Date: Tue, 24 Oct 2017 16:05:51 -0700
From: Max Jensen <mxjnsn09@gmail.com>
Subject: Friends and Beds, Part Four

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Now, onto the show!

"Friends and Beds," Part Four

Chapter 4: Alfred

I got out of the shower and dried myself off with the towel I had hung on a
hook near the shower opening. The showers in London were so weird, at least
the showers in my flat. There was a glass panel blocking one half of the
bathtub, the half with the shower head, and the rest of the tub was open to
the elements. No shower curtain here.

I cleaned off some of the mist that had fogged up on the mirror and looked
at myself. I'd lost a little bit of weight from all the walking I'd been
doing, but I was still "tubby," as I like to refer to myself. My tummy
jutted out a bit from my body, the dewy drops still evaporating. The
dusting of hair all across my torso is fairly invisible most of the time,
with the exception of the longer strands in between my pecs and around my
belly button, but are pretty visible when wet, so the dark peach fuzz
spread across me, which I kinda dug, but knew dejectedly that it'd
disappear from view once they were dried. I looked below that and my cock,
flaccid, covered in dark thick black hair. My groin is incredibly hairy
naturally, the hair spreading across my hips, a little beyond the hip bones
where the hair slowly tapered off into short curly strands. While my pubic
hair isn't dense (you can still clearly see flashes of my skin underneath),
it was abundant, with the thatch of hair crawling up the shaft of my dick
in long curls, with tiny faint hairs dotting the flesh hood of my cock.
This wouldn't do tonight. I had to shave, and I began my process.

I had been in London for about a month and a half by this point, a grad
student in a writing program. After I moved out of the apartment with Adam,
I had to relocate back to San Francisco for a variety of financial misfires
that were totally my fault. While I worked odd jobs due to my rather
useless undergraduate arts degree, I decided to apply to grad school. I
applied to the school in London on a whim, mostly because the school I
applied to had a good reputation, but I wasn't expecting to get in. Well, I
did and it turned out that even with an international student fee, it was
cheaper than going to grad school back home. America, amirite?

I was living with two younger students, both undergrads, one eighteen and
the other nineteen. They were both attending my same school, albeit for
teaching degrees. I loved them both, and I still do to this day, but I
remember being pretty moody around them for the first few months. I can
attribute this to living in a foreign country by myself for the first time,
the weather (I wasn't used to it getting dark at 4:30pm) and the fact that,
frankly, they could be annoying. It's not that they were annoying per se,
but that they were young. They loved to drink all the time. While I love
getting drunk every so often, the fact of the matter is that as a
twenty-five-year-old, I couldn't deal with drunk flatmates every night when
I needed to do a lot of work. In fact, that night, they were out at a
lock-in at a local pub. I was in the flat all by myself.

My original intention was to do work. I had some writing assignments to get
done, and with the breadth of teenagers floating in and out of the flat at
all hours disappeared, I had the perfect time to write in peace. Armed with
a cup of tea and a cheese and ham toasty, I started the assignments at the
large wooden table in our dining area, my laptop serving as both my blank
page and my sound system, with me using my standby of film scores to serve
as background noise (at this particular time, I was really into Jerry
Goldsmith's score for "Star Trek: The Motion Picture," which is a not-great
film but has a beautiful score). But my productivity rate was high that
night, and suddenly, I found myself finished and satisfied with my
assignments and had absolutely nothing to do.

I hadn't mastered the art of British television yet, so I didn't know what
was on. I decided to call one of my coursemates, Will. At that point, I
wasn't close with a lot of my coursemates (that would change as the year
went on), but I was fairly close with Will. The irony was that I hated Will
the first time I met him - his combination of arrogance, grumpiness and
youthful ignorance (he was twenty to my twenty-five and was the youngest in
our course) didn't sit well with me - but by this point, we had bonded over
our sarcastic sense of humor, our love for all things geek pop culture and
our shared good-natured teasing of another coursemate who was adorably
insufferable and snobbish.

I pulled out my Orange mobile and called Will. He answered.

"Hey, dude, what's up," I greeted, as per usual.

"Hi, mate," his velvety voice came over the receiver, a Northern English
accent molded through years of proper grammar school education into a
genial Southern English accent.

"What are you up to?"

"Not much, man. Playing computer games." I love how the British
translations of American phrases make them sound either completely
different or like completely adorable fluffy things.

"Oh. Cool."

"Why? You wanna come over?"

I'm not a video game person, so the thought of watching Will playing them
wasn't appealing. Plus, it would be one thing if he lived near me, but I'd
have to trek on the tube from my flat in Golders Green, a vibrant Jewish
community in the northwest of London (the fact that two Catholics and a
Protestant were living in an otherwise all Jewish block of flats didn't sit
well during Christmas later that year with us displaying a tree quite
prominently in our window), to his flat in the East End of London. And I
wasn't going to do that to watch him play video games, regardless of
whatever witty repartee may arise during the evening.

"Nah, that's okay. I think I may rent a film," I lied. I knew I wasn't
going to rent a film.

Now what to do? I know what you're thinking - Max, you are living in a
world-class city that many only dream of visiting, and you're just wasting
a night free by sticking your thumb up your ass (not literally). I don't
know why I decided to do what I did, but it all amounts to me being horny
and alone. So, I went on Craigslist.

Not really. As I discovered that evening, Craigslist wasn't a thing over
there - I mean, it existed, people used it, but the Personals and Casual
Encounters sections that I used to peruse back home weren't used as often.
However, they had Gumtree. Now, I'm aware that the Personals sections on
Gumtree today have either been edited or completely removed, but at the
time, towards the end of the naughties, that was where it all was. Daddies
looking for Sons, gloryhole invitations, blow and go situations, the whole
fucking gamut of London men looking to get off with other men.

Nothing looked particularly inviting to me. While I was no stranger to the
internet hookup thing (at this point, I didn't have a smartphone and I
don't even know if Grindr and Scruff were things at the time), I also
wanted something that felt substantial, that wouldn't make me feel like a
cheap whore afterwards. If this was going to be a hookup, I at least wanted
it with someone who seemed cool.

So I decided to post. I posted that I wanted someone relatively close to my
age (the first few internet hookups I'd had were with men much older than
me, a fact that I ultimately disliked after a while and really fucked with
my perception of my own desirability, but that might pop up sometime
later), someone who was fun and nice, and fairly masculine. Now, I know
what some of you may be thinking. "Fucking self-hating asshole!" Sure,
maybe. But the fact of the matter is that I wanted someone who was a close
approximation of myself in the masculinity department - which is, to say,
kinda? I'm not a man's man by far. I mean, whatever, I've had dicks up my
ass and down my throat. But I think I wanted to be with someone who seemed
like I would be friends with. Was this a remnant of hooking up with Adam
all those years ago? Perhaps.

I posted and waited. I went to take a shower and found myself looking at my
reflection in the fogged up mirror before deciding to shave the shaft of my
cock.

I wondered if anyone would respond. I doubted it. What I was asking for -
naked making out, maybe some fucking, after a conversation about our days
and pretending that there was something there besides sheer anonymous lust
- wasn't what I saw a lot of ads for. I threw some clothes on and went back
to my room, looking at my inbox to see if anyone had responded, though I
assumed it would be in vain.

But someone responded.

His name was Alfred. He was twenty-five, my age. He lived near me in Church
End, just up the road. He was Jewish, and did I mind that? He was hairy,
and did I mind that? I minded neither. His picture was cute. His face was
cute. I told him he could come over. I sent him a picture of myself and he
said he'd be over shortly.

Ten minutes later, my doorbell rang. I was nervous - I had quickly
straightened up my broom cupboard of a bedroom and fixed the bed and made
sure that I was smelling good. I was terrified that he would see me, giggle
nervously and walk away.

I opened the door and Alfred came in. He was handsome. He had a round face
with a dark shadow of stubble across the lower half of his face, from his
dark sideburns down to his chin, across his cheeks and up the other side.
The stubble went down on the bottom of his jaw and slowly tapered off
before going to far down his neck. His black hair was buzzed short, and he
was wearing a zip-up sweater and dark blue jeans. Under his sweater, I
could see a collared shirt.

"Max?" he asked, his voice somewhere in between deep and high. It was
masculine yet had a softness to it.

"Yeah. Alfred?" I responded. I held out my hand and he shook it. It was
awkwardly formal considering that we would soon be naked and frolicking on
my bed. His hand was warm.

We walked from the doorway into the front room. He sat on the black
pleather sofa.

"Um, you want a cup of tea or anything?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah, that's fine," he said. I quickly went into the kitchen and put
the kettle to boil. As I retrieved two cups, I called out, "How do you take
it?"

"Hard."

My stomach dropped. I realized what he was there for - I mean, I was the
one who posted online looking for ass - but it was still disconcerting to
hear him be so blatant about it. Then again, it was hot. I felt myself
thickening.

"I'm joking," he said after what felt like a minute but was probably
actually a second or two. "Milk and two sugars."

"On its way," I called back. The kettle boiled and stopped and I felt my
cock go back down. I didn't want to walk in with two cups of tea and a
raging boner sticking out from me.

I handed him his cup and sat down next to him. He smiled as he drank the
first sip - he had a deep dimple on each cheek. I felt myself getting hard
again.

"So you're an American," he stated.

"I am indeed."

"What part are you from? I know you aren't a Southerner because of your
accent, but I can't really place it."

"I'm from California."

"California. The weather must be spectacular. I don't know why you wanted
to come out here."

I thought about my answer for a moment.

"What I wanted to do was out here. And I've always wanted to come to
London, since I was a kid. So... it made sense."

He sipped his tea. "I'd love to go out to California. Which part are you
from?"

"San Francisco."

"Are you close to Hollywood?"

Oh, the common misconception. "No. It's about a seven-hour drive."

"I'd love to see it."

"Did you want to be an actor or anything?" That may have been a shitty
question, but it was what I always thought when someone said they wanted to
go to LA.

He blushed. Those dimples reappeared as he smiled sheepishly. My cock began
to lengthen. "No," he said. "You'd have to be really fit for it." (Note to
self: remember that "fit" means "good-looking" over here)

I decided to go for it. I reached across and put my slightly trembling hand
on his, which rested on his knee. "But you are."

He looked at me. His shy smile was gone and he was looking at me
quizzically. I wondered if I had made a mistake, so I removed my hand
quickly. But just as quickly, he grabbed it and pulled me over to him. We
were mere inches away from each other's faces. I figured since we were
trading off on making moves, it was my turn. I let go of his hand and
placed mine behind his head. I slowly rubbed the back of his head, my
fingertips brushing against the shorn hair. I gently pushed his face
towards mine and our lips met. It was meek, quiet at first. Then his mouth
opened and his tongue was pushing my own lips open. I acquiesced, welcoming
his hot tongue into my mouth and greeting it with my own. His breath was
minty.

He breathed in and I breathed out. We breathed lust and passion into each
other as our hands got more and more frenzied. I rubbed the back of his
head and traveled down to his back, squeezing what I could. His hands
cupped my face as he assaulted it.

We broke and I looked at him.

"Well," I started. I wasn't sure what to say next.

"Shall we go into your bedroom?" he asked.

I gently grabbed his hand and led him up. We walked through the hallway lit
by the single overhead light into my tiny broom cupboard. The bed was a
twin-sized bed, tiny, the duvet stretched taut over the meager frame. I had
put all of my clothes away into the narrow closet, and there was a small
wooden chair that had seen better days, which I sometimes used as a
makeshift desk, though my work was mostly done in the dining room.

I closed the door behind me and when I turned around, Alfred already was
beginning to unbuckle his pants, but I quickly moved to him and gently
grabbed his hands.

"Let me do that," I said. I leaned in and kissed him again. He was much
more receptive and much more hungry in his response. I gently put my left
hand behind his head and grasped it a bit while my left hand unzipped his
sweater. His hands came up and cupped my face as we made out. Once the
sweater was unzipped, he dropped his hands and quickly took it off,
throwing it into some corner of the room.

Underneath his sweater was a buttoned-up shirt. I separated from his face
and started unbuttoning. He wasn't wearing an undershirt, and inch by inch,
his skin was slowly exposed to me. He was gloriously hairy - not so much
that I'd feel like I was having sex with a literal bear, but a nice short
nest emphasizing his lovely body. His pecs had a nice shape to them, nice
and round with a slight softness to them. His nipples were big, brown and
erect, and the whole thing was covered in this trimmed fur. My mouth
instantly salivated.

I pulled the shirt off his shoulders, and he stood before me, his torso
exposed. He had a good body - a ten pound loss and he would have had the
body of a Greek god, a Greek god with a delicious furry chest, suckable
nipples and a cut cock. But I never do well with perfection, and the slight
softness and roundness to his body, the furry belly that slightly jutted
out, the arms with a thin layer of fat over the biceps, and the black hair
against the olive skin was making me leak in my pants. The bulge in the
front of his was promising as well.

I ran the tips of my fingers through the forest of hair on his chest and
leaned in to kiss him. As I leaned in, I thought to myself why I was doing
this. Was I doing this because I was horny? Sure, but ultimately, jerking
off had gotten me through the years just fine. But what did I really want
out of this encounter?

I was lonely.

That was the long and short of it. For me, sex with dudes, with anyone for
that matter, was about closeness. About the feeling of being desired by an
object of desire. For melding physical pleasure with the knowledge that I
wasn't alone in this world. That's probably why random hookups for me
weren't the most fun thing in the world - granted, getting off with another
person was great at the moment, but the moment the guy left, I'd be left
feeling worse that I had before. But here I was with this hot boy in my
room, thousands of miles away from anyone that I knew, and wanted something
more. Could this be it? Maybe. There was only one way to find out.

That's when I decided that instead of a sloppy animalistic kiss, with
tongues sliding all over orifices, I'd do something different. I gently
kissed his lips, soft pecks that moved one into another. One hand went to
rest on one of his beautiful pecs, the other held his left hand. As my
fingers interlaced with his, he squeezed it and placed his right hand
behind my head, slowly and gingerly stroking the back of my skull, his
fingertips dancing with my hair. He started moving back onto my bed,
bringing me with him.

He spread his legs and wrapped them around my waist. His fingertips traced
up my back and gently tugged at my shirt. I let him pull it off of me and
there I was in my topless glory. While I was expecting him to look at my
torso, think to himself "I'm too hot for this fucker here," and decide to
bolt, he didn't. He didn't even look at my chest, he just kept looking in
my eyes. This was something new that kinda threw me for a loop. But this
was already the hottest thing. With Adam, we were always inebriated in some
way and it was mostly about getting off and the taboo of getting off with
your best friend. And with the other dudes since then, well... there was a
reason I didn't like blow-and-go situations. But the way Alfred's eyes just
bored into mine, it just made me the hardest I'd been.

After tossing my shirt to a corner, I leaned back down to kiss him again.
My chest rubbed against his, his chest hair brushing against my nipples,
making the sensitive nubs come to life. With his legs around my waist, I
started thrusting myself into him, feeling our hard cocks rub against each
others through layers of denim. I looked at him and said, sincerely,
"You're beautiful." He was.

He looked up at me. "You're hot," he whispered. Perhaps not the exact
emotional response I was looking for, but I'll take it. Plus, I could feel
his cock lengthening beneath me, so I took it as reality.

I leaned over and starting sucking on his earlobe. Alfred shuddered, his
body jerking up quickly against mine. Excellent. I found a spot. As I
continued my lingual ministrations, my hands ran down his amazing torso and
found the waistline of his jeans. I began unbuckling his belt, blindly, my
kisses and licks getting a bit more sloppy and not as precise as I'd have
wanted since his buckle was a bit more complicated than I realized. He
began laughing, and I laughed along with him. He sat up and just stared
into my eyes, smiling. Those dimples. Man. I didn't even trip that he
quickly unbuckled his jeans and slid them off, throwing them on the floor
somewhere with his shirt.

He reached out and started unbuckling my jeans. He leaned in and kissed me
a bit, softly still, as he expertly undid the buckle and began sliding the
pants from around me. Soon we were kneeling on my bed, both shirtless and
in our underwear, tents in front of our groins. We leaned in and kissed, a
bit more forcefully this time, our clothed cocks jutting out obscenely,
telling the other what we wanted.

I ran my fingers down from his shoulders, over the hairy chest, down his
soft stomach and slowly looped my fingers inside the waistband of his red
boxers. I oh-so-slowly lowered them and his cock flopped out, slapping his
stomach as the fabric left his body. It was a thing of beauty, probably
about 6 1/2 inches, cut, the head gloriously large. For as hairy as he was,
and the nest of pubes around the base of his dick was really dense, his
shaft was surprisingly hairless. The helmet head was huge, mauve, and
seemed almost made out of plastic, it was so flawless. I was momentarily
relieved that I wasn't going to have that monster up my ass because it
would have ruined me.

I leaned over and opened my lips, bringing the obscene head into my mouth.
It was so tight, not a fiber loose. It was almost like sucking the pit of a
stone fruit, so I did it was an almost comical amount of deference, like I
was taking communion (ironic, since this was a gorgeous Jewish cock I was
sucking). It was warm to my tongue's touch, almost too warm. I felt Alfred
jerk a bit the moment my lips closed over the head.

A drop of precum landed on my tongue. He tasted salty and sweet. I relaxed
my throat and slid him down further. I was a pretty decent cocksucker, as
I'd discovered by that point. While I couldn't deep throat and had no
desire to puke on some dude's dick (despite that being something that some
dudes are into), I liked to flatten my tongue or really close my mouth
tight for the cock to feel better. I did just that, and based on his light
yelp, it was working.

I felt his fingertips tracing the top of my head, then traveling to my jaw.
He applied a slight pressure, indicating that he wanted me to move up. I
begrudgingly left his cock and traced my tongue across his hairy belly, my
taste buds savoring the skin that I could reach beneath the black curls. I
traced up and danced the tip of my tongue across his rib cage and finally
close to what I wanted. I saw his dark right nipple, gooseflesh wrinkled
around an erect enticing nub. Gently massaging his tit with my hand, I
cupped it and closed my lips over the nipple as I heard him suck in breath.
I gingerly flicked his other nipple with my other hand, my palm tickled by
his copious chest hair.

"That's lovely," he muttered. I smiled at the complete politeness of his
comment, making something so carnal feel so formal.

I moved over to his other nipple, dragging my tongue across the hairy space
between his pecs. I started sucking, like a baby on its mother's breast,
feeling the taut skin on my tastebuds. I felt his cock harden even more,
the head resting against my belly as I contorted myself. My own cock was
ready to rip out of my boxers, and I couldn't wait for a sexy strip later
on, so I quickly lowered them and threw them to the floor. We were now both
naked, and as I lowered him to the bed, I climbed on top, our hard cocks
resting against the other.

I lifted my head from Alfred's chest and looked at him, my face flushed. I
leaned in to kiss him, but stopped just above his face. I looked into his
eyes. They were a dark green, almost brown. They were a beautiful color. I
don't know what stopped me, but just looking into his eyes got me harder
than I had been all night, and that was saying something. I felt a drop of
precum drip onto him. He squirmed slightly.

I suddenly was overcome with a weird feeling. Suddenly looking into his
eyes, both of us hard and naked, this beautiful boy in my bed, I felt like
this was something I could do. I could be in a relationship with someone,
someone sweet who I could not be embarrassed to be myself around. I could
love another guy.

Could it be Alfred? Who knew. I had just met him a half hour prior. But it
could be. And, either way, I wanted tonight to feel like we were in love.
Like we were boyfriends.

"You're so beautiful," I whispered. I gently put his face in my hands and
kissed him deeply. If everything worked out, this would be a wonderful
evening.

"So are you," he said, shoving his tongue even more roughly into my mouth.

I felt his hands grab the waistband of my boxers and haphazardly push it
down. I helped, moving my thighs and legs in such a way so that they soon
dangled off my ankles and I gently shook them so that they fell to the
floor. Alfred stopped kissing me and held my thick cock in his hands, the
foreskin slowly parting to reveal the mauve head underneath.

He looked at it and smiled. "That's really hot," he said. "Haven't played
around with too many of these."

"Cocks?" I asked.

"Uncut cocks," he responded, as he pressed a thumb to the slit, a drip of
precum coating it.

I kissed him again, lowering my hips against his. As the undersides of our
cocks touched, I felt his legs rise and cross behind my back, the heels of
his feet resting against the small of my back. I started lightly grinding
my hips into him as we kissed, our tongues dueling passionately.

His hands grabbed my ass cheeks and squeezed. I felt one of his fingers
travel down to the cleft of my ass, brushing lightly against the fine hairs
there.

"What are you doing?" I asked Alfred in between exasperated kisses.

"Having fun," he said.

His fingers kept moving and I felt harder than I had been in a long time. A
long drip of precum oozed out of my cockhead and I quickly cupped my hands
under his back where they had been on either side of the pillow below his
head. In one belabored move, I urged him upwards, sitting back on my
haunches and bringing him into my lap. Even with every muscle straining to
make this move as seamless as possible, his lips never left mine.

Now here he was, in my lap, making out with me, his tongue occasionally
darting out of my mouth and licking any part of exposed skin it could find.
He slid forward in my lap so that his hard cock was sandwiched comfortably
between him and my stomach. My own hard dick, meanwhile, now poked at his
exposed hairy asshole.

He stopped kissing me and looked into my eyes. "Do you want to?" he asked.

Now, sometimes, in lustful situations, my brain turns to mush and I can be
quite stupid. "Do what?" I asked, dumbly.

"Do you want to fuck me?" he asked.

Well. The answer was yes. I nodded and he pressed his face into mine. He
took his hands from around my neck and shifted his body weight slightly. He
tore himself away from me and craned his torso down towards the floor. He
started rifling through his pants, but he apparently didn't have the
leverage to do so, so with a  soft grumble, removed his limbs from mine and
climbed off the bed. He crouched down and searched through his pants
pockets. He found two things he was looking for - a small bottle of lube
and a condom.

Now, I've never liked condoms and I still don't. It's not a dumb thing like
"I lose sensation" - it's more that I feel an enormous amount of pressure
in putting one on, especially if another party is present. And then
eventually, I lose my hard on. Whatever, I know it's stupid, but it is a
stupid fact of my life.

However, before I could think about that whole situation, he gently pushed
me down so that I was laying against the bed. He then grabbed my cock,
pulled the foreskin back slowly and then put the head in his mouth. I
sucked in breath and closed my eyes. His method was a little haphazard, but
eager. I wondered if he hadn't sucked dick that much before. Or maybe he
thought my uncut cock was different than the cut ones he had played with.
Regardless, I tried to shut my mind off and just enjoy the ministrations he
was giving me.

It's tough for me to enjoy getting my dick sucked. I know, I'm unlike every
other guy in the world, but it is what it is. However, his gentle and
persistent sucking, plus the fact that he was working the sensitive head
the right way was doing wonders for me. I tend to get anxious when getting
head - I get restless and can't relax. My hands started to rub his head, my
fingers running through his hair. I suddenly felt his hands grab mine and
move them above my head. He held them tight, even as I squirmed to free
them. I was now exposed and completely not in control. He was.

His mouth continued to work me over, and I decided that I was going to just
give in to his ministrations. But then, gradually, his mouth lowered and I
felt his lips close over one of my balls, sucking lightly. I lost it. I
hadn't had my balls sucked before, but the combination of his mouth and
tongue on this particularly sensitive part of my body, along with my
inability to do anything but moan was intoxicating. I felt more precum
dripping out of me, and I arched my back.

"Please, baby," I yelped. "Please... oh God!" My mind was just a mishmash
of things, jumbled.

Then, he lifted my legs a bit and moved his mouth down to my taint. The
second the tip of his tongue touched the skin in between my balls and
asshole, I shivered. This was the first time anyone had paid attention to
that area, not including myself. (I had discovered a while before that if I
traced my finger lightly along the taint, the tips brushing against the
downy hairs that grew down there, a not-unpleasant tickle reverberated
through my body). His licking became more insistent, and I started gasping
louder and louder. His hands finally let mine go, grabbing onto my thighs.
With my free hands, I took the right one and put it behind his head, gently
pushing his face deeper into the sensitive spot of skin. I figured he
probably wanted to go down and start eating my ass, but I didn't need that.
This was enough.

"Alfred," I said in the midst of ragged breaths. "Don't stop."

But he did. He gave one last long lick, then grabbed the lube and condom
from somewhere on the bed. He put my cockhead into his mouth one last time,
then quickly, definitively, decisively ripped the condom open and slipped
it over my rock hard cock. That was easy. Maybe, I thought, maybe the next
time, I'll just get someone to put it on me.

He squirted out a bit of lube from the bottle and ran his fist over my
sheathed member. He then squirted a bit more out and started fingering his
asshole. A look of pleasure quickly flitted across his features, then he
looked at me.

"Are you ready?" he asked, more sultry than he had been all night.

"Oh fuck yeah," I responded, almost breathless.

He raised up and sat down on my groin. My hard cock rested against his ass
cheeks. Slowly, he grabbed my dick and aimed it up, slowly impaling himself
on it. The moment the head broke through his ring, I was overcome with
pleasure. He was so warm and so tight. Even through the latex, I could feel
him, his insides throbbing along with his heartbeat.

He stayed there, sitting on me, my covered cock inside him. As he adjusted
himself to feeling me in him, he breathed deeply. I took my hands and
placed them on his hips, my thumbs rubbing against the rough tangles of
pubic hair spreading out to his hip bones. I moved my hands back to his
furred ass, feeling the hairs against my palms. I closed my palms over his
ass cheeks, kneading them slightly. He moaned.

"You're so big," he said.

I furrowed my brow, thrown out of the moment by that comment. I've never
claimed to be that big - I'm average at best - and so whenever I'd heard
similar comments about how big my cock was, I'd internally roll my eyes
because I knew it was a lie. But then again, my ex-girlfriend said that it
was tough to blow me, so maybe the idea that my cock, while not long, was
girthy enough to really stretch out an asshole was somehow true? Either
way, it made me harder.

"You're so beautiful," I said, and I meant it. From my angle, prostrate on
the bed, I could see the curve of his belly, the softness of his pecs,
topped with the erect nipples, the hair cascading across his torso. His
smiling face. I wondered...

I felt a dribble of lube fall out of his ass and trickle down my nuts. He
slowly lifted his ass up, then sat back down slowly, moaning slightly as he
did. The sensation around my dick was incredible. Someone's ass never felt
this good, not even Adam's.

He leaned down forward, his face over mine while my dick was in his ass. He
took my arms and moved them so that they were above my head. He started
gyrating his hips, pushing back against my dick and balls. As he moved
faster and faster, I felt the sweat forming on his chest, sticking the skin
with mine. His mouth found mine, his tongue shoved roughly in my mouth,
almost choking me. He moved faster and faster and, while I was technically
fucking him, the way he moved made me feel as if I was the one being fucked.

He lifted his mouth from mine and shoved his face into my exposed pit. He
licked the hair there and the sensation of his velvet tongue against one of
the most insanely sensitive spots on my body made me giggle loudly, even as
I wanted to moan from the sensations everywhere else. He licked away from
my pit and down to my hard nipple. I gasped loudly. I love having my tits
licked and sucked, so this while fucking a warm ass was the best thing in
the world. I could have stayed like that forever.

"Oh Max," Alfred whimpered. "You're so... you're so good..."

"I'm not doing anything," I gasped back. "You're doing all the work."

"Let's change that then," he said.

I felt like Superman. My thought was that I could in one fell swoop flip
him onto his back while still remaining inside him and fuck the shit out of
him until he came.

That didn't happen.

I have little upper body strength and Alfred was a big boy himself. I tried
to hoist myself up with my nonexistent core muscles and found myself
suddenly off-balance, almost tipping myself and Alfred, still conjoined at
the dick/ass, onto the floor. He stuck his arm out and pressed it against
the floor before we both broke something. I quickly held on to the
bedsheet, hoping that I had tucked it in enough to hold us. Alfred started
laughing, and I followed suit.

"I'm sorry," I said, stifling my giggles.

"You almost killed me," Alfred laughed. He slowly disentangled himself from
me, my dick sliding out slowly from him. He gasped.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's just... you know... when it comes out, it feels... strange."

"Yeah. You're right."

"You've been fucked before?"

"Uh, yeah. I mean, it's been ages, but yeah, I have."

"That's cool."

He got back up on the bed and laid face down. His back was smooth, his ass
wasn't. He turned over to look at me and smiled, his dimples really making
me weak. "Go on, then," he said, his voice really deepening, full of lust.
"Do your worst."

I lay on top of his body, the condom still wrapped around my cock. I really
quickly lowered my face to his upturned fuzzy ass. I flicked my tongue
around his asshole, then stuck my tongue in gently, feeling the hot and
well-fucked skin contracting. He yelped - I couldn't tell if from pain or
pleasure or some mixture of both - so I lapped a bit slower, almost like
soothing a wound. The slower and longer I prolonged the licks, the more he
stopped yelping and started whimpering.

After a few minutes, I got up on my knees, my covered cock erect in front
of me. I found the lube bottle, reapplied some to both my dick and his
asshole and slid in. Rather than the gentle penetration when he was on top,
this one was quick, sudden, and all the way down to my hairy balls. My fat
balls brushed up against his taint and I moaned in appreciation.

I began rocking my hips back and forth, feeling his breaths becoming more
and more ragged the faster I went. The sight of his shaking back, the
muscles in his arms tensing underneath the layer of fat, the sounds of his
high-pitched whining and, most importantly, the image of my cock pistoning
in and out of his fat hairy ass was making me incredibly hot. The idea that
my body was bringing him such pleasure was amazing to me.

His right hand snaked under his body and he started stroking himself. I
leaned down, my tits resting on his back, my hips moving faster. I licked
the back of his neck and up to his ear, clamping the lobe between my lips.
He turned his sweaty face to me and opened his mouth. I let go of his ear
and returned in kind, our tongues awkwardly and deliciously licking each
other and our respective faces.

"I'm close," he gasped.

"Cum for me, baby," I whispered huskily in his ear.

He moved his head back down and started pushing his ass back against mine
as I thrust in, the awkward fumbling eventually finessing to a steady
rhythm, with my cock and his ass pushing against each other at the right
moment. Once I knew we were in sync, I tried using my underexercised upper
body to pull him up, which I was somehow able to do. I was still on my
haunches, and he was now on his knees, his back against my chest, his arm
wrapped around my neck, kissing me for all he was worth. I kept pumping
into him as my right hand found his hard exposed cock. I wrapped my fist
around it and started jerking him off, feeling drops of sweat fall from his
chest and pubic area onto the gripped fingers.

"Cum for me," I repeated, more urgently. I felt the familiar churning in my
balls, but I wanted him to cum first. I wanted to know that I had done it
for him, that it was my body, my mouth, my hands, my cock that made his
body expel the hot semen from it. I wanted to feel his ass as he spasmed.

And that's what happened. His hole clenched tightly around my dick, a loud
moan escaped his lips and a volley of cum exploded from his cockhead,
coating my fist and his shaft, dripping down around my hand onto my
bedsheet. I still had a few more thrusts in me, so I pushed him down
towards the bed, his knees still bent, but his face and torso touching the
bed. He moaned louder, his mouth opened, as I thrust a few more times and
then finally came into the condom, shouting as I did. After the final
shocks were gone and the last drops were out, I collapsed on top of him,
licking the sweat off his back and feeling the moist hair on his head
against my cheek. I slowly pulled out of him and lay on my back. He gently
put his head on my chest and I took the condom off, careful not to let any
of the spooge fall out. I tied it off and tossed it to the floor and lay
there, breathing heavily after all the energy I'd used and pleasure I'd
received. The red head of my dick slowly shrank back into the folds of my
foreskin as I went limp.

We lay there, sweaty, sex-funky, as Jill Scott would say, on my bed, coming
down from the high of a fantastic fuck. So fantastic, my thoughts again
turned to the idea that maybe this could be something more. Alfred and I at
the very least had sexual chemistry, and he wasn't flamboyant enough that I
would get embarrassed being with him in public. He was hot, but not too hot
for me.

His fingers traced along a sweaty spot between my pecs. "How was that?" he
asked quietly.

"Baby, that was fantastic," I answered. Why was I calling him "baby"?

He kissed my chest and lightly licked my left nipple. "I thought so, too."

We were comfortably silent for a while until I began to dose off. Having
him in my bed with me, with no rush to kick him out, was an amazing
feeling. He fell asleep in my arms, too.

During the long hours of the night, we would wake up and fool around again,
though nothing as intense as that first fuck. We sixty-nined at one point,
just grinded dicks at another. He rimmed me out and licked my taint, and I
fingered him and humped his sweaty asscheeks at another.

I thought that it could work. If we got to know each other, it could work.
If he were the love of my life, it could work. It could work.

The light was beginning to stream in from the window, the sun peeking over
the roof of the carport behind my flat. He began to stir and sat up.

"it's time for me to go," he said. He stood up from the bed and I stared
slack-jawed at the naked form in front of me.

"Are you going to be able to sneak back in?" I asked him.

"Yeah, everyone's sleeping still."

He was fully dressed now. He was still beautiful.

"Your flatmates?" he asked me.

"They're passed out at Walkabout. They won't be back for a while."

"Enough time for me to leave then."

I sat up. I felt weird about where this conversation was going. About his
disposition. I slipped on my underwear but stayed naked otherwise.

"So..." I stammered. "Would you, I don't know, uh, do you, uh, do you wanna
go grab dinner or a drink one of these days?"

He looked at me, silently.

"No ulterior motives," I said quickly. I felt like an idiot. A stupid
fucking idiot.

"Oh." He looked down at his feet, then looked up again. "That's alright. We
don't need to do that, do we?"

I really felt stupid. "No," I said quietly. "We don't need to do that."

The awkwardness hung like a lampshade. After a few seconds of the most
deafening silence ever, he turned to my bedroom door.

"I'll let myself out," he said.

"No," I said. "Let me walk you out."

The ten feet to the front door stretched for miles. When we got there, we
awkwardly hugged and he left. I walked back to my room, slipped my boxers
off, jerked off and cried. I fell asleep alone in bedsheets streaked with
cum.

I should have just hung out with Will.