Zinger

"I'm about to come."

"Don't pull out. Come inside me."

With a deep thrust, I came and came, filling him. He was jerking his own dick, and he came, too, splashing cum all over his stomach.

Smiling at him, I lowered myself and ate as much cum off his stomach as I could. With his cum still on my tongue, I kissed him. He devoured me, clamping my face to his with his hands. We kissed and kissed and kissed some more. He pulled his head from mine.

"We need to sleep. We have a long drive tomorrow."

He turned off the light and turned back toward me. He was on his right side, I was on my left, and we were sharing a pillow. Our faces were close. I moved enough that our lips were touching. We fell asleep kissing.

Part Five

When I woke up, Zinger was holding me, his morning wood right between my ass cheeks. He kissed my neck and rubbed my chest. He rolled away, I heard a tube click open, and he was back. He pushed his left hand between my ass checks, smearing it with wetness. His dick pushed against my ass. He wanted to fuck me again, and I wanted him to fuck me again. I rolled over on my stomach, and raised up on all fours. He scrambled behind me and pushed his dick at me. Without the X to cushion it, the penetration hurt like hell. I thought I was going to cleave in two. He forced himself all the way in. He stayed there. When he felt me relax, he pulled out slowly, then pushed back in just as slowly. He knew what he was doing. He reached around and took me in his hand. The pain started to ebb and was replaced with the dual pleasure of him simultaneously stroking my ass and my dick. Sweat broke out all over my body. I was close. He slammed into me as deeply as he could. As he did, he said "oh fuck." He was coming. The feeling of him coming inside me was too much, and I came also. He slowly fucked his last drops into me, and slowly jerked my last drops out of me. I collapsed onto the bed, and he fell on top of me. He licked my cum off his hand, then turned my head so he could kiss me. I tasted myself in the kiss. He pulled back.

"Good morning."

"Good morning."

"It's almost 9. We need to get going."

We loaded the Escort and headed back to Missouri. As we drove, I confessed "I have never done any of that before."

"I have."

"No kidding."

"I like sex. . . . A lot."

"You're good at it."

"Practice makes perfect."

"Actually, practice make permanent, not perfect."

"You really are a dork."

"Guilty. But, where did you get practice?"

"I do not discuss such things. You shouldn't either."

"Have you practiced with a lot of guys?"

"I do not discuss such things. You shouldn't either."

He anticipated my confusion about what was going on.

"I am not going to be your boyfriend. But, we can fuck around until we head off to college next month."

"Who said I wanted a boyfriend?"

He looked at me and smiled. I could get lost in that smile. I definitely wanted a boyfriend. And, he knew it.

He took the first shift driving. About three hours into the trip, I noticed he was hard, his dick again extended down the right leg of his grey gym shorts. He noticed me noticing.

"You should have worn underwear."

"They'd have gotten in the way."

"Of what?"

Without answering, he pulled the leg of his shorts up, exposing his hard dick. "I thought maybe you'd blow me while I drive, dork."

I was thrilled. I unbuckled my seat belt, adjusted my position, and took his dick into my mouth. I added my right hand as an extension of my mouth. I started working his dick.

"Slow down. It's a long drive."

I did as instructed. I sucked the head of his dick, lolling it around in my mouth and teasing it with my tongue. I took as much of him as I could in my mouth, slowing moving up and down the shaft of his dick. I savored it.

"This is going to be hard without cruise control," he offered.

As I mentioned earlier, my mother's Escort had no features. It was like a Flintstone car, only with a combustible engine. It was a coke can with wheels.

I pulled off his dick. "When you get close, just pull over."

"Nope. Part of the thrill is to come while driving."

"Don't kill me."

"I won't."

I took him back in my mouth. Like him, I had no desire for the blow job to end. I wanted to suck him as long as I could. I loved the feel of him in my mouth, and I loved the control I had over him.

"That feels great. Just keep doing what you're doing. I will let you know if I want to come." He started playing with my hair.

I have no idea how long I sucked his dick. It seemed like a long time. My side started to ache. So did my jaw. I pulled off and sat up.

"I need a break."

"That's fine." He looked at me and smiled. It was a perfect smile. His eyes danced above it. I smiled back.

"But don't take too long. I want to come in your mouth again."

I did not hesitate. I leaned over and took him back in my mouth. I worked him hard. I felt him strain to meet me. I had a perfect grip on him with my mouth. I sucked as hard as I could.

"Jesus Christ, here it comes," he gasped as he filled my mouth. I swallowed and kept going. He unloaded again. I swallowed again and kept going. He unloaded again to a ragged "Oh my God." I swallowed and kept going. I wanted to drain him, and I did.

"You have to stop."

I pulled off. "I thought maybe you would come again."

"Not this time. But, that was awesome. You can do that whenever you want."

"I doubt that. We would die of starvation and sleep deprivation."

"Maybe. But, what a way to go out."

Part Six

We talked for the next 7 hours. We laughed, sympathized, and empathized. This was more than two 18 year old boys swapping stories. It was intimate. It was love. When we stopped at a diner to eat, he sat on the same side of the booth as I did. He pressed his leg against mine under the table. I felt euphoric. I felt afraid.

When we drove back into our town, it was late and dark, I knew all there was to know about Zinger, and he knew all there was to know about me. Zinger had driven the entire way, and he was beat. He pulled into his driveway, turned the car off, and threw his head back against the seat.

"When do you leave for school?" he asked.

"August 26. You?"

"Same. So, we have about six weeks."

"For what?"

"Us."

Those two letters hung in the air. I wanted to grab them, but they were too surprising and alien. So, I watched them float, wondering if they meant more than I thought or less than I hoped. There was no "us" if all we were doing was "fucking around."

Zinger got out of the car, so I did, too. We met at the hatchback. He popped it open and grabbed his bag. I slammed it back shut.

"Okay, then," he said.

"Yes, okay then," I responded.

He threw his bag over his shoulder and pulled me to him, kissing me hard on the mouth. I kissed him back. His arms were around my shoulders, and my arms were around his waist.

When he pulled away, he said, "Great trip, dork. Call me when you wake up in the morning."

"Okay," I responded, simply and unelegantly.

I missed the next morning, sleeping well past noon. When I awoke, I could not piece the trip together. Zinger apparently had known all along that I was watching him and wanting him. When I had the chance, I took drugs with him, betraying what I thought I was, and I slept with him, revealing who I knew I was. I could not figure out what was going on. He said he did not want to be my boyfriend, but it sure felt like that's what he was, and what he wanted. I felt like a feather in a whirlwind. I also felt wide open and vulnerable. And, I hate that feeling.

My natural instinct toward self-preservation kicked in. I got up. I resisted the urge to call him, as he had directed. Instead, I went to the basement and lifted weights. When I was done, I showered and ate a light "breakfast." I had no reason to be here or there. I was hanging around. It was pouring down rain, almost sideways, the way it rains in the summer in the midwest. I laid on my bed and watched it pour through my bedroom window, dozing in and out of sleep and mindlessly thumbing through a book.

The doorbell rang. When I answered it, Zinger stood there, soaking wet.

"You didn't call."

"I forgot," I lied.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure," I said, stepping aside.

We walked to my room. "We need to get you out of those wet clothes."

"I thought you'd never ask." He smiled at me. It was an "I get whatever I want" smile. He always won, and he knew it.

I tossed him a shirt and shorts. "Give me your wet clothes. I will put them in the dryer." He stripped. He picked up the shirt and shorts I had tossed him and carelessly threw them in the corner. I picked up his wet clothes and headed to the basement. When I returned to my room, Zinger was on my bed, naked, and hard. His arms were behind his head, and he was smiling broadly. He was beautiful, and I was lost.

"What took you so long?"

"Get dressed."

"Get undressed."

I locked my door and leaned against it. I was too weak to say no, but too vulnerable to say yes. I closed my eyes and sighed.

Zinger got up and moved to me. When he took my face in his hands, I opened my eyes. Whispering "hey, dork," he kissed me. I kissed him back. We kissed for some time. As we did, Zinger removed my clothes.

I needed clarity. "What is this?"

"It's us."

Those two letters again.

We moved to the bed. Our hands were all over each other. Our mouths were, too. We kissed and licked and sucked and grabbed and tugged and squeezed. We were soon inverted. We sucked each other eagerly. We were locked together, mimicking each other's movements. Our torsos rubbed together. Our hands were on each other's asses, pulling the other deeper. into our mouths. We were together, matching the other's movements. As we moved closer to the edge, we continued in lockstep. We came at the same time, each gripping the other's ass hard and sucking as hard as we could. We drank each other, trying desperately to take in as much of the other as possible.

Spent, we pulled apart. We laid head to toe. He reached his arm toward me, and my hand met his. We lay like that, our right hands intertwined. I rolled onto my right side and put my head to his left foot. He mirrored me. We were now perfectly head to toe. We licked each other's feet. We sucked each other's toes.

"Come up here," he asked.

I did as requested. When we were head to head, he pulled my face to his, and we kissed deeply. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me as close as he could. We were pressed together every where we could be. I pulled back, and looked into his crystalline eyes. He looked as deeply into mine. He kissed me again, keeping his eyes open. I kissed him back, keeping my eyes open and staring into his.

"The next time I tell you to call me, call me."

"Why? If I had, I would have missed that."

I fell asleep with my head in his chest. We were nude and happy and, his cautionary words notwithstanding, lost in each other. We were boyfriends. I knew it.

Part Seven

We spent the next six weeks like that, together every chance we had. It felt like a tornado, spinning out of control. We fell, hard, with only our impending separation to blight our careless, youthful lives. We were wildly in love, as only teenagers could be. I delighted when he was there, and I ached when he was not. I was incapable of perspective.

As our last weekend together approached, Teddy - what I now called him, as "Zinger" seemed too common - suggested we go away. I agreed. We made reservations at the Chase Park Plaza. We checked in on Friday afternoon. We had tickets to the Cardinals' game that night. Once we were checked in, we had just enough time to fool around before heading to the game. As had become our general pattern, Teddy topped me. I loved the feel of him inside me, the weight of him on top of me, the ragged breathing when he came, the smile on his face when he recovered. As I often did, I came when he did, without touching myself.

The game was awesome. Teddy conned a vendor into selling us beer. The Redbirds won in dramatic fashion. By the time the game was over, we were drunk and delirious. Instead of going out, we headed back to our hotel. We could feel the clock ticking, and we wanted to be alone together. Unlike that afternoon, our post-game celebration was slow and steady. I edged closer and closer and then had him back off. He edged closer and closer and then backed off. By the time he was ready to come, we were both dripping with sweat. We had almost perfected our sex, so we came together, him inside me, and me all over myself. Exhausted, he collapsed onto me, mixing our sweat with my cum. I wrapped my arms around him. He buried his face in my neck. I gave in.

"I love you, Teddy." Neither of us had ventured there before.

He pulled his head back and surprised me. "I love you, too, dork. A lot."

We fell asleep like that. I woke up about an hour later, cold. He eased off me, and I pulled the comforter up over us. I buried my face in his chest, he slid his leg between mine, and we fell back asleep, loving each other.

The next day, we went to the zoo. St. Louis has a world-class zoo, and it's free. We spent the entire day there, walking animal sanctuary to animal sanctuary. We held hands. We drew stares, but we didn't care. We were young and in love and declaring it.

It was August and hot and we were exhausted when we finished. We went directly to the shower, washed each other, ordered salads and a bottle of wine (there was no ID check over room service), and spent the evening on the couch together. I laid behind him. We were both shirtless. I loved his chest hair and trail, so I played with both throughout the evening as we watched the Cardinals on TV.

I also loved his dick. So, I started playing with it, too. We were 18, and he was soon hard as a rock. I started to jerk him.

"Fuck me while you do that."

We were still on our sides. I spit in my hand, smothered my dick, and slipped easily inside him.

"Don't move. Let's just stay like this for awhile."

I did as I was told. We lay still, my dick inside him, and his dick in my hand. He started clenching and unclenching his ass around my dick. This was a new one, but it was working, fast.

"You keep that up, and I am going to come."

"That's the goal."

I lay still as he continued to work my dick with his ass. I started squeezing his dick, not jerking it, hoping to mirror the sensation I was experiencing. My body broke into a cool sweat as my orgasm approached. I licked his neck and then bit his shoulder as I came. His dick pulsed in my hand as he came. When his dick was too sensitive to touch, he raised my hand to his mouth and sucked his cum off my fingers. I pulled out of him and adjusted my body so I could press my mouth to his, tasting his cum as I kissed him deeply. We kissed until we were both hard again. He broke the kiss, stood up, and took my right hand.

"Let's go to bed."

We climbed into bed and lay face to face. We kissed softly. We ran our hands over each other.

"Roll over."

I did. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a tight embrace. His hair was soft against my back.

"I'm going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you more."

"I wish we could stay like this forever."

I waited, then I needled him, "I thought you were not going to be my boyfriend."

He chuckled, "Shut up, dork." He kissed the back of my neck. I pushed my ass against him, signaling what I wanted. He rolled me onto my back, and I parted my legs for him. We made slow and steady love. He kissed me as he came. I held him inside me. He collapsed onto me, then rolled off on his side. I pulled the covers up around us and put my face to his. We fell asleep kissing, as had become our custom.

Part Eight

We slept late into Sunday, our last day together before I headed to Carleton and he headed to Loyola of New Orleans, over a thousand miles away. I woke first and just watched him sleep.

I was maudlin, knowing that whatever the last seven weeks had been was going to end, sooner than later. We could pretend otherwise, but I was a realist. We were teenagers, would be separated by over a thousand miles, and would have neither the money nor the means to visit each other. I saw in my mind how it would play out. We would write each other letters, we would talk on the phone each Sunday, and we would see each other when we were home for Fall Homecoming. If we fought hard, and I mean hard, then we would maintain that pattern through the rest of the Fall semester, and we would spend the Christmas break together. But, the Spring semester would be long, and we would get distracted by new friends and experiences. Instead of spending Spring break together, we would spend it apart with new friends. The letters would slow to a trickle and then stop. So would the calls. There would be no emotional rupture. We would just drift away from each other, until we were too far apart to find out way back.

When you are 18 and in love, it is easy to pretend it will last forever, and that you cannot live without the other person. I knew it would not last forever. I also knew I would and could live without Teddy. I just did not want to.

That is what I was thinking when Teddy awoke and smiled at me. I forced a smile back.

"Are you crying?"

"Just a little."

"Why?"

"Because the space shuttle blew up last January, and I miss that teacher," I replied, obviously sarcastically. "Why do you think I'm crying?"

He pulled me tight. "We'll be alright."

"I doubt it."

"I don't."

I did, but there was no point in sharing how I saw it all playing out. There was no reason to make it worse than it was. But, I was pretty convinced of my prescience.

We did not have sex that Sunday morning. Instead, we held each other and kissed and talked and kissed and talked until it was time to check out and accept our separation. We were quiet on the drive back home. I held his hand as he drove. Every once in awhile, he squeezed my hand. I always squeezed back.

The closer we got to my house, the slower he drove. I started to cry, and he did, too. By the time he pulled into my driveway, I was sobbing. He pulled me to him. I buried my head in his neck and chest.

"I love you, dork."

"I love you, too, Teddy. A lot."

Neither of us said another word. We just held each other, crying softly and wanting this salient moment to last as long as we could prolong it. Finally, I pulled back, and he put his lips to mine. We kissed long and deep. When we broke, my parents were on the porch, a lifetime of suspicions confirmed.

"You better go inside. We can't spend the rest of our lives in this car."

I got out of the car, grabbed my bag, and walk around to his door. He cranked his window down.

"Do me a favor at Carleton, Kevin."

"Anything," I offered, almost as a plea.

"Don't be the biggest dork on campus."

He grinned at me. I grinned back. He was beautiful in that moment, sad, but smiling, weak, yet strong.

He slipped the car into reverse, and backed out of the driveway. I watched him go, until his car disappeared around the corner. Crying, I was surprised to feel my dad's hand on my shoulder.

"You'll be alright."

I knew he was wrong. But, I did not say so. Instead, I just turned into his embrace, which was warm and genuine and knowing and loving.

I turned out to be spot on in my prescience. Homecoming weekend was awesome. Since my parents knew about us, we spent most of the weekend in my room. We fucked with a hunger and urgency that only separation could create. We cried when we boarded our planes in opposite directions.

Christmas break was also awesome, but the hunger and urgency of Homecoming weekend was gone. We spent the break together, and we fucked a lot. But, the fire was not as hot. We were not going through the motions, but something was definitely different. We were starting to drift, although neither of us acknowledged it.