The Y Series
index
BennettWorks
(The Y Series)
This story is an original work of Gay Furry fiction by David Bennett. Any characters mentioned in this story are my property and my creation unless otherwise noted. Some real names of Celebrities and places are used purely for the purpose of the entertainment of the reader. You can use any of my characters with my permission.
If you are under the age of 18 or 21 in your respective area, then turn back now. If you are offended by same-sex relationships or same-sex erotica, then this isn't for you. If you are offended by the reality of STD's as presented in these particular series, then this isn't for you. Otherwise if you fit the criteria, then by all means read on and enjoy.
The Y Series, named after the Y chromosome in men, is a series of non-erotic and erotic stories that are as realistic as I can present. Whereas I would love to live in a world where I could have unprotected sex with as many men as I wanted (even though I do anyway) and not catch an STD, that really can't happen here. So, even the stories are told with Furries, the purpose of these stories is to convey the real feelings that go through many men and women's bodies each day. These stories deal with issues that many have to deal with: Coming out, STD's, homophobia, death, and even sex as something that isn't enjoyable. Several of my stories in this series are going to be non-erotic which is a change from my norm yes, but these stories are to be truly from my heart, and insightful. I guarantee for those erotic fiction lovers, I will have plenty of yiffyness in this series.
If you want to send me your comments, questions, compliments, moans, groans, gripes, or complaints you can contact me at [email protected] . Or if you don't have access to Email, then write a typed letter (because I can't read most handwriting) to:
BennettWorks
Thank you for reading, and enjoy!
THE Y SERIES PRESENTS:
"Andrew"
Thunder roared across the sky and shattered the peaceful tranquility that was the norm around dorm 43 at the University of Maine. Clouds of such awesome power and almost dreadful lethality hung overhead, much like the blade of a guillotine, poised and ready to strike. The black night would occasionally light up due to the blinding streak that would be a bolt of lightning. Weather you believed that lightning was created by a god or by science mattered little, anyone could see as plain as day that there was a terrible nor-eastern blowing.
And nestled in a corner of the room, typing on his lap top, sat Andrew. Andrew was deep in concentration. His lights had gone out hours ago, and his Laptop was all he had to do his thesis on, because of the battery. He thanked his lucky stars he had charged it up before the power went out, otherwise he might have been in trouble come Monday. The room was pitch black, save the light glow of the lap top and the flash of the lightning through the window. All the could be heard was the sound of Andrew's slender fingers tip-tapping away on the keys, the booming thunder, and Andrew's breathing through his cigarette.
As Andrew's lungs filled with the tobacco smoke of his Kool Milds Menthol cigarette, his eyes darted back and forth across the page he was writing, making sure that his thesis was perfect. It had to be. He finished typing his sentence, and decided to scroll back to the top to read his work. As he was scrolling up, the door to his room opened. Chet, his much younger roommate walked in holding a candle.
"Hey Woodstock, what you writing?" Asked Chet. Andrew found his California accent annoying, like Chet was some kind of a surfer. Andrew looked up for a mere moment and gazed upon the Ocelot in front of him. Chet was about 22, and looked about 15. His body was so thin and scrawny, that even small clothes hung lose on him. He happened to be dressed in nothing but some black silk boxer shorts and a UPS t-shirt; in the middle was a marijuana leaf, meaning United Pot Smokers. Sure Andrew was once really into drugs, but seeing that shirt bothered him.
"My thesis." Came Andrew's response. Andrew didn't notice, but his voice had gotten raspier in his older age. He sounded just like Clint Eastwood, minus the southern tint. Chet walked closer, but couldn't read the letters on the screen; Andrew had picked a size 8 font which made it nearly impossible for someone to see by looking over your shoulder.
"Really?"
"Yes," Andrew began at short, a rather loud thunderclap booming over and around them. "My thesis."
Chet was nearly afraid of Andrew at that moment. He always was afraid of him when he was typing, it was like he had some kind of chip on his shoulder. Chet looked upon Andrew and observed the older roommate as he pulled up one of Andrew's chair to sit on, fiddling with the wax of the candle with his free hand. Andrew was mildly attracted, yet was not sure how to ever say anything about it; just by looking at his roommate's size he was intimidated.
Chet saw a large and powerful Great Dane. The Dane had a long head of hair, pulled into a tight braid, that had gray streaks at the temples. His body was that of a very muscular body builder, not one muscle had lost its definition or tone since Andrew had earned them. At an amazing height of 7'-3" and a weight of 340 pounds with only 2% body fat, it was safe to say he was a giant. Wearing his father's old jacket from Woodstock, a faded light brown leather jacket with tassels, a white t-shirt, and his bikini underwear, Andrew was a thing of impressive beauty and mature sensuality.
"What's your thesis about?" Chet asked in genuine curiosity. Andrew turned to face him and shrugged, taking a moment to tap the ashes of his cigarette into his lime green ashtray. The room they were in had nasty yellow walls, and brown carpets. The Window was on the far wall, the closet to the left of the door, and the bed along the far right wall. Andrew had hardly any possessions, hence his hippie nickname...well that and his extreme spiritual attitude. On the wall was a poster of the Scorpions, with "I'm Still Loving You" written in big blazing letters across the bottom. Under that was a box, moreover a trunk that was old and beaten up. No one had ever seen him open it, and most thought it was there for decoration. On the Near left wall, after the closet was his regular computer and school supplies. Aside from the mattresses and blankets of leather and feral wolf down, it was all Andrew felt he needed. Chet thought otherwise, the more stuff the merrier. Perhaps he should try to win him over with more stuff?
"Well, do you really want to read it?" Andrew asked. "Cause if you don't then I'm not even going to bother.
Chet scoffed to ease the moment and waved it off. "Dude totally. Just let me give it a look over-" Chet was cut off momentarily by a rather loud clap of thunder, making him jump; Andrew on the other hand sat as calm and serene as ever. "Um as I was saying, just let me look it over and I'll tell you what I think.
Andrew sighed, and looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearing 10 Pm. He needed to get more undressed than he was and get ready for bed, the next day was Sunday, and that didn't leave him enough time to goof around. He'd have to sleep, as much as he hated that, and just pick it up in the morning.
"Alright fine, but if you break this or erase anything, you won't want to come near me again." Andrew warned.
Chet, wondering what all this was about rolled his eyes. "Ok dad."
Andrew gave Chet a stern look and passed him the lap top, as he stood and stripped off his jacket, deciding at the last moment to merely sleep as he was; T-shirt and white bikini bottom were fine. He threw the blankets back, and slipped in, as he put his cigarette out, the bluish smoke steadily dwindling off.
Chet took the lap top while Andrew moved about, and started to read.
"Safe Sex Among Gay Men: Bothersome Chore or Rudimentary Requisite?"
Throughout history, men have been engaging in sexual activity. This is a fact we all know, because we simply wouldn't exist if it wasn't for sexual intercourse. It is taught to us at a very early age that we procreate when a man engages in sexual contact with a female; but what about those men that engaged in sex with other men? That wasn't taught to all of us, to some yes but not all.
This fact is also true, that homosexual men have existed for all times as well as heterosexuals. It goes without saying, that at some point, sexual activity would be linked. Now religion and governments throughout history have tried to shun this activity through various means: Death, torture, exile, ridicule, sexual mutilation, sexual reeducation classes, and isolation. But perhaps the biggest bane to the homosexual population has never been homophobic individuals or even countries, it was each other.
Disease, a deadly word for anyone to read. Diseases can be spread one of many ways. You could catch it by being near someone, hereditarily, through skin contact, and yes even sexually IE the transfer of sexual body fluids. Why would governments have to worry when whole cities of Gay males could drop due to a STD. With the promiscuity of most Gay males, this leaves no room for error.
My thesis, is that through this essay I will prove to you that some law needs to be made to govern sexual activity, so that the homosexual population as well as the world as a whole can be safe once again.
Chet looked up, and snickered. "A law? What, so now you want cops walking in on you during sex? What kind of crazy shit is that?"
Andrew growled and muttered, "I just want to save lives, understand? I don't want to invade privacy, but I think that with the rising epidemic of STD's, I think gays like me have lost the right to have unprotected sex. But, you would know what it's like to have to really fear now...do you? You haven't a fucking clue."
Chet's face fell, and he set the laptop down. Like a chilled wave, Andrew's displeasure struck him. "Ok Woodstock, I'm sorry. Say...now that I think of it, why do they call you Woodstock?"
Andrew wasn't really in the mood to deal with this. He ran a hand over his 8-pac abdomen, and finished at his pelvis, just above his sheath. His fur was so short, he might as well had none. The catling across from him however was definitely fluffy. Fluff n' Stuff...heh. Andrew pondered making something up, something just to get him off his ass, but ultimately figured the truth was the best policy.
"I'm called Woodstock for two reasons. The first and most obvious is because I have a hippy like attitude, and was born at Woodstock - err don't ask. The second reason because the man that conceived me gave me this jacket as my only memento, before he went off to Nam and was killed by a mortar."
Chet made a face; there was no real way to describe what kind of a face it was, it was one of those faces one makes when they have several different feelings running thorough their heads. Chet had no clue that he was that old. That made him 40 years old...it couldn't have been true, could it? It was 2009 now, why would Andrew still be in college? And DAMN he was still hot for someone his age. Was he still staring? He turned away quickly, and looked out the black hallway; the thunder and the lightning overhead made that hallway seem very unwelcoming. Though he didn't see it, he heard Andrew sit forward in his bed.
"Alright. Now that I told you something I didn't feel like talking about, why don't you tell me why you keep staring at me, and why your boxer shorts are tenting there - surfer boy." Andrew said with a sly tone...his voice getting a little deeper, as if tempting him.
Chet gulped, and leaned down, dragging his finger across the mouse pad and hitting save. Once Andrew's thesis had been saved, he shut the laptop to turn it off, and slowly moved towards the door. "I...um..." He sighed. "I honestly don't know if I'm ready to discuss this." He said, unaware that blood was indeed flowing to his penile region, and his silk undergarment was showing this; how dare his body betray him like this! He wanted to find an appropriate time, this wasn't it.
Andrew let out an unimpressed breath. "Hmmph. Well suit yourself. It's getting late, and this storm isn't going to let up for hours - so - I suggest you find something to do before that bead of hot wax hits your fingers."
"Huh?" Chet asked. Without more than a split second to react, Chet looked at the candle he was holding in his hand, and mere centimeters above him a bead of hot wax was about to hit him. He pulled his fingers away and switched hands to be safe while trying not to drop the candle, all the while looking clumsy.
Andrew was amused, and laughed aloud for the first time in a while. He laughed as Chet fumbled with the candle in his hands, realizing that yes it was a rather dangerous situation, but so long as it stayed innocent as thus, he could laugh. The Dane's muscular chest rising and falling with convulsions of laughter.
Chet wasn't really paying attention, he just kept trying to avoid the ever growing torrent of hot wax from the shortening candle. Apparently he underestimated how quickly burning the particular brand of candle he used was. "Shit - shit - shit - shit -shit!" He started to cuss, the flame getting closer to his hands. Chet, really didn't like fire, and the laughter was now starting to register, throwing him off. Wait, "didn't like" was an understatement...phobic was more appropriate; he only tolerated the candle before because of the candles former length. His body began to shake, along with his hands. His voice started to tremble, as he started to lose his grip on the candle.
"Andrew!" He cried softly, the 22 year old youth starting to panic. Andrew, hearing his name, opened his eyes. He had been laughing so hard it had brought him to tears, but now he felt himself sober up and come down from his amusement pretty damn quick. The skimpy white bikini clad Dane stood, pulling the front of his t-shirt down, and lunging. His right hand grabbed the candle, the hot wax hitting his large fingers...not even bothering him - he knew he had felt worse pains in his life. His other hand thrust around Chet's back, and his arm braced him to keep him from falling. Andrew blew out the candle, and let the harmless unlit candle drop, as he held the shaking Chet; the young male shaking against him.
The fire was out...thank god. Was it out? Yes...thank god. Chet...taking a few moments to collect himself, realized he was in Andrew's arms, and gulped. He stood to his full height, Andrew's groin at his level, though he was still about a whole foot taller. He reached out, and put his hands on Andrew's naked hips sensitively, not sure if the giant would like that. But as his hands slipped over the strings of the white bikini, Andrew made no sign of unwanted or displeasure - quite the opposite - much like a father or a lover looking over their most precious person, Andrew's eyes seemed to be that of genuine concern. He felt Andrew's right hand trace its way up his arm...so slowly and gently. The Dane's fingers worked across his wrist, feeling like a gentle breeze, or more like a rose petal on him. The fingers traced their way up to his armpit, and then down his side...moving over his ribs and onto his hip; the pair almost in a slow dance pose. Even as the relentless storm raged around the two roommates, and their eyes met...as if for the first time...Chet felt at peace.
Andrew, felt a twinge he hadn't felt in 5 years...attraction. It wasn't lust...or puppy love...it was that same spark he felt once...and only once. The back of his head hated himself for this feeling...knowing he didn't want to feel this, yet it felt so natural. This young one was hitting something in him that mere moments before he wouldn't have guessed upon happening. Sure, the Ocelot was cute - he could always admit that. Sure, Andrew wouldn't mind fantasizing about him...but to actually do something with the surfer boy? Well...at least...he could see if the feeling continues.
"Are you ok?" He asked, his voice softer, but loud enough to be heard over the now quieting thunder.
Chet, still staring into the big green eyes of the Dane, simply nodded. His eyes never left his, the two hunter green orbs of Andrews haunting him. Chet, also moments before would have also feigned just a casual interest...but could it be that they both, in that moment of necessity been struck by cupid's arrow? Could it have been that now...this moment, now that they were touching one another, that they are really meeting for the first time? Well, Andrew...meet Chet...Chet...meet Andrew.
"I - am glad." Andrew said, as he started to slowly and surely massage his thumbs across the younger and more slender Ocelot's hips.
"Well ...um...so am I. T-thanks Andrew..." Chet said in earnest...not realizing that he was still losing himself in those eyes. Oh god...how he wanted him. Could he have him? The torment, and the fear he felt earlier starting to build through him, as for a moment...his voice broke...and he sobbed.
"Oh...shh come here." Andrew said. Andrew may have generally been a hard ass, but even he could recognize when someone was going to panic. He just did what he felt was right. Now...that these feelings that had been not only dormant - but completely non active for 5 years stirring up again for the first time, it was only prudent to sooth him. Andrew pulled the Ocelot closer, their chests moving against one another, as they embraced.
Chet, feeling the large tree trunks that were Andrew's arms wrap around him, and now feeling himself in the warm comfort that was his body, let go. Months of frustrations began to pour out of him, now that he had trust. Sure, his body was still sporting an erection that was now squashed against Andrew's groin, but that didn't matter anymore. Exams, his attraction towards Andrew, his fears, his own self doubts, and years of painful memories were sifted through as he cried against Andrew. He...he just wanted to cry...like this...with someone to hold him.
Andrew, smiled a little as he cradled Chet's head. Why not give the lad a chance? Sure, he didn't really like his attitude or his mannerisms, but with this spark - this feeling being rekindled he needed to do something. He needed this...to be here for Chet...no matter what he himself was feeling. His own past pains and traumatic memories would have to be locked away, now he had a clean slate...for the moment. For all he knew their closeness could end in the morning and they'd be back to the little sniping that was their conversations. No...he was ready to take it differently. No more would he push Chet away.
And so it went, countless minutes went by as the Dane ran his hands up and down the Ocelot's back, cradling him to his form. Andrew didn't even bother counting how long, Chet...his roommate and friend was more important. Friend? Was Chet really his friend? It took him a moment, but it was true. Chet was just about his only friend in the world. Had he turned so bitter in 5 years? He was a hippy...he was Woodstock...why would he be so anti-social towards people? "You bastard...did he teach you nothing?" He thought to himself, reflecting on events long past.
When Chet had exhausted tears, and memories...he sniffled, and opened his eyes. The wind was still blowing, but the thunder had swept through, probably moved onward. He thanked god for that, thunder seemed rather unappreciated at that moment. As if this was planned, he wanted the rest to go better...he wanted the happy ending to the story. He gulped and sniffed once more, lifting his head to gaze into the still open eyes of Andrew. Those eyes still hadn't changed. Sure only a few moments had gone by...mere minutes at most but when you feel the world upon your shoulders, every second is excruciating agony.
"I...want to thank you Andrew. I just...started to panic. Sure it was just hot wax but-" He started to apologize, but an almost bear hug like squeeze silenced him, along with a shushing noise from Andrew.
"Forget it. I didn't know you were so easily scared, I just wanted to warn you. I should be sorry for treating you like an asshole earlier. I'm just an old faggot sometimes."
Chet didn't like the use of that word. Why would anyone classify himself like that? Ever since he was a kid Chet hated that word...but on the other hand he could understand that he was trying to atone for his rudeness earlier in the evening. It was appreciated.
"You're not a faggot, neither of us are. We're just...us. How about we just be Chet and Andrew...not Surfer Boy or Woodstock? Huh? How about we start over?" The Ocelot suggested, his hands starting to run across the vast expanse of Andrew's back, exploring him like they had never met.
Andrew nodded. It was a good idea. "Hey, you're right. I'm sorry. How about, on top of that, we climb into my bed and try to get some sleep...perhaps talk if we feel up to it?"
Chet nodded his head rapidly. "Super. Um, can I take off my shirt?"
Andrew, seeing no reason why not, released him, as he stepped back into bed, only now scooting over to allow the youth in. Chet, reaching down and crossing his arms, pealed his shirt over his head. What Andrew saw was an Ocelot with a Bruce Lee like build. Oh...how attractive he was; he had a thin unbulky body, yet with every single muscle in his body just as defined as his. The thing that really started to stimulate that long dormant fire of his was Chet's thickly dug in hips, the lines moving towards his pelvis and disappearing under his boxers. Andrew had to keep from smiling too much as Chet finally slipped into bed, laying without covers next to the large Andrew, turning his body to face him. Once more, their eyes met...as if for the first time.
"So we start over?" Andrew asked.
"Yeah..."
"Alright, in that case...lets talk." Andrew said, resting his hand in his chin.
Chet bit his lip, and looked down his body, and then back at Andrew. "Well to start off, I never thought I'd get that close to you...before today that was." Chet said, shrugging. Andrew, listening to him genuinely, rolled his free right hand as if for him to clarify.
"Why?"
Chet inhaled deeply, and looked at the ceiling for a moment. The wind was still blowing outside, but he could tolerate it now. He looked back at Andrew, and chucked once softly. "I was scared of you."
Andrew listened, and these few words struck a cord with him. "I was scared of you" was something that no one had ever told him in his life. No one had ever admitted that they were scared of him, as scared as they may have been in their own rights, no one has ever told him that. It struck him, he had been a jerk lately.
"Scared of me?" Andrew asked.
Chet nodded. "Yeah dude. Seriously - I thought you'd bite my head off if I even came to talk to you. I tested this theory earlier when I came and tried to talk to you while you were typing...and well the rest is history." Chet said, his tail wagging peacefully. Andrew's tail was also wagging a little, rising and falling with his newfound interests.
Andrew looked down his own body...his rather large doghood holstered under that bikini bottom he was wearing. It hadn't even so much as stirred in 5 years, and that left for a lot of pent up feelings. It drove him crazy...to know that he wanted to do something about it, but was it right? After all...he still had his ring around his neck...their rings.
Chet didn't notice the rings under the shirt, only the gold chain they hung upon. This mattered little. They were talking, as if nothing before had ever happened.
"Well, do you feel comfortable talking now? Will you tell me why you got an erection while you were talking to me?" Andrew asked softly. Chet chuckled, and rolled onto his back, but still scooted a little closer. He nodded.
"Yeah I'll tell you. Well, I didn't know how to say it when we met a few months ago, but I've always had a crush on you...it was just that I was intimidated by you."
Andrew scoffed, and reached out, placing his large hand upon Chet's chest. Chet looked at the hand, and didn't move, simply letting the hand lay there in-between his pectorals; rising and falling with his breath. "But why me?" Asked, his Clint Eastwood voice becoming more curious.
Chet shrugged, liking the feeling of the hand there and started to purr. "Well, I just always had a thing for slightly older guys. You were like, the poster boy for those guys I like. I can't really explain why I like you, but I can assure you I do have something that's been burning inside of me for the longest time...and now that I got it out in the open, I feel better. I really do." Chet said, breathing a sigh of relief. Andrew smiled, and traced the hand across Chet's bare chest gently.
"That's sweet, you know that?"
Chet shook his head. "No I didn't know that."
Andrew smiled. "Well yeah. I'll tell you what, lets lay our cards on the table. I haven't been in a relationship in 5 years, and have only had one real relationship before. If you are willing to try me, and put up with my moments...I'm willing to try loving someone again."
Chet gasped, and nearly gagged. Andrew leaned over in concern, but a hand placed on Andrew's chest by Chet let him know he was alright. "You mean, you would be willing to date me?"
Andrew nodded one simple nod.
Chet scoffed and laid back down. "I can't believe how fast this is all happening...was it ment to be?" Chet asked, as he started to caress the back of Andrew's hand with his fingers. Andrew tilted his head in a maybe gesture.
"It could be. But, I don't know how long this spark is going to be kindled, so I suggest you take this offer while it stands." Andrew offered.
Chet thought it over. Could he date Andrew? Sure, there would be great things to come from it: sex, love, and a great relationship from someone as spiritual as Andrew. But the questions he had for himself conflicted his emotions. How would he tell his mother he was dating a 40 year old man? How would he explain his actions to his fraternity brothers he met with once a week? Would he be comfortable? He weighed his options. Then Spoke.
"Yes...I'd like to try."
Andrew smiled. "You won't be disappointed. My only ground rules are that now that we are in a relationship, we don't see anyone else. I mean you can have your friends but don't date anyone else. Understand?"
Chet nodded, nothing hard yet. "I can do that. You'd be my first relationship anyway, so I'm learning here." Chet said with a giggle. Andrew shrugged, and gave a Great Dane kind of amused guffaw. When the light laughter had died down, Andrew continued.
"If and when we start having sex - I figure it's inevitable and I wouldn't really mind it - I must insist we have safe sex."
Chet groaned. He had always wanted to know what it felt like...to go bare...well to have sex period. For him, he wondered if it would make a difference. He sighed, it was better than no sex.
"Sure. I want to try bareback with you sometime...when you feel up to it." Chet suggested. Andrew shook his head, and laid down flat next to Chet, his large shoulder against Chet's. The feeling of togetherness was interesting to the both, having not really expected to get this far.
"Chet, if you knew me and I mean really knew me, you'd understand why I can't do that. I can't...no matter how well I know you."
Chet wrinkled his nose and reached out with a tentative hand, pressing it against Andrew's navel. Andrew didn't fight it, as Chet began to trace the back of his right hand up and down Andrew's toned stomach. Chet could understand what the man ment when he described his stomach as "washboard"; Andrew's chest was definitely ridged, uneven and filled with its valleys and rises. Andrew welcomed the massaging sensation, but it did nothing to calm the paranoia...the paranoia that always existed since......
"But, I'm a virgin man. How can I have anything? I don't even do drugs...well weed but you said it yourself that weed isn't a drug. What harm can it do?" Chet asked. Andrew, closed his eyes, and for a moment Andrew's breathing slowed and got really deep, as if he was trying to shut something out. Chet could see with his darkvision that felines carry that a tear was rolling out of Andrew's eye...he was crying? Or was he trying not to cry? "Andrew?"
"Chet - do you have any clue what you just asked me?"
Chet continued the rubbing...steadily going lower by the minute, taking it a millimeter closer to Andrew's enormous groin area with each pass. "No."
"Chet, listen to me and listen well. I survived...is all I can really say. Remember earlier when I was saying you didn't know what it was like? You don't know. You don't know what it is like to hear about this new sickness going around that is killing off homosexuals...and they don't know why. You don't know what it's like to watch your friends and sex partners wither and die in front of you, sick with something that has no cure...and you don't know why. You don't know what it's like to watch the love of your life get sick, and do everything with you that would have given you the same sickness as well but still wind up healthy...and you don't know why. Most importantly...you don't know what it's like to watch your husband die in your arms...never to see you again...and for you to live on alone; you survived, but he didn't...and you don't know why!!" Andrew said...trying not to cry. The mood had been so up and down, so volatile within the last 30 minutes, it was amazing that he was still holding out.
Chet, was at a loss for words. So that was the chip on Andrew's shoulder. "What happened?" Chet asked. Andrew sniffed, and pulled the chain from his shirt, revealing a pair of gold rings, one considerably larger than the other but both definitely male wedding bands. They were beautiful, and showed no signs of fading. Chet looked to them, and figured those were their wedding bands, and that he kept them there as a memorial. Andrew leaned over, as he placed his hand on the Ocelot's chest once more, and started to do a similar massage, his thumb tracing across the pelvis and the lines of his dug-in hips. Chet, loving the sensation, allowed himself to purr in the hopes that it may soothe the gentle giant next to him. Would it work?
Andrew inhaled, and exhaled deeply. "You understand, I don't tell this to anyone. You are one of a very select few. You tell anyone about this...and I will rip your sine out through your throat...don't think I can't" Andrew said in his normal dark and scary Clint Eastwood voice. Chet simply gulped and nodded. Andrew nodded and thought of where to begin. He sifted through times, places, and people, but ultimately figured that the beginning was the best policy. "Oh gods...it's been so long Chet. Alright...this is so you can understand why I am so adamant about safe sex, and why I am here now. This is also, so you and I can have what I never had before...true trust."
Chet nodded...and then got an idea. He lifted the waistband of his shorts in invitation. The physical contact would be mutually soothing, giving him the tender caress of Andrew's hand on his genitals, and giving Andrew that sense of trust. Andrew took it, helping the young man out of his shorts. Opening his legs in a near butterfly like way, Andrew turned on his side once more, and started the full body massage, taking note of how he had underestimated the size of Chet. Chet had a good sized set upon him, his testicles hanging lightly spread because of his position. Inside his sheathe was his cathood, lying in wait, but hard no less. Andrew's hand would graze over it, much like a gentle masseuse with their patient. The feeling sent twirls of pleasure through him, shooting all the way to his tail tip and up to the crook of his neck. He liked it...a kind of magic almost, and he was only touching it every once so often during the hand's sojourns accost his body. Oh, how he would love to tell Andrew to shut his yap and just lay like this, but how could he? How could he do that to a man that wants to trust him? How could he do that to a man that wants to love him. No - he couldn't, therefore he would listen, and bask as a sunbather under the rays of Andrews hand. And surely, when enough thought had been collected on both fronts, Andrew spoke.
"It all started the fall of 1989. As you may know a lot happened that fall; The San Francisco quake, trouble with the Soviets, and my first days of college. It was in this very dorm room actually where it all begins. I was a spry lad of 20, two years out of high school, and ready to try getting my degree, and my doctorate, psychology if you must know. I wasn't as big as I am now, though I was well on my way and my hair was just as long - minus the gray of course." Andrew said with a light smile. "Well, at first, I was alone. I had no one, no friends here and no roommate. I was very lonely, for I had grown up with my parents who were free spirits and was used to meeting people constantly. After being born during Jimmi Hendrix's performance of the national anthem at Woodstock, it was destined for me to be around a lot of people. Well, it didn't come easy. I had to take out advertisements in the school newspaper, talk to the boys at the different frats, and finally beg Dean Matheson to get me a roommate. Who knew what would happen when the Dean sent me my roommate?
"It was January of 1990, a Friday evening. I was coming back from winter break, when I saw an odd sight in my room...a beautiful sight but odd none the less. A male was standing in my room, wearing a black nightie - err a kind of women's 1 piece bathing suit but for sleep - standing in my room. Oh my god he was gorgeous. He stood only a few inches shorter than me, and his frame was perfectly feminine. He was a white wolf, one of strong poise and breeding, his shoulders were broad, his waist was narrow, and his thighs were thin. He had a slight protruding chest that tapered down to his even further protruding woolfhood that was cradled in the front of his outfit. His hair was short, and his eyes were the daintiest light blue. At first I thought I was dreaming, so I shut the door behind me so no one else would disturb this vision, at which he turned to regard me. Our eyes met, much like our eyes did earlier, and no words were spoken. Mere moments before he had been admiring himself in the mirror that once hung in the living room, now he could not move his gaze from my eyes. Slowly, as I started to let my eyes wonder across the front of him, his did as well I felt; to feel his gaze upon your body was to feel my hand like it is upon you now.
"'Why, hello...' his voice - an angel's voice has nothing in comparison with how lovely his voice was. I was entranced beyond anything I had ever felt in my life. I had had casual and 'friendly' relationships before, mainly free sex kind of things, but what I was feeling had to be love, cupid's arrow hitting me square in the heart, and twisting and breaking itself off inside just to seal the deal. 'Hello to you!' I said, almost in an over enthusiastic voice. The male smiled, and grabbed a robe out of a box which had to be his, and threw it around himself. It was of a deep purple (not the band), and was laced with little gold criss-crosses over the whole garment. Oh, if he looked even more wondrous with more clothing on, I wondered if I would survive his nudity. He was a nymph...he had to be, those creatures of legend that were so beautiful it could kill you. Oh, to die staring at this vision would have completed me.
"'I see that I won't be disappointed with my roommate. I have never seen one like you before...' He said with a furtive purr. I stammered, at a loss for words. 'Andrew.' Was all I could respond, smiling and trying to hold onto my breath. The male laughed, and walked towards me trilling happily as he skipped to my then smaller frame, and traced a finger down my chest and to my waistband, leading me towards the bedroom. 'Gregory, but call me Greg...and don't forget my name, because I won't forget yours. I plan on moaning it within the very new future.' Greg, my new roommate told me. I gasped, and nodded...unaware how fast we were going. I gave into my feelings and reached behind me and bolted the door, and stripped off my shirt, and was led into my bedroom...where we are at this very moment. As he pulled me in and closed the door, he undid my pants, and seeing how at the time I never wore undergarments they revealed me rather quickly as I stood naked in front of a male that I had known mere minutes. I didn't care...I felt something...and not just his hands upon my chest. He then leaned up, and kissed me in a kiss that was so full of love...that's how tender it was. The kiss wasn't one of those 'I'm just going to ram my tongue and swirl around for a while' kisses, it was very tender. He took my hands, placed them on his shoulders, and helped me undress him. While I have and had at the time a distinctive size difference, he was bigger than any I had ever seen before; both of us were out and hard. Our hands found one another, and began what would be almost an entire weekend of 'get to know one another sex'. When I lay there Sunday night, in the legendary double tie...me inside of him and him inside of me, laying in an odd position in my bed, and very much in love. It was the beginning of a loving courtship.
"The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into years. Gregory called me his Drewdrop, or Drewwy both lovely pet names that made me blush as we walked around campus. I had even donned a collar, which was attached to a chain, which was always carried by Greg, so I could be led around by his wonder. The campus was alive with talk about our sudden and continuing romance. It was like something out of Shakespeare, minus the tragedy of course. I was free to be myself, and Greg was free to drag what he called 'his mistress' around. Whatever he called me, I didn't care, so long as he didn't call me bad at sex. Sometime after my 23'rd birthday, Greg and I had gone to the only gay bar that was near to campus, it being 1993, it was kind of hard to find them but we had found one alright. Well we were singing along to the juke box, when we met this raccoon type of man in a business suit. He approached Greg, and handed him a card, and asked to speak to him in private. Of course, at this point Greg and I shared everything, so he came back and told me what the coon had said. Greg was shocked but pleasantly exited, I thought he'd soak the panties I had bought him. He told me that the coon was an acting recruiter for Hollywood, and that if he was interested, he could audition. I told him to try out, but not to be hurt if he didn't make it.
"Greg didn't come back that night of the audition, I was worried. I sat awake, in the - Erm - BDSM slave gear that he had bought me to wear when he was feeling frisky. I sat there in my room, trying not to look at the clock on the wall...sure he'd unlock the door, come inside and say 'I'm back Drewdrop!' and I'd hear the sound of clothes dropping and rapid footsteps approaching the room. But, no...nothing happened. He arrived late in the morning the next day, and seemed tired, but he had told me that he had got a part. When I asked if we'd be making love, he told me that he wasn't in the mood at that moment, and he just wanted to sleep. This struck me as strange, because he had been one to fuck me even while he slept. I noted this, and he just shrugged. 'look big fella, this just means were postponing our illicit escapade until a wee bit later. Now lets sleep, I have to start studying later!'
"And so it began. Gregory started to study his script, and started skipping classes so that he could stay home with me to read lines, and play out the erotic parts in real life. He pouted when I had to go to my classes, and told me that I should skip classes too...that if he made it in Hollywood then we'd never need to work again, and all our debts would be taken care of forever. I didn't know what to think, and so I trusted him...skipping my classes and staying in the dorm with him. No one knew what had happened to me, and my friends would come by the room, knocking to see if I was there. I never answered of course, and hid when the truancy officers swept the room. I didn't like this kind of danger much, but Gregory's constant reassurances told me that perhaps he was right. One evening, as we were finishing up a bout of sex, I lay under him and inside of him, tied to him. He then said for me to close my eyes. I nodded and did so, and I felt him reach around for something, tugging on me a little. I winced in pain a teeny bit, but I was getting used to a little bit of pain. He told me to open them, and I was staring at this..." Andrew said, pointing to the larger of the wedding rings. "It was in a case, and Greg had such a loving look in his eyes. He asked me if I would become his mate, and we'd run off to a house he'd leased in Los Angles and get committed. I was flabbergasted, and told him that of course I would. And began round two of that evening.
"I dropped out, just cut off everything and left, driving with my future husband across country towards Los Angles. When we arrived, we had this nice little studio style flat, right in the heart of the homosexual area of LA. I was around more of 'my own kind', and made many friends. Gregory was gone a lot more than I was used to, spending his time working at the studio, and taking his time coming home. I got used to this routine, as we were committed, and became more loving than ever before.
"The years went by, and we were still in bliss. Greg at this point had been in three movies, surely you remember Greg in 'The Boston Runner', or two of the 'Elm Street' movies? Well he had indeed made a lot of money, and had many men and women all over him. The women I didn't mind, knowing that he didn't go in for them, it was the men I saw him meeting with that drove me up the wall. It was on one of our 'Extreme and Unusual' sex nights that I had once more found myself waiting for him. Gregory's taste for sex was getting very lurid, and he was wanting to do things with me that I had never done. In addition to that, he was bringing men home with him all the time. I had met nearly a hundred in the 6 years we had been in LA. These men would turn out to be 3-some partners, or voyeurs, or someone who wanted to simply tape us. The tape got under my skin, because months after that particular sexual encounter, I found it in a porn shop near my house. 'Amateurs with Celebrities' it was called. I was ashamed and appalled. To show my disgust, I bought every copy of that tape in that store, and burned them, saving only one to show Greg. When I confronted him about it, he told me that he never expected that, and he would make it up to me. When I asked how, he told me that if I let him disappear for a month, then he would take me on a cruise around the world. I couldn't believe my ears, he wanted to leave me alone for a month, doing god knew what, and then spend time with me? I wasn't too happy about it, but I felt like if I wanted this to be a functional union, then I would have to bend.
"And bend I did. I stayed perfectly celibate for a month, only having this tape of Greg and I to go off of and of course my photo album. I couldn't get a hold of him anywhere, I didn't know what he was doing, and his cell phone was always turned off when I tried to call. My 30th birthday came at the end of the month, and he returned, arms full of flowers and champagne. He told me to get in the bathtub, because he wanted some lustful sex with the man he loved. He pulled me into the tub, and urinated upon me...as was his new favorite custom with me, and well I don't really have to describe the rest.
"We left that weekend on a Carnival Cruise line, a ship named...the Globetrotter I think. I didn't know where he had acquired all the money to pay for the trip, but rather than nag, we just walked the deck together, I once more being lead on the chain. This was the only time I had ever dressed in all white, he had bought me a white silk shirt which I left open in the front to show off my muscular abs (since I had all this time over the years to pretty much do nothing, I worked out and earned the physique you see.). I wore some tight silk pants and shoes, as he wore a matching outfit. At this point, I was starting to show gray streaks in my hair, so I had to dye my hair to match my natural color, I didn't want to embarrass Greg. 'Drewdrop, it ads character...' he'd tell me. I didn't believe it. The cruise took us to scenic ports of call: Hawaii, Tahiti, New Guinea, Japan, and ever onward around the world. It was on one rainy and slightly stormy night as we were rounding canals in Egypt, when I came across Gregory, sitting on his bed in our mega ultra platinum first class stateroom, holding a piece of paper in his hands, in tears. I walked into the stateroom and closed the door behind me, removing my leash and collar. I wondered whatever was wrong.
"'What's the matter darling? Is that a rejection letter to the film you wanted to do?' I asked, knowing that Gregory had a tendency to get almost as emotional when ever he faced rejection from something as simple as a credit card. Gregory simply sobbed, and rocked back and forth. 'What did someone die?' I asked, taking a few steps forward, thinking that something serious was amiss. Greg looked up at me, those ice blue eyes were bloodshot and tear-filled. He looked like it was the end of the world.
"'No, but someone will...' He said gravely. 'Read.' He said, handing me the paper. I picked it up, and unfolded the crinkled piece of paper and started reading.
"'Carnival Cruise Lines Medical Offices
From: Dr. Wes Stephenson, Chief Medical Officer
To: Mr. Gregory Van Histen
Mr. Van Histen,
Let me be the first to tell you that our testing supplies are among the most
accurate that money can buy, and that the chances of misinterpretation are next
to none. Therefore you can understand that the results of your testing are guaranteed, and have even been double checked for accuracy.
You entered our lab at the beginning of our journey almost a month ago and requested some bloodwork. The results came in, and we rechecked them a second time, the results the same if not worse. It is the finding of this Medical crew and myself, that you have AIDS in your system...'
"I turned and looked at him, my eyes gone wide and my jaw dropping. 'AIDS?! You have fucking AIDS? How in the hell do you have it?' I asked, my pent up anger starting to build. Through the sobs, he had told me that he had been working in an underground pornographic ring, and had thought to have contracted the virus when he met an odd Equine named Dagget. He had told me that Dagget was known to have something but wasn't told this until weeks after he had engaged in sex with him. So, he sat and wondered for months...not saying anything. This got me even angrier, I told him that he should have told me, and that I was a fool for letting him go that month. He shook his head and told me to read on. I looked at the letter and finished reading it.
"'...AIDS in your system at a frequency of 13%. At this level, we figure that your infestation time will be short, the AIDS will work fast upon your body and be at 100% in about 2 to five years. At this frequency, you have more or less been infected for almost a year at this point, and it is a miracle that your partner Mr. Andrew Van Histen is still showing healthy blood, the physical I did on him at the beginning of the cruise confirms it. I am alarmed that you still engaged in unprotected sexual activity with him and others as you stated when we read you the first results, and I am mortified that you knowingly and willingly attempted to infect him with this virus when you thought you had contracted it. However it not being the job or moral obligation of this office to judge, my duty tells me to refer you to a doctor back in your port of departure...'
"I crumpled up the letter and turned on him. Never had I been so angry. 'So that's why you got so extreme with me, peeing on me and such when I thought you were just acting weird but loving me none the less. But AIDS? Come on Greg, how many of our friends have we lost since the 80's to this stupid virus? I've lost count...and now you? I don't know if I could deal with this Gregory. I had bareback sex with you because I thought I could trust you, I thought we mattered to one another. I left everything I had for you, because I loved you. Now you turn all that upside down, and all because you wanted to get your jollies off. Well what do you have to say for yourself?' I asked him. All he could do is throw himself on the floor at my feet, claw at me lightly and beg through his tears. I picked him up and held him just like I held you earlier, and looked at him, angry as hell, and full of mixed thoughts. I finally had enough of the crying and I slapped him. I had never struck him in my life, and the resounding smack hurt us both. He simply quivered, I shook with shock. This was a lot to digest. I told him to get out of his clothes and into bed, that he would need some sleep.
'Gregory...I guarantee that if I ever...ever see this Dagget you told me about, I'm going to cut off his prick and make a club out of it to bludgeon him to death with. Ok? I'm telling you I won't hold back...I will kill him...ok sweetheart? As for trying to give me the virus, you should have told me...and maybe I might have considered joining you in your pain...but...no...that was wrong. I need some time to think.'
"The cruise went as such the rest of the way. Neither of us spoke...to anyone. We stayed in our stateroom, as I watched Gregory try to come up with ways for him to live longer; miracle diets, therapies, and experimental wonder drugs. I told him whatever, and climbed into bed with him. I have to tell you I made the hardest decision ever, and demanded he try again to give me AIDS, because I didn't want to die alone. Well, after 2 years of attempts, nothing happened. I was lucky, doctors told me, but that I was going to run out of luck soon. Just as Gregory's luck was going to run out.
"Now it was 5 years ago. I was 35, and I was watching Greg wither in front of me. He lost weight, his eyes turned to a shade of purple, and he was sick all the time. We had moved back here to Maine, just outside the campus. He wanted to be close to the spot where we shared our honeymoon. On Christmas Day, 2004, I was awoken by the sound of Gregory moving about. He had been bedridden for 3 months at this point. He was standing, wearing that same outfit that he wore the day we met. I looked at him, he had unplugged his IV and monitors that the hospital had sent us, and was looking at himself in the mirror, just like he did the day I met him. I threw my covers off, and grabbed my clothes, and threw them on, trying to lead him back to bed. 'No...' he said. 'This is the day...please...take me to the rocks?' He begged, his voice barely a whisper. I nodded, and cradled him into my arms, and went out to the car. It was about a 2 hour drive into the woods to find our old honeymoon spot. We had bought a cabin next to a waterfall and some rocks, with a magnificent diving pool. The trees surrounded the area, and gave the mid-day area just the light we needed. When we got there, he told me to set him up next to the diving pool. I obliged, and watched him shed his nightie and robe, and dive into the water. For a moment, I thought he'd never come up, but eventually he did, as he started to weakly swim for the island at the middle. I stripped out of my own clothing, and dove in, fearing he would drown, and met up with him as he was inching his way closer to the island. He struggled with me, demanding I let him finish, and so I let him. Once there, I pulled him out of the frigid waters, and laid him on the smooth rocks and dirt that was our love spot, as I lay on top of him. He looked into my eyes, and said 'I have a Christmas present for you...' He croaked, reaching up and tracing a finger nimbly across my chin. 'What's that?' I asked, starting to cry...I was scared. He just smiled that old smile of his...I knew he was dyeing under me...and that his moments were slipping away.
"'My present is...I love you...and I'm sorry for doing this to us. It's my fault...so...I left you...a...money...a lot...money. Go back to school...please...I've talked...it...talked it...talked it over with...new dean...he'll...let...let...let you in." Gregory said softly, his voice starting to leave him. I then strattled his naked groin and held him up right, and hugged him. I started to cry and sob, holding him.
"'You know what my Christmas present is? It's a hug from the one that loves you more than anyone else in existence ever will...I love you...' I said, cradling him tighter, but getting nothing back. He let out a breath, and smiled.
"'That's just what I wanted for Christmas this year...I...love...I...love...you...love...love...you...too...my...my...my...drew...drew...drew...Drewdrop..." He said as he let out one long exhale, and purr. I held him, and rocked him back and forth, waiting for that purr to continue...waiting for him to breathe again. But as the seconds started to go by, I realized that he was out...not only out...but when I checked...he had died in my arms.
"Following a great bit of mourning on my part, I buried him there, on our island, returning weeks later with a headstone for him. The new dean was a little stricter than the last dean, but he was more than willing to take a recently widowed man willing to try again at his education into his school. And so...that's how I got here today Chet."
Chet, couldn't believe his ears. Even as he started to thrust his hips against the palm of Andrew as he passed over his groin, the story was so sad, so happy, so Shakespearian. Chet could do nothing, but roll on top of Andrew, tell him how he understood and how wonderful of a story it was, and kiss him. Their lips met for the first time. Andrew, opening his mouth, allowed the young Ocelot to kiss him, letting the youth's tongue enter eagerly. Their taste organs met, and began to caress and lap at one another, getting to know the other better than they knew themselves. Andrew, laid his body flat, spreading his arms out as Chet lowered his body to bring his naked form to a full lay upon him. Andrew then, slowly, as he began to rub at the roof and underside of Chet's mouth, he brought his hands onto the naked buttocks of Chet, and began to grind their genitalia together...deepening the kiss at the same time. Onward Chet kissed, bringing both arms under Andrew's neck and hugging tight as he allowed his groin to be humped at a slow, yet undyingly gratifying pace. Their groins cried out in silent pleasure by sending bombshells of pleasure through each, the kiss like a conductor for their electric love.
Without looking down, Chet felt Andrew pull his bikini bottom down, his huge sausage nearly 4 inches longer than his, poking his belly. Andrew hadn't even had an erection in 5 years, so he felt that this was going to be a definite good deal. Chet, catching on to the idea, started spearheading: the practice of humping while the two naked cocks rub against one another. Andrew moaned through the kiss, the sheer power of his oral love making increasing with his growing lust.
Chet could almost smell the growing musk of their sexes in the air, and hear the sounds of their salvia swirling over the wind that howled almost as loud as their hearts. "So what if he's older, I think I love him!" Thought Chet as he was now starting to hump faster and faster. Their cocks working in a piston like motion. Chet didn't know how much longer they would last, his precum was leaking like a urine flow giving them some added lubrication.
Then without warning, Andrew threw his arms around Chet's back, and held his tongue as deep down his throat as he could, as Chet felt Andrew's cock suddenly grow rock solid under him, and ejaculate. Andrew's ejaculation was almost endless, his body heaving and seizing, depositing pool after pool of semen on his chest pelvis and the chest and pelvis of Chet. The sensation of the full quart (they guessed later) of semen being deposited in-between them was enough to bring Chet to his own orgasm, his kitty cum buckets being shot out as well.
The kiss was broken, and Andrew pulled the covers over them both. He had found a rather quick compromise to safe sex, though it was also more of a necessity thing at that time. He knew that, after cumming, he wasn't just kind of attracted to the youth, he was in love once again. Chet himself knew this as he rolled onto his side, taking one hand to play with their "Cum Cocktail" and rubbing it into their fur like massage oil. Andrew passed out, leaving Chet to fall asleep. He still hadn't seen Andrew's groin yet, but rather than sneak a peak, he simply rolled back on top of him, and spooned their groins together once more. At the simple touch, Andrew's cock twitched again, sending yet another torrent of live seeds in-between them. Chet was amazed, he had seen Ferrets ejaculate before, and they could cum for 3 minutes nonstop, depositing nearly half a gallon of semen. Some ferrets he'd read could cum multiple times, making for a definite spooge fest. He amused himself with the idea that perhaps Andrew had Ferret in him, or if it was just the 5 year long blueballs. Chet took a full handful of the semen, and started to rub it onto his own penis...getting to know the feeling. Sure, this wasn't really clean, but it was safe at least. He groaned, and laid his head down on his new lover's massive chest...not sure what the future would bring.
The next morning, Chet awoke to the sound of keys being put into a pocket. The storm had stopped, and judging by how the light was outside, it had to be before dawn. Chet rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat forward. Andrew was standing over the trunk, staring at it. He sighed, and looked at Chet.
"Morning." He said in his Clint Eastwood like whisper. Chet nodded, taking note that the evening before was the best he had slept since he once slept with his brother...no not sexually...but just nudie cuddled. The bed was so warm, Andrew was comfortable to lay upon, and the blankets felt marvelous on his back.
"Morning. What are you wearing? And what are you doing?"
Andrew stood, wearing nothing but a red swimming Speedo, and his "Woodstock" Jacket, open in the front. Oh, Andrew was more beautiful than he could have ever hoped to see, now that he was shirtless he could get a perfect view of his toned abdomen and hips and chest. Andrew was no longer modest, and smiled a little, the wedding rings still around his neck.
"I need your help today...it's time for me to let go."
Chet stood, and was told to grab his swim trunks, and that nothing more would be needed. Chet grabbed his white Speedo out of his closet, and threw it on, putting on some sandals and asking how to help. Andrew told him that they would be moving the trunk that day. The two then carried the trunk out the dorm room door, and down the hall, and finally out into the parking lot. There, was parked an old 1989 Chevrolet pickup truck of deep crimson red. Andrew had him toss the trunk in the back, and told him to hop in.
The seats were old, and leather covered, and faded from years of ownership, but the truck still ran well considering it was over twenty years old. Chet, not familiar with the area marveled as they traversed a long winding country highway towards the woods. All Chet could do was guess that they were headed towards the place that Andrew was talking about, that lake. Seeing how he was still sleepy, he fell asleep, resting his head against Andrew's huge shoulder.
When he awoke, Andrew was shaking him lightly. "Huh?" He asked, as he opened his eyes and looked about. They were in a secluded part of the forest. An old cabin stood nearby, looking as if it didn't see many inhabitants, but was still well kept. A sign was posted on a tree that read "Gregory Galveston Memorial Wood. Private Property". He was right. Chet slipped out of the truck, adjusting his Speedo, and sniffed the air. The air was fragrant, and clean...distant flowers were blooming he guessed. As the sun rose, beams began to shine in-between the gaps in the trees, making for an odd cathedral like look. It was nature's church...truly a place set aside by God.
Chet and Andrew then started to head towards the diving pool, Chet surprised at the sight of it. The pool had to be bigger than an Olympic swimming pool, and perhaps deeper. The pool had an opening somewhere that lead to an underground stream, leaving the waters only slightly wavy from the 80 foot waterfall. Andrew then pointed to some pieces of wood, probably part of some old crate. And told him to use it as a raft for the trunk. After some difficulty of trying to get the thing steady, Andrew gave a sigh, and tossed his coat onto a branch of a tree, and stepped into the water. Chet, gulping, followed, but nearly ran back to shore screaming when he realized how cold the water was. He was a Californian, and not used to such cold water. However, at the rate that Andrew was starting to sink into the water as he walked, he realized he'd have to be brave. He took a breath, and dove in, taking all the cold at once, and then stood up, and started to drag the barge with the trunk across it towards the direction that Andrew was swimming...towards the Island.
After a few minutes of swimming, they got there, and Andrew took the trunk in an amazing display of strength, and lugged the trunk over his shoulder as he stepped onto the shore. Chet followed, his Speedo nearly see-through as he followed. The Island wasn't that big, and flattened towards the top. There, he saw Andrew setting down the trunk, in front of a headstone. Chet walked over and behind Andrew, shaking off for a moment, then reading what the headstone read.
"In memory of Gregory Galveston, 1971-2004
It was upon this spot that Gregory and his love Andrew Van Histen first consummated their conjoined lives. May this spot forever be a spot for love, and affections."
Chet was confused. "Hey, I thought you said you buried him? Isn't this his grave?" Chet asked. Andrew threw his long wet hair back and shook his head.
"I'd never do that to him. Would you really want to have your dead body buried on the most special spot in your life? No, I buried him behind the waterfall...where he wanted to be buried." Andrew said with a sigh, as he sat on a nearby rock.
Chet suddenly realized why this was such a good spot for love. It was as if there was a sunken bed in the rocks, the size of a double bed. It was as if someone had carved it out of the rocks, and there was just light soft dirt and sand there where they stood. So this was his magic spot? Amazing. He could almost see back in time...seeing Andrew laying there, legs spread, being topped by the legendary actor Greg Van Histen. He started to fantasize, when Andrew interrupted him.
"Here, sit with me." The Dane requested. Chet, nodded, and slid his way into Andrew's lap, feeling that rather large package against his posterior. Andrew cradled him with his right arm, slipping his forearm to his waist, and opening the trunk with the other.
Chet was surprised. He saw a purple robe with golden criss crosses on the top, the robe that Greg had worn on their first and last night together. That was pulled out, and he saw an assortment of things. A video cassette, several photo albums, a pack of cigarettes, some certificates, a handful of letters, a silk nightie, and an Oscar Award for best actor in "The Boston Runner" for Greg Van Histen. This was all of Greg's things. Poor Andrew, he had carried these things for so long now. Oh, how it had to tear him apart every time he went through this trunk. Andrew then took the robe, and stood, slipping it around Chet's shoulders. Oh! How simply warm and soft it felt...but...why was he wearing it? Wasn't it wrong to be wearing the garment of his dead husband? Or was it right?
"I want you to wear this now...I think Gregory would be happy knowing it was going to you."
Chet was speechless. He simply nodded, and leaned up and kissed Andrew upon the chin, and looked at one of the photo albums. The first one was of when they first started dating he guessed. There were pictures taken at the bar shooting pool, at the movies with some unknown furs, and some - Erm - playtime pictures. At the back, was a section devoted to some old friends of his. The High School photos, and several other photos in a collage, were posted on each page with the birth and death day of each individual. It was a memorial to everyone he had ever known that had died to AIDS. As Chet started to go through the end of this album, he had lost track of how many friends that Andrew must have had die to the virus after he hit triple digits. Andrew sat down on a rock nearby, and handed him the next album. This album, covered in a rose red leather, was from their married years. There were photos of Greg and Andrew in their LA flat, pictures of them fooling around (actual goofing off...not sex) on the set of "The Boston Runner", there were pictures of Andrew and Greg shaking hands with several movie stars...kissing some. As he thumbed further through this one, you could tell how much time they were spending together, and how they were slowly starting to be there for one another less and less. Chet spotted pictures of Andrew by himself, sightseeing California by himself, while other pictures were of Chet on location for the Elm Street movies. At the back of this one as a slightly smaller memorial to more AIDS victims. HE handed this album back, and awaited the last.
The last was of Chet's AIDS years. It pained Chet to see this. They both dressed in all white all the time, in reference to the white blood cells that AIDS attacked. The once happy and strong White Wolf that was Greg was getting sicker and sicker in the photos, looking more fatigued in each one, and by what Chet figured was the final months of his life, looking as if he didn't want to be photographed at all. This album was finished off with a Charcoal picture done of Greg in his prime, wearing the outfit that he wore when they first met. The caption read. "The wolf that captured a million hearts, but only truly held one in the palm of his hand". Chet sniffled, and closed the book, not being able to contain his bittersweet feelings much longer.
"That's so sweet." Chet said softly.
"Yes. Now...I'll be back."
Andrew then closed the trunk, and held it over his head as he started his way down to the water, finally slipping in. Chet stood, Greg's old robe of velvet and silk wrapped around him, as he watched Andrew swim to the falls. Andrew then climbed out of the water, taking the trunk behind the falls, into a hidden cave. There was about 5 minutes where he didn't come back, before Andrew suddenly appeared at the top of the falls, completely naked. He could tell by the lack of red on him, but due to the height couldn't really make out any important details. Andrew looked as if he was about to dive.
"Andrew? What are you doing?"
There was a moments silence before he answered. "Letting go..."
And he dove. Andrew had the grace of an Olympic high diver as his naked form leapt into the air. For someone his size, he was proud to see such a sight, as Andrew began to descend into a swan dive. His form descended, and began to streak towards the water as he brought his arms forward to complete the dive. Chet held his breath as Andrew splashed into the water. Was the water deep enough there? Would he be alright? Oh god what if he killed himself? Chet shrugged out of the Robe, setting it on the rocks, and leaned over the surrounding rocks, when he saw a relieving sight. Andrew was climbing now up the edge, stepping now with long nude strides towards Chet. He had a peaceful look upon his face, shining with the gold rings around his neck. Chet now had his first glimpse of him nude, and was pleased at what he saw. He was the perfect Adonis he had always searched for. The package upon Andrew was larger than he had seen, and was just what he wanted. Andrew strolled over, and shook off, as he reached out and took Chet into his arms. The pair kissed, and hugged, as Andrew took Chet's trunks down, and tossed them far away. Andrew then pulled back a moment, and opened his hand. There were a pair of condoms inside.
"I want to let go...would you please make love with me?" Andrew asked. Chet, giggling almost, imagining those condoms as if they were the wedding rings around Andrew's neck, and nodded.
"No foreplay?"
Andrew shook his head. "It's not about that per-say...I need to let go...I need to be here and to do this. I need the act, I want the act." He said softly.
Chet nodded. "You aren't just using me to get something back that you lost?" Chet asked, taking the wrapped condom into his hand. Andrew shook his head.
"No...I want to gain something that perhaps I never truly had."
With that, Andrew laid himself down. There was foreplay actually, a mild 69. Chet had the dandiest time trying to fit all that beef into his mouth and throat, while Andrew spent his time proving his prowess by sinking cock, sheath, and nut sack into his maw. It went that way for countless minutes, each starting to finger one another to get loosened up. Andrew needed it because he hadn't had sex in 5 years, and well Chet needed it because he had never been devirginized.
When the time had come, Chet pulled off, and the pair slipped their condoms on. Andrew had to use a bigger one naturally, but they were both thin and lubed. Andrew instructed Chet to help him to what was the "pillow" rock, so they could do something special. The pillow rock was a rock placed like a pillow at the "head" of the "bed". Andrew lifted his waist, and was now semi inverted, just the right position for something. Andrew then instructed Chet to turn his fanny towards him, and to back onto his dick, while he pointed his own downward and inserted his. Ahh...GDP or Gay double penetration.
They poked one another's tailholes, and slowly slid into one another. Andrew and Chet mutually screamed and moaned with the pleasure that this action was committed. The pair worked themselves, thrusting and falling so that each were simultaneously thrilled. Who would have known that such an act would feel so blissful...even safe sex.
Andrew tied Chet, and came, as Chet's barbs hooked, even with the protection of the condom. They both were in paradise as they were totally and thoroughly linked to one another. Andrew had let go...and now had grabbed on to something he never really had before. Something indescribable. Chet on the other hand had also got something that he had wanted. Andrew.
________
To be continued? If you like this read E-mail me. Look for more erotic and Y-series stories by me in the future!