Best buddies after a funeral

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Best buddies after a funeral

It was an early Saturday morning, and I was loading up the coffee maker with
my favorite brew while padding around in my boxers and t-shirt. The bright
red glow of the sunrise was piercing through the slit in the kitchen
curtains as I opened them to take a peek at the day. The phone rang,
breaking my trance.

“Yeah, who’s this”? I asked.
“Hey man” he laughed, “It’s Bill — Billy Bartlet. How are you doing?
“Holy shit” I screamed, “this is incredible…”

The conversation went on for about 30 minutes doing a very quick catch up.
Bill and I had been best friends in school from grade 7 on, and he was the
only friend my mom counted as “one of the family”. By that, she meant that
he could come in the house without knocking, and have sleepovers without
asking, and would share meals frequently.

But after high school, he moved half-way across the country to go to college
and never returned to our fair city. We kept in touch for the first few
years, but for whatever reason, our communication stopped. No fights or
arguments, just being in different locations I guess. So now, here we were
15 years after graduating high school, both of us married. We both had k**s
and Bill had brought his young 7 year old son with him and would be staying
for 3 weeks

He had come back to town because his father had passed away and was hoping
we could get together, and arranged to meet for a drink in the late
afternoon. When I hung up the phone a million memories flooded by mind —
all good! Billy and I spent many summers biking, hiking, and swimming,
sometimes with other friends, but many times just the two of us. In high
school, he were both on the track team, but we split interests when he went
on the basketball team, and I took part in the school play.

When we met at 3, I saw him sitting there looking as good as ever.
I walked over, he stood up and we looked at each other for a couple of
minutes, rekindling our souls I think — when he hugged me and I returned the
favor. We hugged tight as if plugging into our last 15 years without each
other, and recharging our friendship.
He was trying to stifle a cry, but it didn’t work too well.

We sat down, while he spilled his guts about the last years with his cranky
old dad, and now that he was dead he was feeling bad.
On and on we went, talking about our dads, our families our wives and k**s.
We talked for almost 4 hours, reminiscing about our days of close-friendship
remembering the day one of the older girls in the neighborhood let us fondle
her tits while she rubbed our dicks through our pants. Not to mention the
few jo contests we had to see whose cum could spew the furthest.

By the end of those 4 hours, we felt like no time had passed. We agreed that
sometime during his stay we would go away for a few days and fish or hike.
He’d bring his son, and we’d make it a guy thing. (I had 2 daughters)

A about 9 days had passed since the funeral, and Bill and I had talked
every day since his arrive. It was time for the 3 of us to head to the lake.
I had booked a rustic cabin from friend of mine that featured a wood burning
stove, couch, double bed and bunk bed.
There was one old oak table, with a variety of odd kitchen chairs.

The first evening, we arrived fairly late so it was a quick snack, and to
bed for Bill’s son Grey. Shortly after Bill and I sat on the front stairs
to the cabin, sipping on beers and looking at the stars.

He dropped backwards and lay down on the deck saying,
“You know, I don’t think I ever had a friend closer than you over all these
years. It feels good to be back here hanging out with you”.

I dropped back joining him. Suddenly we were k**s again looking up at the
stars. I looked at his face while he talked. His hair was still thick and
black, and his face had a chiseled look. But his eyes always twinkled when
he talked to me and his laugh always made me smile. It looked like he kept
his body in tact. So we drank and we talked and soon it was time to go to
bed. I took the bottom bunk and he got the bed (as he paid for the cabin)

As we started to get undressed for bed, I realized that routines didn’t
change. He slept nude, I slept with my underwear on — (now boxers) I looked
at his nakedness for a moment, looking at his lightly hairy body — thick
dark black bush and hairy legs. I always remember his penis being heavy and
perfectly shaped.

I crawled into bed and tried to get comfortable, when he strutted over
tucking his son into bed. This meant that my opened eyes were focused on his
dick while he tucked in the sheets. Without thinking too much about it
there was some dumb game we played during sleep overs. While he held the
chain which pull his bedlight on and off, he would ask me to pull the chain
and turn the light off. This was code for pulling his penis the same time he
pulled the chain and it would seem that his penis did it. It was not
necessarily sexual, but a ritual that would give us a good night giggle.

Anyway, I decided to pull his penis and say “turn the lights off”.
When I reach over and pulled, his body was startled, but he started to laugh
and laughed so hard he woke up his son. Grey couldn’t get back to sleep, so
his dad took him outside for pee, and back into bed where he started making
up some story.

When he returned, he lifted his k** up on the top bunk, but time put one
foot up on my bed while he started to tell the story.

Something triggered in me, and I’m not exactly sure what it was. I was
feeling like a giddish prankster, but I also had an urge to start playing
around with Bill’s dick.

I took a good look at what he had and he really did have a great looking
cock – soft anyway. I thought it was about time that I should see if I could
get it hard. So while I listened to him tell his story,
I reached over and started tickling his balls, brushing my fingers through
his bush and lightly caressing the top of his penis. The challenge would be,
could he get through his story?

I enjoyed feeling the heavness of his dick and pulled it and stretched it,
and endied up in a slow jerk session. I listened to his voice change either
nervously or excitedly when I hit just the right spot. His dick was getting
pretty hard and I was certainly having a blast playing with it.

I felt the urge to get closer, to look at his dick head, to smell his bush
and his hairy bag so I shuffled out of my sleeping bag and moved in for the
kill – he had no idea what was about to happen, but I’m sure he was finding
it hard to concentrate on his storyline. I wasn’t listening anymore. I
moved in so my face was directly in front of his penis. I was still holding
on to it, stroking it a little when he started to thrust into my hand. He
was really getting into it! I had sucked a couple of cocks in college, so it
wasn’t new to me, but this circumstance was certainly much different, and it
was a guy I’d known for 15 years.

I moved in and gave his dickhead a lick. From up above I heard a “WOOO” and
then a cough. He was deciding if he was going to go through with this I
could tell. After about a minute, he reached down, grasped his penis, and
offered it to me and man did I take it. I dove down on it, swallowing it
whole immediately and gasped a little but in no time flat, we were in a nice
rythmn. What I remember most is the scent of his pubes and bag, I was really
really attracted to it which was making me crazy for his cock. I bobbed on
his dick, making sure I could swallow it whole,letting his hairs tickle my
nose and chin.

It took about 10 minutes when I could sense the passion and the pace
increase to orgasm mode. I was prepared and just wanted that thing deep down
my throat, so, I swallowed – his cock and his semen -as it spewed on my
tongue and down my throat. How he kept telling that story I’ll never know,
but man, things were hot on the bottom bunk. I can’t remember the taste, but
do remember feeling his cock pumping that semen down my throat. It was just

When he finished cumming, I just kept nursing his dick, letting it soften in
my mouth while I ran my fingers through the dark bush, and enjoyed the sex
smell from his sweaty balls. Man, it was just great. It didn’t feel weird or
anything, just natural – my best friend’s cock in my mouth – sounded
sensible to me.

I continued sucking until he finished his story then let him slip from my
lips and back resting comfortably on his bag.

He looked down at me with a huge smerk on his face mouthing the words,
“Goodnight you cocksucker – that was great”. I nodded my head as a royal
servant might to his king and kissed his dick goodnight. The next night,
there was another story, but it took a little longer this time. We never
talked about it, I just sucked him those two nights. Other than that, our
weekend was quite normal – and maybe two best buds sucking cock is pretty
normal. I’d like to think so!

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