Inspired by a fan of my writing, whose heartfelt messages to me about a lost love pretty much forced me to write this story, a tribute to a very special friendship that went from being 18 and naive until just recently. I hope I did it justice.
***
When I emerged from the bathroom, my best friend was on his back in bed, naked except for his underwear, and as I looked at him, arms and legs akimbo and with his eyes closed, I started to get emotional, knowing this would likely be the last time we would ever do what we were about to do.
How many times had we been like this over the years? Dozens and dozens of times over the years, but not nearly often enough to suit me. I remember the first time like it was yesterday...
***
It began with us finding some dirty magazines his old man didn't hide well enough, and then he suggested we jerk off, producing a jar of Vaseline from his night table next to his bed.
"Somebody said it feels better when somebody else does it to you," Bobby said, and although he said he couldn't remember exactly who said it, I didn't care. I was in love with Bobby, and had always wanted to do exactly what he was proposing.
"Do me first," Bobby said as we got undressed, and while I had seen him naked plenty of times over the years, this was going to be different.
Bobby was about a half foot shorter than I was, and weighed probably 75 less as well. His mother called us Mutt and Jeff, and I guess that's because we were so different. I was the big homely guy and Bobby was the cute kid that the girls loved, and I could see why.
Even his dick was cute, I noted as I looked at the skinny wrinkled tube wiggling around as he jumped on the bed. I felt kinda bad for him because his dick was so small and skinny compared to mine, but the moment I touched it I knew something was different about his.
The was the first dick besides my own that I had ever touched, so I had nothing to compare it with but my own, but when I lifted it off his balls - a nut sack that was really big - I was surprised at how rubbery it was.
Bobby was looking over the magazine at what I was doing, and as I pulled on it, much to my amazement his cock kept getting longer and longer as it stiffened. Not much thicker, indeed when it became fully erect a minute later it wasn't much more than half as thick as mine, but the length?
"Holy shit!" I recall saying as I held his long prong upright, the shaft slick with jelly and throbbing in my grasp. "How the fuck..."
"What's wrong?" Bobby asked.
"Your cock - it's freaking huge!" I exclaimed, looking back and forth at Bobby's face and the weapon in my fist. "It's way bigger than mine!"
"No it isn't," Bobby said, but then he looked between my legs at my dick, which was hard and fully engorged.
These days, the idea of a couple 18 year old guys never having seen another erect dick before would be crazy, but back in 1970 there was no Internet. Hell, most of the dirty magazines didn't even show the women's pussies, so while we grew up seeing everybody else's limp dicks in gym, you never saw one stiff besides your own.
"You're right," Bobby said, sitting up and looking at my cock which was pointing at me friend even though I hadn't touched it, such was my excitement over what I was doing to Bobby, and he seemed as surprised as I was. "Wow! I always figured yours was way bigger."
It was then that we both learned about the showers and growers, which are the terms used today. Bobby's wasn't twice as long as mine, like I told him it was, but the difference was still very noticeable. We even took out a ruler to find out how different.
"8 and a quarter inches!" I announced as we interrupted our jerking off to measure. "You lucky bastard."
"It's only a couple of inches longer than yours," Bobby said, good friend that he was, but when he had measured me he had the ruler pressed hard into me, giving me probably an inch more than I deserved. "Yours is better because it's way thicker. Girls like thick better than long."
I didn't know about that because no girl had really touched it in my 18 years, at least not one sober enough to remember it. Bobby was the ladies man, but I sensed that he was just trying to make me feel good by saying that, but him being my superior in yet another aspect of life didn't bother me.
On the contrary, I was happy for him, and when I went back to stroking that long greased dick I made it last as long as I could. I managed to prolong it so long that Bobby had to ask me to make him cum because his balls were starting to ache.
"Oh man, it does feel better when somebody else does it!" Bobby announced as I used both hands to milk every drop out of his deflating dick before letting it go. "Your turn."
I assumed his position, even though the high point for me was over, and as Bobby greased up his hand and knelt beside me, I reached over and grabbed his dick, which was back to the tiny tube I was more used to.
"Still can't believe it," I muttered as Bobby's hand grabbed my cock, still stunned over how that 2" had more than quadrupled in size while mine hardly grew at all when erect.
"See? I can't even get my hand around yours," Bobby declared as his hand went slowly up and down the short trip from stump to tip.
"I notice you aren't using two hands like I did with yours," I mentioned as I tried to not to cum right away, but I was too excited and was spurting my load in about a minute or so.
"Don't ever tell anybody about this," Bobby said as we cleaned up, and that was fine with me.
"I won't. You know, it was better that way," I agreed. "Want to do it again?"
"Maybe tomorrow night," Bobby said. "I don't want to turn gay."
It was too late for me, I mused. Especially now.
***
That was then, and years later we were still doing it, even as my best friend Bobby was about to get married. Things had changed a little over the years however, as least part of it. Bobby still gave me hand jobs, but my role had changed over time.
The first time I did it, I claimed I was drunk that night, but I wasn't. I was curious. I didn't know how to suck a cock, but a man had sucked mine in his car after giving me a ride home from college, so I paid attention and did my best to remember.
I must have been a fast learner, because Bobby loved it. The only thing was, he could not bring himself to reciprocate, no matter how hard I tried.
"I'm sorry man," Bobby said after moving his face toward my cock only to back away at the last minute time after time. "I just can't do it. I'm sorry."
"It's alright Bobby," I said after I saw he was upset, way more so than I was, and I guessed that might have been a result of growing up listening to his old man rant and rave about minorities, homosexuals and just about everybody under the sun.
"I really want to, but..."
"It's okay," I insisted as he reached for the Vaseline. "You don't even have to do that if you don't want to."
"No, I don't mind doing this," he insisted. "This is kind of fun. I just can't - you know? When I came, did you swallow that?"
"A little," I said, even though I hadn't planned on it, but when Bobby came hard and fast I ended up with a spurt down the throat before letting the rest of his load slide back down the shaft from my mouth. "It wasn't too bad."
"Did you even do that before?" Bobby asked as he watched the head of my cock get redder as he jacked me off.
"No," I answered honestly, and then I told him about the man in the car.
"I think I might be queer," I said as tears welled up in my eyes. "Don't hate me - please."
"Hate you?" Bobby said, looking at me like I crazy. "I don't hate you. After all we've been through together? Don't ever tell my old man though, but I don't care. Hell, I suspected it a long time ago."
"You did?"
"Yeah, but it didn't matter to me. You're the best friend I could ever have," Bobby said, and that was when the dam broke and I went to pieces, causing Bobby to tear up as well.
"I love you man," I said when I gained control of my emotions.
"I love you too," Bobby said.
Just not the same way, I remember thinking even though he hadn't said it.
***
This became our regular routine, even when school and jobs caused us to not see each other as much. Even after Bobby met Eileen, the girl who would be his wife, he still would get together with me. Maybe it was because she was a virgin who wouldn't give him much of anything, although perhaps it was because of something else.
I was a cocksucker. Not just a guy who could suck cock but a true artist according to Bobby, whose cock had been in many a mouth before he got engaged. I was not only good at it, but was able to do something no girl had managed.
"Holy shit!" I remember Bobby exclaim when he felt my lips around the base of his manhood and the tip of his long spear hitting my throat.
How did I get so good? Practice, although to be honest I was inspired by my love of Bobby more so than any faceless other dick that might have come my way. I made love to his cock, maybe in hopes that he would always keep coming back for more. The hand jobs? If he ever stopped giving them to me, it wouldn't have mattered, because I only wanted to make him happy.
***
For my 21st birthday, Bobby asked me what I wanted as a present, and I didn't have to think about it for long, because it was on my mind a lot lately, but I didn't think Bobby would go for it.
"Damn," Bobby muttered when I suggested what I had in mind. "And to think I was afraid that you were going to ask me to blow you."
"I've never done this before with anybody," I said honestly. "I'll probably never do it again either, but if I was going to do it I've always wanted you to be the one."
"I don't know," Booby said. "I'll have to get really drunk."
"And then you would be able to get it up," I complained. "Look, if you don't want to do it, that's fine. No harm in my asking, but you were the one that gave me my choice of presents."
I was stunned when he agreed, and on the night of my 21st birthday he came to my apartment, armed with a six pack and a tense expression on his face.
