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We graduated two days later, our parents and grandparents in town, and Angela and he married that fall. It wasn’t gay, but only because it was 1993. “Guy,” he whispered back, and turned, and kissed my shoulder.
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i squeezed my sphincters, making it last, and shut my eyes more tightly. My cock stiffened, and he rubbed it more slowly than he fondled my balls, letting his thumb trace every edge of its tip. His arm still covered his eyes, and I closed mine. He fondled them more, sometimes just his fingertips. He reached over, after a bit, one arm still over his eyes, and fondled by balls. The silence between us grew, and the cars running to their little homes and farms filled it. And here, just miles away, we lay naked, wet and happy, in the same sun that shined on all of them. But I knew what lay there, little towns with little schools, centennial farms, and old-fashioned ways. We never ventured far off campus, south or east. Sometimes we’d head to the lake, but that took us north, and west was home, the suburbs. Campus had been our world for four years, and of course the restaurants, bars, and Walgreens around it. Somehow, those little towns were a comfort in that moment. We didn’t really touch each other, not much, outside of the fucking.ĭistantly, we could hear the traffic on the highway breezing past us, cars and trucks with unknown drivers, sinking deep into nameless fields and towns. “Yeah, me, too.” I leaned over, kissed him lightly, and then laid on my back next to him. I rubbed his chest, and he smiled faintly. A drop of cum had trickled its way from his pubes to the mattress, streaking his hip and moistening my knee. I let go of the shade and crawled back onto the narrow bed, my knees and his left hip bumping briefly.