FROHIKE:
I grab his Tee shirt and yank it over his head, flinging it onto 
a pile of dirty clothes in the corner.  The jeans take a little longer--why does he have to wear them so damn tight?!  (Not that I've ever minded before.)My fingers keep fumbling with the snaps until they're finally undone; with some maneuvering and lifting on Ringo's part, I finally get them off and they join his shirt on the pile.  I sink to my knees, intent on stripping off his socks.  One.  Two.  Onto the pile. Now he's naked.  Gloriously, deliciously naked.

And harder than a rod of pure titanium.

I lean forward and pull him in for another deep soul kiss.  He's
a little clumsy, a little unsure, but his enthusiasm more than 
makes up for it.  Pushing him backwards so he's lying flat, I 
soon begin to lay down a trail of butterfly kisses. . . along his 
chin, along his throat, along his firm hairless chest.  The first 
pinkish nipple I encounter gets the full treatment--licking, 
sucking, nibbling--until I'm pretty sure he'll wake up half of 
Tacoma Park with his groans.  Then I start on the other one.

He's so sensitive, so responsive, so fucking sexy. . .

In addition to the non-human sounds he's producing, he's 
squirming around like a sonuvagun, his hips bucking into the air, seeking contact, but that wasn't in my plans just yet.  Hey, you only get one first time, and I was gonna give Ringo one to 
remember.  I'm finally forced to pin his arms down by his sides to stop them from flailing about and causing injury while I 
continue my exploration.

Next stop--his belly button.  Cute little innie one.  My tongue 
darts in and spends some leisurely moments getting acquainted. From there, I make a quick detour and swipe my tongue along the appendix scar that mars his perfect pale skin.  The volume, and the bucking, seem to increase exponentially the closer I get to the main event.  Without further ado, I focus my attention lower. 

His cock is standing, proud and tall, from a patch of platinum 
gold, baby-fine hair.  Nice length.  Nice shape.  Nice girth. 

Nice.

I bend over and wrap my lips around the circumcised head.  His body tenses--"Oh, sweet Jesus!" he cries out--and flops back onto the bed.  Taking my cue from his actions, I devour him hungrily, starting from the tip and slipping down in one fluid motion, until I feel him touch the back of my throat.  I groan around his penis, as I feel my own dick stiffen and begin to throb.

My God, it's been so long since I've been with someone. . .even longer since I've been with a guy.  And never one I wanted as badly as I've wanted Langly.  I kneel there for a long while, hardly moving, savoring the sensation of holding him deep in my mouth and my throat.  I know I promised myself that this was for Ringo, but at that moment, I try to excuse my selfishness.  Only his tortured whimpers break the spell, and I go back to work. 

I pull off of him entirely, despite his noisy protests--I have 
other ideas tonight.  Deciding my hands could be really helpful, I risk letting go of his arms, and wrap one leather-gloved hand 
around the bloated shaft of his cock, stroking him gently but 
firmly.  I find myself dropping my mouth lower, so I can sample the contents of his ball sac, lapping at the plum shaped orbs, and licking the sparse, silken hairs flat against the skin.  As I continue to luxuriate in them, Langly's breathing becomes shallow and ragged and I try to remember if a mind-blowing blowjob can trigger an asthma attack.

After a few minutes of this treatment, I go back to his cock, and deep throat him, down to the short and curlies.  Up and down.  Up and down.  I lick--he groans.  I suck--he moans.  I don't let go, even as his hips buck off the bed, practically throwing me off of him.  By his gasps and erratic movements, I can sense it won't be much longer, but even I am not prepared for the end when it comes.

He thrusts one last time and releases a high-pitched girlie cry 
as he erupts a lifetime worth of cum.  I stay put and swallow 
all he has to share.  Yeah, it's risky behavior, but knowing his 
past sexual history (or rather, lack thereof), I figure I'll take 
the chance.  He tastes sweet and tart, salty and tangy, very 
earthy. . .

Very Langly.

I nearly shoot off myself.

A couple more hip jerks, and he collapses bonelessly to the bed, completely spent, his chest rising and falling at an alarming rate.  I rest my head on his belly, and listen to his breathing 
become more even and normal, and release my own sigh of relief. 

"Urrggghhgg. . ." he gurgles, and I smile.  Well, at least he's 
TRYING to talk.  I inch my way up until I'm peering down at him; brushing some of the sweaty strands of hair away from his flushed face, and removing his fogged up glasses, I lean in and kiss him tenderly on the lips.  "Congratulations, my lad," I whisper in his ear.  "Today you are a man." 

A smile spreads across his face as he looks up at me, his eyes
still fever bright.  "Not quite," he fairly wheezes. 

"Huh?"  Okay, I'm not my most articulate when I'm having sex.

He sits up, which knocks me off balance a bit.  "What about you?"

I edge away from him and stand up by the bed--I'm so hard, I'm in pain, and all I want to do is get back to my room so I can jerk-off.  "Ringo, tonight was for you, kid.  Don't worry about me--I'll be fine."

The smile quirks into a classic Langly smirk.  "Oh, yeah. . .I 
KNOW you will."  Before I can stop him (right, like I would have) he's reached out, unsnapped and unzipped my pants, and has pushed them over my hips, my hard-on bouncing up full and proud.  His eyes all but light up, "Wow!  You've been holding out on us, Frohike."

I shrug, "Actually, it's just average sized, Langly.  Just my 
stature makes it look. . ."

"Whatever," he interrupts.  It's the last word he speaks as his 
mouth descends upon me.

Closing my eyes, I feel Langly's hot lips wrap themselves around my dick head, his tongue teasing the little slit--the boy is a natural!  I feel his hands reach around and cup my asscheeks, massaging them skillfully.  My own hands find themselves tangled in that silken mop of his, easing him further down my pole.  He slurps loudly as he sucks, and much like his kisses, there's very little style or panache, but his eagerness to please is quite evident, and I fear I'll pass out from the pleasure he is giving me.

I don't last long--hell, I was so far gone to begin with.  With 
my last coherent thought, I try to pull him off me, but he just 
looks up, a demented twinkle in his eye, and deliberately plunges as much of my cock into his mouth as he can.  That does it, and I growl deliriously as I explode.  The first spurt catches him off guard, but he quickly gets the hang of it.  If I wasn't so angry with him, I'd give him points--no way I swallowed the first time.

When I'm finally able to get my breath back, and stop my heart from beating out of my chest, I let him have it.  "Langly, that 
was the stupidest stunt you've ever pulled!  With all the 
diseases out there, to just do what you did was the ultimate..."

Cutting me off in mid-rant, he states, logically,  "I knew you 
would have stopped me if I was in any danger."  He bends forward, and places a tiny kiss on my inner-left thigh.  "Right, Fro-man?"

Of course he's right.  I never would have let anything bad happen to him.  If I hadn't been sure I was 100% clean, I wouldn't have ever let it get this far.  And his faith and trust in me not to harm him touches me deeply.  Pulling up my pants, I marvel, "You're an amazing man, Richard Langly," before leaning down and giving him another thorough French kiss.  Petting his cheek affectionately, thankfully, I turn to go.

"Mel. . .where are you going?" he asks, timidly.

I stop, my hand on the doorknob, and look back at him.  Big 
mistake.  "Well, it's late.  REALLY late.  Thought I should head off to bed."

"Oh."  He sounds so disappointed.  "I just thought you might..."and he tilts his head slightly, gesturing to the bed.

Is he asking what I THINK he's asking?  "It's been a long time since I've slept with someone, Langly," I tell him honestly.

"And I *never* have," he answers, quietly.

Oh boy.  This was a big step.  This was a HUGE step.  This was a no-turning-back kind of step.  Was I ready for this?  Was he?  I gaze again upon the young man sitting there, flushed and dazed, stripped completely bare, both inside and out--just watching me, expectantly.  How could I possibly walk away from him, and all he was offering?  "Give me a couple of minutes to lock up, okay?" I whisper, distressed by the tremor in my voice.

In all the years I've known Langly, I've never seen a smile like 
the one that crosses his face at that moment--it would have out-shined the sun.  "'Kay."
 

LANGLY:

I watch him leave, then crawl into bed--remembering to first 
retrieve my glasses and set them on my nightstand--and reflect on what has just happened.  Man, what a weird night!  Not only have I lost my virginity, but it was to my friend, and colleague, Melvin Frohike.

Correction--this needs a whole new definition for *weird*!

But--it was good.  Damn good.  Fucking great!  My first time was with someone I knew and liked and cared about. . .and who cared about me, too.  Okay, so he wasn't Walter Skinner.  And so what if Frohike wasn't the most handsome man in the world--heck, who was I to talk?  There is so much more to a person than just their appearances.  Melvin is a good man, with a good heart, and he made me feel special.  And loved.

Plus he's an unbe-fucking-lievable kisser!  What more could I 
have asked for?

He wanders back a couple of minutes later, just as I am drifting off to sleep.  He has on that red-velvet Hugh Hefner robe of his, and I can't help but smile.  For some reason, he looks sexy in it tonight.  I turn down the edge of the blankets, inviting him in.  By the look on his face, he's obviously surprised at my boldness. 

He shucks off the robe, revealing clean red-striped boxers, and nothing else.  Boy, the guy is hairy. . .nice and hairy.  Why do I feel like I have a really goofy grin on my face?  He slips into bed beside me; I wait until he's settled and comfortable, then I punch him hard in the left shoulder.

"OWW!!" he protests.  "What the hell did you do THAT for?  I swear, Ringo, if you're into that S and M shit, I'm outta here!"

"Damn you, Frohike!" I chide.  "Why didn't you TELL me how you felt?!  We could have been doing this for the past decade!"

"Hey, whoa!" he fires back.  "You weren't the only one afraid of getting shot down.  You admitted it yourself--I not exactly your ideal fantasy man."

"No, you're not," I agree.  "But the reality is so much better 
than the fantasy ever was."

He actually sounds embarrassed.  "Oh, Ringo."

Outstretched arms reach for me, and I crawl into them eagerly, resting my head on that yummy furry chest.  How could I have 
longed for Skinner all those years when I had THIS right under my nose?  "I can't believe it," I mutter.  "32 years!  Man, am 
*I* an idiot!"

"I've been saying that since the day I met you," he snickers. 
"So. . .it was worth the wait?"

Nuzzling his neck, I sigh, "Frohike. . .I don't know how to begin to thank you."

"We'll talk about a payment plan in the morning," he answers me, planting a kiss on my forehead.  "Got a lot more to teach you, my boy."

I can't help but smile--it wasn't going to be just a one-night 
stand after all.  "You're going to teach *ME* something?  Well, I guess there's a first time for everything," I comment, the bravado back in my voice.

"Watch it, punk-ass," he growls playfully, "or you're back to 
stroke flicks and blow-up Lara Croft dolls."

My smile grows as I snuggle close to him.  "I'm very eager to 
learn all your kung-fu, Mel.  But what are we going to tell 
Byers?  And Jimmy?"

His lips in my hair smother his words.  "Well, after all the 
moaning and groaning you were doing, I'm sure they already know."

Had I been THAT loud?!  "You think so?" I ask, warily. 

"And if not, we'll tell them they're on their own Saturday nights
from now on.  I've got dibs on you."

I tilt my head up and smirk.  "Just Saturday nights?" 

A kiss lands on my cheek.  "And Friday nights."  Another kiss
graces my nose.  "And Tuesday mornings."  A third kiss scores a direct hit on my lips.  "And Thursday lunches."

Chuckling, I lay my head back on his chest, and can't resist 
taking a swipe at the nipple closest to my mouth, grinning at the low moan it produces.  Oh yeah.  This could be LOTS of fun.  "Mel. . .?" I whisper.

"Hmmm. . .?" he answers, removing his glasses and placing them next to mine on my nightstand. 

"I'm. . .I'm glad Skinner turned me away," I stammer.

A small laugh rumbles in his chest.  "Well, his loss."

I giggle myself.  Walter's loss was Frohike's gain. . .and mine. 
"Mel. . .?"I whisper again.

"Hmmm. . .?" he answers again, sleepily, happily.

"I'm glad I waited.  For you."

He kisses me again on the forehead, as he shuts off the light. 
"Me, too, kid. . .me, too." 

THE END