Best Gay Erotica 2005 Page 3

  They named him Yang-Qi.

  By the time he could walk, Yang-Qi was toddling after his father’s plow, flinging millet and barley by fistfuls into the freshly turned furrows. By twelve, he was proficient with a scythe and could cut and tie sorghum canes into bundles that he then sold at market, where he haggled harder than anyone else buying, selling, or bartering for their families’ needs.

  Although he carried himself like an adult while at the market, away from it he played and competed like all the other boys in the village. They raced laps around the pond and wrestled each other into submission for the fun and satisfaction of doing so. The boys teased Yang-Qi for having big square teeth and a wheezing laugh, but he didn’t mind; he suffered no worse than his friends who had nicknames like Stink Head, Fish Face, Fatso, and Dum-dum. They in turn called him Yang-Qi the Donkey.

  Village life rarely changes. It moves like a cogged wheel turning a millstone. But boys change, gradually, almost imperceptibly. Their talk drifts from who could spit the farthest or eat the most pickled chilies to who could carry the most water pails furthest and fastest. Their lives were so guided by repetition and custom that new ideas entered their minds rarely and vaguely. They knew what they knew and were taught only what was necessary.

  In this environment, Yang-Qi grew, slowly transforming from heavy-browed plowboy to strong-backed farmer. Like most of his friends, he developed a lean, defined body from working on the family farm, his skin retaining a year-round bronze. His unruly, cropped hair sprouted into glossy waves that curled about the nape of the neck when wet. The peach fuzz over his lip spread like moss across his cheeks and jaw, slowly stiffening into a rough beard that he kept shaven with a razor blade.

  One hot day, after the morning fieldwork was done, Yang-Qi went to cool off at the pond. No one was there. By the way the sun hung in the sky he knew the market would still be busy for a while, so he swam out fully clothed to the sunbaked rock in the middle of the water. Once there, he stripped off his clothes and rinsed them clean before laying them out to dry on the tallest outcropping. He lay down on a shallowly submerged edge, pillowed his head with his hands, and enjoyed the scarce treat of being alone at the pond, the gentle water lapping along his hips, thighs, and between his legs. The heat beaming down and radiating off the rock made his scalp tingle, and something like a chill rippled down his spine, making his nipples hard.

  A breeze skimmed across the water and over his body, pleasantly tickling the hair in his armpits and groin. With eyes closed, he felt the water striders ricochet off his thighs and a dragonfly whiz around his upturned elbow. Soaking in all the vibrations like an antenna, his cock stirred and pulsed. Feeling hot, he splashed a handful of water over his crotch and stomach. The sudden coolness made his cock stiffen, throbbing, the foreskin drawing back from the plum-like head bobbing over his navel. He began jacking off—his balls, loose and hanging from the heat, jounced in the water. Beneath him the sun-warmed stone seemed to melt as the nudge and pull of small, insistent waves rocked him to and fro.

  Suddenly, an unusual splash startled him. It was Dum-dum. He was treading water nearby, sending out ripples that broke against Yang-Qi’s body.

  “Don’t stop,” Dum-dum said, his eyes wide. Yang-Qi blushed hotly but he didn’t stop. He got up on one elbow and continued to work his fist up and down his engorged cock.

  Dum-dum swam closer. He held onto the edge of the rock with one hand, his other hand churning turbulently below the surface. His beefy shoulder twitched and flexed with the vigor of his pumping. Yang-Qi sighed and squeezed out a sparkling rivulet of his slick fluid.

  “Taste it,” Dum-dum said.

  Intrigued, Yang-Qi did as he was told, having never thought to do anything else but smear the slippery stuff over his cock to ease the friction of his hands. He raised a glistening dab of it to his tongue.

  “Good?” Dum-dum asked.

  Yang-Qi nodded. It was like nothing he had ever tasted, at once faintly salty and subtly sweet. He milked his cock for more and stuck his fingers into his mouth. Then, with his spit-lubed hand, he jacked off some more.

  Dum-dum squinted, suppressing a groan. His shoulders hunched in a concentrated contraction. He came so hard that he rose half out of the water, his thick pectorals and ribs flexing and glistening. He shook and shuddered three times before slowly sinking back down to his chin.

  Yang-Qi watched his friend as if seeing him for the first time, fascinated by his broadly muscled torso and strong neck, his smooth, brown shoulders bejeweled with droplets. He felt his testicles draw up and the throbbing ache low in his belly like a light burning more and more brightly. His muscles clenched, and he clawed the smooth rock with his free hand for support. His hips bucked forward as volley after volley of white, hot cum splashed into the blue-green pond.

  The light burning in his belly faded and Yang-Qi became aware again of the rock, the water, the sunlight sparkling on the surface. He looked at Dum-dum, who stared back, riveted, the reflection of water playing in his eyes. Yang-Qi sank onto his haunches and slipped into the water. As if suddenly self-conscious, Dum-dum blinked and swallowed. They gazed at each other in silence, the sun intense on their shoulders. Then Dum-dum uttered, “See you,” and quickly swam back to shore.

  Days passed, and Yang-Qi’s curiosity grew. He was familiar with his own body, all the smooth and hairy parts, but he had never had another body to compare to nor to fill his imagination with, until now. During the day, mindlessly guiding the ox from field to pen, his thoughts would wander back to the pond with Dum-dum climbing out of it. He saw his friend gracefully stride up the bank, his broad back and narrow waist twisting slightly as he stepped out of the water. When he bent over to pick up his clothes, his pale, firm buttocks were thrust into the air like a white peach with a glistening trail of wet hair running down the middle. Yang-Qi remembered the back of his thighs and thick calves flexing as he inserted one leg and then the other into his loose pants.

  In bed at night he aroused himself picturing Dum-dum in the pond, his thick shoulders and chest working as urgently as his hand pumping away underwater. He heard his soft voice saying, “Taste it,” and he would bring his slicked fingers to his lips. He imagined over and over his friend’s contorted face and tensed torso, his shuddering, and he would ejaculate into his hands cupped over the head of his cock. The first night he did this, he brought his smeared hands to his face and inhaled the deep musk of his own ejaculate, the scent like thousands of peeled and quartered persimmons. A thick dollop ran down his wrist and he lapped it up before it could spill onto the pillow. Bitter-melon custard, he thought as he rolled his tongue around in his mouth. If there were such a thing.

  Two weeks passed, and the passion he felt turned into frustration. What nagged him most was the blank in his mind, the mystery hanging between Dum-dum’s waist and knees. Picturing Dum-dum climbing out of the pond, droplets running down his back and legs, he would silently plead, “Turn around! Please!” but the event would play out unchanged every time, like the road to and from market. If he had only caught a glimpse of his friend—all of him—he would be able to imagine everything, and perhaps he’d be satisfied.

  Washing up after work one day, Yang-Qi raised his arm and twisted his neck to inhale the heady scent from his own armpit. Sweat ran down his face to his lips and he wondered if his own smell and taste were unique or if Dum-dum would smell and taste the same.

  The thought was maddening.

  Driven to distraction, Yang-Qi decided to pay Dum-dum a visit. In all these years he had never sought anyone out on purpose, the days too full for planned diversions. He would catch his friends by happenstance, either at the pond or at the market, sometimes on the road. Now, his mind made up, he worried about what to do or say if he found Dum-dum. He came up with no reasons or excuses, but he plodded on anyway.

  It was late in the day, the market would be empty soon, so Yang-Qi headed toward the pond. The only ones there were some younger boys shoving and tossing eac
h other roughly into the water, playing Ruler of the Rock. “Donkey! Come play with us!” they shouted and beckoned. He waved back but shook his head, and marched around to the other side of the pond where a trail ran through the bamboo-covered hill to where he knew Dum-dum lived.

  Yang-Qi had never gone into the bamboo forest, but he was resolute. He followed the trail up and around the side of the hill. At one point he looked through the bamboo and saw the blue-green pond, the rock, and the boys pushing and splashing. A perfect place to watch without being seen, he realized, but his thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sound of an axe striking wood. He resumed his pace.

  A clearing appeared around a bend, and then a modest wood-plank house. Stripped logs lay in an orderly heap near where Dum-dum was swinging his axe, chopping another log into segments. He stood shirtless with his back to Yang-Qi, his legs splayed but planted firmly on the ground. Sweat darkened the waist of his pants.

  Yang-Qi panicked and dived into the side of the hill, crouching in the tall grass. The resonant whacking of the axe disturbed the air. Slowly, Yang-Qi raised his head and eyed his friend, blood pulsing hotly in his neck and temples.

  From chopping and hauling wood and bamboo all his life, Dum-dum had grown more thickly muscled than anyone in the village. Although he was almost a head shorter than Yang-Qi, Dum-dum’s physique made him seem bigger all around. His solid thighs gave shape to his otherwise loose pants. His calves, bare below the rolled-up pants legs, were the size of pear-apples and looked just as firm. His upper back looked almost as wide as a door.

  A sudden breeze caught the grass, sending ripples through the blades. A speck of pollen or dust tickled Yang-Qi’s nose and he sneezed. The axe fell silent. He shrank and held his breath.

  “Who’s there?”

  Thinking quickly, Yang-Qi answered, “Dum-dum, it’s me, Donkey.” He stood up, his heart drumming in his chest. “I was looking for wild ginseng. For my mother,” he added.

  Dum-dum dropped the axe and smiled. “They don’t grow on that side,” he said, stepping toward him. “I’ll show you where you can find some.” He reached out and pulled Yang-Qi up off the side of the hill.

  Dum-dum excused himself to wash up at a water basin on the creaky porch. Watching him splash water on his face and feet, then wiping down his body with a wet rag, Yang-Qi almost forgot why everyone called him Dum-dum. Faint traces of the short, moon-faced boy with the wide-apart eyes and low forehead could still be found on this young man, his features still retaining some of his uncomplicated nature. But his confident air made Yang-Qi realize he certainly wasn’t dumb.

  “Come with me.”

  Dum-dum led the way up a steep hill behind the house. They cut through a dense swatch of old oak trees that gave way to more bamboo. Yang-Qi began to pant, sweat dotting his forehead. Dum-dum glanced back. “We’re not far,” he announced. Then he turned off the trail and began climbing through the bamboo thicket. Yang-Qi picked up his pace to stay close, not knowing where he was being led to and unsure, suddenly, of why he was there in the first place.

  The bamboo opened into a small shady clearing, the ground covered in a soft layer of old leaves turning to mulch. A sparse scattering of ginseng poked their green leaves out of the soil to catch the filtered light, a few older plants sending up berry stalks.

  Dum-dum looked at him expectantly, but Yang-Qi just stood there. He was caught lying and he knew it. His face flushed with embarrassment and his eyes burned with shame. Then Dum-dum took his hand. “I want to show you something,” he said, and he pulled him into a dense bamboo grove.

  A few feet into the grove, the tall bamboo having swung back into place behind them like a curtain, they came to a carefully cleared circle that had been maintained over a long period of time. A layer of dry green leaves carpeted the ground beneath them, the afternoon sun throwing down fluttering shadows of the leaves above their heads.

  “No one’s been here but me,” Dum-dum said. “And now you.”

  Impressed, Yang-Qi walked along the perfect circle of bamboo and realized that what Dum-dum said was true. Not one smooth surface had been carved by a knife or snapped roughly in two, no sign of graffiti or horseplay. He turned to his friend and said breathlessly, “This is beautiful.”

  Dum-dum smiled proudly. Then, as if struck by an idea, he said, “Do this,” and removed his pale cotton shirt, laying it on the nest of leaves. He laid himself down, put his hands under his head, and smiled up at Yang-Qi, waiting for him to follow suit.

  Beautiful, Yang-Qi thought again, this time about his friend. He studied his body, the rise and fall of his rib cage and stomach as he breathed, the pale skin under his arms, and the thin wisps of wavy black hair in each armpit. His eyes followed the line of muscle flaring out from under his arms and tapering to his narrow waist, his navel winking from between the ridges of his abdominal muscles, up the furrow between his pectorals flowing into the sinews of his neck.

  Nervously, he took off his shirt and spread it out beside his friend. But before he could lie down, Dum-dum reached over and pulled him roughly on top of him. He tipped his head and kissed Yang-Qi on the mouth. At first haltingly, then urgently, they sucked and chewed each other’s lips and tongues, licked and bit each other’s ears and necks. Walled inside the green and yellow poles with broken sunlight spotting their skin, they soon began to sweat.

  Gradually, perhaps out of habit or instinct, the two began to wrestle. They grappled and rolled over their rumpled shirts, dried leaves sticking to their backs. While sucking on Dum-dum’s neck, Yang-Qi slipped his hands into Dum-dum’s and pinned them to the ground on either side of his head. He squirmed to get between Dum-dum’s legs, hooked the back of his knees, and began to force his pelvis off the ground.

  With a grunt Dum-dum bucked and flipped Yang-Qi unto his back. Like a shot he dove on top of Yang-Qi, grasped his pants, and yanked them hard, causing Yang-Qi’s stiff cock to slap his stomach with a smack. Helplessly, Yang-Qi watched his pants sail through the air and catch on a bamboo branch high above their heads.

  “Wait!” Yang-Qi cried, as if surrendering. Panting, Dum-dum put his hands up and allowed Yang-Qi to scoot up onto his knees.

  “Yours,” Yang-Qi demanded.

  A small smirk crept across Dum-dum’s lips. Slowly, he got to his feet. His loose pants were stretched out in front as if he had stuck a length of wood there. He stepped forward, the protuberance swaying and bobbing in front of Yang-Qi’s face. A spot of wetness soaked the tip, and Yang-Qi recalled the taste of his own slick juice. He reached up and untied Dum-dum’s pants. It slid off his narrow hips but was caught in front. With both hands, Yang-Qi lifted the soft sail of fabric off Dum-dum’s rigid cock.

  All those nights silently begging him to turn around, and now…Yang-Qi was reminded of tapered purple eggplant, elegantly curved cucumber, goose-necked gourds—things that he had never thought of as arousing before now took on a new significance.

  Like the rest of his body, Dum-dum’s cock was shorter than Yang-Qi’s, but thicker. The shaft, which curved upward, tapered toward the head peeking out of the foreskin. A vein, like a fat earthworm, stretched out of his black pubic hair, down the center of the shaft, and disappeared into the minute folds of skin circling the crimson head. Below, his dark scrotum hugged the base of his cock like two braised eggs, smooth and brown.

  Tantalized, Yang-Qi braced himself with his hands on Dum-dum’s rock-hard thighs and planted his nose between Dum-dum’s legs. He inhaled deeply, the sweaty musk igniting the air in his lungs. Dum-dum laughed and grabbed him by the hair to stop his burrowing. Instinctively, Yang-Qi opened his mouth and began lapping and then sucking on Dum-dum’s balls, making him moan with pleasure.

  As much as he enjoyed rolling those nuts around with his tongue and nibbling the tender sac with his lips, Yang-Qi inevitably worked his way up the underside of the shaft to the head of Dum-dum’s cock. His mouth watered, saliva trickled out the corners of his mouth, and he plunged forward.

 
; The taste and smell of him, the turgid flesh filling his mouth and throat…it was more than Yang-Qi could ever imagine. He sucked that cock ravenously, even reached around to wrap his hands on each hard mound of Dum-dum’s ass to drive more of that cock into his throat.

  Above him he heard Dum-dum catch his breath and sigh. One hand gripped Yang-Qi’s shoulder, the other stroked the back of his head.

  Yang-Qi sucked until he tasted the now familiar taste of pre-cum. He pulled back and a silvery thread ran from his tongue to Dum-dum’s cock.

  “Your mouth is so warm,” Dum-dum whispered, his eyes glazed lustfully. He bent down to kiss Yang-Qi on the mouth and pulled him to his feet.

  Dum-dum pushed Yang-Qi up against the living wall of bamboo and began biting and licking his way down the side of Yang-Qi’s neck, tongued and nibbled one nipple and then the other, then diving into his armpit. Yang-Qi swooned, melted, having never felt such intense pleasure. Dum-dum turned him around and came up from behind, biting his shoulder and running his tongue down the furrow of his back. Then he knelt, eased Yang-Qi’s ass cheeks apart, and plunged his tongue into the dark, hot center. Yang-Qi grasped two bamboo poles for support, threw his head up to the sky, and let out a deep-chested sigh.

  Everything happening was so new and unexpected. Yang-Qi became so hot that Dum-dum’s body felt wonderfully cool, his palms like the flickering shade of leaves, his tongue like waves in the pond. Dum-dum guided his cock and balls back between his legs to lick and suck everything at once. Then he wriggled a spit-slicked finger into Yang-Qi’s tight pink pucker and a flame of red and orange pleasure flared up in him like a struck match. He arched his back and thrust his ass out further. The more Dum-dum worked his finger inside him, biting his blushing buttcheeks and licking his nuts, the more he wanted, hungered for. A sensation rippled out of the pit of his stomach and Yang-Qi couldn’t help but moan.