Chapter 11
11
LAMPWICK
M y buddy and I walk up the familiar trail outside of town as the sun sets. It’s a surprisingly warm autumn evening, and I suggested we cool off near the secluded creek where I was previously sleeping. Pinocchio happily obliged; any awkwardness from my little crying session three nights ago is long gone. I feel lighter letting go of all that animosity and at long last, saying goodbye to the person who hurt me the most. It wasn’t so bad when I had my best friend consoling me all the way.
Strolling through the knee-high weeds, I wipe the sweat from my brow on my shirt. When I let go of the fabric, Pinocchio is already staring at me. “What?”
“Nothing,” he replies quickly, averting his gaze.
There’s no way he was looking at my torso, was he? He all but bolted when he saw me naked a few days ago. He was clearly uncomfortable, even though the thought of him seeing me nude made my cock twitch. Pinocchio is most certainly straight. He likes girls like Giovanna…right?
I shake my head of weird hypotheticals as we make it to the creek. The two of us carefully walk down the dirt ridge to the water. The entire area is covered in the shade of the hills and trees, like green walls towering over us. The water from the creek is crystal clear no more than a few feet deep, and the rocks under the surface look smooth and sturdy. The ground is just dry enough for us to lie on comfortably. The whole place is like our own, private little world, and I am content to be able to cool down.
No, I’m actually just happy to hide away from the world for a moment with my best friend. The Autumn Festival is coming up, where he’ll probably fall in love with Giovanna. They’ll get married, have beautiful babies, and live a picturesque life together, because he’s not a sexual deviant like me. That idea infuriates me, but Pinocchio is a good man who deserves the world.
But today, we’re still together, Lampwick and Pinocchio, the ultimate duo.
“It’s gorgeous out here. I get why you wanted me to come.”
“Well, you helped me change the last of the horseshoes from Signore Vypari.” I chuckle and take off my shoes. The grass by the bank is soft, like pillows. It feels like this corner of Tuscany was carved solely for Pinocchio and me. “You didn’t have to.”
“Many hands make less work. Besides, it was tough.” He stands beside me, shoeless.
I look him dead in the eyes and smirk. “Worked you up a sweat?” I quirk an eyebrow then strip off my shirt. Turning my head, I stride forward and crouch down to the water. I pool some cool liquid in my hands and splash it on my face, the droplets soothing my warm skin.
Looking behind me, I find Pinocchio staring, frozen in shock. When his eyes trail my nude torso, I gulp. He’s probably just surprised. He’s most certainly not aroused, excited, or curious, that’s not him.
“Come. The water’s perfect.” I walk back to the pillowy grass and Pinocchio steps forward. When he removes his shirt, it takes all my strength to gaze down at my clothes on the ground. I meticulously take my time turning my shirt into a little square pillow. When I adjust my body and lie on the grass, I have no choice but to look forward.
Dio mio.
Pinocchio is splashing water all over himself, and his skin is all on display— it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. He’s not tall, not wide, and has no dustings of hair, so unlike the other boys I’ve been intimate with. But he’s all man. His muscled abs and rounded shoulders glisten from the tenuous sunlight in the creek. His lower back houses the cutest dimples, floating above a pair of round glutes in his corduroy trousers. I figured my friend had a fantastic body, but I’ve done so well these past several weeks not staring at his long limbs and tight physique.
But now, my eyes take their fill. He shakes off water from his body like a dog, laughing the entire time. I try to laugh too, but I’m so damn aroused. The swelling in my trousers is only hidden by my propped-up knee. My buddy cannot know that I have such devilish desires for him. Taking off my clothes in a private area was maybe a bad idea. As he saunters back to me, I watch his abs tighten and relax in slow motion—the sight takes my breath away.
A heart of gold, unwavering loyalty to me, and a fantastic body? I’m never getting over this crush.
A moment later, we’re both lying back on the patches of grass. He copies me, like always, and uses his shirt to support his head. I try to relax, but his naked torso is right there, centimeters from mine. An electric spark pulses between us, and no amount of adjusting can hide the rise in my crotch. I gulp and hope he doesn’t notice what’s happening below my waist.
I gaze up at the canopy of trees in an effort to distract myself. The leaves have changed color, but so few are falling down, opting to stay up to serve us. A halo of nature protects me and my friend from the beating sun. This perfect moment reminds me so much of us as kids, idly chatting under the shade at the insidious Land of Toys. We had some rough times, but also shared so many good moments.
And we’re making new memories now. I gaze at my friend so close to me on my right. Pinocchio has his eyes closed, and I swear, he’s angelic in the shade. His cheekbones are defined, his damp, dark curls are flopped back, and he breathes with a soft smile on his face. I would give up all the gold and silver in my pockets to kiss his lips again. I don’t want a chaste tap like when we were kids, I want it all.
I’m not only in love with Pinocchio, but I’m deeply in lust with him as well.
No one’s around, no one but the two of us: the most loyal, brave, and true boy, and me, the boy who longs for him. I clear my throat and relax even further.
“We worked really hard today,” I say.
“Yeah, we did,” he replies with a smile on his lips. He doesn’t open his eyes, and I know this is my chance.
“You want to know the perfect way to relax? The way we should end this day?” My heart beats hard, knowing I intend to cross a line between buddies.
“What?”
I drag my hands down my bare torso, bringing my fingers to my navel. The simple touch has my pulse quickening. “We…should get off.”
“Get…what off?” he asks. He opens his eyes and we both snicker.
My hands trail down until I grab my growing erection. My voice is slow and deep when I say, “Get off. Release. Have that…pleasure.”
I bite my lip and sigh at the first stroke of my swollen crotch. When I look at Pinocchio, his eyes have grown wider. I can almost see the candlelight of understanding sparking in his wooden brain. Let’s find out if we can make him burn in the best way.
“Come on. Don’t tell me you don’t…stroke it.” I lightly moan when my hands go up and down. For a moment, I fear it’s too much, but Pinocchio continues to gaze at both my face and my crotch. He wears a visage of surprise, confusion, but also…intrigue?
But no disgust. I can work with that.
“Come on, Sticks. I need to relax.”
He nods. “Um…uh…”
“You can too,” I whisper. “Just relax.” At my next maneuver, his eyes bug out entirely.
I unbutton my trousers and whip out my cock. Pinocchio doesn’t even breathe.
“Lampwick…”
“It’s alright, man.” I sigh and stroke my hard penis. “No one’s around. It’s just us…two best friends…relaxing.”
I stroke for two seconds more, biting my lip in satisfaction. That carnal pleasure courses through every inch of my skin. After a moment, the distinct fear that he’ll vanish grows in my chest. Before I can laugh it off as a joke, he lies back down again.
Eyeing me, face so close to mine, he whispers, “Just…us?”
“Exactly,” I rasp. I can barely take a full breath, and my hand freezes mid-stroke. In the most utterly surreal moment of my life, my best friend brings his hands down. He undoes his pants, and my eyes dart to that glorious groin.
Pinocchio has taken out his cock. He’s long and hard, and stroking it just like me. Dio mio.
A fiery pulse shoots from my head to my manhood at the sight. He actually listened to me, and now we’re stroking side by side. He’s not as lengthy or as thick as me, but my buddy’s prick is perfection. He works himself gradually, and his left hand goes down to his balls to push down his trousers. I mirror him and in seconds, our pants are almost to our knees.
I stroke and stroke, up and down, pushing back the skin and playing with the head. Of course I’m not looking at myself. I’m staring at my friend’s beautiful hardness as he plays with himself. When I look up at his gorgeous face, his gaze is locked on my member with intense scrutiny. I’ve never been this aroused before.
And then his eyes meet mine— heaven help me, he’s so pretty. He says nothing, but his mouth is agape. I’m trying so hard to be silent, I think we both are. The sound of the nearby creek does nothing to drown out the slapping of our skin, a glorious symphony. When Pinocchio lets out a tiny moan, it makes me even harder in my palm.
I need to remember this day forever. I want to memorize the shape of his cock, the sound of each breathy gasp, and the sight of his face as he pleasures himself. This is so much more than I ever could have asked for. Pinocchio and I are getting off, being sexual in the most primal way, side by side in nature.
Each time I look down at his cock, I need to ease off my own. I don’t want this mutual session of ours to end quite yet. When I slow down my strokes, he does as well. We have an almost palpable synchronicity in the tiny space between us. My mouth goes dry, and I get harder still. My friend is so sexy.
“Lampwick,” he says in a strangled rasp. Dio mio , does this mean what I think it does?
“Yes,” I hiss. My gaze darts between his struggling face and his stiff cock. Mine pulses, getting closer to that climax.
“Lampwick, I feel…I feel like I’m about to…”
“Yes, Pinocchio…yes,” I whisper between grunts. I’m so close, but I need to see him first. I need to witness my best friend in ecstasy.
“Lampo…” he whines in a higher tone. His eyes roll back and his abs go rigid.
I stroke faster. He strokes faster. He gasps and moans. I gasp and sigh.
That familiar wave of pleasure begins from my toes up my spine and down to my groin. His mouth parts, he clamps his eyes shut, and his neck veins bulge. I’m almost there, but I don’t want to close my eyes. I need to witness this.
In the next moment, I look down to watch what I never dared to dream of. My friend’s hard cock unleashes, sending spurts of hot fluid over his abs. “Ahh!” The carnal noise he makes is so sexy as he continues to stroke out ropes of his seed.
“Oh fuuUUH …” That’s all I can say before my vision whites out. Hearing the splashes of his spend and smelling the scent of it has me transcending. My own orgasm is launched out, and my soul flies among the stars. I don’t stop shooting for almost a whole minute.
When I come to, I turn to see my buddy’s breath slowing down. He hasn’t moved, gazing off at the leaves in the distance. He’s so precious. Even with his mess all over himself and a spent cock in his hand, he’s the picture of perfection. Now that I’ve seen every last part of him, I know I’ll never get over my friend. Considering the pure relaxation in my bones, I can’t say I regret what we shared today.
But does he?
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
He gulps. “Good,” he replies with a raspy voice. He’s still not looking at me, and a small part of me panics.
“You…relaxed?”
“Completely.” We both giggle and lie there for a beat, listening to the creek.
“Um, Lampo?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah?”
“How do you, um…clean yourself off?” He holds up his hand and grimaces at the white mess on his fingers.
I laugh. “What do you usually do after you get yourself off?”
“Um…” He glances at me, and a small blush grows on his cheeks.
No way.
My relaxation is cut short when I sit up in fear. “Sticks, have you…have you never done that before?”
He sits up, and I try not to stare at his perfect abs crunching up. “No,” he whispers.
“Then…” I shake my head and grab my shirt from behind me. “Do you just constantly have sex?”
He shakes his head quickly. “No!”
“Then what do you do when you get hard?
He shrugs and grabs his top. “I…just ignore it.”
“So you’ve…never had an orgasm?”
He bites his lip and looks away. The shame on his face is undeniable, and as always, I want to make him feel alright again.
“It’s fine, Pinocchio,” I say gently.
“I’ve just…been busy,” he says with a quiet defensiveness. “I never wanted to.”
“Until today?” I wipe my hands on my shirt.
He shrugs and does the same with his clothes. “You suggested it. You wanted to relax. I read that masturbation feels good, so…”
I gulp and my eyes almost sting with emotion. He shared his first orgasm…with me? “How was it?” I ask quietly.
He chuckles and looks at the sky. “Very satisfying.”
I breathe a sigh of relief then dart up. I reach my hand out and he takes it. “Come on, Sticks.” He stands up, and I hold his fingers only slightly longer than I need to. “Let’s go wash our shirts.”
“Alright.” With that, the two of us clean our shirts in the water as the sun sets.
Every moment with Pinocchio is a treasure, and I’m honored to have shared that first orgasm with him. He’ll find a proper girl one day, like the good boy he is, but I’ll always be the first person to see him in that pure sexual bliss. Today was yet another beautiful secret between us that I plan to hold onto for lonely years to come.