I chose to post a toned down version of the event that took place. I still think it gets the point across. I was going to add the variation as an attachment, but google drive won’t download. I guess if there’s enough interest, I can post the more detailed version in the comments.
I went back downstairs and spent a little time sitting on the couch watching tv. I just wasn’t tired at all. I straightened Mark’s legs out for him, and laid them in my lap. Curiosity caught the best of me, from his earlier comment, so I slid his pants up his legs a little, and looked at his lower legs. He wasn’t lying. He had a lot more hair on his legs than me. I sat my hand on his calf, and kind of rubbed my fingers along his soft hairs. I reached down and felt my own leg. No comparison. I simply didn’t have much hair.
I got bored after a bit, so I reached over and squeezed his shoulder. I whispered “Mark. Wake up. Let’s go to bed.”
He woke up kind of startled. “What the? How long have I been sleeping?”
“Not long. Should we go to bed?”
“Yeah. Let’s do that.”
I stood up and helped him to his feet. I took him to his room, and told him I was going to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth.
I came back and stripped down to my boxers and crawled into bed, pulling the blanket to my waist.
Mark ran to the bathroom and came back in just boxer briefs. He climbed into bed and turned off the lamp on his nightstand.
“Thanks for coming over Danny. Goodnight.”
“Thanks for having me. G’nite.”
Mark rolled onto his side, and slipped back into dreamland pretty quickly. I, on the other hand, didn’t want to fall asleep. I wanted to see if he was touching me the last time I stayed over, or if it was just a coincidence that his hand ended up where it did. Like he was moving in his sleep. As hard as I tried to stay awake, it didn’t last long.
I did wake up sometime later, when I heard Mark’s door open, and see him slip out. A minute later, I heard a toilet flush and the light that illuminated his bedroom briefly, was extinguished. I quickly rolled onto my back, and pretended I was sleeping.
Mark quietly slipped back into bed and placed his hand on my shoulder. He whispered “Danny. Danny. Are you awake?”
I next felt his hand leave my shoulder and land on my side, at my waist. A single finger trailed up my ribcage to my armpit. Again I heard “Danny. Danny.”
I wasn’t going to budge, as I continued my rhythmic breathing. I felt a hand on my forehead. Then my chest. Then shaking my arm. I next felt the bed move from Mark laying himself down on his pillow. I felt his breathing, so he must have been facing me. He placed his warm hand over the top of my bellybutton and held it there gently. He very slowly moved his hand down. In what felt like minutes, his hand finally reached the top edge of my boxers. I could feel the nervous thump of his heartbeat through my pillow. I could hear him struggling to balance out his breathing. I knew that feeling he was going through. The internal battle between doing something you shouldn’t and weighing the consequences of getting caught. I struggled myself, to maintain my own shallow heartbeat, and not blow my cover.
His hand climbed up hill of blankets bunched up at my waist and slowly pulled them down. I was now uncovered to just past the bottom of my boxers.
What Mark did next was a slow and delicate exploration of my most private domain. It became increasingly difficult to maintain my composure, and act out the role of sleeper. His actions were begging me to wiggle and moan my approval. I had my confirmation, but I still had no idea why.
It continued for several wonderful, yet horrifying minutes, until a familiar reaction started taking place through my entire body.
Then it just ended. Just like that, while the whole of my existence was edging to that wonderful crescendo. He simply let me go. I could understand his reasoning. He probably thought I would wake up at that magic moment, catching him with his hand in the cookie jar, hehe. But damn it! I was mad and frustrated as Hell. As if Kayla’s constant playfulness wasn’t enough, Mark goes and does the same thing. Was I doomed to forever succumb to this torture? Like some plaything, not worthy of a simple orgasm.
After several unhappy minutes rolled by, Mark took ahold of my frustrated and deflated tool, and tucked me back into my underwear.
Mark stayed on his side, facing me. I listened as he slipped back into dreamworld. My mind was a train wreck. I had so many questions, but no way to find answers, unless I called him out. Something about what he had done, felt very experimental. Like he was finding out what I had compared to him. The fact that he felt me everywhere, and how he felt me. It lacked emotion. It felt very clinical. One thing is for sure. I was very curious myself, how I compare to what he has. It only seems fair, that I should get to conduct the same experiment. I wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon.
I very slowly slid my hand along the mattress, closing the space between us. I lifted my hand to feel my way around, and assess my opportunity. After about five minutes of trying to visualize what my blind hand felt, I had a pretty good idea what the lay of the land was. My prospects weren’t looking to good.
Mark was laying on his side, with his legs in a matching bend. His top arm was extended down, with his hand sandwiched between his thighs. Basically, he had his arm acting as a shield in front of his goods. No fair.
I laid there and pouted for a while. Every question I came up with had many different answers, and created even more questions. I eventually rolled onto my side, away from him. The last thought I remember before falling asleep was, there’s always tomorrow night.