Mick and Dingo


Class ended at five that Thursday. It had been a
very hot day and had the lecture hall not been
air-conditioned those three hours of Greek and
Persian history would have lasted an eternity.
Well, I suppose there's not much to complain
about. It was over, you see, in three days I'd
take the final and have the rest of my summer
free.

Stale, humid air hit like a ton of bricks the
moment I stepped out onto the street. My
movements, once swift and agile, were suddenly
awkward and sluggish. What drive I had to leave
that place in a hurry had just been dashed. When I
ought to have run slowly I walked down the
hillside. Like a tortured man I limped my way
through Corsacant Boulevard to the train station.
I was breathless and sweaty. I stopped for a
moment to get comfortable but the heat was simply
too oppressive and the air too muggy. Somehow I
made it up the three flights of stairs, thankful
for the strong, refreshing breezes from the
passing trains.

The whole station was open to the air, noisy and
dark, not dirty. Oddly enough there were large,
factory-like fans turning overhead. I had never
noticed them before, even after a whole year of
commuting.

The time was five thirty. It had taken me a half
hour to come so far. I was terrible and still
sweating. I stood behind a tall wide pillar where
I managed to calm myself.

Few people stood around the platform. Dingo had
not yet arrived. He was late, late, big late. Our
train came and went. I let it pass. I wouldn't
leave without him. Meanwhile I bought us new
tickets for the next trip that was due to arrive
in an hour. I figured he would make it in time.

Dingo was my best friend. My best friend in the
whole world I would say. We were both born on the
same day though half a world apart. More like a
whole world apart. To the outside we seemed to
have little else in common but that's what I loved
about us, as no one could see through the
differences as we did. We were inseparable from
the time we were ten, when I had moved to
Australia from the United States.

Until we graduated high school, we lived in a
small town in Western Australia. He wanted to come
to the city but his family was poor. He was so
happy when I brought him along with me to Sydney
after I left for college.

Dingo was an incredibly talented tribal dancer.
For some reason, though, his elders wouldn't let
him participate in ceremonies, even those for
adolescents his age. He would put on performances
just for me. As he dances he transforms into
something else, something greater. He flows with
the music, music, I think, only he can hear. His
movements were so natural so perfect so
coordinated even then. In no time at all he joined
an aboriginal dance troop in the city. It was a
local company that did few tours through the
country. He said he liked it that way. I've been
to all his shows of course. I've dragged him to a
few of my lectures. He had quite an appreciation
for learning.

He appeared on the platform, naked from the waste
up. The heat must have gotten to him too. He was
so much more comfortable with his body than me.
His skin was so dark--almost totally black--and so
smooth. He was toned but not overtly muscular. He
carried his jacket over his shoulder and held some
paper in his hands. A dark hat covered his dense,
bushy hair. He approached blank faced and sad
until he saw me and then a great smile brightened
his face. As he came closer I saw tribal patterns
of some sort drawn around his forehead, cheeks and
parts of his chest running onto his back. I
guessed he was in dress rehearsals.

"You waited for me, mate."

"Of course, I wouldn't leave you high and dry.
Here, I bought us tickets for the next train."

"I'm sorry I'm late."

"That's all right. You're safe with me. Let's talk
around here."

We walked around the column a bit. There was
scarcely a soul around. We leaned back against the
pillar, next to each other. He put his hat on me
playfully.

"You look sad. Is something wrong?"

"You know Charlie?"

"Charlie Cole. He's been over a few times."

"He was beat up pretty bad, mate. Bad."

"I didn't know."

"No one did 'till this morning. I went to see him
in the hospital. He'll be all right I think,
physically all right."

"Why did they do that?"

"Because he likes other guys, you know."

"I see."

"It's not so uncommon. Most dancers are,
aboriginals, I mean. The directors don't like us
showing it on stage but sometimes it does so
anyway."

"The sexuality."

"We're all mates up there, all guys."

Here I put my hand on his arm, his biceps. I
rubbed gently up and down and squeezed it a
little. Sometimes I wondered about him. When we
were boys he thought nothing of exposing himself
in front of me. We went to the bathroom together.
It began when he followed me in one fine day.
Naturally I did the same to him. After a while it
was just something we did, without thought. We
bathed together, changed together, wore each
other's clothing. When it was just him and me, he
would go about naked.

When we were thirteen he took off my clothes--I
let him after I had pulled down his shorts one
playful afternoon. That night we slept together in
bed for the first time. There was nothing sexual,
we didn't 'experiment,' we didn't explore our
bodies that way, we didn't have to since most of
the time our balls were out in the open anyway.

Standing under the pillar, next to him on the
platform, there was one morning that suddenly came
back to me. I remembered awaking in bed, in his
arms, sporting some stiff erections. We must have
been fourteen or fifteen. Our dicks were touching
even but neither he nor I took any real notice of
it. We got up and did what we did seemingly
without shame or embarrassment, as if there was
nothing wrong at all with or about our bodies or
our closeness.

"Is it accepted? With...."

"Not exactly. No one cares as long as you have
children."

"Dingo, is that why you were never initiated?"

"That and I didn't want to leave you."

"Dingo. Not for me."

"For you I'll give up the world."

He looked at me as if he was about to cry. What
could I do? I hugged him hard. I pressed him. I
pressed our bodies so hard we could've almost
morphed into one body. I felt around the nape of
his neck, massaged the back of his shoulders and
his shoulder blades. Then with my finger tips, I
followed his spine up and down to his ass. I
squeezed his butt cheeks through his shorts. We
relaxed our embrace and stared, our eyes inches
apart. I kissed his dark, full lips.

"You've made me so happy."

I pushed his hair back to reveal the tops of his
pecs. (His hair was a little past his shoulders.)
I fondled his nipples. He moaned a little.

"You better stop before someone notices."

"I remembered when we would sleep naked together.
I should have touched you all over, kissed you all
over back then, so long ago."

"I was dying to make love with you. You know,
mate, the only wet dream I can still remember was
about you. We were in class, in front of everyone
and you took off my shorts and began to kiss my
dick. I tried to make you stop but you wouldn't.
When I awoke I was still ejaculating. We were both
covered in my semen. We've a lot of time to make
up. Mick, my mate Mick." He put his arms around my
waist. "I'm so stiff. My balls are dying for your
attention."

"In the train, when no one's looking. I can't keep
my hands off you."

"Then don't. I love this contrast." He put my hand
over his left pectoral. My palm cupped around one
of his nipples. I felt his heart beating hard like
his erection. "I love this contrast, the contrast
in our skins. Do you like my black skin?"

"Yes, so much, it's so smooth, Dingo, so dark, so
soft."

"I like your white skin, too, you know. I've
always been attracted to fair skinned men. I don't
like dark features much."

"Oh, but I do." Here I kissed his cheeks and lips.
I let my hand wander down from his nipples to his
belly, his belly button, then I let it rest
casually over his crotch. He was only slightly
bulging and I felt a distinct throb when I pressed
a little firmly. "How dark is your dick?"

"It's a dark, dark navy blue almost purple, like
my nipples. The head's a lighter a little but
still dark."

"It must be very beautiful."

"And it's all for you and you're all for me."

We hugged again.

"Has it grown a lot?"

"Of course, mate, it's just my size, I'll let you
measure it."

"I can't believe I've been living with such a hot
stud and have done nothing with his body for
almost a year now."

"I didn't think you were into it. I was nervous,
too, to approach you like that. Do you want to be
lovers?"

"In a New York minute."

Thankfully the train arrived early. We boarded
without difficulty a car that was almost deserted.
After one stop we were all alone. Again I gave my
friend all the attention he deserved. I began with
his nipples until they hardened. Then we kissed
and kissed for what must have been forever. I
massage his muscles all over and ended by putting
my hand over his crotch again.

"You want to see my penis?" I nodded and he pulled
down his shorts to expose himself. I was in
heaven. With my hands I lightly rubbed the shaft
of his dick and cupped his balls.

"Your scrot is so cute." I played with the loose
skin of his ball sack. His dick throbbed and
twitted. It grew larger, stiffer. He let me do
whatever I wanted. His privates were so dark. Then
to his dick. Only six and half inches long, it was
as large as mine and gorgeous. I couldn't have
ever imagined what his little boy parts had grown
up into. The head of his dick was slowly poking
its way out from the cover of his foreskin. It was
lighter in color than the rest of his body and
seemingly coarser. The rest of his shaft was
smooth and straight and though he had quite an
erection the skin was silky soft. Only his scrot,
of course, was not so soft. It had been before but
the more I stimulated him and his excitement grew
to my affections his testicles were pressing up
against his body and his scrotal skin was dense,
rough and shrinking as his testes began to throb
with pleasure.

I pulled back his foreskin after I kissed what was
exposed of his very sensitive glans. He let out a
laud moan. I had his foreskin all the way back and
held his penis pointed at my face. I licked and
kissed every square inch of his aboriginal
manhood. He let out a few more moans and I said
things like, "it's so dark," or "it's so strong,"
all of which further aroused him.

Then I massaged and rubbed all around the
underside of his bulging head. His hips bucked
suddenly and he tensed. His whole body was ready.
He was about to climax.

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

I put his dick in my mouth and sucked it all in.

When he finished unloading himself, he sat next to
me. Still exposed, though his dick was flaccid. I
played with it some more. His head was still
covered in my saliva. I licked it and as I did it
I felt it slowly stir and get warmer. I played
with his foreskin and he got another erection.
This time I jacked him off and in no time he came
again. He got his pants up just as the train made
it to our stop.

At home we went right to bed and we pressed our
balls and dicks up against each other. He gave me
the same favors I had given him. Then late at
night when we had recovered a little, we made love
by thrusting our erections between our legs. I
couldn't keep my hands off him, off his whole
body.

That night I slept in his arms, in an embrace, hot
and sweaty again. We were both exhausted. I could
hear his heart beating and somehow I felt safe and
free. I hugged him hard again and kissed his lips.
I knew at once I was with my soulmate.