Graduation caps fly in the air and Josh wraps his arm around me from the
side and squeezed. “I’m gonna miss you, buddy!” He exclaims and turns his
emerald eyes towards me. I get lost for a moment and I beam back at him.
“I will miss you, too.” Now, we have been friends since the third
grade when his mom divorced his dad and moved down here to Florida after
being born and raised in Pennsylvania. He had made up his mind in 6th grade
that he was meant to be back in Pennsylvania so he applied to, and was
gratefully accepted into Penn State undergraduate program. Me, I just want
to stay in this podunk town outside of Orlando because it’s my home, and I
can take over my dad’s auto business. So we knew after this and week of
graduation, he will be gone and moved back in with his dad for Fall
semester preparation.
The ground is becoming littered with brochures, programs, and some
caps. We nimbly walk our way across towards our parents. His dad did make
it, much to the chagrin of his mom, but none-the-bothered by his
step-dad. They were standing together waiting for our return from the
graduate seating area and were ready to go eat some food. We wine and dine
at the local Macaroni Grill and of course witness the fight at the end
about which adult wants to pay the most. The step-dad quietly excused
himself to the bathroom prior to dinner and sneakily handed the waitress
the credit card before drinks were disbursed. He was reveling in all the
bickering with a shit-eating grin as he knew he would be the one to pay. It
was a cute argument among the adults, and of course saddens the both of us
when we realize it could very well be the last.
We were invited over to Jenny’s for a party and obviously we have
to make plans to go. We do what we always do and I meet him dressed and
ready to go at his house while he is still half-dressed and indecisive
about what to wear to impress his long-time crush, Abigail. We discuss what
has not worked so we could possibly find a solution as this may be the last
time. He ends up falling back on his usual geometric-printed button-up and
jeans with white sneakers and we head out the door kissing his mom goodbye
and warning us to not call if we get jailed.
Jenny’s house is just in the neighborhood over so the walk is not
too bad and luckily May in Florida has a bearable temperature at
twilight–it is the mosquitos that you get annoyed by.
“You gonna come visit, Kevin?” He asks.
“Of course, Josh, why wouldn’t I? It’s not like I have four years
of school to worry about. After I get certified I’m done with this shit
forever.”
He laughs, “Yeah, maybe I should just stay here and live life
chill.”
“Why don’t you?” I ask with a glimmer of hope.
“My dad wants me to get into finance, get in with all the big wigs
he talks to every day to `carry on the line.’ Blah blah blah.” I laugh a
bit but also give a worried look and I am sure Josh caught that because he
begins again, “Look, it’s four years. Then I can be back in Orlando
downtown. So I won’t be far from all our friends here, and you, and I can
still keep the corporate job my dad wants. Think of it as a compromise.”
I nod in agreement, still a bit worried if this is what he wants to
do.
He feels it and continues, “Besides, what would I even begin to
talk about with geriatric bankers?” I push him and we laugh about the
situation.
We get to the house finally and the party is going on at an about
11 out of 10. Jenny drunkenly greets us in a tube top, or what I believe
was a greeting, and points us to the kitchen to grab some drinks. I have
always had an iffy stomach so I ask the person who has the fridge open to
give me the lightest beer he knows. He hands me a green can with the label
of something with “Rock” and I pop it open with a hiss.
I see Josh already over across the dining room trying to woo
Abigail so I leave him be and go to explore the house. I find a staircase
and a few people hanging out or making out on the railing that overlooks
the living room to get a birds-eye view. I scoot past the menagerie and
make my way to the second floor landing. I peek at groups chilling in
multiple bedrooms up here and a small line out the bathroom. I am enticed
by the one room that has a bit of smoke oozing out of the door frame so I
make my way on over.
A duo of onlookers pass a joint between the two of them as they
watched the action in the circle at the center of the room on the
floor. Spin the bottle. Lo and behold, Jenny was there, I assume to get
some drunk kissing in as the host of the party–or maybe she’s trying to be
a good host. I ask to join as I have never played before and the eight of
them accommodatingly scooted over to absorb the ninth person, me.
They tell me since I was the new initiate, I must spin first. I
nervously agree and move towards the middle where the empty bottle of
Mexican coke sat and I give it a good spin. It lands on this hipster girl
that I had in English class in Junior year but I still forget her name. The
small crowd holler as she made her way quickly over to me and lands a kiss
right on my lips and held it there for a long moment. She tasted like
patchouli and clove. Dazed a bit, I watch her move back to where she sat
and reach forward to the bottle.
Boys kiss girls, girls kiss girls, and boys kiss boys as the game
progresses. I land on hipster girl again, who I find out her name is
actually Leslie, and by the time it is my third turn I spin the bottle and
it lands on the token gay kid of our high school: Juan. This time, to not
seem so uncool and reluctant, I made my way towards him to his surprise. I
am on my knees and hands across the bottle and I lift my right hand to
caress his face and pull him closer for a kiss. I have always wanted to try
kissing a guy but the only guy I would ever ask would be Josh but I was
always too afraid. This was the perfect opportunity and I felt something
boiling inside me that I have never felt before. I think Juan felt it,
too. Not only did the kiss last much longer than everyone else’s turn, but
I, to my surprise, reciprocate to his gentle lip biting.
I pull back and smile at him and I hear the girl who sat next to me
say aloud, “Wow!” I giggle at her and pat her on the knee of her
crisscrossed leg. The rest of the game, I keep catching Juan eyeing me but
of course the bottle never lands on us again. I play a turn once more and
then make my way down the stairs to grab another green can of beer. I met
up with Josh who was leaning against the wall a bit sullen. I asked him how
it went with Abigail and he vents a few minutes about how he just wants to
be noticed and that he has never felt an attraction to someone like that
before and how life was unfair and he would be such a good partner for her
and, and, and… I intently listen, he huffs, and then asks how my night is
going so far.
“I kissed Juan.” I matter-of-factly say.
He laughs, “No way, how was it?”
“Everyone was right, he does have an amazing lip care routine.” We
both laugh. “But nah, it was chill. I may go back and bring him back into
the closet, he kept eyeing me during spin the bottle.”
“Dude, no way? I did not know you were into guys.” His question was
more inquisitive than interrogative.
“Eh, it’s my last time to have fun, why not? Besides, how would I
know if I don’t try, right?”
“Yeah, I guess, man. Whatever you want to do.” I question in my
head if it was okay with him but he gives me a quick handshake, looks
across the room, grabs my hand and says, “Let’s play foosball.”
He is dragging me through the crowd to where there is an opening of
foosball fans watching the game and he yells, “Dibs on winner, is anyone
next?” A few bystanders shake their head no and we wait for our turn
next. Well, none other than Juan is playing with that hipster girl Leslie
on a team against two other colleagues I vaguely recognize. It becomes our
turn with the Juan/Leslie winning duo team that they have self-named The
Obliterators. I beam a huge teethy smile to Juan and he returns a quick
quip of a “No hard feelings.” under his breath towards me.
Before I am left to interpret the message a whirr of flying,
rotating players on a stick trying to hit a ball begins to register with my
eyes. Josh wanted the defensive/goalie side so I am trying to pull out a
full-on offensive and pray that I somehow have the reaction speed to hit
the ball somewhere towards the other side. Juan and Leslie work in unison
switching across the handles from where they are at any point in time. It
seems they do not stay in certain positions but prefer to dance with each
other and telepathically decide who goes where. They naturally destroy us,
obliterated as per their team name, and Josh and I look at each other and
giggle about our quick, but relatively painless, demise. Juan screams
across the table, “Losers have to kiss!”
The chanting around the circle envelopes us with an iteration of
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Josh looks at me, smirks and shrugs, then takes both of
his hands to grip my cheeks and lands one right on my lips. That feeling
boiling inside me with Juan? Yeah, it came up again this time except it
reached from my chest from my stomach and made my heart beat a bit
faster. This was absolutely way better than Juan. Our faces break away from
each other and I turn to The Obliterators to see a happy Leslie with one
hand over her mouth and a happy Juan with his head tilted a bit back and a
satisfied look on his face.
Josh and I break away from the crowd and we head to the kitchen
where we chill at the small breakfast nook table with a few drinks and just
kick it back talking about memories. We talk about everything we have been
through since our childhood, watch the debauchery that goes on around the
liquor sources, and after an hour or so we were feeling no pain. We somehow
end up back on that kiss and he asked who was better.
I drunkenly slip out, “Juan’s was good but I liked kissing you
better.” I immediately regret being so forward and stammer a bit to try to
soften the self-deluded conversation weight, “I mean–I… Well Juan’s was
nice but, I–Well, you know, I know you more, and–“
“Dude, chill.” He waves a hand to stop me and then places it on my
thigh. “It was fun for me, too, we can always try some more.” Nervousness
came through his voice this time around and he continues, “You know, if you
want and all. Just as friends.”
I look into his eyes to discern his intent and seriousness but I do
not find any facial reasoning for his decision to waver. “I think it’d be
fun and I am tipsy enough now to try. That is, if you are.”
“Yeah, let’s find a spot. Have you been upstairs?” I nod and grab
his hand and in a slurry of spilled beer cans we were moving our way up
those steps, across the second floor landing, and find our way into a small
linen closet. He asks, “This private enough?” and his elbow makes its way
into my rib.
I grunt, “This is… fine.” Before the final consonant left my
lips, I had hands caressing my back in an embrace as he moved closer. My
eyes were still adjusting to the dark (although I cannot imagine I would be
able to see anything even if I were a cat) and I can feel his beer-soaked
breath breeze across my face. I can sense him right in front of me, a bit
hesitant, and I affirm him, “Kiss me, Josh.” A few moments lapse of a
shared tenseness and I find our lips finally make contact. He kisses me in
a reserved manner and I lean into him to let him physically know that I
want more, more, more of this. The panting begins as we figure out what
each other like, when and where, and when to find the quick second to grab
some air. His hands are still on my back and they are moving around and
petting me.
Every once in a while his hand slips behind me and under my
underwear pretty smoothly to grab straight for my ass cheek. He only keeps
his hand there for a few seconds, I assume as a tease. After a few of these
routines, I imply that I want his hand to stay there by taking one of my
mine and land it on his on the next attempt he tries. He reacts with a moan
and squeezes my a bit harder. By this time our pelvises and hips feel a
part of each other and I can feel our dicks rubbing up against each
other. I take my hand that I use to guide his ass-grabbing-hand and try to
slip it under the front of his underwear. I struggle a bit to find my way
as his jeans are a perfect fit so not much else can get in between them. He
helps by unbuttoning them with his free hand and I greedily make my way in.
I do not know what exactly I am looking for but I blindly go in to
just try to fondle something of him. I meander my hand between his crotch
and his thigh and then from the side begin to cup his balls. The sensory
overload seems a bit too much for him as he buckles a bit at my touch and
takes a bite at my bottom lip. I rub my hands slowly back and forth, waving
my fingers under his sack, and enjoying this whole new sensation as
something I now realize I have wanted to touch for a while. After a few
minutes of this heavy petting, Josh returns the favor by unbuttoning my
jeans but this time he brings the bands of my pants and my underwear down
my thigh a few inches. He fumbles with his hand a bit to try to find my
cock and balls and when he finally lands on them he pulls them forward up
and out of the cloth that binds them.
I am fully erect and he begins to feel around for my shaft. When he
finds the base he wraps his fingers around and whispers, “Dang, your cock
is on fire!”
I whisper out a laugh and I ask, “What?”
He says, “It’s so warm, it’s such a weird feeling I guess all the
blood.”
I say, “Okay,” and laugh as I did not know what else to say. Our
faces meet again for a heavier make out and much more tongue as he began to
stroke my dick in between us. A few heavy moments pass and I admit, “I am
about to cum, hold off a bit,” and move his hand off my dick.
He replies, “No worries,” and I can feel him move his arm a bit on
himself, I assume stroking it. I focus on trying to find his dick again and
this time, use my hand as a locator as I get on my knees and try to give
him a blowjob.
Josh gives out a slight, “What?” in confusion but I think he put
the puzzle together quite quickly. I still cannot see anything so I am
going by my touch senses and stick out my tongue to try to find the tip of
his cock. Through a few seconds of wandering in empty space, my tongue
finally lands on his tip and I taste a bit of what he tastes like. It feels
a bit wet already which I guess means he was precumming a bit and affirms
me that he was enjoying it. He places his hand on my head and gives me
permission, “Go ahead, Kevin, please.”
I take that as an open door to open my mouth and try to fit as much
as I can of him in me. I do not make it far before I feel a slight gag come
on, so I make my way back out while keeping my mouth warmly on his dick. I
start bobbing my head from what I have seen in those porn videos, but there
is no way I can go as fast as they can. I twirl my tongue around to try to
get as much spit I can on his shaft and head. His grip in my hair gets
tighter. He begins to thrust his hips into me forcing him a bit deeper down
my throat and I try my best to take it all in. Concurrently, he says a bit
louder than our usual moaned breaths, “I cannot take anymore I am about to
nut.” I pull off a bit as I am scared what would happen if he busted into
my mouth and I feel him turn to the side to spill on whatever was over in
that general direction–hopefully a wall. Who knows.
He seems to guzzle a few more pumps out and breathes a deep breath
out to where I know he is finished. I make my way back up and begin kissing
him again. I can sense his exasperation of glee since he lazily kisses me
back. He does not offer to reciprocate which I am fine with so I can sense
the blood leaving my privates as I begin to go limp. Anything to keep
kissing him.
After a bit more of kissing, we lie together vertically against the
wall with my head on his shoulder and his hand running through my hair.
“I think I am going to miss you a ton,” Josh says to me.
I retort, “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” We peel off each other and enjoy the rest of the party.
These next four years are going to be so hard.
The End
