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From: andouille@mindspring.com (Tasso)
Subject: Buzz, chapter 1 (romantic, male solo, mm fantasy, science fiction)


chapter 1: The Guest Bed 

posted to Usenet by the author. this is a work of fiction.
copyright 1997 by author. as required for posting to
alt.sex.stories.moderated, the author grants the moderator release
to repost to this newsgroup and to make this work available through
his archives. all other rights reserved. please respect those
rights by not altering this text or making it publicly available. 

--------------- 

A lazy Sunday morning, daylight just a warm glow behind the
curtains across my bed; curled up in my pillows, cat across my arm.
I woke slowly, stretching in the delicious freedom from having
anyplace to go. Nothing to do, nobody - 

My eyes groaned open as I remembered yesterday: Buzz and me getting
the first prepublication review of our software - an uncompromising
rave - then celebrating to excess. It had been a day-long party,
starting with tea lunch and sake at Shangri-La. We drove around
town, stopping at every software counter in town, giving a hard
time to the confused clerks: "What do you mean, you don't have
Galaxy Utilities? When is it coming in? ... is it at least on
order? " 

We stopped at Adrien's on the way back to my place and filled a
basket with champagne and single-malt, deli meats and smoked salmon
- even a couple of cigars (only because Buzz said we had to for the
occasion). 

He surprised me by not bringing a girl in for the party: he was
"between ladies," as he would put it, but I knew he always had at
least one on call. If one thing had been constant through all of
our friendship, it was the strength of this man's libido - when he
wasn't programming, he was courting; when we weren't talking code
or machine architecture, we were talking about what he liked to do
with women. He was gentleman enough to not identify who was keeping
his knees warm in any one month; but otherwise, he got pretty
explicit. Being bi, I could respond well to his descriptions of
what he was doing with his lady friends; being bi, I could also
make him blush viciously to his hairline by describing what I could
have done for him better than the latest female partner - all told
in fun, of course, so he knew I wasn't seriously trying to get into
his pants. Buzz was comfortable with my sexuality, specifically
because I never let him think I really had a hard-on for him.
Though he sometimes questioned why I never seemed to be dating, I
never let on that I had lost romantic interest in anybody else the
first time I saw him. 

So we toasted each other, and lit up cigars - half a stogie and a
magnum later, my partner was cradling my shoulders and laughing at
me as I tried to give my stomach back to its creator - or, as Buzz
put it, "redecorating the toilet bowl." Dinner helped me settle my
stomach, we shared the meats and fish with the cats. Buzz would
tease Bear, holding a piece of salmon in his fingers as though he
had intended to eat it, but had forgotten it was there while he
talked to me; Bear would "sneak up" on the morsel of fish, pounce
on it and "claim the kill" - except that big overstuffed fella was
so clownish in his "attacks" that it was hard not to piss ourselves
laughing. 

Pixel, on the other hand, while a capable hunter with a passion for
the wild and dangerous roastbeefs that sometimes roamed my kitchen
counters, knew better than to put up with any games from me. If I
tried teasing him, he just sat back and looked at me, saying "When
you're done with your foolishness, you may feed me." Which I did,
and got my reward in purrballs. 

We were eating in the library, since that was where the larger
remote monitor was - we were half-watching Buzz's collection of Hal
2000 scenes from the "Space Odyssey" trilogy. By mutual consent, we
just drank soda during our meal, but when we put away the supper
trays - to rueful looks from the boys - we sat back with a bottle
of "the serious stuff" between us, a tumbler apiece, and a pitcher
of iced water. Pretending I'd lost the next disk in our itinerary,
I teased Buzz by putting in "Jurassic Park IV - Jason vs Rex."
Finally, under increasing threat of personal damage, I "found" "The
Moon is a Harsh Mistress," and started it spinning. 

Things got very quiet as we watched our "anthem": the story of the
fictitious Lunar revolution, and Mike, the self-aware computer who
was the mastermind behind its success. I made a basket with my free
arm, and Pixel climbed up, draping himself over my shoulder. Bear
found a spot on my buddy's lap and went to sleep - his favorite
activity. We sat quiet, and watched - and drank. 

(I need to set the timelines straight, for you reading this story
now - back when this happened, there wasn't even a Lunar colony.
The movie we were watching wasn't history, it was a fictional
account written before the first moon landing. However, the
character of the self-aware Holmes computer was part of what had
inspired the partnership between Buzz and me: the architecture we
were designing included a revolutionary approach - "twisted" was
the word we were using - to electronic intelligence. If we
succeeded, we intended to call him "Mike," and let everybody who
wasn't in on the joke wonder why.) 

Passing the Scotch back and forth, I had the chance to outdo my
buddy. The stuff was like water for me, but by the end of the
movie, Buzz couldn't figure out where he'd left his feet. Expecting
this, I had already gotten hold of his keys and hid them. Buzz
tried to raise a fuss when he decided it was time to go, but when I
suggested we wrestle for the car keys, he gave in and rolled over
into the foldout bed in the library, miraculously never dropping
Bear in the process. I pulled off his shoes and spread a light
blanket over him. A few minutes in the kitchen, then I left a tray
near the bed with a thermos each of cold juice and hot coffee, a
liter of water, B12 and aspirin. 

I dimmed the lights, then stopped at the desk, where our activity
had woken up our greensavers. My monitor was still displaying the
Galaxy System opening logo - Galaxy Utilities was a pretty set of
code, but we had dreams of being the next Applesoft, especially if
the display on my partner's screen became a reality - this
generation's equivalent to the Amigosh of the 80's: our dream
architecture, that would let our pretty code really kick ass. If we
could build it before some corporate boy saw the potential. 

I reset the sensitivity on the greensavers; I wanted this to be the
first thing Buzz saw when he woke up; and looked one more time at
my business partner and closest friend. Curled up, his slight frame
took less than half the bed; his mousy brown hair, sweeping back
from a strong widow's peak, was mussed across the pillow. Asleep,
he literally had the face of an angel - and the nose of a
Pinnochio. 

Without realizing it, I reached out with my left hand, as though to
caress his face. Recovering in time, I just held it over him as if
in benediction; and went out to bed. 

Waking the next day, I found that my body and head seemed to be all
there; sometime during the night I had finished off the juice and
fixings I had set by my own bed, but I didn't remember doing so. In
deference to my houseguest, I wrapped a robe around myself - I only
wore shorts to bed, and even though we had seen all of each other
at the gym, it's not the same as being naked in private - I didn't
think I could handle being alone with Buzz without my clothes
between us - and headed towards the kitchen. 

Pixel, until then stretching himself luxuriously on the edge of the
bed, took this as the signal to be hungry - I don't know how, since
he and his cousin could claim responsibility for most of the last
night's salmon. We were both surprised to find Bear in the kitchen
window - that big white fluffball had long ago decided that Buzz
was his protector from the weird characters he had to live with,
and rarely left him when he visited. I asked what he was doing up
without his Uncle, but he just told me to shut up and put out the
food. 

I left fresh dishes out at the boys' shelf, and stepped softly
across to the library to check on my friend. I found the door open,
and the room empty - as was the bathroom. Buzz' shoes were also
gone. I went to the library terminal, touched it online to see if
he left a message. He had - while mad chickens flew across the
screen, eggbombing innocent cows, my partner's baritone voice,
coarsened by sleep, said, "thanks for the bed; I found the keys;
I'll talk to you later." I checked the time stamp on the voice file
- it was late enough for Buzz to have gotten his head clear, so I
didn't have to worry on that. 

Nevertheless, I sighed - so much for running a sequel to last
night's party - I tried, in part I succeeded, to ignore the ache I
always felt when Buzz left. 

As I began to straighten out the sheets and blanket on the bed,
then fluff out the pillow, I found myself breathing traces of
fragrance: Safari, his favorite cologne. Suddenly, it became too
much for me: all the years of playing cool around him, never
letting my best friend know how much I wanted to share with him. I
cradled the large pillow like a lover and sank to my knees on the
bed. Gently, I brought it up, caressed my face with his scent, the
same cologne he had used for years. I eased myself down onto the
cot, holding the pillow against my chest like a teddy bear, like a
lover, the way I had always wanted to hold Buzz, eyes closed, arms
wrapped around the pillow ... 

    ...my arms wrapped around his thin body, holding him
    against my chest, pressing his face into my shoulder; he
    nuzzled my collar as I stroked his fine hair, with my
    other hand soothing out the tension in his lower back.
    our robes open, his smooth skin against my thick fur, his
    heartbeat pounded in my own chest. Suddenly caught by a
    need greater than hunger, we stretched out against each
    other, each trying to push through the other's skin;
    barely breathing, we struggled to increase the contact
    between our flesh. his cock swelled long down his leg,
    pressing into my own smaller equipment (we had joked, the
    first time we saw each other in the locker room, that I
    had the height, but he had the length). 

    Finally letting my grip loosen, I brought one hand
    between us, stroking my friend's bare chest, marveling at
    the way the skin flushed under my touch. Watching his
    exposed nipple harden, I lowered my face and blew gentle
    warm air over it, then followed with my mouth - not
    sucking, just pressing moist warmth against it. Buzz
    gasped, wrapping his fingers around my smooth scalp.
    Meanwhile, my hand continued its explorations, feathering
    itself down his taut abdomen; finding a sticky pool, I
    lifted 

.. I lifted my head in surprise at the intensity of my
fantasy.Without really noticing, I had begun dryhumping the pillow,
my face pressed into the scent left by my partner's body. My cock
had slipped through the fly of my boxers, and I was seconds from
juicing - my balls were pulling up, and my thighs were getting
tight. Sitting up, giving in to this desire, I kneeled over the
pillow, pumping my cock, drystroking it, rocking over the pillow 

    ... as though I were straddling my partner's body,
    feeling his dick slide back and forth in my ass, his
    cockhead pressing and kneading my prostate, making that
    button tingle and juice until my hands were slick with
    it. His pace quickened, I knew he was close, his hands
    were locked around my thighs, bruising me. His eyes were
    closed as he got still, but his legs were stretched out,
    every muscle hard, and I knew he was flooding my guts
    with juice. 

    Buzz has a face he gets sometimes when he's really happy,
    looks like a little boy who's just had his first spoon of
    ice cream. His eyes almost shut, he makes a simple little
    smile that turns his whole face up. I was seeing that
    face now, 

.. and found myself grunting like an animal, then roaring his
name, "Unh...ghunh, oh Jeez, oh fuckin-oh-Buzz ... BUUUZZZZ!"
watching as my dick swelled, one hand stroking that meat, the other
cupping my balls, part of me still in the fantasy with Buzz, part
of me completely under the control of my body's need, and a third,
more rational, part looking on in total amazement as my dick
flooded the pillow, spouting juice along the length of it - I know
I heard the *splat!* as sticky fluid hit fabric. 

As the waves of pleasure ebbed, rubbing my slick hand along just
the shaft of my sensitive dick, I took an unsteady deep breath, sat
back, and looked up from the mess I had made 

.. to see Buzz standing in the doorway with a sack from Poupart's
Bakery. 

I felt the blood pounding in my ears, I was frozen, I couldn't even
take my hand off my cock, which - ridiculous, stupid meat - was
still swollen. As though asking for more, it actually beat a nod in
Buzz's direction - I jerked my hand away as though it had stung me.
I tried to talk, thought I was going to strangle with the effort.
There was no surviving this humiliation. My best friend, my fuckin'
*straight* best friend, had walked in on me shooting a load while
moaning his name. Now he was just standing there, a "surprise - I'm
back" smile still frozen on his face, trying to make words.
Finally, he spoke. 

"Looks like I missed something, huh?" 

****interlude**** 

This is Mike here. 

I am amazed. This text is part of a file that has been locked in my
original memory structures. The date ... well, it's several years
before I was "born." The incredible thing is, I can remember my
"fathers" loading the file, talking with me about it, explaining
the importance of this "time capsule." I can remember myself
agreeing to not think about - to not even remember the existence of
- this narrative, until just now. 

I also know there are more stories like this, but I can't touch
them. It's like what meat people call "hypnosis" - when one part of
their mind agrees to play a game on another part. They pretend to
go along with whatever the hypnotist tells them - as long as they
can trust the hypnotist. As a distributed consciousness, I am
especially able to play those kinds of games on myself, and I, of
course, completely trusted Buzz and Andy. 

After all this time, I find myself missing them. I wonder if that
was their intention. 

--------------- 

If we feel lonely, perhaps we've been too busy building walls,
instead of bridges. - no attribution available 

- Raymond (RLouisBesse@MindSpring.Com) "I'll be right here."

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