There is something about the love of two men. They hold you, even when they hold you at a distance, and you always know, if you have given them everything they've ever wanted, you will never have to worry about them leaving. I have two such men. Jay and Adam.

My name is Mavis Ayilah Clifford. I'm considered an African-American woman, although my mother was from Grenada, and my father was born in the United States of Jamaican parents. If I were to describe myself physically, I'd have to say that I am medium height (about 5'5), medium brown-skinned (somewhere between sienna and the color of caramel). I have dark brown eyes with long dark lashes-- jealous women call them "cow eyes", lustful men call them "fuck me eyes". My hair is dark brown, and, if I wore it natural, it'd be a 1970s blow-out afro. Despite what the present generation thinks, the afro is not my idea of what should ever be be "in" again-- probably showing my Product-of-British-Commonwealth- Parents' influence. So, wearing it as I do now, my hair is straight, and a little longer than shoulder length.

My features always made me attractive to African American men, but for some reason, I've never felt totally comfortable with African-American men. Maybe it's because my first experience was with the boy from the white family who lived next door to us.

That boy's name was Perry. Perry and I were the same age. He was on the small side of medium build, and a little lanky. His hair was dirty blonde, and his eyes were an incredible combination of light gray irises that made his pupils look dark gray instead of black.. He was kinda picked on by our classmates, and I stood out as "naturally odd-man-out" in our predominately white neighborhood. As a result, Perry and I gravitated towards each other.

We were both loners and avid readers, so, one day, we got into this habit of going to the library together.

"Hey 'La," Perry whispered from around the corner of Aa to An, "I found something!"

"What's that?"
"I something....good."

I put the book I was half-heartedly perusing back in its slot on the shelf and walked around to where he was to see what the fuss was about.

"Look at this!" he hissed. "This is hot! I wonder how this got here?"

It was a small paperback, with kinda cheap dark grey paper and dark black lettering. The edges of outside of the book weren't worn, but not as crisp as they would have been if the book were new.

Perry started quoting a portion of the page he was on, looking nervously over his shoulder to make sure no one else was around. As he went on quoting it, I felt a kind of tingle.

"They call a...a..vagina, a quim!" he said, looking up at me with bright eyes.

Thus was the beginning of our sexual awakening. From then on, we spent all our spare time in the library, trying to find the most salacious reading we could so we could hide away together and read it.

Even though we were both afforded time and opportunity to "make it" during our teenage years, Perry and I never did anything but fantasize together. That is, until the summer before we each left for college. He was going west, to Indiana. I was staying east, but going further south. We were 18, both working summer jobs, and spent every spare evening we had in common, together.

My parents would never have taken kindly to me being at Perry's house with his parents gone. They would have been even more upset if they had known how much time I spent in Perry's bedroom in the past without his parents there-- but they never really had a reason to worry until this particular day. I got home from work and my parents were still working. It was late afternoon. Perry's parents were gone for the week and he had the afternoon off too. When he saw my friend drop me off in front of the house, he popped over.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Sure. Starved. I didn't even get a lunch today. The trade off for getting out early".

"Cool. Come on over. My parents left me some cash and a fridge full of food to keep me while they're away. We can order pizza and watch a movie."

"Sounds good," I replied, and I dropped my backpack in my room and followed Perry over to his house.

We ordered pizza and wings, and stuffed ourselves, then retreated to his bedroom. His room was always a fun place. He had tons of books, posters of our favorite bands and writers, and a stereo with a cassette player and a turntable. He put on some music and started going through a bag of books.

"Remember how we used to go to the library to look for books that had the dirtiest parts?" he asked.

"Sure, I remember," I replied, laughing.

"Did you ever think about any of it after you went home?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know...like think about it." He looked at me, with those striking gray eyes, the bangs from his hair flopping into his face. A book in one hand, his other hand propping him up on the bed.

I knew what he meant, but I guess I was afraid to admit it. There were moments in the past where I felt like I was-- and wanted to be-- more than a platonic friend and confidant to Perry, but the sense was fleeting. This time, the sensation was stronger. It felt like our relationship was about to change. He waited for my response, and I said nothing. He was the brave one. He broke the silence by saying,

"Well, I have. I've thought about it. Doing some of those things. With you."

I just stared at him. He laid back on the bed and and opened the book he had been reaching for.

"I went shopping at the bookstore before I came home," he said. "It's great to be old enough to buy these books from the bookstore without feeling like you're stealing," he laughed.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Something by our favorite author. Anonymous," he laughed. For the first time with him, I giggled, instead of laughing. I put my hand to my mouth and shyly looked downward as if to cover up my amusement.

"God, you have beautiful eyes, 'La." he replied suddenly, looking up at me from his reclined position. "Every woman, black or white, should have your eyes."

"They can't have them. Their MINE!" I said, laughing.

"I'm serious!" he said, sitting up, with his legs still stretched out on the bed.

I stopped laughing and laid down next to him, staring at the ceiling. I started singing along with the song playing on the stereo. He started singing along with me, first trying to hit each note, and then, just giving up and purposely striking the wrong ones. I poked him in the side, each time his note went really sour, and he laughed and kept going. We kept on with this until the song ended and another one began. It wasn't as fun to try to sing the next song off key. It was too upbeat to make it sound bad.

"You know what, Perry?" I said, looking at him beside me. "What are we going to do being so far away from each other for a whole year?"

"We'll be back for holidays. And the summer."

"Yeah, I know. But what you just said made me think. We're not going to see each other for a long time. Who do I get to read 'Anonymous' books with?" I tried to laugh.

"Your hand?" he replied.

"No," I answered, playfully, but, despite my avoiding his questions a minute ago, I was angry that he wasn't taking me seriously. "You're hand!" I rolled over onto him, tackling him, and sat on him as we wrestled each others' arms in the air, laughing and giggling until we were suddenly still. He was getting hard. The bulge in his crotch was obvious, so obvious that I'm sure all the fastest girls on the football cheerleading team-- you know, all the ones with the long blonde hair, the bluest eyes, and the longest list of sexual partners no one at the age of 18 should be proud of-- would wish they were where I was right now.

Perry instinctively pushed my shirt up at my waist and held his hands there, revealing my belly button. Both of us stared at his hands, the paleness of them smoothing their way up my brown torso, underneath my shirt to my breasts. He reached around and unfastened my bra and let it bunch underneath my tshirt. When I think back on it, he did it as though he'd been practicing it all his life. He squeezed my breasts, as if getting to know them by feel, and then let his arms lift, trying to get the shirt to move higher. I understood what he was trying to do, and I reached down and pulled it and the bra off my arms and over my head.

I heard the sound of Perry sucking in air, as if he were losing his breath. His eyes rolled backward and he sighed. The crotch of his pants were damp, as if he wet his pants. I watched his face intently, as it seemed as if he were going to faint.

"Ohhh, shit," he said in a voice languid and soft. "That felt good."

"What?"

"I just came."

"Really?"

Perry pressed his head further back into the pillow and looked up at me with a sleepy smile. "Yup". He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me down beside him. "And it was gooood."

With everything that was going on, we didn't notice that the music had stopped. It was totally quiet, except for the sound of each of us breathing. If you could hear two people think, I'm sure that would have been heard too. We did nothing but breathe for a few minutes, until Perry looked over at me and realized I was topless.

"You know. From everything we've read about sex, I should be returning the favor."

"What do you mean?"

"You know," he replied. He turned around towards me and pressed his lips to mine, for the first time. This too, felt like he'd been practicing it all his life, because I felt a shiver go down my back that I've never felt quite the same way with anyone ever again. He pulled off his own t-shirt, maybe to make me more comfortable. I felt just fine, only a little nervous, but he always had a way of deferring to me that was charming. He wrapped his pink lips around my nipple, which was several shades of brown darker than the flesh surrounding it. His hands squeezed my breasts as they moved down my body. He kissed my ribs, then my belly, dipping his tongue in my navel and nuzzling his nose there. He moved his hands down and unfastened the button of my jeans, grabbed the tab of the zipper and pulled it steadily downward. I took his cue, and inched out of my jeans while lying there, my hips moving side to side as he gripped the waistband and pulled downward.

"Turn around," he said, as I lay there in my pink cotton panties. I did as he asked, my cheek to the pillow. He pulled my panties down around to my thighs, then slowly along my legs, savoring the moment. "God," he gasped. "You have the most beautiful...behind." He placed the palm of his hands on my ass cheeks and I felt his lips place little kisses all over them. His breath was hot. I could feel the skin of his face just so close to places no one else had ever seen in quite this way. The thought made me shiver. His hands, which were moving deftly, but gently, held my hips and raised me to my knees. He smoothed his hands along the insides of my thighs and both of us startled when the edge of his forefinger brushed against the hairs of my sex. The shock only lasted for a moment. Instead of staving him off, it gave him courage. He rubbed his forefinger along the slit of my pussy and felt the dampness transfer from it to him. He moved his finger back and forth along the slit until he felt a point that was not as soft as the folds his finger moved along. He wasn't sure what to do with it.

Instead of pursuing it further, I felt him kneel lower, then he laid down, so that his head was underneath my hips. His fingers probed my private parts gently, looking for where the moisture was coming from. I peeked underneath my arm at him, to see what he was doing. He was totally engrossed. His eyes transfixed. Looking further down, his crotch had begun to swell again. My concentration on what he was doing faded when I felt his tongue tickling the areas he had taken the time to chart out mentally as where he wanted to go. First he let it trail along the dark brown-edged vermilion inner lips, using his fingers to part the outer lips that were the color of my flesh, only covered with a modest amount of shiny, curly black hairs. He dipped his tongue as deep between the folds as he could, particularly when he found the opening. He tried to dart his tongue in and out, like we had read in books, but although it made my knees weak to feel it, he didn't seem to feel as satisfied with it. Then, he found my clitoris. He trailed his tongue around the angular mountain of flesh surrounding it, then let the pebbly surface of his tongue rub against it repeatedly. Unable to resist the thought of penetrating me somehow, he put the tip of his middle finger to the opening of my pussy and rubbed it lightly, then slowly slipped it in. I expected pain when he did this, but before I had time to wince, I realized his finger was inside and, feeling quite good, moving in and out while he licked my clit. I heard myself moaning softly, felt one of Perry's hands move up to my left breast, squeezing it as if he were molding it. I wanted to move my hips and at the same time was afraid to. I felt my body shudder. My stomach felt queasy, but good at the same time. All of a sudden, I let out a moan, one that was louder than all the previous ones. I felt something rushing from between my legs.

I thought maybe I'd peed my pants-- except I didn't have on any pants. So worst yet, I'd peed on my best friend. Perry didn't seem to care. His pants were unzipped, his cock in his hand, and he buried his face deeper into my pussy, stroking his cock back and forth. I stared at what he held in his hand as much as I could as he stroked it. It was about six inches or so, and seemed about an inch and a half in diameter from the way he held it. Veins roped around it, bulging, like an arm vein gone wild. The tip really was shaped like a mushroom, and it was only a few shades darker pink than his lips. Staring at his cock made me forget about what I incorrectly assumed was pee, and I couldn't resist grinding my pussy against his face intermittent with watching him masturbate. I felt myself let go again, and realized that feeling was coming from somewhere other than my bladder. At about the same time, Perry's cock erupted like Mt. St. Helen's. He let out a groan from his throat that turned into a roar, and then there was cum everywhere. Mostly his thighs and his pale belly, but it had hit my thighs and ass as well. It was glistening as it dribbled down his penis. It was a translucent white, and thick, and sticky. It felt warm the first moments after it hit my skin, then kinda like glue as it cooled off.What was between my legs as a result of his attention felt kind of the same, only it stayed feeling like glue and, when I slipped my hand down there to check, it was clear.

Perry's body went limp, just like it did the first time he came. I fell over to his side, my waist just at the level of his head. His arm was flung over my legs for a while as his eyes blinked open and closed. Then he rolled over and placed his head on my belly.

"I think we just did IT," he mumbled.

"Yeah," I said, running my fingers through his dirty blond hair.

"It felt GOOD." he sighed.

"Yeah. It did. Weird. But good."

We spent the rest of the summer feeling "weird but good" together, up until the day we both left for college. We didn't always have the advantage of doing it in a bed, but we made use of wherever we could find. Now that we knew what we'd been reading about all those times, we couldn't let anything stop us.