Disclaimers
This story is a work of fiction. It contains descriptions of sexual contact between males. If you are not of legal age to read such material, or if you find this subject offensive, please leave and do not read on. Safer sex techniques (i.e., use of condoms, etc.) have not been included for the sake of storytelling technique. Real life, however, is not storytelling; and condoms should be used without fail during anal intercourse and other high-risk activities (even you boys on PrEP and you undetectable guys).
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Accepting the Petey within, part eleven - fraternity life, brother Paul, 3 of 3
Finally, Paul returns. There is no regularity to his visits and, quite frankly, I have never really looked forward to them. Until now.
In through the bathroom, into my room, PJ bottoms only, blah, blah, blah. This time I throw him two pillows for under his head, so I can keep a better eye on his face. I glance at my alarm clock.
I kneel and gently place my hands on the top of his thighs. He doesn't seem to take notice.
I lean in and swirl my tongue around the head of his dick. A moan, already.
I softly rub back and forth on his thighs. He's not got much leg hair, so I doubt my rubbing will irritate it. I applied moisturizer to my hands, just as a precaution. Tongue still swirling, the moaning lessens.
I lick the length of his flaccid member, still softly rubbing his thighs. With each rub forward, I go just a tad farther. I switch to licking his balls, the rubbing continues. His dick starts to stiffen, but he would normally be rock-hard by now, so I take this as a good sign. I look up and his eyes are closed.
I take his cock into my mouth. No suction, just contact. His breathing deepens a little. My hands are at his waist and I fear I am moving too slowly. His lips are pursed when he exhales, like he's trying to slow things down as well.
Back to his balls. I suck both into my mouth and very gently tug. He moans. My hands advance to their destination. I make contact, rubbing the pad of my thumbs ever-so-gently over his nipples.
I sudden inhalation causes a moment of concern, but a slow pursed-lip exhalation lets me know we are both in this together.
The fun begins.
Back to his dick, which I am getting to appreciate for the first time. Nothing special length- or width-wise, but I can perform magic on a pencil or a beer can. I just let the length of his hardening dick rest on my tongue. I now have his nipples between my thumb and index fingers and am rotating his nipples ever-so-slightly. I close my lips around him.
For the first time ever, I am sucking Paul's dick. Not really sucking, because there is no suction, but moving my lips up and down his shaft. His boner now really is a rock. Maybe that's why it is so sensitive to him.
I change the direction of my thumb, so I am now milking his nipples. I am touching him so softly. I doubt I would even feel this, if I were doing it to myself. But, it seems to be doing the trick. Dispersing the stimulation is allowing him to tolerate more. Though I sense "tolerate" may soon translate to "enjoy".
Unfortunately, I still had the pile driver technique in my head and I momentarily held just the head of his cock in my mouth and started gently sucking. Just the head of his cock and the tip of his boner. And milking his nipples. He shoots his load.
I take my fingers off his nipples and his cock out of my mouth and wait.
His eyes are still closed and his breathing is slowing. Finally, he raises his head off the pillows and looks down at me. He looks a little confused, but definitely pleased. He is in no hurry to move, neither am I as I evaluate the situation.
He would normally spend only several minutes in my room; my alarm clock says we are approaching 10.
He sits up, then slowly retrieves his PJ bottom, stands to slip it on, then sits again. I move back a foot or two, but I am still kneeling in front of him.
He appreciates something is different, but I'm not certain he knows what happened or how I did it.
I am expecting a "Wow! Thanks!", but nothing. It's like he's trying to figure it out.
I don't really know Paul, but I like him, so I help him. "That was fun."
"Yes. That WAS fun."
Then, confirmation of my success. "Can I come back tomorrow?"
Thoughts of where this could go are swirling recklessly through my mind. What else can I say, but, "Absolutely".
After Paul leaves, I record the event in my journal. I decide to begin a new section, dedicated to my exploits with Paul. Sure, I'll be keeping the stuff that has already happened and I'll be adding lots of things I hope will happen. No. I know will happen.