For the Love of David
by Charlie
First Alternate Reality
Part One
I took a deep breath, got up (there was no way this was going down with me lying beside him on the floor) and walked over to the sofa and sat down. Long silence. What could I tell him? What might open a door without letting too much of who I was out of the bag before I got feedback? What feedback did I expect?
"David."
"Yes."
"I'd like to tell you about elementary school." Another long pause. I wasn't getting very far, was I? David sensed my problem.
He said, "I'd love to hear any kind of story. If it is important to you, then I am glad you want to share it with me."
What was he telling me? Did he have any idea where this was going, or was he just saying vague kindnesses? Another deep breath. "I used to play strip poker with some of the neighborhood kids back in about fifth grade."
David asked, "Girls, boys, both?"
"I don't know where we would have found willing girls. This was just boys. It started with two kids that lived up the street, brothers. One a year older than me, one a year younger. I'm not sure how it started. I think they must have played together before, and perhaps with an older cousin they ran around with. In any case, we decided to play strip poker.
"I am not sure where we thought we were going with the idea. We had all slept over at each other's houses and seen each other nude many times. So what would we accomplish by winning poker hands that led to the other stripping? Well, I guess we found out. Taking your clothes off as part of two boys getting ready for bed is one thing. Taking your clothes off because you had lost a game focused on the sexual aspects of taking your clothes off is another. Our dicks were hard long before we were naked. Then we realized we had seen each other naked, but not with hard-ons. We certainly were familiar with hard-ons, and knew each other had them. But they were talked about in the abstract, not as in, 'I have a hard-on right now.'"
Wait. I have to step back from my twenty-first century viewpoint. We never called them hard-ons while in elementary school. There were always called boners. I can remember discussions about what boner meant. Did it mean hard, like a bone? Or did it mean problematic, like a mistake? Today, I would say the first. Back in elementary school, I thought of a boner as a mistake. By the time I was telling this to David, in high school, I think that I would have called them hard-ons. Boner was thought of as a childish term.
David was silent for a while, as was I. Then he said, simply, "Please tell me the rest of the story."
I said, "Give me time. I am not sure where I'm going with this."
"We have plenty of time. We have dinner to fix and eat, and then we have all evening."
"Ok, here goes again. Playing strip poker meant that when we got down to our underpants our hard-ons would show. And taking off the underpants was going to embarrass at least the first to strip. Well, maybe not. The two brothers, Jim and John, had played before, so presumably this was not new to them. It was to me.
"I don't know who lost first, but we played repeatedly, and eventually I lost. It was the first time anyone had seen MY hard-on. I was too young to have an orgasm, but I would've if I could've. The game was poker, but without betting. We simply dealt out hands of five cards, face up, and the loser, worst poker hand on the floor-we always played sitting on the floor, a table would have hidden 'things'-had to take off a piece of clothing.
"I honestly don't know whether the game progressed beyond that the first time, but eventually we got tired of seeing each other naked and and we began to consider, 'Where do we go from here?"'
"The answer was, 'Loser had to lay down on the bed and let the winner do anything to him that he wanted.' The winner was the guy with the most clothes on when the loser lost his underpants. I don't know who our first winner and loser were, but this led to experimenting that continued on for the roughly two years these games continued.
David asked, "What did you do?"
"Remember, were nine to twelve years old amongst us over the two years. Orgasms weren't in the cards. Love wasn't in the cards; we weren't trying to pleasure each other, nor hurt each other. It was really teasing. Like tickling somebody mercilessly. You lose, you pay. Now lay down and stick up your dick."
I continued, "But what do you do with a dick? We would bend it; hit it, tickle it. The balls got similar treatment, but squeezing was quickly placed off limits. Squeezing the dick was OK, though. Sometimes we would pinch nipples, but we didn't really associate them with the point of the game. Belly buttons were poked, but then we would go back to the dick and harass it in some different way. We usually had time limits, and game variants included a longer time for the winner the more clothes he had on when the game ended. Sometimes there was one winner who got to tease two losers, and sometimes two winners took on one loser at the same time."
"Were there other kids involved?"
"Not at first, but eventually we invited a few other boys. I think five at once was the biggest number we ever had. The greatest fun was to ask a new kid if he wanted to play strip poker. A lot said no and we would drop it. There was never any suggestion that this was homosexual-if we knew the term. It was just play-forbidden play we knew-but just play. After the new kid was stripped we would explain what was going to happen to him. The first time you got to play with a kid's dick was the best fun, because it was all so strange to him. And if the new kid won the first round, he wouldn't have a clue what to do with your dick when given the chance.
"I got a couple of other kids involved without Jim and John, but for the most part Jim and/or John were part of the games."
"How long did this go on?" asked David.
"Jim went to the junior high school in seventh grade, when I was in sixth. Shortly afterwards they moved to a new neighborhood. We visited each other some, but the strip poker never happened again. The arrival of hair in our groins seemed to signal the end of our sexual childhoods, and I think we sensed that this was a childhood game."
We were silent a while, and David said, "Let's see what's available to eat. We had a pork roast [David's family were not religious Jews] last night, and I am sure there is some left for sandwiches."
"Sounds good." We did fix sandwiches. We were quiet while we ate. I wasn't sure where I wanted the evening to go, so my mind drifted back to the last math problem. I said to David, "I think I know what we know about that problem that John didn't know."
David clearly wasn't into math problems. He mind was working, but not on math. "The what? Wasn't John the younger brother?"
"In the children in the back yard problem, stupid. I know what we know that John didn't know!"
"What?"
"He knew that the problem had an answer when he found out about whether the littlest family had one or two children."
"So?"
"So that is the answer. Think about it."
"Frankly, I was thinking about strip poker."
"What about it?"
"Want to play?"
In my wildest dreams that was not going to be the next thing out of David's mouth. But here it was. Did I want to play? Oh, God, yes. For the last six years I had dreamed of those strip poker games, and, as I matured, the implications of having a boy down on the bed with the right to do with him as I liked. God, what a thought! And here was David, David!, suggesting it. But did I have the guts to go forward? More silence. Long silence.
"Want to play?"
"Do you?" God what a dopey reply. But a question wasn't a commitment, and thus far neither of us had said or admitted we wanted to play. We had only asked.
More silence.
"Do you want to play?"
"If I answer that question, will you answer that question?" God, is that commitment? I guess it was easier to talk than to have the event move closer to reality. Talk isn't threatening like action is.
"Yes."
"Yes."
"Yes."
"Just what have we said, 'Yes,' to?"
"I'm not sure, but I think we are on for a game of strip poker."
"Rules?"
"Just as you described them."
"How many games? Just one?"
"Until we both agree to quit."
"That could go all night."
"OK, we have to quit by ten, and it is 6:30 now. Lot's of time."
"Do you really want to do this?"
"I'm not sure, but we both said, 'Yes,' so I don't think that there is any turning back."
"OK, first a rule that I didn't describe before."
"No adding rules."
"This one is important. Listen. We have to agree to have the same number of pieces of clothing on. Two shoes, two socks, two items above the belt, pants, underpants, nude. OK."
"OK."
"Got a deck of cards?"
"Yes. Where are we going to play?"
"I guess up in your bedroom. I don't think the living room cuts it, and we want a bed."
"God, we're sixteen years old and playing a child's game."
"Do we know what we're getting into?"
More silence. Silences seemed to mean that we were uncomfortable going forward, but that we really wanted to. "I think so. We are just going to have to see where this leads. Are you in? Wait, I don't want to ask that question, we both already agreed we are in."
"I'll answer. I'm in."
"Let's go upstairs."
We did. In silence we sat on the floor. "Who deals?"
"Doesn't matter," I said. Dealing is just turning cards.
"Aces high or low?"
"High"
"Suit ranks?"
"There are none in poker."
"Then you can have a tie hand."
"Yes. We'll agree that in case of a tie we both take off a piece of clothing. Ties are very rare."
"Talk's cheap; are we going to play?"
"Deal."
He did and I lost a shoe. Then he did. Then he lost a shoe and two socks and I lost my other shoe. Then he lost his shirt, and we began to realize that this was really going somewhere. I don't think either of us had any idea where. He lost his tee shirt and I lost both socks. Now I was staring at his half naked body. I had seem him in a swimming suit, so this wasn't new. But it was the first time I had seen his body sexually. His nipples were hard! So were mine but he couldn't see. I was hard as a rock elsewhere. In his black khakis-you have to have lived in the fifties for "black khakis" to make sense-he was only slightly showing how hard he was, but I was having fun guessing.
I lost three hands in a row and I was sitting in my underpants-Jockey briefs-with my hard-on showing clearly. My heart was pounding-I was sure David could hear it. David couldn't take his eyes off my groin. He just stared.
The next hand went slowly. We each had four cards out and there were no aces and no pairs. I had a king and David had a queen, so unless he got an Ace or paired, I won. He ended up with a pair of fours. I lost. Or did I win? I wasn't sure.
Now I was expected to take off my underpants. David could do with me what he wanted-those were the rules. Those rules were made up by little kids who didn't have orgasms. Those kids had never seen cum; probably had never heard of it. Where was this going? Did I really want to go there? What did David want? Where did he want this to go? I didn't know, but we had agreed to play and now it was pay up time. I stood up.
David said, "Charlie, you don't have to do this. It can stop here. It's been fun. Interesting. But it can end here."
I said, "That wasn't the deal. If you want to stop, I will. But we both agreed to go ahead and I am willing."
"Take off the damn underpants."
Talk was cheap, but now I was expected to pull down my pants and expose a raging hard-on. In my heart I knew this was very different than the last time I had played strip poker. This was sexual, not teasing. This was clearly going somewhere, but I didn't know where.
This was where I had dreamed of going with David, though I hadn't really thought of strip poker as the vehicle. Now here I was, expected to pull down my pants and I wasn't sure I was ready. But I pulled, pushed really, and they were down to my knees, ankles, off. I was still bending over. David's eyes hadn't left my groin, but he couldn't see much. I straightened up. My dick stuck out straight at him, slanting up a little. David just stared. Then he spoke, "I have never seen a hard dick before, except my own."
"Well, there it is. Look all you want."
"As I remember the rules, I get to do more than look."
"That's right." I went and laid down on his bed, my hands behind my head, my feet spread about a foot.
David came over and stood by the bed and slowly wrapped his hand around my dick. He squeezed and bent it down a little, then let go.
He said, "I am not sure where I go from here."
"Remember what I said about the new kids; it was kind of fun to watch them not know what to do with a dick when they had the chance. It's your game; you won; you figure out what to do."
He got up on the bed and knelt between my legs. He tickled my balls, squeezed my dick. Pulled my hair a little. Then he moved to my belly button and nipples, poking and squeezing. Then he tickled my ribs, and when I jerked he grabbed my dick again. Hard. God!
Then he started to jack me off, stroking his hand up and down with his thumb on the sensitive skin on the bottom of my dick. God if felt good. I just lay and enjoyed it. I enjoyed watching his face as he stroked me. He was in deep concentration, but clearly having fun. I was about to come when he stopped and said, "Let's play another hand."
Whoa. It wasn't time to stop; at least that is what my dick was telling me. But it was his call, and he had stopped. No orgasm for me. David asked, "When you used to play did you get dressed again after each game?"
It was a good question, but I was still thinking of orgasms. But his question was one that as kids we had gone back and forth on. We finally settled on putting on only underpants, pants, and tee shirts. I told him this and he tossed me those three items and told me to put them on. He still had his pants on, but he put his tee shirt back on.
He dealt without saying anything. The game moved faster this time, until I was in my underpants, and he lost a hand and was ready to remove his black khakis. He was nervous. If he hadn't seen another hard-on, it was also true that nobody had seen his. He slowly pulled off his pants. His dick was hard, and he couldn't hide it. He sat cross-legged to sort of hide what he could. The next hand would strip someone. After four cards he had a 3, 5, 8, Q. I had a 5, 8, Q, K. He got a King and I got a three. Tie! Very rare, but there it was. We both had underpants on. We both slowly, silently stood and pulled down our underpants. We stood up, and we both looked at each other-me looking at him for the first time.
I was, of course, right that he was circumcised. The black hair was there. Thick, but the hair ended with the patch above his dick and he was fairly hairless from there up past his belly button on through his chest. His dick was thin and about average length. Five to five and a half inches hard. About like mine but a little thinner. We both just stared, first at each other's dicks and then into each other's eyes.
David said, "There isn't a winner, who gets to do what to whom?"
"Don't know. This has never come up before. I don't ever remember a tie hand. And we didn't have our rule about ties, so we would just have played another hand. Do we play another hand to pick a winner."
"We don't need a winner. You play with me and then I'll finish what I was doing with you."
"Do you know how close you came?"
"I guessed."
"Do you want me to make you come?"
"Do you want to?"
"Yes."
"Yes."
"Who first?"
"Me, you're already well on the way to coming."
"Lay down on the bed," I said, and then laid down beside him. On my knees between his legs would have been a little awkward.
I played with his dick, balls, nipples, belly button, mouth, nose, nipples, belly button, balls, dick, balls, dick. Squeeze. Tickle. Bend. Rub. Pull a little hair.
"Do it, dammit."
"Give me time."
"Do it."
"OK." I took his dick gently in my hand and stroked up and down. Laying beside him I could grab him just like I grabbed myself when I jacked off. I wrapped my hand gently around his dick and rubbed lightly, stroking gently all the way up and all the way down. He just lay there. He closed his eyes and was clearly in total enjoyment.
I stopped. "Tell me what you are thinking about."
"Keep going."
"Tell me what you were thinking about. Be honest."
"I can't."
"Can't be honest? Yes, you can."
"No, can't tell you. Keep going."
"Tell me."
"Can't"
"Why?'
"It embarrassing."
"At this stage, what could be embarrassing? Tell me." I grabbed his balls and started to squeeze just a little. "Tell me."
"OK, I want to keep my balls. But you have to promise...."
"Promise what?" We did seem to prefer talking over doing.
"That you won't...."
"Won't what?"
"Won't laugh, be offended, stop playing. I don't know. Just that you won't be upset. Do you really want to know what I was thinking?"
"Yes, and I won't do or be any of those things."
"Promise?"
"Yes."
"I was dreaming of you and me. You were making me come, but you were sucking my dick instead of using your hand."
"I have heard of doing that, but it has never been in my mind to actually do it."
"I'm not asking you to do it. You asked me what I was thinking, and I decided to tell you-since you threatened to take away my manhood if I didn't."
"What?"
"You were squeezing my balls."
"Oh, yeah. Do you want me to suck your dick?"
"Oh, God. Don't ask me that. It isn't part of the deal. You don't have to suck me, and I am not sure that I could suck you. It seems gross, and I don't think I am up to cum in my mouth. Let's stick with hands."
"OK." I wasn't sure I liked the idea of his dick in my mouth, and I wasn't ready for cum in my mouth for sure.
I started jacking him off again. Then I slowed down, moved down his body and slowly put his dick in my mouth. The stroking ended, and I just licked him and rubbed my tongue over his dick. It was amazing. The head was the softest skin I had ever felt. Well, I hadn't felt a lot of skin with my tongue, but I had sucked wounds, thumbs, fingers, etc. Skin was skin as far as my tongue was concerned-until I licked the head of his dick. Wow. Wonderful and soft. I licked and licked and then moved down his dick, sucking and stroking a little. Then I thought of cum in my mouth, gagged a little and went back to jacking him off with my hand. He squealed a little as I rubbed his wet dick, and he made me dry it with a Kleenex before I went on. Soon he was jerking, and spewed cum all over his chest, up to his chin. All over my hand too. I kept stroking until he screamed and made me stop by pulling me on top of him, getting his cum all over my chest as well as his. We lay there a long time.
Then he said, "Do I clean this mess up before I do you, or do we let yours mix with mine?"
"You're in charge, your decision."
"Roll over on your back."
David was right handed like me, so he crawled over me so that I was on his left, allowing his right hand to reach over and grab my dick. I came pretty fast. It was wonderful. I looked down at the mess on my chest, and thought of everything that had happened that evening. It certainly wasn't part of the "plan for the day" as I had thought about my day in the morning. David leaned over toward me and I reached up and put both hands behind his head. I pulled him toward me and his face was pulled straight into my stomach, right in the middle of a pool of my cum. I don't know why I did it, and I expected David to pull back and be angry. But he reached his hands under the small of my back and pulled hard, rubbing his face all over my stomach and chest. What a mess. Then he pulled us together, and we rubbed faces. We didn't kiss, just rubbed. By now we were all covered with cum. We both laid back and laughed and laughed.
"Shower time?" asked David.
I said, "Yes. Do you have a shower big enough for both of us?"
"It is a tub shower and will fit us both. But we have to share a towel. I can't explain a second wet towel to my mother."
The shower was interesting to say the least. I washed him and he washed me. It is amazing how the pubic hair helps lather up the soap. We decided that we needed to be washed again. We couldn't seem to keep our hands off each other. Eventually the hot water started to run out, and we got out of the shower. I dried him and he dried me. I don't know about our backs, but our genitals certainly got dry!"
I said, "I guess we have to get dressed. Your parents could come home any time, right?"
"Not for a while, their show is over at 9:45 and it is only ten of nine. Let's sit here naked and talk a little. I like to look at you nude, and we need to talk."
"I guess we do, but I am not sure what we are going to say."
"I think that the question is, 'Where do we go from here?'"
"I think you are asking whether this was a one time event, fun while it lasted, or are we on for more rounds?"
David, looked me straight in the dick and said, "I want that thing in my hand again. What about you?"
"Me too."
"God that was fun!"
"Yeah. But our parents better not find out."
"No, I don't think they are ready for this. But if we won't tell our parents, won't tell our teachers, probably won't tell anyone at school.... Hell we won't tell anyone. Then should we be doing this?"
"Are we hurting anyone? It seems to me that that is the test of right and wrong."
"No. But, are we hurting ourselves, each other?"
"How?"
"I don't know, but I think it is a question to ask."
"No. Asked and answered. Agree?"
"Yes," said David. "But we still haven't talked about what, where and when."
"'What' seems self-evident. 'Where' is either of our houses. ' When' is whenever we can be alone."
"That isn't going to be as often as I'd like."
"Me either, but it is what we have for now."
We had walked downstairs during this conversation. Now David walked over, grabbed my dick and slowly pulled me toward the stairs. Just being in that room, naked, was making us hard again. Pulled by David my dick and I followed him upstairs. We reluctantly got dressed. We hugged, and grabbed at each other a little. Finally I said, "I'd better go home. I haven't been home since breakfast, and my parents aren't expecting me to be too late."
We pulled apart and slowly walked downstairs. David said, "Fabulous!"
I said, "Ditto," and left.
The evening was replayed over and over in bed. I think I jacked off twice that night, and finally fell asleep working on a third.
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