3 comments/ 10462 views/ 10 favorites Frankie and Johnny By: bjmichaels "You're such a prude... guys do that for each other all the time," he said for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Yeah-- gay guys do that all the time..." I said with a smile. "You know what? You're a real prick-tease..." he continued. "How do you figure that?" I asked. "Because whenever I'm near you I get a hard-on and you won't do anything about it," he answered. "You could at least be a good friend and give me a handjob." "I'm not gay," I said. "It's just sex—giving another guy a handjob doesn't mean you're gay—you're just doing him a favor—you're helping him relieve his frustrations...besides, how do you know you're not gay if you've never tried it?" he replied. "I don't have to jump out of an airplane to know I don't like sky diving," I countered. "You're afraid of heights—that's why you wouldn't sky dive—are you afraid of a hard penis, too?" he said. Then a smile slowly crept over his lips as he added: "Or are you afraid you might like it—that your sheltered little world would come crashing down around you if you touched a guys cock? You're pathetic—you've been thoroughly brain-washed by society—I always thought you had a mind of your own...." And round-and-round we go. Frankie and I have been best friends since I moved into the same apartment building. That was three months ago. We immediately hit it off and constantly hang out together. He never flaunted his sexuality, but never hid it either. He is open and honest and it is one of the traits I admire about him. He's smart and funny and fun to be with. It is a challenge for me to keep him as entertained as he does me. It was late and we'd gone swimming. No one else was at the pool so Frankie dared me to go skinny-dipping with him. We were alone so I thought, why not? The warm water felt deliciously wicked 'down there'. We played around in the pool: he was a much better swimmer and would try to pull me under water. When he succeeded I panicked, but he always made sure I was okay. His hands actually felt pretty good on my body. He has strong, but gentle hands. It was when we climbed out of the pool I noticed his erection; I didn't think anything about it—he always complained about his constant hard-on's and nowhere to go to satisfy them. Instead of stepping back into our swim trunks we just wrapped towels around ourselves and went back to his apartment. In his living room, where we had earlier shed our clothes and put on our swim trunks, we dropped our towels—his prick was still hard when he began the conversation. "Johnny, look at me," he said posing with hands-on-hips. "Isn't it beautiful—are you absolutely, positively sure you don't want to play with it? How could you not want to feel it?" What fascinated me most wasn't his erection (even though I did look at it maybe longer than I should have), but his clean shaven crotch. I knew he shaved his underarms and chest hair, but this was the first time I'd seen his crotch. "Doesn't it hurt when you shave down there?" I asked. He chuckled. "Yes, it hurts—especially the way I do it—I don't just shave—I also use tweezers to pluck out any stubble...it's worth it, though. My boyfriends love my smooth, clean feel....and they don't have to pick any pubic hairs out of their mouths anymore...." Subtle, I thought. He stepped into his tiny boxer shorts as I pulled up my briefs. "I don't know why you can't at least try touching it—you're already a cross-dresser—you love to wear panties—come on over here and give it a little squeeze...." "These aren't panties," I said, getting annoyed with that comparison; he'd teased me before. "They're cotton string, bikini briefs and I buy them in the men's department." "Yes, but RED?" he laughed. I blushed then I heard his voice soften. "Johnny," he said, I looked into his deep blue eyes. "Take one last look before I put it away...isn't it gorgeous?" When his eyes traveled down to his prick my own eyes followed along. He saw me blush as I thought to myself, yes...it is gorgeous—it's perfect. I was jealous—I wished I had one that long and firm, too. "Sorry—shows over," he chuckled when his prick disappeared into his shorts. "Glass of wine?" he asked me. "Ah, sure-okay," I said as the image of his prick slowly faded from my mind. He sat on the couch and I was a few feet across from him in his soft, leather chair. There was still that damned bulge in his shorts; it was very disconcerting. We talked about our jobs; the projects we were currently working on. During our conversation his hand absentmindedly grasped his erection through his shorts and slowly stroked it. It was distracting to say the least. Suddenly he blurted-out: "You know—I almost forgot—I owe you one." "What do you mean?" I asked wondering what he could possibly owe me. "Well, I watched you masturbate—it's only fair that you get to watch me," he said, and before I could protest he pushed his shorts to his knees and his cock sprang into my view once again. Then he added: "Of course, if you don't mind—I'll do it the 'old fashioned' way...." My face turned beet red as he stroked his cock right in front of me. Frankie and I had exchanged our spare apartment keys in case of emergencies. Last week, he used my key when I was home alone. I was in the bedroom doing...well, you know—and he caught me—unbeknownst to me he stood in the doorway and watched me masturbate. If I masturbated the 'normal' way, lying on my back, I would have seen him. But no, I use the 'friction method'. I lie on my stomach and grind my hard-on into the mattress; that way had always resulted in better orgasms for me. On occasion I beat-off the 'old fashioned' way, but it was never as satisfying. That day, I was thoroughly embarrassed when I turned and saw him watching me. "Why do you do it that way?" is all he said. "It seems awfully messy...." I didn't answer him but I had to agree—it was messy: a pool of cum on the sheet; and my belly slick with it, too. If I went to long without washing the sheets you could actually catch a faint aroma of dried cum. Later, much to my amazement, we had a discussion about masturbation techniques. I tried to explain myself. "Well...I'm not circumsized and I found out early-on that it feels better this way-- when your foreskin covers your glans while you orgasm, it's...well, spectacular—all the cum is trapped against your cockhead inside the foreskin and your orgasm is super-intense. I've tried jacking-off the normal way, but...well, I mean, all you do is shoot in mid-air—it never feels as good as my way...." He smiled and said, "Damn, wish I could try that...." I slowly shook my head then said: "It's not...I don't think it's healthy...I mean, whenever I have sex with a girl and I cum inside her it's like...." "Like what?" he asked. "It's the same thing—it's like I'm cumming in mid-air—in some sort of deep and yawning crevice—the intensity isn't there--it's not very satisfying...afterwards, when she's gone, I always masturbate my way...I may have ruined my sex life forever doing it this way...." He was now masturbating furiously in front of me. I should have gotten up and left, but I was frozen in place. My eyes riveted to his swiftly moving hand and the total hardness of his long prick. I was close enough to see the pre-cum leak from his slit; he smeared it on his cock; his cock glistened with his manly juices. My own cock became hard inside my briefs. "Do you know what I'm fantasizing about, Johnny?" he said through labored breath. I was too caught-up in the moment to realize I shouldn't have answered his question. "No...what are you thinking about?" He closed his eyes and laid his head against the couch. A big smile spread across his face as his hand became a rapidly-moving blur on his cock. "I'm dreaming I ripped off your panties and forced you over that chair and I'm ramming my cock in-and-out of your tight little asshole...." Suddenly he cried out and I watched spurt after spurt of cum shoot from his cockhead into midair. I shivered as I watched his cum splash onto his belly and thighs. The volume of cum amazed me. My own breath caught in my throat. When he opened his eyes he pointed to the large, pre-cum stain on the front of my bulging briefs. "Johnny, are you SURE you don't want to play with my cock? Your panties are wet." I laughed nervously and shook my head then gathered up my clothes and dressed. Before I walked out the door he said: "Johnny, dream of my hard penis when you masturbate tonight, okay?" The next morning as I knocked on Frankie's door I felt happy and refreshed. I had indeed pictured his cock when I'd masturbated the previous night—I would never tell him that though. It seemed only natural since fantasies of sex with women hadn't given me very satisfying orgasms lately. I didn't find anything wrong with picturing his cock, after all, it was a FANTASY—not REALITY. I've fantasized about many things which have no possibility of coming true—I'm sure you have to. That's why it's called a FANTASY. It was Saturday which meant we had a tee time at a nearby golf course. On the way to the course Frankie says, "Loser buys dinner tonight, okay?" That was our standard golf bet. I always replied, "Good—I haven't had steak and lobster since the last time we played...." "Whatever happened to Linda? I haven't seen her around lately--she seemed nice...." he asked me while we rode to our golf balls after we teed-off on the first hole. "Yeah, she was nice," I replied. "I thought she had it all...she was smart—funny—she cared about people—she treated me great—she seemed to be actually interested when I spoke—I don't think it was an act...I dunno...." "The sex wasn't good?" he asked. Frankie and I had always been open and honest with each other. There wasn't a single topic that either of us felt like we couldn't mention. "Well...she was pretty good—she actually wanted it more than I did...I dunno, something was missing...I couldn't 'feel' anything—there wasn't a spark there...." "Yeah, I know what you mean...." he said wistfully. "Is that what happened with you and Charles?" I asked him. He'd been with Charles for several months and they both appeared to enjoy each other then suddenly I never saw Charles again. "Was he an 'upper' or 'lower'?" Frankie laughed as he corrected me, "No, it's 'top' and 'bottom'...I'm a 'top, and he was definitely a 'bottom'...but, well...it's like you said—there was something missing...." We began talking about our previous relationships and how whenever a person came along that we thought could be 'the one'-- 'something' wasn't quite right—'something' was always missing, but we couldn't define what that 'something' was. We quickly breezed through the course. I was returning to the cart after teeing-off on the 18th hole when he finally said it: "I just love watching you wiggle your little butt when you address the ball." He said it every time we'd played the past few weeks. "I bet you say that to all the guys," I responded. "No way—have you seen most guys' butts?" In the clubhouse afterwards, we had a couple glasses of wine, and then Frankie smiled and said: "Let's get naked and take a shower in the locker room." "I bet you say that to all the guys," I replied. "No way—have you seen naked guys? Yuck!" We laughed and went to the locker room. This ritual began a few weeks ago, too. Before that we'd never showered after golf. Now that I think about it, it started around the same time we began skinny-dipping in the pool. I wasn't totally naïve. I thought for sure he was trying to seduce me. As usual, we stood under showerheads opposite each other. And also as usual, he said, "Johnny, look at this...." And I would follow his eyes downward and look at his impressive erection. "I'm not that 'easy'," I said, "I want some romance first...." We would laugh and finish our showers. His advances were becoming increasingly blatant, and I wondered what I should do about them. Frankie dressed fast then excused himself. When I walked out of the locker room he was on his cell phone. He ended the call and we carried our clubs to his car. I didn't ask who he had been speaking with—it was none of my business. We had both shot 84 so no one had won our bet. "I think I owe you a dinner anyway..." he said in the car. "How about 'Bern's Steakhouse'? He didn't owe me a dinner, as-a-matter-of-fact, I probably owed him several dinners, but I said: "Sounds great to me." He knew that was my favorite restaurant in town. Once again, the steaks were perfect; the cabernet delicious; and our conversation lively and free-flowing. Frankie was knowledgeable on so many topics it was fascinating to listen to him. I joined in whenever he brought up a subject in which I was well-versed. When we left the restaurant I was in a great mood so when he suggested we stop for a nightcap I readily agreed. When he pulled into the parking lot I saw the name of the place and laughed. "OYK's? The name of the bar is 'OYK's'? I asked incredulously. He joined in my laughter, and asked me: "Yeah...do you know what the letters stand for?" "I could never guess..." I replied. "It means--'On Your Knees'..." he said and I burst out in laughter once again. He said: "I love the name—I think it's sexy as hell...." He had taken me to several gay bars in the past but not this one. That was something else we did: I'd show him my favorite 'straight' bars, and he'd take me to 'gay' bars that he enjoyed. 'OYK's' was only about half-full, and it was Saturday night. "It's date night..." Frankie explained. "Most of the guys are out eating or at the movies or doing something with their boyfriends...but about an hour-or-so before closing time they'll all come here for last call—this place will be wall-to-wall faggots." I laughed and followed him to an open booth. Quickly, 'a cute little thing', as Frankie described him took our order and disappeared. When the server came back with our bottle of wine I looked closer at him: he wore short-shorts and a tee shirt that only covered him just above his naval. I had to agree with Frankie: he was 'a cute little thing'. A nearby pool table was vacant so Frankie fed it quarters and we played a couple games. Midway through the second game I heard a familiar voice that made my skin crawl. "FRANK-EEEE---HOW ARE YOU?---IT'S BEEN SO LONG...." It was Mikey, one of Frankie's ex's. He was a real cupcake, or as Frankie corrected me—a twinkie. He was a little too flamboyant for my taste. When the game was over, Frankie invited his friend to join us in the booth. He quickly slid into the seat between me and Frankie. He seemed genuinely happy to see Frankie again. Mikey dominated the conversation; once I became accustomed to his sing-song voice I grew to enjoy listening to him tell Frankie about the guys he'd recently been with, and there seemed to be no shortage of them either. He was very animated; his hands waved around as he spoke, and he bubbled with enthusiasm and sincerity as he described his lovers' attributes and weaknesses. I actually found him rather entertaining. At one point, he became very serious and looked me in the eyes; his hand resting on my thigh as he asked me: "Honey, have you ever been with a guy so selfish that when he's fucking you he won't even give you a reach-around?" I didn't know what to say so I mumbled: "Ah...no...I'm not gay..." His eyes flew open wide as he exclaimed: "Well pinch my nipples—you sure had me fooled...." I felt myself blush but Mikey didn't seem to notice; he just continued his rambling stories. I was acutely aware that his hand never left my thigh, and in fact, he began stroking it, and it was getting very close to the growing bulge in my crotch. Listening to the graphic details of his sex life was beginning to affect me, and in all honesty, his hand on my thigh was exciting me, too. It had been a long time since I had felt the touch of another human being. As I shook the developing fog from my mind, I noticed his other hand was below the table between Frankie's legs, and from the up-and-down motion of his arm...well, you know.... "Hey—let's all go and party at my place...." Frankie suddenly announced. "GOOOODDD-EEEEEEEEE...." Mikey squealed with delight. As we slid out of the booth my main concern was that people would notice my full-fledged hard-on in my jeans. My eyes searched the room--no one was watching; no one cared what we were doing at all. In the front seat of Frankie's car, Mikey once again sat between us. Before Frankie started the car, Mikey leaned over and kissed him on the lips. "Honey, it's been way too long...." he said to Frankie as their kiss lingered on. On the ride to our apartment building Mikey launched into another story about his sexual adventures, and once again, he began rubbing my thigh. My first hard-on had subsided, but it quickly returned under Mikey's nimble fingers. Suddenly his hand moved to my crotch and he took hold of, and squeezed my erection. A shiver ran up my spine. I tried to push his hand away but somehow he grabbed my hand and pressed it firmly on the bulge in his slacks. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight as he forced my fingers around his cock and I felt his heat and hardness. A jolt of electricity shot through my hand and up my arm. It was the first time I'd ever felt another guy's cock. When I became aware that his hand had released mine, and that my hand continued squeezing his cock—I quickly jerked it from his crotch. I heard him softly laugh. Inside Frankie's apartment, wine was poured and I settled in the comfortable leather chair while they sat next to each other on the sofa. Mikey was all over Frankie; kissing his cheeks and neck; stroking his shoulders and chest. Finally Mikey said loudly: "IT'S TOO HOT IN HERE...." He stripped-off his clothes until he wore what appeared to be a very white jockstrap. I hadn't seen a jockstrap since high school gym class. Mikey began undressing Frankie. "Get naked with me, honey...." he cooed in his ear while his expert hands quickly unfastened Frankie's clothes until he was sitting in only his shorts. The prominent bulge in Frankie's shorts was obvious for all to see. Mikey squealed again and announced, "Oh baby, I've really missed this bad boy...." And he tugged on Frankie's shorts until his hard cock sprang into our view. Mikey wrapped his hand around Frankie's cock and stroked it. The scene unfolding before my eyes hypnotized me—I just had to look. Mikey's soft voice spoke to me: "Johnny...you really need to feel his cock...so strong and hard-yet so smooth and soft...it's magnificent...." His words caused my own cock to throb in my briefs. I controlled the urge to play with myself. Suddenly, Mikey yanked-down his jock exposing his cock to my curious eyes; it had actually felt pretty good in my hand earlier in the car. It looked identical to mine: four-inches long, not-very thick, and uncircumsized. When Frankie reached over and squeezed Mikey's cock and Mikey squealed with joy, I thought I would cum in my pants. Pre-cum leaked through my briefs and was visible on the front of my jeans; it never occurred to me to leave and give them some privacy. Then I heard Mikey say: "Baby, I need to taste you..." and he almost fell off the couch as he knelt between Frankie's open legs. My eyes were riveted on Mikey's hands and mouth as he slowly drew Frankie's cock closer to his pouting lips. He kissed Frankie's cock; his tongue snaked-out and licked up-and-down the soft flesh eliciting moans of pleasure from deep within Frankie's throat. Beads of perspiration formed on my brow as I watched Mikey round his lips and slide them over the bulbous cockhead. I could make out the movement of Mikey's tongue as it thoroughly lathered the mushroomed-sized cockhead in his greedily sucking mouth. Frankie and Johnny Mikey groaned loudly into the cockflesh filling his mouth. He removed his mouth from Frankie's cock long enough to say: "Oh God, Johnny—you just have to taste this—it's to die for...." I had to get out of there. My heart was beating a mile-a-minute—my body was trembling and shaking and my mind was a bubbling cauldron of confusion. I leapt off the chair like it was on fire and walked out the front door. I stood by the closed door catching my breath; trying to hear if they said anything about me; trying to find out if this had been a set-up; a plan just for my benefit. All I heard was Mikey making sucking and slurping noises, and Frankie's groans of pleasure growing louder and louder until he finally shouted "OH-MY-GOD—OH-MY-GOD—OH-MY-GOD—OH-MY-GOD...." I hurried home and stripped off my clothes and lay on my belly on the bed. It took me less than two minutes of furious grinding before I made a huge mess on the sheets. I fell asleep with drying cum on my belly and thighs, and a smile on my face...and a mental image of Frankie's hard cock ingrained in my mind. The next morning, I was walking down the hallway and ran into Frankie. I had just finished laundry, my sheets needed washing. They were getting...well, a little crusty with a strong aroma of, ah...you know.... Frankie had driven Mikey home. "I'm starving..." he said. "Want to go to Sunday brunch?" "Yeah—I'm hungry, too—I'll go change then come over...." On the way to the restaurant he never mentioned the events of last night. I half expected him to make some sort of crude comment, but it never came. At the brunch, we loaded our plates, drank Bloody Mary's and debated the benefits of stimulus spending versus austerity. Neither of us believed in austerity, but one of us would always play the devil's advocate in all our discussions. We were eating dessert when my boss, Walter, suddenly stopped at our table. He was with a kid who was about my age. "John," he said, "Good to see you—fabulous brunch here—don't you agree?" "Hi Walter, yeah this place is great—the service and food is first class," I said. "Walter, this is my friend, Frank." They shook hands then Walter said: "John, I know you play golf, how about your friend?" "Yeah, as-a-matter-of-fact we played yesterday...." I replied. "Would you guys be interested in playing at my 'country club' today?" he asked, "My treat--it's only going to be Kenny and me...." I saw the expression on Frankie's face and said, "Sure, Walter—we'd love to—thanks." "One o'clock tee time, alright? I'll let the guard at the gate know you're coming—see you guys there." "Sure—we'll be there." When they left Frankie smiled and said, "We're moving up in the world—a 'country club' no less." I replied: "Not just any 'country club'...'Whistling Pines Country Club'...." Frankie smacked his lips and whistled then said, "Where the privileged few play and party...." We had plenty of time to go home and change into clothes appropriate for a 'country club'. During the drive Frankie said, "You never told me your boss is gay...." His statement surprised me: "HUH? What do you mean—he's not gay—he's got a wife and three boys." Frankie chuckled and said: "C'mon now—why do you think he was with 'Kenny'? Did you notice he didn't even introduce us to Kenny? Can you really picture them as 'friends'?" "Well... now that you mention it..." After playing a few holes with Walter and Kenny, Frankie leaned over and whispered to me "...as queer as a three-dollar bill...." I nodded in agreement. It had become very clear that Kenny was just learning the game of golf, and Walter was trying to teach him how to play. Walter nagged and berated Kenny after every bad shot. Walter sounded like a domineering husband. Once, when Kenny made a truly bad swing, Walter stood behind him, arms draped over Kenny's arms and shoulders showing Kenny how to address the ball and grip the golf club. When Kenny leaned forward to address the ball, his round butt pressed against Walter's crotch; when Walter backed-up to allow Kenny to swing the club, the thin material of Walter's golf slacks ballooned outward from his crotch. He had an impressive bulge. Kenny took all of Walter's criticisms without saying a word. "He's a real 'passive'—isn't he..." I commented to Frankie. Frankie smiled and said, "You mean 'submissive'...oh yeah, he's as submissive as they come...." Afterwards, Walter bought us drinks and appetizers. He and Frankie dominated the conversation. I spoke sparingly, and Kenny never said a word. At one point I excused myself to use the men's room. Kenny surprised me when he said he'd go with me. I went to a urinal, and sure enough, Kenny stood at the one next to me. We did our business in silence then just as I was zipping up Kenny said, "You're really lucky—Frankie's a dreamboat—I bet he's a considerate lover, too." Huh? "No-no...we're just friends," I quickly corrected him. His eyes lit up. "Really? The way you act around him—the way you look at him...sorry, I just assumed you were his girlfriend...." Girlfriend? Good grief.... "Is he available? I'd die to be with someone like him...." said Kenny. What the hell is going on here? I wondered. It was like Kenny was part of Frankie's plan to seduce me. I thought back over the day but couldn't remember any time when the two of them had been alone long enough for Frankie to conspire with him. Then I thought: this guy has some nerve to ask me if Frankie was available. On the drive home we decided to stop at OYK's. The appetizers filled us up so we didn't want dinner, but we thought it was too early to go home. The place was almost full. We had to stand with our drinks in a corner near the pool tables. Frankie had to wait about fifteen minutes before he got the chance to play a game. Frankie won his game and soon was playing against another guy. I had to use the men's room. It was all the way across the crowded barroom. I had to walk by the dance floor on the way. The dance floor was crowded with guys dancing with each other. I'd never seen that before. I stood and watched for awhile. It was fun figuring out who was a 'top' and who was 'submissive'. For some reason, I assumed the bigger and taller guys were the 'tops'. Standing at the urinal, I looked at the 'artwork' on the wall. They weren't quite pornographic, but very close. One painting in particular caught my eye: a naked guy was on his knees, his hard-on standing up from his crotch; his hands were by his side; his lips formed a perfect 'O'; and inches from his face was an erect penis with a large scrotum hanging below ; that was all you could see of the guy standing. I couldn't take my eyes off it—it was the most erotic thing I'd ever seen. I was done pissing but was transfixed by the painting. I wondered what the guy on his knees was feeling at that moment. I shook my head clear and finally got out of there. When I got close enough to the pool tables I saw Frankie talking with someone: a big man with a full, bushy beard. Suddenly Frankie reached for his wallet and pulled out some money. It looked like a hundred dollar bill; he gave it to the big, hairy guy. I wondered what that was all about. By the time I reached Frankie the big man was gone. He was still 'holding the table'. He asked if I wanted another drink and when I said 'yes', he reached for his wallet. I told him it was my turn to buy. The bar was jammed with guys who were mostly taller than me. I couldn't get the bartenders attention. Suddenly I felt a big hand on the back of my neck. "Maybe I can help you out...." A deep, guttural voice said behind me. I turned to him and came face-to-face with the hairy guy Frankie had been talking with just moments earlier. I was startled to see him. Another coincidence? I wondered. "Don't think I've ever seen you here before...what are you drinking?" he asked. I told him. "Paulie," he shouted at the bartender, "give my cute little friend here a vodka-soda and I'll take my usual...." I protested when he refused my money, and then he said: "Hell, a cute boy like you shouldn't have to pay for any drinks...." He was probably two or three years older than me, but I've been told I look five years younger than I am. "C'mon, I got a table over here...." he said when we got our drinks. Okay, I thought, I'll play along.... His big hand rested on the back of my neck as he guided me to the table where he was standing; no chairs. I didn't know the etiquette or protocol in a gay bar. I assumed if a guy bought you a drink you at least had to spend a little time with him. When I put my drink on the table his arm went around my shoulders and he pulled me closer to him. "You're one of the prettiest boys I've ever seen here...people call me 'Bear'—what's your name, cutie?" he asked. "John," I said. I was getting a little nervous now. His strong hand stayed on me; holding me in tight against him. I watched the guys on the dance floor. I was able to see through the crowd at the pool tables. It startled me to see Frankie staring at us. He seemed to have a crooked smile on his face. Then it dawned on me what was going on. Sure, it made perfect sense. Frankie had given 'Bear' a hundred dollars and all of a sudden he's coming on to me? Yes, I figured 'Bear' was in on Frankie's plan to seduce me. I wasn't angry, but I thought about what I could do to teach Frankie a lesson. Bear looked at me and asked: "Hey, little cutie—want to dance?" That's perfect, I thought. I'll show Frankie that two can play his game. Bear took my hand and I followed him onto the dance floor. He put his arms around me and pulled me close to him. It felt weird, but I put my arms around him and held on as we moved to the slow music. I was feeling self-conscious about dancing with a man, but of course, as I looked around me, nobody paid us the slightest attention. Bear pressed his beard against the side of my face. I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt his tongue on my neck. When he pushed his tongue in my ear, I instinctively tried to pull away but he held me tight. "Don't be nervous, lil cutie...," he whispered in my ear. "I'm more of a pussy-cat than a 'bear'...I like you—I like you a lot..." Suddenly Bear took my asscheeks in his big hands, pulled me hard against him, and ground his erection into my belly. His cock was huge, like a tree-stump, I thought. "You and me are gonna have fun tonight, lil cutie..." he said as his thick fingers pinched my asscheeks hard—I yelped at the surprising pain he was causing me. "Oh yeah, baby...Ol Bear is gonna make you squeal all night long...." he said as he brought his face close to mine. He tried to kiss me on the lips but I turned my head. He gripped my head with both hands and forcefully held it in place as he firmly pressed his lips to mine. His beard felt like steel-wool on my face. His lips were dry and cracked; he tried to push his fat tongue in my mouth. I resisted. His tone of voice suddenly changed—he was angry I had turned my head away from him. What I saw in his eyes scared the hell out of me. A strange smile spread across his lips as he said: "Oh, yeah, lil cutie...ol Bear likes it when a boy like you plays hard to get...ol Bear loves teaching a boy like you some manners..." I tried to look around for Frankie but Bear held my head as he almost spit at me when he spoke: "I'm taking you home tonight...you're gonna suck my cock the way I like it...you're gonna worship my balls...when I teach you some manners you're gonna beg to lick my asshole...and then I'm gonna fuck your prick-teasing ass—I'm gonna fuck you so hard and long you won't be able to walk for a week..." I began to tremble and shake—this game had gotten out of control. It wasn't supposed to go like this. My mind began to cry out: FRANKIE—WHERE ARE YOU FRANKIE? "...and when the sun comes up in the morning—I'm gonna snap my fingers and that cute lil ass of yours is gonna scramble as fast as it can between my legs and you're gonna do whatever the hell I tell you to do—now let's get out of here...." He pulled me to his side and his arm snaked around me. His hand covered my mouth. He forcefully guided me to the front door. I had never felt such fear. He was so strong I couldn't get away from him. I knew my arms would have ugly, purple bruises where he squeezed them. The closer we got to the door the louder I screamed in my head. FRANKIE—PLEASE HELP ME FRANKIE---OH MY GOD—OH MY GOD.... Bear pushed the door open with his foot. "Hey, Bear—where you going with my boyfriend?" It was Frankie. I almost cried I was so happy to hear his voice. I heard Bear growl at Frankie, "This lil prick-tease belongs to you? I don't believe it. If he's yours you better teach him some manners...." "Yeah, I've warned him about it before...when we get home he's going to get a good spanking." Bear's grip on me loosened, but he didn't let go. "I never seen you two together before..." he questioned Frankie. "Nah," Frankie said, "...the little faggot is too embarrassed to admit he's queer...doesn't want to go to these bars...but you oughta hear him when he's bending over and I'm ramming his ass with my cock—he can't get enough of it...." "Yeah, I thought so...." Bear replied. Bear let me go. Frankie took my hand and said, "C'mon, bitch—let's dance...I saw you dancing with Bear—now you can finally dance with me in public." And, for Bear's benefit, he yanked hard on my hand and I stumbled after him onto the dance floor. It was so manly and forceful it caught me by surprise. I gasped with uncertain delight; the fear inside me suddenly turned into excitement. Frankie held me close and I clung tightly to him as we moved slowly to the music. I began to suspect another plot but I didn't care—I felt so safe and secure in his arms I wanted him to hold me forever. "What the hell were you thinking?" Frankie whispered in my ear. "That is one dangerous man to mess around with...." "I thought...I dunno...I don't know what I was thinking...." I said. "Bear's still watching us...we might need to be more convincing...." Frankie said softly. I looked into Frankie's eyes—he stared into mine. We froze in place as the people around us disappeared from our sight. We were both feeling the same thing. It was as though we were reading each others' minds. Our lips came together; softly at first; then more urgent. It was a magical kiss; it awakened something deep within me. I felt a desperate hunger gnawing at the pit of my stomach. A loud bell went off in my head: after all these years I finally understood what I wanted in life. "I love you, Frankie," I said; unabashed and unashamed. The look of wonderment and joy in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. We kissed again—a long, lingering kiss. We only stopped when someone nearby said "Hey guys—get a room." "Want to go home?" he asked. I nodded. He took me by the hand and led me out of the club. We never thought about looking around for Bear. Once inside the car, I immediately moved over next to him. We put our arms around one another and kissed. Our kisses became frenzied; filled with true passion. Our tongues danced together; the heat in the car rose higher and higher. My hand automatically went to his crotch. I found his bulge and gently squeezed. He groaned into my mouth. My hands worked to open his slacks. When I took his hot flesh in my hand I swooned and could contain myself no longer. I caressed his warm, throbbing cock like a man possessed. I cradled his balls in my hand and rolled them with my fingers. His balls were extraordinarily heavy. The hunger in my belly grew stronger and more intense. There was something I had to do—something I'd dreamt of since the first time I'd laid eyes on his magnificent prick. I lowered my head and his manly aroma made me dizzy. I breathed in deeply—my own cock became rigid and stiff in my jeans. "Johnny...oh my God...." was all he could say when I rounded my lips and slid them over his hot cockhead. He moaned deeply as I used my tongue on his smooth flesh. My passion to give him pleasure overwhelmed me. I thought about how I liked to be sucked so I did it that way for him. I must have been doing it right: his hands caressed my neck and shoulders as he moaned incessantly. His hips began a slight upward thrusting, forcing more and more of his cock into my greedily sucking mouth. My fingers stroked his shaft as I sucked harder and faster. My mind was lost in a haze and fog of lust, desire and passion. When he cried out I pressed my tongue to his slit and lapped at the erupting discharge. I was happy and proud that he rewarded me with his essence. I swallowed as much as I could. It tasted like the nectar of the Gods. Up to this point in my life, nothing had prepared me for the sheer joy I felt in giving someone so much pleasure without expecting something in return. It had been purely an act of self-less love and passion. When his lower body finally came to rest, and as I heard him gulping for air, my lips and tongue cleaned the excess fluids from his hairless crotch. I inwardly smiled; secretly thrilled that I loved his manly aroma and taste because I knew I would be performing this act for him every day for the rest of our lives. When he caught his breath he held me close and kissed me hard. His hands gently squeezed and stroked my shivering body. "Johnny..." he said, "...I've never felt like this in my life—ever since we met I wanted to get you into my bed—I wanted you to experience the pleasure I knew we could give each other...but now...now I HAVE to have you...I've never felt a hunger for another person like this before...I NEED you to be my lover...I love you, Johnny...with my heart and soul I love everything about you...." I kissed him and told him I felt exactly the same way. I said we finally discovered what had been missing in all of our previous relationships---PASSION. Can being in love with someone you don't absolutely hunger for every moment of the day even be considered love? I rested my head against his shoulder as he drove us home. My small hand held his flaccid penis; I loved the feel of it in my hand. "Well," I said, "...looks like your plan worked perfectly." He hesitated then replied, "What plan?" I chuckled. "You know—trying anything and everything to seduce me." "Sweetie," he said, "...yeah, I wanted you in the worst way, but I never 'planned' anything...." "Oh really," I laughed. "What about the other day after golf—you hurry out of the locker room to make a mysterious phone call—tell me you didn't call Mikey so I could watch you two having sex that night." "You know, it had suddenly occurred to me that it was my sister's birthday—I called and wished her a happy birthday...as for Mikey, well, I was a little weak that night—it had been such a long time...I noticed you got a boner watching us.... " "Well...yeah, that's beside the point" I said. "What about today?" "What about it?" "You set me up with Bear so you could rush in and rescue me—I saw you give him a hundred bucks to do it." He laughed. "You think pretty highly of yourself, don't you? I gave Bear a hundred bucks for the three-wood I bought from him the other day when I didn't have any cash on me---you know, the three-wood I told you about today when I used it for the first time?" "Oh..." I said. I guess maybe I had wanted something to happen between me and Frankie so much I imagined all these things. Then he said: "You didn't ask me about today—you know, in the clubhouse after golf...." I remembered Kenny. "YEAH—Kenny follows me to the men's room and stands right next to me then he asks if I'm your girlfriend? What was THAT all about?" Frankie and Johnny Frankie chuckled. "I dunno—your boss asked me the same thing...." "WHAT? What did you tell him?" "I said—not yet." My hand cradled Frankie's scrotum and I applied a gentle pressure on his balls. "You know," I said. "You're in a very vulnerable position here...." We arrived home just as our laughter died down. Inside his apartment we looked at each other then hugged and kissed and hungrily pawed one another. An overpowering PASSION filled the air. We hurriedly undressed and stepped into the shower. We washed each other; kissing and groping and fondling until our cocks were hard with lust and passion. I stood behind him and soaped his cock with one hand while my other hand stroked his shaft. "What are you doing?" he asked with a huge smile. "I'm going to give you a 'wrap-around', "I said. He laughed and said, "Oh, there's so much I'm going to LOVE teaching you..."