In my bedroom, Thommy knelt on the bed and watched me with delight as I unrolled a condom over his Herby and smoothed it tight. Then he watched with curiosity as I spread gel on my fingertips and pushed them into myself. Then, gently but with determination, he pushed me onto my back and, still kneeling, spread my legs apart and put his hands under my buttocks to raise my ass to meet his cock.

"This is the way people do it, isn't it, Simon? Not like farm animals?"

"Yes, lover," I breathed. "Yes, like this. But take it slow, please, at first."

He didn't have any technique, though. Just urgent, fiery need. He guided himself up against me and then pushed and pushed hard and then harder and then he was in and he didn't stop till he was all the way in. I know I cried out. But either he didn't hear or he didn't care.

"You're so hot, Simon," he exclaimed as he corkscrewed a little inside me. "This is even better than your mouth. It feels fantastic." And he began to pump. He did start slowly. But it was more out of hesitation than consideration for me. And it didn't take him long to feel confident. He was in the driver's seat, and he drove and reversed and down-shifted and gave it the gas, all the time with my butt fiercely in his grip so that he was moving me around on his cock and up and down in his hands, and I was just warm flesh for him to use. At first, it really did hurt, but when he found a kind of ragged rhythm to his thrusts, I began to give myself over to his power and his desire and to want him to go on and on.

His eyes were closed and his mouth open, and his breathing was ragged, but I didn't realize that he was on the verge of climax until I saw a blush creep up his neck and into his cheeks. When it turned his sweat-beaded forehead crimson, he yelled out - "Cammy!" was what I thought he said but it could have been "coming!" - and even through the latex, I could feel him swell and spurt and spurt again deep inside me. Just as quickly as it had risen, the blood drained from his face. A huge smile replaced it. "Simon, Simon, Simon. That was the best! Just awesome, Simon. Now I know. And it's all because of you. You are so great to me."

As the words rushed out, his diminished organ slid free, and he lowered my butt and then himself to the mattress. He pulled my arms around him and wiggled his behind against my crotch and went instantly, childishly, fast asleep. Wham, bam, sweet dreams, ma'am. At least I could hold him. And I could reach down and slip the condom off him. And I could cry, cry for the joy I felt at having this vision of beauty in my embrace and cry for the hurt he was inflicting on me by using me without caring for me. I loved him, so it didn't matter. I loved him, and I would find a way to make him love me. Silently, I cried myself to sleep.

When I woke up, we were no longer embracing. Thommy, with his hands locked in his groin, was curled on his side, facing me. He looked enchanting, irresistible. I didn't want to wake him, but I had to touch him. I leaned over and let my lips just brush his forehead, then his eyelids. He whimpered lightly and stirred, rolling onto his back and letting one arm fall to his side while the other moved up to lie across his chest. He was hard again, a rampant column jutting out of his crotch. I inched my way down the bed until I could bend and lick at the flushed tip of his cock. It twitched slightly as I worked, but Tommy seemed oblivious. To test him, I tongued the sides of his shaft and then took his glans between my lips.

"Oh, yes, Simon, do it, please." The boy was awake, ready to be pampered, to be served. I squeezed hard along the ridge of his penis, pulling him up into my mouth and then sinking my mouth down around him and back up and down and up and down and then a squeal and I was filled with that hot brew of his, tasting slightly of the chili pepper and the basil from our supper the night before. I couldn't swallow much in the position I was in, so lots of his semen flowed back out onto him, down him, into that thin, silky covering of his pubic patch. And I followed right along with it, lapping the stream back up as his prick softened and came to rest on his testicles.

When I looked up, Thommy was looking down at me, faintly disturbed. "Do women do that, too?" he asked.

"I wouldn't know. Some, I guess. Why?'

"Well, doesn't it taste, I don't know, icky?"

"Not yours, kiddo. Everything about you is delicious. I bet your toes even taste good."

"I wouldn't know." He laughed. I thought he had no sense of humor, but I was wrong. He could joke, too. I adored him.

"I adore you, baby." I slid up along his body and pushed my face toward his. "Can I have a good morning kiss?"

"I think I ought to brush my teeth first, Simon. My mouth might not be all that delicious."

He meant my mouth, of course. Fastidious little shit. Innocent little dream-boy. I adored him. I kissed his chin. I kissed his right nipple. I tried not to cry again the way I had last night.

"Would you like a shower?" I asked.

"You can go first, Simon."

"We could do it together. I'd love to wash you."

"You would? Well, that would be great."

So I bathed him and I toweled him dry and I made him a healthy breakfast and he left for his classes and I sat down and cried. I would never reach him. I might hold him, but I would never possess him. And I wanted him desperately. He was so beautiful, so capable of love and of adoration. I would give him both. He would give me… What? His well-mannered gratitude. The solid feel of his cock in my mouth, in my ass, in my hand. Yes, I thought, I'll settle for that. I dressed and went to work.

I got home late. Okay, I had a couple of drinks on my way. I wasn't polluted or anything, just morose, the way I get with some alcohol in me, the way I can be without any alcohol at all. Thommy must have been watching for me from the window, because when I pushed open the door, he was standing in the hallway without a stitch on, holding a bunch of red roses (I hate red roses, but how could he know?) over his crotch and smiling a silly grin. He handed me the flowers and kissed me on the lips. He made me stand still and quiet while he got me as naked as he was and then he led me to the kitchen where he'd set the table for one. He had a candle burning and a nice-looking carry-out meal from the deli and once he'd gotten me seated and spread a napkin over my crotch, he picked up a guitar from a corner and began to play for me. It was Giuliani, so lovely that I started to cry all over again.

"Don't, Simon, don't." He came and knelt by me and stroked my knee. "I want you to be happy. You made me so happy. I just wanted to do something that would please you, to show you how thankful I am to you. Please, eat, before it gets cold, and then I want to wash you the way you did me and then I want to make love to you again. Please be happy with me."

"I've never been so happy," I moaned. "Thommy, you can do anything with me you want. Anything. You can't be half as happy as I am. I'm in love with you, Thommy. I feel like a schoolboy around you. I just want to look at you, to have you near, to be able to touch you. Will you let me do those things?"

"Only if you eat your supper. It's brisket of beef in some kind of mustard sauce and glazed carrots and potatoes mashed with turnips. I've been keeping it warm for you. And there's pecan pie for desert."

"Where did you get the money? And for the beautiful roses?"

"I borrowed some from a friend. Simon, that doesn't matter. I'll have money in a little while. And anything I have is yours. I'm yours. You made me into Thommy Farmer."

I ate. He played a little more. He'd taken up the guitar in college, he said, and he was still taking lessons. He took lessons in everything. We drank coffee together, and he took me into the bathroom and poured bath salts into the tub and scrubbed me as though I were a child which got me very turned on. "I don't think I'm as big as you are, Simon." Drying me, he fisted my erection, and I shivered with excitement. "Come to the bed," he put his other arm around my waist, "and let's measure them. Would that be okay?"

We mashed our bodies together, and Thommy decided that I was probably longer and that he was probably thicker. He got out the lube and coated me with it and, in a kind of businesslike way, jacked me off. "I want to see what it looks like, Simon, when you have orgasm. How much there is, how far it goes, where it lands. I don't know those things, and I want to know."

I showed him how to play with my nuts and I got him to put a finger in me and massage my prostate while he was massaging my prick, but even so I felt mostly like an exhibit, an overgrown, anatomically correct doll. When I came though, with the first blast arcing high and dropping onto my collarbone, Thommy was riveted. "Wow! That is awesome," he gushed as I gushed. "It is just so powerful, Simon. You're really excellent like that. It makes me want to fuck you till you do it again."

"Actually, I'm a little sensitive, Thommy. From last night, you know."

"Well, I'll use lots of this stuff." He held up the tube of K-Y. "And I'll do it from behind. That won't hurt, will it?"

"No, of course not. I want you, Thommy. I want you in me."

First he got a washcloth and cleaned me up. He even kissed the tip of my nose while he worked, and when I put my hands up and pulled his face to mine, he let me kiss him and for a few seconds push my tongue between his lips. "Do you want to suck me, Simon, to get me hard?" he asked. "It's just so good when you put me in your mouth. And you like doing it, don't you?"

I nodded. The happy, hopeless cocksucker. He stood next to the bed and drew my head to the edge to service him. He was already somewhat aroused, and it was easy to take him between my lips, to tongue the moist surface of the purpling bulb and tickle my way around the corona. "Will girls do this for me, Simon, do you think? Won't they be afraid?"

"Thommy," I let his cock slip free. "Thommy, I don't know any more about girls than you do. But if someone loves you, she or he will do anything you ask them. Look at me."

"I am. You're really nice looking, Simon, do you know that? I wish I had a line of hair like this," he ran his fingers from below my navel into my pubic thatch and curled a couple of hairs there around his thumb. I went instantly to rigid attention. That particular caress gets me every time.

"Oh," he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you started since it's my turn now."

"It's okay," I said. "It'll go down."

"But what if I masturbated you while I fucked you? Would you like that, Simon? I mean, if you would, I can do it again. It was good for you, wasn't it. Before?"

I admitted that it had been good. He smiled, content, and opened a condom packet for me to dress him with. He smeared gel on my fingers and watched me slick my cleft and then he had me crouch on the bed on my elbows and knees while he entered me from behind. I winced at the pain, but he just put his arms around me, pressed his chest against my back and took hold of my cock. He screwed me then with a lot more sophistication than the night before, building up an overpowering rhythm of dominance from a very slow start to a pounding, excruciating, high-volume finish when his grip on my cock was so fierce I thought he'd rip it from my body as he came and came and came.

I didn't. He hung, panting, on me for a full minute until he was soft enough to pull himself away. He took the condom off by himself and then held it up to examine. "That doesn't seem like so much," he grinned, "but it took forever to come out of me and it was wonderful, Simon, incredibly wonderful, while it lasted. Thank you. I loved it." He dropped the used rubber on the floor and rolled into my arms. "Can I sleep with you again, please? I feel so good when I'm with you and when I wake up and find you making love to me. I don't have classes tomorrow. It's Saturday. We could do things together, couldn't we?"

I agreed that we could, and he went out like a light. I watched him for a while, almost unable to believe the magnificence of his body and the childishness of his sleeping face. Then I crept out of the bed, picked up the condom and flushed it away, cleared up in the kitchen, put his roses in a vase that I brought back to the bedroom and drew a sheet and blanket over him. I slept in the spare room, sniffing for his scent on the sheets he had used, hugging his pillow to my stomach and dreaming of Thommy, on his knees, begging to taste my cock, imploring me to top him, to control him, to take possession of him.

When I woke up, though, he was the one standing, and as I looked up at him bleary-eyed, I was the one who wanted to crawl and plead. "Why did you leave me, Simon?" he pouted. "I thought you would sleep with me and kiss me awake like yesterday. I thought you liked doing that for me."

"I do. Oh, baby, I do." I sat up and wrapped my arms around his waist and lowered my head to his crotch. "I was just afraid of being so close to you, Thommy. I was afraid of losing control. I want you so badly. I want you every minute."

"Well," he giggled, "it looks like you've got me now. Go ahead, if you want, lose control. I don't mind."

I pulled him onto the bed so that he was sitting naked on my chest and I pretended not to want to take his firm, questing dick into my mouth. He laughed a little at the game and ran his finger over my lips. "Suck that for me then, Simon," he commanded. I shook my head and kept my lips sealed. "Are you ticklish, Simon? I bet you are." He reached backwards and grabbed my sides and began to pinch me lightly and then to run his fingers up and down, and I started to giggle and then to squeal. As soon as my mouth opened, though, he slid himself into it.

"Now!" His tone was triumphant. "Make me happy, Simon. Show me how you love me."

I showed him. I raised him up so that his crotch was directly over my face, and I threw my head back and swallowed him up, all the way to the hilt. Let him see what a pro can do. As I held him well into my throat, I also pressed a fingertip against his anus. This time, he didn't question me. He wiggled his way onto my probe instead, sighing deeply as the finger passed into his rectum and found his prostate.

"Make me come, Simon!" He had closed his eyes. His chin pointed at the ceiling. I released him from the back of my throat and slid wetly up and down his shaft until he went rigid with delight. The blush this time began somewhere near the center of his chest and flashed upwards along his throat into his hairline. As it did, his cock emptied itself into me, and his sphincter convulsed around my finger.

"Oh, God, Simon," he moaned as he began to come down, "that was the best. You make me feel so good, Simon." He combed his fingers through my hair and brushed it off my sweaty forehead. "It just seems so perfect," he said looking down at the way his sex flopped on my lips, "as if I was meant to fit into you like that and you were meant to take me like you do. Isn't it lucky for both of us that you gave me that ride? What if we'd never met? I'd still be Herb Regenwasser, the kid who didn't know anything."

"And who would I be?"

"The funny, sad man with the elephant stick."

"And who am I instead?"

"You're the man who loves Thommy Farmer." He wiggled his hips to rub his balls along my chin. "And everything about him. You're a loving man now, Simon, aren't you?"

"I'm a man in love, that's true," I sighed. I put out my tongue and licked at his sac. He responded with a satisfied little grunt. "I do love you, Thommy. I wish you loved me a little."

There. I'd said it. I'd begged him the way, in the dream, I wanted him to beg me. He gave me a surprised look.

"But I do love you, Simon." He clambered off me and slid down beside me on the narrow bed. He laid his face next to mine. "I love you for teaching me so much." He put a hand on my chest and stroked it casually. "And for caring for me and helping me and for making me see what a great thing sex really is. But I'm not gay, Simon. You know that. I'll always be a Herbert. I love you because you're my very best friend, but I won't give up girls so that I can be just with you."

"What girls? You don't have any girls. You haven't ever had a girl."

"But I want to. And I will. Thanks to you. Oh, Simon! I owe you so much. That's a kind of love, isn't it?" He gave me a chaste kiss on the neck. "I don't want to hurt you, Simon. I just have to be honest. That's all."

"I understand, Thommy." I did. I knew all along that there was no hope. Then why was I crying? He put an arm under my head and pulled it onto his shoulder.

"Simon, please." He patted me. My back and then my buttocks. "Simon, don't cry. I promise, you can make love to me whenever you like. I want to stay here with you as long as you'll let me. Isn't that enough? Doesn't that show how I feel about you? How I depend on you to be my friend?"

"I guess so," I wailed. "Thommy, I don't want you to go away. Not ever. And you can have me whenever you like." All between sobs. "I'll do anything you want. You don't have to love me. Just don't leave me."

I clung to him, and the nice thing is, he clung to me. Finally, I got myself under control.

"Anything I want?" He grinned at me.

"Absolutely anything."

"Good. I want a shower, and I want it with you. And a big breakfast. And more lessons, please."

"Yes, sir. Your word is my command." I grinned back. It would be all right.