Fortress of Solitude

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In the Summer of 1970…

Charlie was heading off to college out west, while I was going to school nearer my home, and when we met on the day before he was flying out, I was filled with mixed emotions. I had known Charlie since kindergarten, and we had been best friends all of those years, sharing laughter and tears as we grew up.

Now we were parting, and even though we vowed to remain close, I think we both knew that it would never be the same again. Maybe that was what brought us to where we decided to meet that last day, at the run-down shell of a little league field in our old neighborhood.

Charlie was sitting on one of the benches that overlooked the field, which was deserted and in desperate need of attention. Back in our day the field was teeming with us kids from dusk until dawn, but maybe that was just the way it seemed to me years ago.

“What’s in the bag?” I asked Charlie, startling him as he was apparently daydreaming and unaware of my approach.

“Old demon alcohol,” Charlie said, lifting a bottle out of the six pack hidden in the sack. “I figured we would work up a thirst trying to find the old Fortress of Solitude back in the jungle.”

Funny how what we used to consider a jungle was in fact just a patch of woods about the size of a football field back near the railroad tracks, and I guess that was another example of how our world seemed to shrink as we got older.

I told Charlie that, and he laughed, telling me that at 18 we were already starting to sound like old men, and I guess he was right about that, like he usually was about everything.

“Do you remember where it was?” Charlie asked me.

“I think I could find it blindfolded,” I assured him, even though we hadn’t been back there in at least four years.

The Fortress of Solitude, as we called it, was our clubhouse/hangout back in our early teens. It was just a rickety little fort built into the side of a hill in one of the most overgrown areas of the woods, and we had named it after Superman’s sanctuary that was in all of the DC comics we used to enjoy.

Charlie and I made those little buildings all the time; tree-houses and forts and bunkers that would take us days to build and took only a minute for them to be wrecked or torched by the other neighborhood kids as soon as they discovered them.

The Fortress of Solitude was different though. I had lasted an entire summer, and was still standing the last time we had been back there. We had no expectation of finding it still standing today, but we wanted to at least go back to the site it had been at, to make a final toast to our youth and friendship.

As we headed down the path that made a serpentine trail through the woods, it seemed like kids must not come back there very much any more because the trial was overgrown in some places, and I nearly missed where we needed to cut through to get to the old fort.

That path was completely overgrown, and we got scraped up pretty good by the branches while bushwhacking out along the ridge that we needed to get around. Charlie was a couple of steps ahead of me when we got there, and I almost ran into him when he stopped abruptly.

“Holy shit!” Charlie said, and I echoed that when I saw it.

The familiar door that we had “borrowed” from the collection of junk behind Charlie’s father’s garage was crooked, but was still standing, as was the rickety little hut.

“Hello?” I called out, expecting to maybe see some hobo peek out from the little dwelling, but when nobody answered we came through the brush and opened the door.

“Smells like 1963 in here,” Charlie said as we looked in the dark fortress, which was dusty and filled with cobwebs but was in decent shape, all things considered, probably because of how the thing was sheltered from the elements somewhat by the hill behind it, which shielded and hid it.

The benches that we had “borrowed” from somewhere still were along the back wall of the fort, and the crate that we used as a table still had a couple of mostly burned candles on it.

“I can’t believe nobody ever found it,” I said.

“I think that kids stopped wrecking forts around the same time we stopped wanting to build them,” Charlie opined. “Plus, we really built this sucker to last.”

We left the door open as we stepped inside, and after we knocked down the cobwebs we looked around the room, which was about 8 feet long and half that wide, with one earth wall and three wooden ones.

“If these walls could talk,” I said.

“Good thing they can’t,” Charlie said. “A whole lot happened back here.”

“Debbie Dawson!” we said in unison, and laughed at the way our minds often worked together.

“Yet another girl who shot me down,” I lamented.

“You scared her when you showed her your dick,” Charlie said.

Charlie casino siteleri had coaxed Debbie back here to show her our fort, but mostly so we could look at her tits. Debbie agreed to give us a peek at her goodies, but only if we showed her ours too. That was fine with us, so after I got to see my first pair of titties, Charlie and I had to drop our jeans.

“Ew!” I remember Debbie saying when she saw my cock pointing straight out at her, and while Charlie had a boner too it was clear that she liked his a lot better.

Debbie had told me to leave, and I did, but looked through a crack in the wall as she jerked Charlie off while he squeezed her titties. I remember seeing Charlie ejaculate all over the dirt floor with Debbie yanking away at him crudely.

“My first hand job,” Charlie said wistfully.

“I know,” I said.

“Did I tell you about that?”

“No, I was peeking through the wall,” I said, not mentioning the fact that I was getting myself off while watching the two of them.

“Pervert!” Charlie laughed.

“Her right tit was bigger than her left one,” I recalled.

“You remember that day better than I do,” Charlie said, and it was true.

I didn’t tell Charlie that while I thought Debbie’s tits were interesting and all, if I could have changed places with either of them that day, I would have taken Debbie’s place.

“I also remember Shari Appel,” I said, and the shocked reaction I got from him made it clear that he didn’t know that I knew about those two being an item.

Shari was the “loose” girl in the neighborhood, but our neighborhood wasn’t all that promiscuous. Shari gave head, and wasn’t particular about who she gave it to. Damn near every guy in the area got their dicks sucked by her. Everybody except me, that is, but even I got a hand job one time when she must have gotten desperate.

“How did you know about her and me?” Charlie asked.

“I would follow you whenever you would head back here,” I said, confessing to the three times I had seen them together.

“Boy, Jimbo,” Charlie said. “You did a lot of watching.”

“It was the closest I was ever going to get to having sex,” I opined, and although Charlie tried to laugh it off he knew it was true.

“Hey, you lose a few pounds, and girls will be all over you,” Charlie suggested.

“A few?” I said with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe 100?”

The fact was that I was fat. Six foot tall and 300 pounds, and while that was good when you were stuffing runs on the defensive line in football, it didn’t really work with the ladies. Being chubby and cute only worked for babies. Everybody loves a fat man? Not when it comes to getting laid, or even kissed.

“Okay, maybe 100,” Charlie said. “Lose it and you’ll see.”

Charlie would always get mad at the way I put myself down, but I didn’t want our last day together to be ruined so I dropped it and opened up a couple of beers.

“To the Fortress of Solitude!” I toasted, and we drank a salute to this rundown shack which was a testament to our engineering skills and luck, and then we drank some more.

“You come back here with Shari?” Charlie asked.

“A gentleman never tells,” I said, but then nodded that I had. “She gave me a hand job.”

“Alright!” Charlie chirped, slugging me on the arm.

“Not exactly what she gave you,” I reminded him. “At least 3 times.”

“Well, Shari has a big mouth, but not that big,” Charlie said. “You need a Linda Lovelace or something to handle that kielbasa of yours.”

“Big fat guy with a big fat dick,” I mumbled to myself.

“Huh?” Charlie asked.

“Nothing. I was just remembering watching you two back here. She did the same thing every time.”

“Well, it wasn’t like we were going to to our homework or anything.”

“I wish,” I started to say but stopped.

“What do you wish?” Charlie asked. “Wished Shari was back here now?”

“No,” I answered. “Wish I had done some things differently the last few years.”

“Who doesn’t?” Charlie agreed.

“You’re going off to school, and we’ll never be the same. You’ll get new friends. Better friends.”

“Wrong, Jimbo,” Charlie said. “New, yes, but they don’t come any better than you. You know I mean that. Hey man, don’t cry.”

I was fighting a losing battle with my emotions, as a tear trickled out from the corner of my eye as I thought about how horrible my life would have been without Charlie as a friend. I didn’t make friends that easily, but for whatever reason he kind of adopted me, and I loved him for that. Loved him.

“I love you, Charlie,” I said after swallowing hard.

“I love you too, man,” Charlie replied.

“If I asked you to do something for me,” I asked. “Would you do it?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t know what it is yet,” I slot oyna protested.

“Doesn’t matter,” Charlie said. “Maybe it’s the beer talking. Fuck, I don’t know. You never ask for anything and you always do anything I ask without question, so if you ask for something, how could I say no?”

“Give me 15 minutes.”

“Sure. Why not.”

“After 15 minutes, forget anything I said or did.” I asked. “Pretend those 15 minutes never happened.”

“Okay,” Charlie said. “Gonna make a confession or something?”

“Kind of,” I said as I took a deep breath and went down to my knees before him.

***

“Jimbo,” I heard Charlie say softly, but I didn’t look up – couldn’t look up – because if I did I would lose my nerve.

Instead, I concentrated on Charlie’s belt buckle and getting my trembling fingers fingers to undo it. The snap of Charlie’s jeans came open easily enough, and then the roar of the teeth of his zipper as it opened filled my ears.

White fruit of the looms. Charlie always wore them. He had worn that kind the day back here with me and Debbie Dawson and had been wearing them those times with Shari Appel. Those times, the bulge in the cotton was much more pronounced than now.

Those times, his cock had been ready for action, and when the elastic came down those times his cock sprang out at those girls. This time, after I moved his underwear down past the little tuft of brown pubic hair, his penis was in repose, clearly not expecting what was happening and probably not wanting it either.

Beautiful. That was the only word to describe Charles Kenny’s manhood. I had seen it countless times like this, the pale slender tube with the plump vein running down the top, and the long acorn-head dangling down to his balls. In the locker room at gym, or changing at the swimming pool or taking a leak in the woods

About 3 and a half inches soft and 6 inches erect, or so I had mentally measured it, and as I stared at this perfect specimen of manhood my heart melted. I reached up and touched it for the first time. Charlie’s dick was so warm and soft to the touch, and it had a rubbery feel to it as I raised it up straight.

Shari Appel had done this, just like this at least three times, and now I was going to do it. I heard Charlie gasp when my wet lips surrounded the head of his dick, and then my mouth enveloped all of him. I felt the softness of his pubes as my nose went into the bush, and then I began to suck on him, pulling the soft stem out as far as I could.

I had done this before, a few times. Mostly with that man who had picked me up while I was waiting for the bus that time. He didn’t make me do it, but I was so lonely and alone that I did what he asked. I was bad at first, but after a few more meetings I had gotten better.

Now, I never wanted to be any better than right now. I wanted Charlie to remember this even though I had asked him not to. I wanted him to get hard even if the thought of me doing this to him repulsed him. My tongue – my fingers – everything I could possibly do to get him hard, I did.

And it was happening. Slowly I felt Charlie’s cock begin to lengthen and stiffen in my mouth. I grabbed his ass cheeks in my hand and drew him close to me, intermittently running my hands down his legs and feeling the light dusting of hair on them.

He was hard. Charlie’s cock was fully engorged and now my mouth really went to work, Charlie’s hands were on my head, and for a second I feared he was trying to pull me away, but he was trying to get me to slow down, or at least that’s what I thought, so I did.

I tried to savor each second because the clock was ticking and I knew this would never happen again. I could feel the blood pulsating through Charlie’s perfect cock, and the way his balls tickled my chin each time I went down to the root of his member made me shiver.

Now I could hear Charlie’s breathing above me, wheezing like a locomotive as his orgasm grew closer and closer. His hands were now trying to pull me away, but only for a second before he figured out that I wanted to taste his cum.

Not grudgingly like Shari Appel, choking and spitting it out onto the ground. I wanted to taste it, and when I felt his seed rush through his manhood I braced myself, letting the hot cum spurt into my throat as my lips wrapped around the base of his cock and my mouth tried to siphon him dry.

It was like my hands on his ass were holding him upright as his orgasm shook his body. His knees were bent and his legs were shaking and he was cumming and cumming while holding onto my scalp tightly.

Then it was over. The taste of his cum – it was like a custard, and what didn’t end up down my throat I left in mouth as I kept his dick in there until it had totally deflated. Then I felt Kenny’s hands under my arms, helping to canlı casino siteleri lift me to my feet.

“That was…” Charlie said, his face as red as mine felt, and when he couldn’t finish the sentence he just shrugged his shoulders.

“I still have a minute,” I said, and when I wrapped my arms around my friend he not only let me hug him, but hugged me back

I managed to keep my tears out of sight until my minute was up.

***

If what had happened thus far back at our Fortress of Solitude wasn’t way beyond my wildest dreams, what happened next was even more unexpected.

“I can’t – you know,” Charlie was saying to me as he stood by my side. “Do what you just did.”

“I know. You don’t – I mean,” I stuttered.

After what had just gone on, the last thing that I expected was what was going on. Charlie had told me that he wanted 15 minutes as well, which was how I ended up with my jeans and boxer shorts down around my ankles and Charlie at my hip, holding my cock in his fist.

Charlie had told me to drop my jeans and boxers, which I did with embarrassment. You see, after what I had done to Charlie, I had an erection that was the boner of all times. When my cock sprang out in front of me, Charlie calmly grabbed it and began moving his hand up and down.

“You don’t have to,” I started to say, but Charlie cut me off.

“Remember that time with Debbie Dawson back here and she saw your cock?” Charlie asked. “I have to admit that ever since that day, I always wanted to touch it, just to see what it would be like. Never saw you with a hard-on before, and it freaked me out. Intimidated me for quite a while. How big is this thing? Got to be a foot long.”

“I don’t know,” I said, mesmerized by Charlie hand pumping my cock, but he knew better than to accept that bullshit answer, so I told him he was pretty close, although if nobody else but you sees it, an inch is as good as a foot.

“You mean we could have been doing this stuff all along?” I asked.

“I said I wanted to touch it,” Charlie said. “Not get married. Damn, my hand can’t get around it. Is this okay for you, like what I’m doing?”

“Yes,” I said, wanting to tell him that it was way more than alright.

“You know, guys at school, they talk about you,” Charlie admitted as his hand spun around the shaft of my cock, spinning up around the head and back down while he leaned against my side.

“I know.”

“No, I mean about your cock. Talk of the town, you might say.”

“Freak show material, huh?” I asked.

“More like envy material,” Charlie said, and after I laughed he insisted it was true. “I can’t tell you how many guys have mentioned that they wish they had what you’ve got.”

“Not used to anyone being jealous of me for anything,” I said. “Especially something like this. It’s not like I accomplished something. It’s all superficial.”

“So?” Charlie replied. “We’re young. This is the time to be shallow. You should go out and use this thing. You should be having it put in better places than my hand.”

There was nothing better than this, or at least that was the way that I felt at that moment. Charlie was by my side, his hand about to bring me to the greatest orgasm I would ever have, and his pants were still down as well, allowing me to look at his perfect penis wiggling as he jerked me off.

“I’m going to tell you something,” Charlie said. “But you have to promise not to tell.”

“Sure.”

“Cheryl, she’s always had the hots for you,” Charlie confessed.

“Cheryl, as in your sister?” I asked incredulously.

“Hey, I know she’s no great beauty and all.”

“No, she’s cute,” I said of Charlie’s younger sister, who was a little butterball but was very nice and just as shy as me.

“Well then,” Charlie said. “It’s up to you. She’s not 18 for almost a year, so watch it, and don’t tell her I told you she likes you. What the hell have I done? The thought of you two together is frightening. You would split her in two with this log of yours.”

Maybe the thought that Charlie’s sister liked me aroused me, or maybe it was my best friend’s fist wrapped around my cock, jerking me off way better than Sheri Appel had, but either way I was going to cum.

“AW!” I grunted as my cock erupted, sending wads of cum several feet across the dirt floor of the Fortress of Solitude.

“Damn!” Charlie said after I went limp, shaking a wad of cum off of the back of his hand. “What were doing? Saving that up since that day you had with Shari Appel?”

“Who’s Shari Appel?” I asked, as I looked at my handiwork splattered all over the dirt.

“Funny thing,” Charlie added as we pulled up our pants. “That was my exact same thought about 15 minutes ago.”

***

We never mentioned that day again, even though we’ve remained friends ever since. It was like that 15 minutes, or should I say that half hour never happened, but I know I’ll never forget it, and I don’t think Charlie ever will either.

***

thanks for reading

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