Grief Counselling
by Big D
In 2017 I said my last goodbye to my dear friend who had been murdered.
He was only 22 and, unsurprisingly, was the most non-violent person I knew. I found out about what had happened to him after waking up early one morning on a summer day. My sister told me that my friend was killed. I didn’t believe it because she found out on Twitter. But when I turned the TV on, I saw his face on my television screen. It said a male 22 years old was shot and killed in what “could be called” a domestic dispute.
I live with regret every day because I was supposed to have seen him months before at a mutual friend’s party.
When he was murdered, I changed a lot of my ways, and not really for the better. I had a lot of trust issues, and I didn’t want to go out as much because I was living in fear. Imagining his lifeless body and his pale skin that once glowed made me shake, living in a nightmare while I wanted to wake up. But it was a reality I had to face, I had to face the fact that he always would be in my heart but that would be it. Constant flashbacks had me in denial about his death.
I grieved for a long time, and I was anti-social. I almost cried every time I thought about him. I was in a bad place.
I visited the campus of my ex-boyfriend Mason and I just plopped down on the bed in his dorm room like a half-dead bum.
Blond, broad-shouldered Mason Bradford was so lovely and gentle all the time you couldn’t help but love him. And with a toned body, blond hair and those liquid blue eyes, he was too cute to handle.
Bewildered and suddenly very warm, I stared at him. From an earlier phone conversation I knew, without him having to specifically point out why, that he was grieving as well.
So here we were.
I sat slumped on his bed, not saying anything. He only looked at me pitifully, then pulled me to my feet. "I know what you're thinking."
"You do?" I asked.
The handsome blond nodded slowly. "You're thinking that you must be the lowest person in the world to feel what you're feeling right now--to be consumed by this kind of burning want so soon after learning about the death of your friend . . . our friend.
I nodded. That's precisely what I was thinking. Even if I had lied he would not have believed me. No matter what words came out of my mouth, Mason could always hear my heart. He was a gentle soul and was beautiful outside and inside.
"Well, don't feel bad, Derrick." he said, and he gently lifted my shades from my face; equally gently he placed them on an end table. Then he leaned over to lick the tip of his tongue across my lips. "Because I also know that this is just what you need right now. With death in the air you just need something to . . . to let you know that you're alive."
"And right now you need this as well." I said. It wasn't a question, but a statement that I knew to be true. I then skimmed the blue jersey over his head. I unclasped his necklace carefully set it aside . . . and reached for the snap of his jeans.
As I eased his zipper down, he whispered, "Does the dorm monitor make regular inspections of the rooms."
"Don't worry," I said. "I have absolutely no idea who the dorm monitor is."
I pulled the jeans over his generous hips. When he was down to nothing but a pair of white briefs, I let my tongue tease its way into his mouth. My hands slid from his waist, then up to stroke his abs. he whimpered as I swiveled my hairy chest against his pink man-nips and hairless chest. He whimpered even more ardently when I used my palms to gently circle these little chest bumps. With sweeping strokes of my tongue, I licked from the base of his rib cage to the flesh beneath his man-nips, then over and around each man-nip itself. I took one nipple into my mouth and kneaded the other with my left hand. As I suckled, I thrust my pelvis against the meeting of his thighs.
After sliding off Mason's briefs, I used two fingers to ardently probe his anus,
"OOOOhhhhhhh …Beautiful." the responsive young man sighed once my fingers were in and wiggled about in different patterns. After jiggling around a bit, I removed my fingers and listened to Mason moan during the withdraw. While he shuddered and recovered, I slid the socks from his feet.
I’d always found my blond buddy’s feet particularly interesting. They were perfectly shaped and looked hairless, but there were these cute almost invisible hairs on his toes. Of course he made sure they looked taken care of. Since Mace was overly ticklish he generally avoided letting other people get too close to those size elevens. I was crazy about his feet. When we briefly dated, I used every opportunity to kiss them and smell them and suck his toes.
He was curling his toes upward so that I could suck them into my mouth. Like the old days.
I sucked each and every one of Mason’s toes into his mouth paying particular attention to the skin between the blonde’s toes.
"My feet stink, huh?" Mace commented, with an almost shy smile. In reality they only had a slight sweaty fragrance, but these are the fames we played while fooling around.
"Oh yeah!" I replied as I pressed my face against Bradford's feet and sucked in the air deeply, loudly. "But you know I love it!" I sighed as he sniffed and lapped away at the handsome blonde’s well-shaped digits.
When I paused from the foot worship, it was clear that I had been wearing him out with pure bliss!
He actually started to cry as I picked up his tender size eleven feet in my hands again. I bound them with bungee cord from beside his bed! "You’ve always had some perfect soles, Mace. . . soft and ticklish too." I said. Then slowly, very slowly I began lowering my hand to the bound bare feet …
"No, please, no, Derrick . . . " he begged, tears streaming down his face, "pleeeeeeeaaase, no . . . don't touch melike that!! Pleeeeeeeaaase, nooooo . . . " The ecstatic expression never left my blonde buddy’s now reddened face. The red grew deeper and more inflamed as I continued bringing my fingers closer and closer to the soles of his bare feet … all the while he was glaring right at me. Terrified tears streaming down his cheeks, I started to laugh. Can you beat that? Just the threat of having his feet tickled made him cry out in terrified protest!
Terrified, useless protest.
My fingers began brushing the soles of his feet. The result was like a nuclear explosion. He screamed! His perfect toes curled in a futile effort to protect his soles, and he tried desperately to jostle his bound feet loose from my grip. But I held those cord-tied ankles tightly. I tickled his feet, alternately scratching the soles with my fingernails and then brushing them lightly with my fingertips. A combination of laughter erupted from Mason—screaming, helpless, uncontrollable, hysterical laughter. I tickled him until he fainted and went completely limp!
He eventually came to his senses to find me gently caressing his bare soles. I even massaged each of his toes individually. Before Mason was even fully conscious, he began moaning with pleasure of his ex-boyfriend running his warm, wet tongue up and down his high arches, inhaling the hot manly smell of my ripe size eleven feet. And while I worshipped his feet all over again. I could feel my engines re-heating for yet another go-round!
This time I removed my remaining clothes, and Mason Bradford and I truly proffered our bodies to each at this at that moment. We did this in a way we hadn’t since the two of us dated back in the day. As we climbed beneath the sheets, both of us were keenly aware that we'd already fallen deeply into an intricate world from which we might never escape for some time. The mutual grief over our fallen friend had done that, strangely enough. He felt the swell of my arousal beneath the sheets while I went back to caressing his abs. Our hands shook as we did these things.
I returned my lips to his chest, nuzzling and sucking once again with a hot fervor and driving Mason mad with pleasure. I took a man-nipple between my teeth and tugged at it while lapping at its hot pink edges with my tongue. When he arched his back and lifted both his legs towards the ceiling, I slipped six hard inches into his hole with one fluid stroke. Not bad if I do say so myself.
We both trembled and quaked with longing. Our hands moved all over each other’s sweat-slicked bodies, creating sparks of electricity wherever they made contact. Mason made me burn like the core of a raging volcano, and I wouldn't have been surprised if the bed we were on was consumed by the flames of our passion. I felt like molten lava, flowing in patterns that were governed by his touch.
"Oh, d-dang," I moaned through clenched teeth. "Dang. Oh, dang!"
And as our excitement reached the most exquisite level of ecstasy, I found myself stammering out his name and being answered with a scream of my own. But he screamed out only my last name. It sure sounded funny in my ears. I mean, my last name sounds pretty odd to begin with.
Four times my passion erupted in huge, hot, wet overflowing spurts. Four earth-moving explosions filled with a billion sensations of liquid fire and pure pleasure.
Then he held me in his arms when it was over, and an unusual kind of peace settled over me. We huddled together and said nothing. And this was fine. I mean, this was now a trusting bond between us that didn't require words. I drifted off to sleep surrounded by the aura of this bond, and a beautiful young man's arms wrapped snugly around me. Perhaps what we had at this moment wasn't an ongoing love in the romantic sense--for I had no delusions that Mason and I would continue on together in a full relationship again. Rather it was more like the highest level of mutual understanding.
It was good.