"Yo, What Up, My Nigga?"

"Hey, My Man! My Man, What Up?"

Following this verbal salutation, there was the intricate, hand-and-body-contact ritual acted out when trendy, hip-hop-lovin' bruthas encounter each other. In this instance, the two bruthas were twenty-four-year-old, Miguel Guerra, a fledgling producer at a New York City recording company, and his twenty-year-old childhood buddy, Damon Sanchez, a community college student, majoring in music composition. Due to conflicting schedules, the two ruggedly attractive young men hadn't seen each other in almost a year. Miguel had just dropped by Damon's new apartment because he wanted to give a listen to, and critique, his younger friend's demo tape.

The young two men spent much of the afternoon casually chatting; catching up on small talk about work and school, discussing current music trends and a few political and cultural issues. Eventually, they got around to listening to and discussing Damon's demo.

Miguel sincerely liked the sound, quality and style of his younger friend's musical creation and promised to bring it to the attention of the top brass at his recording company.

"Awh, man, Thanks!" That'll be great!" gushed Damon, "But, hey, you're not going to fuck-up your own music deal by strong selling me, are you" continued Damon.

"Naw, naw, man. Don't sweat it!" replied Miguel, as a distant, preoccupied expression washed over his face. The two sat there on the couch as an almost audible silence surfaced up between them.

"Hey, man.....what's going on? You've looked kinda out-of-it all afternoon. What's really going on in your life?" interrupted Damon, after many seemingly very long seconds of awkward silence had gripped them.

The question invited the older friend to confide that his fiancee of two years was screwing up his head, big time. He no longer knew where he stood with her. Sometimes she was not just physically, but emotionally, unavailable to him, as well. And due to all the confusion her behaviors caused in his life, every now and then he drank a little more than he should have. And the fallout of that sort of action was that it left him with a lousy attitude, and he often wasn't a very cool person to be around.

"Wow. Not cool, man," began Damon, "...I mean you guys were like soul mates. Every time I was around you and Adrienne, it always made me want to find a girl as perfect as her so my life could be as together as yours"

Miguel Guerra sadly regarded his friend. The words uttered by Damon Sanchez seemed to have exacerbated something wounded and painful buried deep inside the man. His eyes brimmed with tears, and it suddenly appeared that he was choking up to cry.

Wow, thought Damon, macho Miguel Guerra crying? The oddity of that was like seeing an eagle flying backwards. Reaching over, Damon placed his hand on the older man's shoulder, in an effort to comfort. At first, Miguel swiftly turned away, feeling ashamed and unmanly. Then he slowly turned back to face his younger friend; reaching out, he placed his arms around him. Damon eased over a bit on the couch to comfortably encounter the open arms. Suddenly, Miguel Guerra began releasing what seemed like a lifetime of pent-up tears on his friend's shoulder. Damon Sanchez reached up and held his older friend's sobbing, quaking body. Every so often he hushed his big friend whenever he started to blubber that he was sorry.

Nuzzling his chin atop his friend's head, Damon quietly stated that he was there for his friend, and that everything would somehow work out. He began stroking his friend's thick black hair. He even unconsciously kissed the top of his head, trying to calm him. Miguel Guerra's six foot, one hundred and seventy-pound body clung tighter and tighter to the thin, five-foot nine-inch, one hundred and thirty-five-pound frame of Damon Sanchez. It was as though Miguel felt himself helplessly drowning in some dank, shadowy abyss, and he frantically clung to his friend Damon in hopes of some sort of salvation.

Finally, Miguel eased back from Damon's shoulder and solemnly looked into his younger friend's warm, beautiful, brown eyes. They searched each other's eyes for several seconds. Miguel finally broke the silence:

"Sometimes I feel so alone, man, that I don't know what to do. It gets so fucking scary"

Damon looked into the handsome, tear-stained face of his ordinarily up-beat, alegre, happy-go-lucky, friend. It felt so sad to see him so sad. He wished there were something he could do to erase this spiraling darkness controlling his friend's mind. Without any conscious thought, Damon brought his full, Latino lips to his friend's and kissed them softly; sincerely; lovingly. Miguel instantly clutched the body of his friend more tightly than before. Trembling, and sighing deeply, he kissed back. At first, the kissing was just pressing closed, and partly-closed, lips together, and pressing them on other parts of the face.

It was Miguel who moaned and began to lick Damon's teeth through his partly open lips - and then insert his hot, searching tongue into that warm, inviting orifice.

Simultaneously shocked and thrilled, Damon balked. But, the seductive, quiet-fire in Miguel's eyes, and the flaming sexual energy that surrounded and possessed them both, swept them up into a powerful, all-controlling torrent of complete surrender to the other, Damon opened his mouth and hungrily dueled tongues and swapped saliva, with his older friend. Miguel's hot hands began a heated, awkward journey up under his little friend's tee-shirt while he excitedly sucked his face. The moist smooth golden skin of his little friend felt so inviting, so damned welcoming. What was he doing, he thought. Hundreds of times he had fantasized about doing this, but never thought it would ever happen, because Damon Sanchez was a real ladies' man. He had heard many men say that his friend, Damon Sanchez was more guapo than ninety-five per cent of all men and woman. And the single most dynamic thing that made him even more desirably beautiful was the simple fact that Damon Sanchez didn't even realize that he had any beauty at all. Having come this far with his beautiful friend, Miguel Guerra now wanted more than just the mere hugging and kissing.

Easing back up off Damon, Miguel's sad eyes explored his friend's radiant and playful face. Sitting up and leaning back on the couch, he apologized to Damon for letting things get so out of hand.

"Awh, man, no problem! If ya can't git-down-low with your best friend, who can ya git-down with....Huh?" chortled Damon, staring Miguel hotly in the eye with a sly, bewitching smile.

"You mean...you didn't.....you don't.. mind?" asked Miguel.

Damon didn't answer. He just kicked off his tan boots, tugged off his tee-shirt, and got into a kneeling position up on the couch beside Miguel. Leaning toward his friend, Damon placed his right hand behind Miguel's head, and pulled his face up to meet an open-mouth kiss. His other hand headed down for the buckle of Miguel's belt, and undid it. He then went about the scrotum-titillating pleasure of undressing his older friend. When finished, he removed his own jeans and boxers. Miguel's wide, excited eyes were that of a young, awe-stricken child at Christmas. That delicious look of wonder; thinking that all that was being observed was just too good to be true. The hirsute man sat there with his legs wide, his arms stretched out on the back of the couch, watching his younger friend, with all his naked, golden-skinned majesty, moving on the couch beside him. The bulbous red head of Miguel's cock peeked out from its uncut skin, and gushed an abundant river of pre-come, as Damon sat on his lap. That 8-inch piston of the older friend throbbed furiously against the hot thigh of Damon, as he put his arms around Miguel.

As he hotly smooched his older friend's forehead, nose, cheeks and lips, his left hand traveled down to massage the huge, sticky, trembling, uncut cock. With this sudden heated gesture, Miguel Guerra bellowed loudly in sexual excitement, his strong arms flying up and fiercely clutching his sexy younger friend's blazing body, kissing him ravenously.

"Damon..." he breathlessly moaned. "..I haven't had sex for almost two weeks. So If you want to start this, you gotta know, I'm gonna need a lot from you. If you're not willing to give me all! ....send me off to take an ice cold shower now! 'Cause I am a "fucking" animal!'

Instead of being chastened by the statement, Damon's lust was further fueled. He unwound himself from Miguel's embrace. Getting on his knees on the couch, he grasped the thick, hard, vibrating cock, and began licking and kissing the sticky phallus, snaking his tongue down inside the huge, tasty foreskin. Looking up at Miguel, he said: "What you sayin', nigga? That you is too much man for me?! I don't think so, mister mutha fucka! Bring it on, my bitch-nigga! Bring it on!"

With that teasing, he swiftly deep-throated his friend, while savagely massaging and tugging at the big cum-bloated balls. Miguel arched his body almost a foot up off the couch into Damon's mouth, screaming and grunting like a madman. Damon endured the jolting ride, and as Miguel's ass came back down on the couch, Damon had two fingers waiting beneath him and slammed them into the steamy, sweaty bunghole.

"GODDD DAAAAMMMM, MUTTHA FUCKAAAAA!" screamed Miguel as he instantly shot off a load of thick sperm into Damon's welcoming gullet. During his greedy guzzling, for a brief second Damon lost his concentration and slightly choked.

"Yeah, choke, you fuckin' bastard, Choke!" groaned Miguel as he violently squirmed in the thrill of ecstatic sexual release, deliriously slamming his cock down his young friend's throat.

Damon rode the rigid phallus until Miguel had surrendered the last drop of salty, tasty semen, and ceased his rocking and rolling there on the couch. Miguel then pulled his young friend up from his lap and French kissed him deeply. At the same time, he moved a heated hand down to Damon's erect prick. Damon moaned rapturously in the midst of the smoldering, hungry kiss. At which, Miguel roughly threw him on his back, spread his legs wide and swiftly shot down to his crotch to orally engage that raging, aching penis. Cupping Damon's almost hairless ass checks in each of his large hands, Miguel hungrily set out to liberate all that boiling semen that simmered just inside those huge, tasty Latino balls. And it wasn't very long before Damon blasted his friend Miguel's waiting tongue and throat with a milky avalanche of what he had so badly craved.

Almost instantly, Miguel moved up to Damon's soft full lips and kissed him passionately, sharing with him the taste of his own semen, just as he had done for him. While doing this, Miguel's strong arms lifted up his friend's legs and placed them on his shoulders. He continued to hotly ravage Damon's nose, eyes, cheeks, forehead, neck and chest with lusty, sex-starved kisses. All the while his thick, 8-inch invader became more and more agitated; it greedily lusted for some place hot, tight, and funky in which to heatedly plunge. But you just can't insert eight, hard, fat inches of studly man cock into a virgin asshole that has only served as an exit for 20 years. So Miguel's kisses traveled across the exquisite expanse of Damon's chest and stomach on down to his semi-erect phallus. Then, tossing Damon's legs off from his shoulders and higher in the air, his tongue headed for his steamy, Latino boy-pussy. It appeared his younger friend had more hair around his asshole than anywhere else on his body, thought Miguel. The heart-stirring scent that gloriously radiated from that boy-pussy was of Irish Spring soap and sweet, youthful perspiration. Miguel kissed, licked and sucked the tiny anal aperture before he tried invading it with his tongue. The taste, feel and sensation of that anus made the older friend drunk with unbelievable lust. And Damon, too, was was being driven crazy-nuts with anticipation from the titillation and sexualizing of his asshole. Already, his young mind imagined that he felt the fierce, exhilarating thrusts of his friend's steel-hard dick pounding in and out of him. The very thought inspired him to moan and squirm with crazed expectation. Miguel's raging, aroused cock could no longer stand just fiercely slicing the air. It needed some tight, burning, moist flesh in which to wetly slip and slide, dip and glide, and dive and ride. Miguel and his impatient penis thrilled to hear Damon's next words.

"Miguel!...Miguel! Now, man! Pleeze..now!" hoarsely begged the delirious, sex-drenched community college student.

BAM! Like a shot, Miguel's slippery, pre-come-soaked cock was there...carefully sliding into Damon's hot, hairy, saliva-soaked asshole. As the tight hole slowly gave way to accommodate Miguel's invading prick, Damon's anus itched and burned with a deliciously stupefying pleasure/pain sensation. Once the stubborn phallus had forced its way into the inner sanctum, Damon screamed loudly with unanticipated ecstasy. At that exact moment he fervently prayed that his older friend would never ever remove his raging, pulsating penis from his joyous asshole - ever! He had, at last, found a sensation that seemed to fulfill that unvoiced something that he had longed for all his adult life.

He placed his feet on Miguel's chest when he sensed his older friend was about to erupt. It was the most phenomenal experience thus far in his young life, to feel the twitching of every fiber of a much-loved man's body as he's about to pump you full of his fertile, manly seed. At the exact moment his friend blasted his fertile, manly seed, Damon, too, was stimulated to shoot his own abundant load all over both of them.

Minutes later, exhausted, and happily well-spent, Damon caressed Miguel's hair and neck as his older friend's head nestled on his shoulder. It felt good to be friends; it felt good to be spiritual bruthas; it felt good to be lovers. Slowly, Miguel's face came up to look down into Damon's eyes. Damon searched those beautiful loving eyes and spoke.

"Yo! What up, my nigga?"

"You are, mutha fucka! You are!" hoarsely chortled Miguel, smiling broadly and contentedly.