JiminQueens2's blog

Weakly, feeling miserable, Johnny nodded. Ryan let go of his hair and caught his unsteady body in his arms, then guided him into a sitting position against the wall. “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone far less sharp than it had been. Johnny nodded just as weakly.

“Ice?” he asked, his voice hoarse and rough. Ryan nodded and sprinted to and up the stairs. Once in the kitchen, he opened the freezer, cracked an ice tray, and dumped the contents into a plastic bag. He ran back downstairs; Johnny was where he’d left him. He applied the ice pack to Johnny’s battered face himself, and Johnny shot him a grateful look.

For a long moment, the two men sat there, not speaking. Something odd was passing between them. But finally Johnny spoke up. “You kicked my ass,” he said simply, “but I’m still glad we finally did this.”

Ryan grinned at him. “Could have gone either way,” he said, “and I’m glad, too. Best workout I’ve had in a long time.”

“Same here,” Johnny agreed. He glanced at Ryan’s briefs, and noted the still-bulging material. “Looks like something else needs a workout, too.”

Ryan’s grin grew wider. He immediately reached down and pulled his briefs down to his knees, revealing a respectably-sized erection that bounced up and slapped against his stomach. “I haven’t been this hard in a long time,” he confessed. “This fight was better than Viagra.”

Johnny slipped off his briefs; he was just as hard as Ryan. “Yeah, same,” he said. “Shall we?”

Ryan began to stroke his dick, his eyes locked on Johnny, who was stroking his own. For a long moment there was no sound between the two men, but eventually Ryan said, “Hold on a minute.” He quickly ran back into the main house, returning after a few minutes with a bottle of vegetable oil.

“Best I can do,” he said sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” Johnny poured a liberal amount of oil on his cock, then began to stroke again. “Yeah, this is much better, thanks.”

“No problem.” Ryan began to jerk his dick, but after a moment, with a look at his erstwhile enemy, he sidled over until he and Johnny were hip-to-hip, then reached over and got his hand under Johnny’s and began to stroke the other man’s dick for him. Johnny smiled and reached over to grasp Ryan’s shaft in a firm grip.

“Why didn’t we do this in high school?” Johnny murmured.

“Because we were fucking stupid,” Ryan replied.

“No argument here.”

The two men continued to stroke each other. Neither made any move to escalate matters; neither was wired that way. They’d shared the second most intimate exchange two straight males can experience; now they were sharing the first.

Ryan came first, a geyser of thick, white semen exploding from his dick under Johnny’s careful hand to cover his torso and splash against his chin. Johnny wasn’t far behind; he didn’t shoot as far, but his chest got its own coat to match Ryan’s. The two men sat there, gasping with exertion, their hands moving away from each other’s cocks to slide around each other’s shoulders.

They sat there for a long moment, their arms around each other, their dicks slowly getting softer and smaller, their bodies slick with sweat and cum. Then Ryan, with a wry chuckle, said, “You know, I can’t even remember who told me you’d called me a fag.”

Johnny laughed. “Does it really matter at this point?”

“Only that I’d probably want to thank him,” Ryan smirked, “right before I watched you beat his ass.”

“Maybe we should ask around at the next reunion,” Johnny replied.

The two men’s laughter echoed throughout the garage.