on the bed by now," he said with a laugh.

As he put on his coat, Tom answered, "I guess I wouldn't throw one out unless I was goin' with the other one. Otherwise I'd toss you both on the bed." He turned to go with a wave, and as he crossed the threshold, he turned around and added, "Then toss you both off," with a bounce of his brows.

He grinned in a way that had me wondering just how much of that statement was a joke.

"Anyway, like I said before," he went on innocently, deadpan. "Vaseline's under the head of the bed. And let him get some sleep, Jeff." Then as he headed down the stairs, Jeff still sitting in post-tisk, surprised silence, Tom added, "Don't want him all dehydrated and exhausted all day tomorrow."

I managed to say, "Night, Tom," between laughs. "He's something else, man," I said about him, once again.

He went through his exasperated sigh and roll of his blue eyes, even held up one side of his mouth, showing off his braces.

He patted the beanbag next to him and grinned cutely. I slid off the bed on my hands until only my feet were on it, then walked down the bed and beanbag into a squatting position until I could rock backward and settle in. Once such an easy maneuver, now it took timing, concentration, and effort. The burns didn't appreciate it, and I wished that I hadn't tried to pull it off so soon. I settled in with more than a few sighs and gasps.

"Don't be rushing into it," he warned. "You could of just stood up and come sit down, ya know."

I slid my near hand onto his thigh, very near his groin, and settled into the new position against him. He put his arm around me and his other hand over mine. He smiled all cutely and we leaned against each other.

"Wanna at least see what the show is before we stop paying any attention," he said, grinning down at me.

I shrugged, enjoying stretching out the anticipation. I wanted it to feel comfortable and familiar, but it wasn't. It was nice, though, just not what I thought it should be. We were distracted by Svengoolie and his crazy antics for a while. By the time the opening bits were over and he was introducing the show, I was painfully hard. My chest was under pressure and my breathing was rapid. I felt flushed with heat. I was dizzy. Shivering almost imperceptibly.

The horrible, black and white, nineteen-fifties, low-budget, science-fiction film began. I remembered it from my childhood, but hadn't seen it more than once or twice since. It was looking to be just as bad as I remembered it.

Jeff and I lost interest. We looked more and more at each other. We grinned stupidly, giggled inanely, blushed furiously. I wanted very badly to simply tear his clothing off of him and ravage his body. I hoped he was thinking the same. He placed a warm, soft kiss on my lips.

His warm, soft lips again met mine. Our hot breaths mingled. Together we moaned softly to each other, hands suddenly roaming.

We moved to the bed and undressed each other in turn. He removed my glasses and laid them carefully on the bedside table. We went slowly, mostly touching and rubbing, licking and kissing all places as we went. We undressed each other slowly and over at least ten minutes. Just as he was last weekend, he was exquisitely careful about and around the bandages covering my burns. We left the lights on and the door open, but I knew my parents wouldn't come upstairs without calling out first. I was too far gone with lust to care anyway.

As we played with each other, Jeff stopped and looked me over with an odd expression. I had no choice to but to ask what.

I shrugged and went back to tracing one pinkish nipple and his thick blonde chest hairs with my good hand, and licking and sucking his other. I had noticed changes in him, too. He was wider, sturdier, stronger, bigger, and hairier. His legs, chest, and arms were visibly hairy, his blonde hair filling in all over him. Even his once faint treasure trail from his navel downward was now heavier and thicker. In just the month we had been apart, he'd grown, and grown hairier. Or possibly I only then noticed. Or my taste had changed.

I didn't understand what about my weight was so important it had to interrupt such a good time. I wasn't harping on his being so much more like Tim than I wanted him to be.

"I think I don't like it. You need to get back to what you was like. That was sexy. This is almost, I dunno, almost not. It's like I could break you or somethin'."

I almost wanted to tell him that I wanted him to go back to what he had been like before, too, but I knew there was no way he could de-mature his body.

Instead, I said, "Don't know 'bout breakin' me, but you could probably split me up the middle!"

I found him very cute, despite the fact that he was larger than me. For a while I had liked guys who were bigger than me, but sometime over the last few months I had noticed that I seemed to pay more attention to guys my size or smaller. Tom Bechtel, Erich and Eric, even little Scott. I considered it odd how I had mostly preferred larger guys while Jeff had been one of the smaller guys, but now as Jeff matured and became one of the larger guys, my tastes seemed to shift more toward smaller guys.

Even when I mostly preferred the bigger guys, Jeff stood out, I thought. So maybe now I'm kinda likin' smaller guys, Jeff'll still stand out, I reasoned " hoped.

"Just thinkin' how you talk different now. You used to have that almost western drawl thing goin'."

I agreed silently, with only a small bounce of my eyebrows and a turn of my eyes.

I understood exactly what he meant. It was an inevitable goal of ours. One we shared in common simply due to our sexuality. One we didn't have to speak of.

Or as normal as we can be, I thought. Easy for him. He's not known about. He didn't blab about himself in public. Well, he did, but to a small group of friends he trusts. I went and did it in front of nearly everyone at school. Fucking idiot.

I can't blame him for wanting to keep it secret. If I could take it back, I would. Or would I?

I knew that I sounded different, but I hardly considered it sexy. Rough, gravelly, maybe, but not sexy. I didn't care for it mostly because it deprived me of my release through singing, and came with that nearly constant shortness of breath. That shortness too often reminded me of the primal fear of suffocation I had suffered in those brief minutes of horror in the van.

He rolled me onto my back and began kissing downward. He spent a brief pause at each nipple, licking and sucking, even nibbling gently. I responded with small gasps and hisses, enjoying it. His hands slid up and down my flanks, nearly tickling me. Soon he moved lower, his lips and tongue teasing my skin as he took his time. It seemed forever before his hands cupped my buttocks and his tongue slid up and down the underside of my bobbing cock. He kissed and licked it from base to tip, paying a lot of attention to tugging at the very tip with his lips.

After a second wave of pre-cum had lubricated his efforts, he slid only my head into his mouth and sucked so very gently. At times those waves of suction ceased, but only briefly. The tickling attentions of his tongue and lips were wonderful.

His hands never stopped roaming over me. From my sides to my buttocks, thighs to balls, they roamed and tickled my skin endlessly.

At one point he moved both hands to my nipples and rolled them between his fingers as he slid his mouth entirely over my hardness, sucking strongly. My back arched and I groaned loudly.

He began bobbing up and down, slowly at first, then quicker. His tongue worked harder around the edges of my head. For what seemed a long time he kept this up, and as I grew close to finishing I warned him.

He slowed then stopped, then began kissing the underside of my shaft as he played with my nipples, letting the pressure ease.

I pulled him upward by his hair, gently, and kissed him deeply. The salty taste of myself was nice. I rolled him onto his back and began returning the pleasure he had given me. I nearly copied his performance. I let my hands roam all over him as my mouth played with his enormous manhood.

At one point, my hands were cupping and kneading his buttocks, and I slid one pinky between his cheeks, closing slowly on his opening. He allowed me to slip between, but as it came closer to the target he pulled at that arm, making it clear he wasn't allowing it. I relented without resistance.

I loved to slide his foreskin downward with my lips so that I could slip my tongue across his velvety head. He obviously loved it, too. His entire body tensed and quivered every time I did so, and it almost always resulted in a nice bit of pre-cum as well.

His cock was longer than mine, but not very much so. It was very much thicker and wider. It was almost too wide to put into my mouth. I had to always be careful to keep my teeth from raking his skin, and I had to take frequent breaks so that my jaw didn't ache too much.

I was again sliding my tongue through the opening of his foreskin and licking his head as I sucked him when he tensed.

I felt his cock tense and pulse, and tasted his cum almost immediately. When he first began to warn me I had started sliding up and off of him, not wanting him to finish so quickly. However, his warning was too late. I was just sliding upward when his cocked began jumping and I knew it was too late.

Instead of continuing off of him, I slammed downward and sucked for all I could manage. My hands were cupping his ass, so I kneaded and massaged them and used that grip on his buttocks to push him further into my mouth. As the end of his cock pushed against the back of my throat, filling my mouth, he fired his second wave and I swallowed. My jaw was nearly dislocating!

He bucked and groaned, hissed air in through is teeth. As another wave of cum came from him he arched his back and grunted. Again and again he shot hot cum into the back of my throat and I swallowed each time.

Wordless grunts and groans escaped from him between hip spasms as I kept sucking his already softening cock.

"Fucking-a! Ah, shit! Alex! Please stop!" he begged, eventually pulling me off of himself.

He panted as I moved up and laid my head on his heaving chest. I tickled his treasure trail with my uninjured hand. The other felt as if I'd slammed it against a wall. I hadn't noticed or thought of it during our sex at all.

"Oh, man!" he said when he had most of his breath back. "How'm I gonna copy that?"

He slid down me slowly, kissing and licking again. By the time his lips slid over my head and down my shaft, I wasn't far from finishing at all. I tingled all over, emanating from my balls and prostate. I'd been hard and horny for some time before we began, and he had already warmed me up.

He began sucking and licking each nut, one at a time. He kissed my inner thighs, licking occasionally. His hands roamed endlessly. By the time he returned to sucking me, I had pre-cum dripping from my head into my bush. He licked it away gently, teasing my head with his hot breath and soft tongue.

He gripped my cock at the base and slid the skin up and down, sucking only my head. Soon he was bobbing as well. I couldn't stop my hips from thrusting. I held the back of his head with both hands, trying not to shove him down fully onto me.

Before long that deep welling feeling began and I moaned out softly. I had to keep my eyes open and on him as he shoved himself downward, sucking harder, his tongue swirling around it. I felt the back of his throat and he pushed even further. That drove me crazy!

I pushed my hips upward involuntarily. He slid both hands under my ass and kneaded my cheeks.

The pressure mounted, the tension grew, the intensity of the waves of pleasure and the almost electrical waves running through me mounted. He seemed to take even more of me into his mouth with each bob of his head, then he slammed down and remained there, sucking so hard that I wondered if he was going to actually pull my balls through my urethra.

I gasped deeply as my entire body seemed to center in my groin and my cock swelled up too large for the skin around it to contain it..

My back arched as far as it could, my legs tensed until they nearly cramped, my ankles popped, and I exploded. Again and again I gasped for air between small whining moans. Each orgasmic pulsation seemed to draw a bit more of me away. Each ejaculation left me weaker and with less breath. My sphincter tried to constrict with each orgasmic convulsion, but Jeff's finger seemed like a sewer pipe holding it open.

It was the longest orgasm of my life, and easily one of the most intense. Not only did it involve my groin, even my scalp and the soles of my feet seemed involved. Every muscle in my body quivered and quaked. My cock felt as if it were going to pop like an overly inflated balloon.

Suddenly I almost violently pulled him off of me, gasping for air and trying not to twist my ankles into some impossible angle.

As I pulled him from me he swiped his tongue over the tip and opening, sending waves of almost unbearable pleasure straight through me. His hands moved from my butt to my balls and my cock, gently squeezing them and stoking it.

I let him play, knowing how much fun it was to do, and enjoying the gentler sensation.

We didn't say another word, just stared into each others eyes and grinned happily.

After a long time laying wordlessly like that, he got up and used the bathroom. When he came back, we kissed and I took a turn at the john. When I came back, he had rolled another joint. We kissed, the combined fresh toothpaste flavors overpowering. We lay on the bed, naked, side by side, and watched the rest of "Flight To Mars," laughing at the comments Svengoolie threw in during it and in breaks, as well as the horrible effects, writing, and acting.

When the next segment ended, and Svengoolie had done his bit and threatened to return after these messages, I reached over and toyed with Jeff's large dick, teasing it to hardness. He returned the gesture, and before the break ended, we jacked each other off. It was fast and furious, and we worked to get the other off first. We ended within a minute of each other.

We wiped our bellies and bushes clean with towels from the bathroom, giggling but not talking. We covered the beanbags with a blanket and Jeff rolled yet another joint. We smoked it, naked, side by side under another blanket. Sven bemoaned the fact that Gamera would be rampaging all next weekend, and apologized for that as he headed for his coffin and dodged rubber chickens. We smoked it, naked, as I flipped through the other nine channels, walking on my knees back and forth from the television to the beanbags, Jeff giggling.

It was an entirely new sensation, being naked with Jeff in a lit room, smoking a joint, acting otherwise normal after having had sex. I enjoyed it, and Jeff seemed relaxed and unconcerned, which only increased my enjoyment of the situation further.

"Well, you wanna watch a tape, play a game, or what?" I asked once all the channels proved fruitless.

"I never saw Young Frankenstein, remember? Missed that whole boat," he said, referring to the weekend not long ago when I had played the new tape during a Circle meeting he had missed.

Everyone had adopted the movie as a classic. The fact that it was in black and white irked Eric to no end, and he often made side-handed compliments to something later by saying, "it was black and white." Others of us had made jokes and comments that were inside jokes if you had seen the movie, but were a complete mystery if you had not; like Jeff.

I nodded and put the tape on, killed the lights, then sat next to him. We cuddled up under the blanket and passed another joint. When the coffin slammed open in the credits, Jeff jumped against me. It was both hilarious and endearing. Before the joint was done we were laughing loudly. I enjoyed his laughter a great deal. It made the movie even more enjoyable.

By the end of the movie we were shoulder to shoulder, head to head, hand in hand. It was the best of times, right up there with times with Toby.

I threw back the blanket and started to get up to rewind the tape and put it away. Jeff held me down by putting his hand on my bare thigh. That touch immediately fired up my chest and my groin.

"It rewinds automatically, right, Frow-drick?" he asked, making me laugh as we locked eyes.

I placed my good hand on his bare thigh, then leaned in for a kiss. He leaned and met me.

We touched and explored, teased and toyed. We stroked each other for a few minutes, then moved to the bed and a sixty-nine. As one of us would near completion, a warning would be issued, and we would take a break. We kissed the first break away, smoked while while kissing and giving each other shotguns the second break, got something to drink in the third break, then he was obviously teetering on the edge of orgasm from the moment I began touching him after that.

My own cock was purple-headed, hot, and nearly sore, Jeff's was visibly ravaged. His cock gave off an amazing amount of heat by then, and was deeply purple at the visible tip of his big head, and very red along the shaft. His balls, which usually hung nicely and fully from him were now tucked up tight, the sack wrinkled and taut. He continued oozing pre-cum nearly constantly, and I wondered just how much his body could produce before he dehydrated or simply stopped.

As we lay again in a sixty-nine, him sucking and licking me eagerly, me only teasingly and sparingly touching him. This side-to-side sixty-nine position was about the only one that didn't hurt either my burned side, back, or the temple. I gave in and pushed myself deeply into his mouth, also filling my mouth with his huge, hot cock. I bobbed on him as much as I could. If it weren't so thick, I could have tried to take the entire length. I had to work to get the entire head in my mouth without gagging on it, but managed it once again. I was sucking and licking intensely.

He bucked his hips, thrust himself forward. We both moaned around each other. I pushed forward with my own hips, he took the length of me. I exploded. Again and again I released powerful waves of pressure.

I felt his cock swell and dance on my tongue and between my lips. I sucked and slid up his cock, tickling the accessible tip of his cock with my tongue. A huge wave of salty pre-cum washed past my tongue, then his cock swelled even more, nearly popping my jaw. Then he tensed, groaning around my continuing flow of cum into his mouth.

Then he tensed again, his back arching, pushing the tip of his thick head even harder against the back of my throat. What felt like a garden hose on high pressure sprayed into my mouth. It was hot, seeming hotter than his body temperature, so very hot it almost seemed impossible. And thick. He came and came, forcing me to swallow as fast as I was able. I nearly choked on his flow, hoping it would stop soon or I would suffocate.

The taste was wonderful, and I thought it would almost be wonderful to suffocate in such a way, but the fear and horror so deeply ingrained in me from the van fire won out. I pulled away so that I could breathe. I stroked the entire length of his cock as it danced and bucked. Doing so meant that I could taste his firing wads of cum instead of swallowing it from in the back of my throat. It was so hot, so thick, and there was so much of it. His entire body jerked and twisted with each expulsion.

My own orgasm seemed to continue draining through me. Jeff continued to suck and lick and stroke. Deep inside my groin, between my balls, an odd pressure seemed to indicate some sort of implosion under way, as if everything contained there was being forcibly evicted, leaving only a yawning open space. My glans was already sensitive beyond the norm, but I had no intention of pulling from his warm, wet, soft mouth and lips. I endured the near agony, hoping only to survive it.

Once the flow of hot, thick cum from Jeff slowed and finally stopped, I let him slip out of my mouth and began panting and groaning in turn. Jeff released my own sore, sensitive, aching dick and I felt his hot breath upon it and my thigh.

We were lying wordless, sated, sweaty, panting, groaning, and laughing. I was weaker than I could remember being since I had first woken up in the hospital. Every muscle nearly twitched with exhaustion. Even the barest movement required extreme effort and seemed to noticeably weaken me further. I had hardly moved at all, just lay on my side and moved my head and hands, but I was exhausted.

With extreme effort I rolled onto my back to breathe better. Jeff did the same. Simultaneously we moved closer to each other, touching flank to flank, our hands roaming softly over wet, hot skin.

In moments I was drifting away, sinking into oblivion. I was in that space between waking and sleep, content and happy, willing to complete the rest of the drift into nothing.

I snickered softly and shrugged. I knew he couldn't have seen the gesture, so I replied, "Dunno."

"Nah," I said as my hand found and toyed with his soft, massive, still wet cock.

It was entirely soft, but still heavy, ponderous even. And entirely a satisfying sensation to handle. His scrotum had relaxed finally, and his nicely sized balls were fun to fondle again.

"Not gonna get hard again for hours," Jeff groaned, even as his hand found and toyed with my own flaccid, wet member.

We put our foreheads together and grinned at each other, saying nothing, occasionally kissing, and it felt great.

We dragged the blanket onto the bed with us and cuddled up under it, too tired to move another inch. We struggled for position, Jeff obviously wanting me to lay on his chest, while I wanted him in my arms and side by side. Eventually we lay on our sides, facing each other, holding hands and grinning at each other when sleep claimed us.

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The Circle Squared - Book One: Squaring the Circle

by Smokr

Chapter 7

"The Best of Times"

Saturday

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