Do You Believe In Miracles

Once the unemployment checks began arriving on a weekly basis I was able to budget my finances accordingly. I wasn't thrilled with my calculations. No more steak dinners at nice restaurants; no more bar-hopping 3-4 nights a week, and no more golf. That one hurt – I love to play golf.

What I could afford didn't excite me either: cheap fast food; top ramen noodles and staying home at night playing computer games and drinking bottom-shelf liquor. Talk about a complete change in lifestyle!

What a cruel joke life can be: you study hard and get good grades; you marry your high school sweetheart with big plans for a lucrative career and a house in the suburbs with three kids, and you live happily ever-after.

Then out-of-nowhere they outsource your job to India; the wife leaves you for another man; you find yourself living in an old duplex on the other side of town, and worst of all, you discover the skills you developed for your professional career are no longer needed in this country.

What surprised me the most was that many of my friends, and even some family members, think it is my fault I am unemployed. I met almost all of my current friends at work, and they don't want to be seen with me anymore. It's seems so many people are afraid of losing their jobs they think being seen with 'a guy who got fired' might somehow affect their positions. Sometimes I think my mother is the only friend I have left in the world.

Oh, well, I can do this, I told myself. It won't be forever – I'll find another job and live the good life again.

So one day I was coming home from a long walk, went up the flight of stairs to my place and noticed the door across the hallway from mine was open. Someone was moving in. Fred, the guy who had lived there, lost his job at his company, and couldn't live on what he received from unemployment. He had to move back in with his parents. I shuddered at the thought of it.

I didn't see anyone so I turned to open my door.

"JOHNNY?"

The voice was familiar. I turned and got the shock of my life.

"TOMMY!" I shouted in surprise.

We hugged and laughed and looked at each other in amazement. He invited me inside.

For two years in high school Tommy and I were best friends. Inseparable -- we did everything together. He was the only person I could ever really talk with. He knew me inside and out. He was a great listener, and told funny stories. We debated politics, religion – you name it -- there was never an awkward silence between us. We shared our secrets; our hopes and dreams. If it were socially acceptable I would have married him, hahaha...not really, I'm not gay.

Then I met Karen, my wife. She was gorgeous with a body to match and every guy in high school wanted her. I won her, but lost Tommy. She hated him and forbid me from seeing him. Unfortunately, I listened to her. Tommy and I drifted apart – I went to college with Karen, and the last I'd heard of Tommy he was making a fortune on the internet. And now, six years later here we were – back together again!

I mean, do you believe in miracles, or what?

I helped him unpack. He didn't have a lot of stuff. It was almost like he wasn't planning on staying here very long. When we finished, we had beers on his couch.

"What are you doing here? I asked. "Last I heard you owned the world and had a mansion overlooking the ocean in Florida."

He gave me that familiar, sheepish grin, and said, "Well, a guys gotta be somewhere – this is as good a place as any, I guess."

Then he launched into one of his fascinating and funny monologues. I never tire of listening to him and watching his facial expressions with his arms waving around for emphasis.

The short of it is he did make a fortune on the internet. He started some social network-type thing, sold it for millions, made really bad investments, lost most of his money, and the house in Florida, and decided to move back here and start over.

"How in the world did you find this place? I mean...well, this is one helluva coincidence!" I asked, still amazed he moved into my building.

"Hey," he replied, "I lived here long before you did!"

"W-What?"

"Johnny, I lived here when you and the princess went off to college...I was living here when I came up with the million dollar idea...if you had ever bothered to call me – you would have known that."

The guilt and shame washed over me like it did almost every day since I cut-off our friendship.

As sharp as ever, he saw the look on my face, "Johnny...forget about it...that's all behind us...Hey, how about dinner? – my treat!"

"Let's do it!" I smiled.

We went out that night and had a fabulous dinner, sparkling conversation, and a whole lot of laughs. When we came back home it was like we had never been apart.

The next few days were more of the same. Except since we were both short of money, I suggested we buy groceries and stay in at his place and eat and drink. Of course, he bought most of the food, he knew of my budget.

Well, he was still a master chef, and we ate like kings. I was still duke of the dishes and prince of the pots and pans. I couldn't believe how happy I felt that he was here.

Since it was a hot summer, and both of our air conditioners were worthless, we got into the habit, like the old days, of him in just his boxers and me in my navy blue gym shorts. Yeah, we laughed, not much has changed.

Tommy is two inches taller than me and thirty pounds heavier. Not an ounce of fat on his body. He is strong, but doesn't have huge biceps or rippling muscles. His tanned body looks fantastic. I, on the other hand, am not out of shape, but do not have a physique like his. It was fun watching him walk around the apartment in his boxers.

One morning, I was at his place having coffee. He was wearing his robe, but forgot to tie it around himself. He brought me a refill and I could see everything. What struck me odd was that he didn't have body hair – none – anywhere.

"Like what you see?" he asked, striking a funny pose.

I asked seriously, "Where's your hair? I mean...I—"

"Oh, you didn't know. I've got alopecia – always have...just on my body...the hair fell out...I like it. Keeps my skin soft and smooth...here, feel..."

He sat next to me and took my hand and I rubbed his chest. It was smooth! His hard chest was soft and smooth. I absentmindedly continued rubbing his chest. I became lost in a fog. I couldn't get over the feel of his skin. Then I noticed his penis was rising. I still didn't stop stroking his chest. His penis stood straight up – hard as a rock. I stared at it.

I coughed, embarrassed, and jerked my hand from his chest like it was on fire. My face blushed a deep red.

Tommy put his arm around me. "Hey, Columbus," he said, "You looked like you just discovered America!" and he burst out laughing.

"I don't know what—"

"Hey, lighten-up, Johnny...you know what we need to do?" he asked.

"What?"

"We need to hit the links...you still golfing?"

"Yeah, but I can't afford that now."

"Don't worry your pretty little head off – I've got it covered!" he smiled.

"Tommy, you can't afford it either!"

"Hey, I'm not destitute, my friend...C'mon, go get dressed. We can't keep sitting around here every day."

"Yeah, sure...it'll be fun...something different...I'll go shower and be back in a flash!"

"You can always shower with me!" he laughed.

"Tommy..." I smiled and left to get ready.

I thought about what happened on his couch. How I couldn't take my eyes off his cock. What the hell's the matter with me? I wondered.

I remembered the old days. His little touches, how he would put his arm around me. Nothing inappropriate -- just friendly gestures. I mean, there were times when we'd had a few beers and I thought Tommy may have been a little too frisky; his arm around me; a kiss on the cheek, but I never thought anything about it; I liked the attention. I just considered us to be very close friends.

I remembered my mother's words to me after I had been dating Karen for awhile, my mother hated Karen with a passion: "Johnny, you know you're better off with Tommy, don't you?" She adored Tommy.

I never knew what she meant by that.

Tommy was revved-up about playing golf. He was talking and laughing and very funny. Seeing him in a good mood put me in a good mood, too. He stopped and bought us a couple fast food breakfast sandwiches that we ate in the car on the way to the golf course.

He parked the car at the course, but he stopped me before I could get out.

"Johnny, I think we should put a little wager on our game. What do you think?"

Well, I was thinking that unless he got lessons from Tiger Woods, there was no way he could beat me. He never did before.

"Tommy, ah...yeah, that's fine with me, but I really don't have any money I can afford to lose."

He had that grin on his face. "You don't need money. If you win – I give you $500?"

$500? Wow! "B-But what—" I stammered.

"And if I win...if I win you give me hand-jobs?" He was still grinning.

I looked at him – he was serious!

My face turned red. "T-Tommy...I, ah...is this because of this morning?" I asked.

His smile vanished; he gave me a look I'd never seen before. "No, this is because I want you to touch me...I want to feel the touch of your hand."

We stared at each other. "I, ah, I...okay," I finally said. The intensity was too much for me – I had to get out of the car.

Tommy paid our greens fees and we had 30 minutes until we teed off. We went to the driving range and hit balls.

Neither of us said a word. I was stunned. His words reverberated in my head: "I want to feel the touch of your hand." I had to concentrate hard on hitting the practice balls to keep my emotions in check. I snuck a peek at Tommy; he was focused, and practiced with energy and determination.

The loudspeaker announced Tommy's name and we got into the golf cart and he drove us to the first tee. We were still silent. I didn't know what to do. Part of me actually wanted to lose. The image of his erection never quite left my mind. But I knew I couldn't do that – I knew my father would roll over in his grave if I touched a man's penis...besides, I really needed $500.

"How many strokes do you want?" I asked him.

"None – right now!" he winked at me. I blushed.

We did our usual match play: hole-by-hole. On the first hole I had a bogie 5, Tommy took a 7 – I was up one hole. Tommy won the next hole: we were even. It went like that for the rest of the day. I'd be up one – then we'd be even – then Tommy would be up one – then we'd be even. I was impressed at how good his game had gotten – maybe he did get lessons from Tiger Woods.

All the way around the course we didn't say much, small talk, nothing serious. Going into 17 I was one up. It was a par 3. I hit first and nailed it – 6 feet from the hole. Tommy hit the green but was 30 feet away. Tommy almost drained his putt for a birdie 2, he made his par putt. I could end the match if I made my 6 footer. My hands began to slightly tremble. I hit the putt too hard and it rolled 4 feet past the hole. I could still clinch at least a tie if I made the par putt. I didn't hit it hard enough. I took a bogey and we were even going to the last hole.

We stood on the 18th tee box staring straight ahead. It was a par 5, Tommy always hated this hole, he couldn't hit the ball as far as I could, I knew I had the match won. When the group in front of us cleared out, we looked at each other. There was such a sadness on Tommy's face it tugged at my heart.

Tommy teed off first – he popped it up about 100 yards down the fairway. I stood over the ball longer than normal – a million thoughts racing through my head. I backed away – took a deep breath – stepped up to the ball and smacked it 260 yards straight down the middle. I refused to look at Tommy the rest of the hole.

His 2nd shot was pretty good – it left him with 200 yards to the pin. I hit a good 2nd shot, too – I had 100 yards left.

Tommy had to hit everything he had to reach the green – he hit it well and made the green, but was a long way from the hole. I pulled out my sand wedge, took a couple practice swings, and hit one of the best shots of my life – I was 3 feet for birdie.

I tended the flag stick for Tommy, he was 50 feet from the hole. He hit the putt and it seemed like it took the ball forever to get to the hole – he almost made it! He got his par.

I lined up my birdie putt – I played it for the right edge of the cup. My hands started trembling again – worse than the last hole – I took a deep breath then pulled the putt right, and hit it too hard. I was now 4 feet from the hole. I lined it up; a bead of sweat ran into my eye as I stood over the ball. I backed off then stood over it again for the tying putt – I missed it – Tommy won.

We shook hands. "You always were a sucker for a sad face," he said as his smile returned.

"Why you big son-of-a—"

"Now-now...remember your golf etiquette!"

We both laughed.

Tommy bought us wine at the golf course bar. We were still subdued, we knew our relationship was about to change. There wasn't much to say, yet there was everything to say.

After our second glass of wine, Tommy said, "You know...you don't have to go through with this if you don't want to."

"I know," I said, "but my father always said if a man's word doesn't mean anything – he's not a man!"

We drove home in silence. From time-to-time I stole quick glances at Tommy. Everything was crystal clear to me now. I knew what I had to do. I briefly wondered why it had taken me so long to understand. He looked at me and flashed that big, beautiful smile and my heart filled with joy. I knew I had to make it up to him for all the lost time.

When we climbed the stairs to our apartments, I said, "I'll be over after I take a shower."

"You can shower with me," he said, without the slightest hint of a smile.

The softness of his voice; the expression of longing on his face; all I could say was, "Okay!" and we went inside his apartment.

He took my hand in his and led me to the bedroom. We began to undress. I hurriedly stripped and stood naked before Tommy. I stopped him just before he was going to remove his boxers. I looked into his deep, blue eyes; I put my arms around him, pulled him close, and our lips met for the first time.

I don't know if it was years of pent-up passion, or the love we felt for each other, but our lips melded together, so warm, so soft, I felt as though I was one with Tommy. Stars shot before my eyes. I was dizzy and never felt so happy in my life.

I stroked his chest with my hand. I reached down and found he had an erection. I fondled his cock through the fabric of his boxers. My own penis stood out straight between us.

"Oh, Johnny," he groaned, as I went to my knees.

It was time to give Tommy what he always wanted from me, needed from me. I had been so blind, so stubborn to understand. It was fate that brought us together again, and I wasn't about to let him get away this time around.

I grasped the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down. His beautiful cock sprang free. My eyes beheld its magnificence; I filled my lungs and senses with his manly aroma. I couldn't wait any longer; I cupped his hairless balls in my right hand, and grasped the shaft of his now-throbbing cock with my fingers. I leaned forward and kissed his cock. It was so hot and smooth! I kissed up-and-down the shaft. My kisses grew urgent; I couldn't get enough of his cock. My tongue licked the entire hot surface of his cock. I lapped up the manly scent of his sweat; my head swooned.

"Ohhh, Johnny..." he moaned, as I wet my lips and slid them over his cockhead.

God, I loved the taste of his cock in my mouth!

I sucked his cock slowly, tenderly, with love, my tongue never leaving his hot flesh. My fingers rolled his heavy balls in his sac. I slowly stroked his trembling shaft eliciting groans of pleasure from deep within his throat. I was lost in a haze, a fog, my mind blank except for how happy I was to have his wonderful cock in my mouth.

Steady moans of pleasure were now coming from Tommy. His hips began to push his cock deeper and deeper into my mouth. I instinctively quickened my pace. I tasted his pre-cum – it was delicious. My lips and tongue doubled their efforts. Tommy fondled my head and hair. I sucked his cock frantically.

He held my head in his hands. He sawed his cock in-and-out of my mouth; he face-fucked me with his lust-filled, throbbing cock. I greedily sucked his cockhead, my hand stroked his manly shaft faster-and-faster. Suddenly, his hips bucked wildly, I squeezed his balls and firmly masturbated his shaft. I placed the flat of my tongue over his cock-slit.

He rewarded me for my efforts. Tommy screamed then hot cum spewed from his slit, my tongue lapping at it up. I swallowed mouthful-after-mouthful of his creamy jizz. My tongue was coated with his cum.

I felt complete now. It was like I saw sunshine after years of total darkness. I hoped and prayed I satisfied Tommy. With his softening penis still between my lips, I snuck a glance upward at him. The expression of total bliss on his face was all I needed to see. I licked his cock clean not wanting a single drop of his delicious cum to escape me.

He helped me to my feet. We had our hands on each others' waists as we stared at one another. I knew how I felt and the look in his eyes told me he felt the same way.

"You know," he said, "the bet was for a hand-job."

"Well," I answered, "I guess I still owe you...."

We stood under the steaming water of the shower and couldn't keep our hands off one another. We kissed; we soaped each other; we laughed and we gazed into each other's eyes. Was this for real? Our eyes said 'Yes'.

My balls ached for release; my cock was still rigid as before. Tommy had me put my hands on the wall and spread my legs. He lathered-up his hand and reached around me and took hold of my pulsating cock.

"OOhhhh God...." I moaned. I knew it wouldn't take him long to make me cum.

He squeezed and stroked my cock with the perfect pressure and speed. Then I felt the soap against my anus. His finger massaged my hole and perineum. My head fell backwards; my eyes closed and my mouth opened wide and uttered an indistinguishable, animal-like groan. His hands were incredible!

My hips pumped back-and-forth in time with his stroking hand. I was getting close. His hand moved faster – my hips jerked forward and back. Suddenly, he pushed a soapy finger into my asshole. My body spasmed.

"OOOOHHHHHH-TOMMMMYYY-I'M CUMMING TOMMY-I'M CUMMING TOMMY-I'M CUMMING TOMMY...."

My semen sprayed the wall, his hand moved furiously up-and-down my cock; he milked every last drop of cum out of my balls. I turned to him and threw my arms around him and kissed him deeply, passionately.

"I love you, Tommy!" I declared.

"I love you, too," he sighed, "I always have."

Our lips crushed together; our hands tenderly stroking each others' warm flesh. We hugged and kissed a long time in the misty steam of the deliciously hot shower.

That night, in Tommy's bed, I knelt between his wide-spread legs four more times worshipping his wonderful cock with my lips and tongue. He was insatiable!

He taught me how he wanted his cock kissed and licked and sucked. He showed me how to hold his balls as I licked them; how to take one ball at a time into my mouth to suck on it. I learned how to lick around his asshole and perineum; how to curl my tongue and push it in-and-out of his asshole. I was an eager student. I wanted – no, needed, to satisfy his every desire.

We lay in the dim light of the bedside lamp, my head resting on his chest, his hands stroking my shoulders and hair. My belly full of his cum; my throat and tongue coated thick with his semen.