This is a true story, modified to protect the anonymity of thoseinvolved and simplified to enhance the narrative's flow.
Reader feedback is welcomed, and the author will do his best toanswer questions and respond to comments. Contact him at hairy.jacques@yahoo.com.
Thanks for visiting Nifty, a great site that for years has rendered a great service. Please consider making a donation: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
"Anything you want," Part 2
I decided to give him some space. I didn't go over to his placethat night. I didn't see him the night afterwards, either. But on the thirdnight my phone rang. "Get your ass over here," he said. "There'sbeer that needs drinking."
When I arrived he was nearly halfway through a twelve pack. Wewatched TV, joked, drank, and acted like nothing had happened. After about anhour he said, "Let's go upstairs. My back really hurts." He took offhis clothes, leaving only his underwear. He got down on the floor. After Ipopped his back he got up and went to his bed, lying down face forward. I startedthe massage, relieved that things were the same. About halfway through, he saidhow drunk he was. And then: "I'm not going to remember anything tomorrowmorning." I had a hunch where things were headed. It turned out I was halfright. When I was finishing the rub down, he flipped over. I could see hiscock, clearly hard inside his briefs. Then came the invitation: "I'm gonnalet you finish what you started."
For a second I wanted to dispute the premise of his statement.What "I" started? But then I thought better of it. He was going tolet me have another chance to suck his dick.
This time was going to be different. It was going to be betterbecause I wouldn't repeat my rookie mistake of taking him too deep. It was alsogoing to be better because there was a light on. I could see him in all hisglory. Damn, he was hot. He had his hands behind his head, exposing the softblond hair of his armpits, where all his muscles seemed to connect. I could seehis pecs, well-defined and capped with quarter-sized nipples the same deep-pinkcolor of his lips. I could see his six-pack abs and belly button and, leadingdown from it, the shimmer of hair that trailed into the waistband of hisbriefs. They were white BVDs, well-worn with thinning fabric, and they outlinedhis erection perfectly.
I didn't spend much time on preliminaries, but I didn't want toskip them, either. I started at his wrists and gently skimmed the palms of myhands down his arms and into his armpits. I moved my hands to his shoulders andcircled down across his chest. I worked my thumbs, very gently, over the tipsof his nipples. In seconds they were rock hard. He gasped, shuddered and then,softly, whispered "wow." My fingertips traced a path down his torsoto the waistband of his briefs. I hooked my fingers under the elastic."Lift up," I said. When he did, I pulled them down, slowly, firstrevealing his sexy blond pubes. I couldn't tell if he clipped them or if theywere just naturally short. Whatever the case, they were beautiful, just likehis cock, which at this point was so hard that, when it escaped from behind thethin white cotton of his BVDs, it snapped back to his groin with anaudible "smack." As I tossed aside his underwear I really got achance to feast my eyes.
It wasn't the longest cock and it wasn't the thickest. It wasmaybe just shy of six inches, just a little bit smaller than mine. But to me itwas utterly gorgeous, twitching in its sparse nest of short blond hair, a veinyand vascular shaft leading up to a mushroom head that began right below hispiss slit but angled down to form a pronounced helmet on the top of his shaft.His piss slit glistened with pre-cum so that's where my tongue first madecontact, dipping in and then drawing back with a thin strand of his juices trailingbehind. Then the tip of my tongue went to the base of his dick. Barely touchinghim, I gently licked up the center of his shaft, which twitched when I reachedthe extra-sensitive spot immediately beneath the beginning of his cockhead. Ilicked my lips and pulled them over my teeth, going down first on just the headof his cock. I swirled my tongue and heard his breath draw in. I worked my waydown, slowly, gradually, taking care not to gag. He felt so amazing in mymouth. He even felt good in my throat. My eyes watered a bit. But when I pulled back and swallowed all I tasted was him. Sucking him was justso natural, so primal. I went down, all the way. I took him to the base. Maybeit was a different angle or maybe it was a different attitude, but there was nogagging this time. My nose pressed into his pubes. I inhaled deeply. He smelledso amazing, so manly. It was as if I had been born to do this. I had discoveredmy calling.
At some point he moved his hands from behind his head to hisnipples. He pinched them and pulled them as he started to thrust into my mouth.I took a break and moved to the crinkled skin of his drawn-up balls. They werehairless and contracted and so easy to engulf. And damn it, they tasted good. Icould feel my own cock, hard and throbbing, leaking inside my shorts. I workedhis nuts with my tongue, circling and pulling, gently, until finally theyspilled out from my lips. I returned to his cock. I felt his hand on the backof my head. "Keep it up and you'll make me cum," he said. That wasprecisely my goal, so I kept on sucking. I loved everything about what washappening. I loved the feel of it; I loved the warmth of him inside me. I lovedhis taste and his hardness. I got lost in his dick.
At some point I regained my bearings. Both his hands now clutchedmy head. He started to buck his hips. It didn't seem possible, but his dick goteven stiffer. He grunted, he whimpered, he panted. He whispered "fuck,fuck." Then his cock started to pulse. One, two, three, four shots. Thenfive. Then six. I did my best to swallow it all. That was what he wanted. Thatwas what I needed. That was what it took to make the evidence of what we'd donetogether disappear.
I kept sucking, more gently now, as his dick began to deflate inmy mouth. I was milking out the last remaining drops. I had worried I wouldn'tlike the taste, but instead I loved it. It's hard to describe because it'spretty much incomparable. Maybe a little bit like almonds, but richer. Andthere was more to it than just flavor. It was the warmth, the consistency, andthe viscosity. And it was his. I loved it.
I pulled off his dick and wiped my mouth as I glanced up at him.His eyes were closed. "Thank you," he whispered. "Feelingrelaxed now?" I asked. He was already half asleep. "Feelingamazing," he said. "You're amazing."
That comment made me feel about ten feet tall. I got up, found myshoes, and turned around to notice that he had gotten himself under the coversof his bed. I let myself out and headed home. I didn't brush my teeth thatnight. I could still taste him. I replayed what had just transpired as I waslying in bed beating off. My orgasm was intense.
This began a new pattern. Nearly every night I'd go over to hisplace. We'd drink beer and watch TV. When it started to get late, he'd standup, stretch, and say how sore his back felt. I'd take the hint and say let's goupstairs. Sometimes he'd tell me to get on the floor and he'd pop my back andgive me a quick back rub. Other times he didn't. Always he'd get on the floor.I'd pop his back, he'd stand up, strip down to his underwear, and get on thebed. I'd give him a really great, really long massage. When I was done, I'd say"let me get your front." He'd flip over, revealing his tentedunderwear. I'd rub and caress his arms, his pits, his pecs, and his nipples.I'd run my hands up his legs to his thighs. I'd massage his muscles there,working up slowly to his groin. As I got to his upper thighs I'd get closer tohis cloth-covered cock. I'd tease it a bit, brushing over it as if by accident.Sometimes I'd see a wet spot in his underwear at the tip of his dick. AlwaysI'd tell him to lift up. Always I'd pull his underwear down.
There were a few unspoken rules. The first was that there'd be noreciprocation. I always sucked him. After the camping trip, he never sucked me.I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe he wasn't interested, but that first night hegave me a blow job entirely on his own initiative. I think mostly he thought itwould be too gay. It was one thing for me to suck him. He liked it--and whodoesn't like a good blow job? That wasn't gay. But to go down on another guy?That was. If this was his reasoning, I understood and accepted it.
The second rule was that we never discussed what we did. Everyonce in a while he'd say how drunk he was. He wasn't, but the pretense that hewas gave him an out. When he let me suck him, he could pretend he wasn't responsiblefor his actions. And the next day, he could pretend he didn't remember them. Itwas probably a good rule. We didn't have to intellectualize anything. One timehe almost brought it up. The question came out of nowhere. "How canyou....?" He stopped himself. "How can I what?" I replied. "Nothing," he said. "Just thinking out loud." But the truthwas that it was a fair question. How could I serve, night after night, as hisdedicated personal cocksucker? How could I massage him, caress him, play withhis nipples, lick his balls, suck his dick, and drink his cum--getting nothingin return but the privilege of access to his body? I'm glad we didn't talkabout what we did because I didn't want to have to face up to the very obviousfact that, instead of being straight, I was somewhere on the spectrum betweenstraight and gay. If I did face this fact I'd have to admit I was in the wrongrelationship. But that was impossible, because there was something else,something I could at the time own up to. I loved him. I loved him as a friendand I loved him as more than a friend. Ninety percent of the time we were justbest friends, going to bars, watching sports, hanging out, biking, fishing,whatever. The other ten percent, his dick was in my mouth.
That part we had to ignore because of the third unspoken rule. Atno point did we ever drop the pretense that each one of us was 100% straight.For a while I had a long-distance girlfriend I saw about once a month. She wasfun enough and a decent lay, but I was just going through the motions. He'dstill bring girls home sometimes, but not nearly as often as he used to. I tookpride in this fact. My cock sucking skills were good and getting better. Itwasn't just that I was a sure thing. It's that with me he had a good thing.Every once in a while he'd say something that stroked my ego. One time heknocked my socks off: "I can't believe I'm saying this. I guess I'm justdrunk"--which is not really possible when you're 6' 2" and have hadonly three beers. "No one has ever taken care of me the way you do. Itfeels so good, and when I cum it's so incredible, so intense." Every oncein a while, however, he'd go out of his way to assert his heterosexuality. I'dcome over. We'd drink beer and watch TV for an hour. He'd pick up the phone andmake a booty call. The girl would always come over to his place. And I'd alwayshave to stay because I'd "had too much to drink." I drove home everyother night, and it's not like I was ever actually drunk. But he'd insist, soI'd be downstairs on the couch in a sleeping bag while immediately above me thebed squeaked, the headboard banged against the wall, and the girl had her worldpositively rocked.
The fourth and final rule was to respect his limits. Again, thiswas a clear but unspoken requirement. Obviously there was no kissing. My handscould touch his chest, but not my lips. The one time I went to suck hisnipples, he pushed my head down. "Not above the waist," he said. Okay,I thought: Line drawn. Another time, while sucking him, I started to play withhis hole. I was just tickling it, really, lightly circling his pucker. Hedidn't complain, so I licked my middle finger and slowly worked it into his hole.I was two knuckles deep for a good minute. I'm pretty sure he was enjoying it.But then: "Is that your finger in my ass? Take it out." Othertimes he'd invite me to expand my repertoire. One night, while I was suckinghis dick, he spoke up: "Lick the base." I went down to the bottom ofhis dick. "No," he said, "below my balls." So I pushed hislegs up and started to lick and suck the firm chord of flesh between his ballsand ass. "Oh wow," he moaned. I spent most of my time near hisasshole. He was clean down there. Musky, but in a good way. There was just alittle bit of dark blond hair around his rose bud. He tasted amazing. I likedit and, if his soft moans were any indication, so did he. In future encountersI got more daring. I didn't know the word for it at the time, but I was rimminghim. It seemed like a really twisted and weird thing to do. Perverted. But itwas also incredibly intimate and erotic. It was a guilty pleasure--probably forboth of us.