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WARNING! This story involves consensual sex between men. If this type of story is illegal where you live, not your cup of tea, or you are not legally old enough to read it, under the laws of your place of residence, stop right here!
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"Dude, that was excellent!" he said when he had stopped thrashing about in the throes of orgasm, my sheathed cock still wedged firmly up his welcoming ass. "Have I told you how much I love you lately?"
Ordinarily, hearing those words from Ryan would make my day. Now, knowing what I'd been doing not 48 hours before -- while Ryan was out of town for a family wedding -- they made me feel like a total shit. I turned away from him and withdrew from the warmth of his asshole, the better (I thought) to hide my shame.
"Mike?" he asked, raising himself on one elbow to look at me. "Is something wrong?"
My stomach felt something like a cross between a lump of ice and a pool of molten lead. For a minute I thought for sure I was either going to pass out or puke all over him, but fortunately the feeling passed.
"What is it?" he asked, concern written all over that handsome face I had become very happily accustomed to seeing on the pillow next to mine each morning over the past year and more.
That did it. The dam broke and the tears came running slowly down my face as I turned away from his loving, trusting eyes. "I'm so ashamed," I said, cradling my face in my hands as I sat on the edge of our bed and cried.
I felt his warmth behind me as he folded me gently into his arms, the slick pool of his cum slowly congealing between us as he held me while I sobbed for all I was worth. The funny thing was -- if it could really be called "funny" -- it hadn't been all that long ago when it had been my arms around a sobbing man.
"It all started so innocently--" I began my tale.
Three months ago it had been the beginning of the spring semester, and that brought the usual chaos in the university bookstore where I had a work-study job. Piles of textbooks all over the shelves (and the display floor), about a gazillion people milling around trying to find the books they needed, and an even bigger mess back in the receiving area where the new shipments were arriving faster than we could unpack the boxes and haul the empties out to the trash -- and the bins were still overflowing at the end of the day, even though they were emptied each morning.
But even in all the chaos and the endless round of trips from loading dock to receiving room to display floor to receiving room to trash bin and back to the loading dock, the only way I wouldn't have noticed Jeff, the new guy, was if I'd been stone blind. Since I wasn't, I kept right on noticing him, every chance I got.
I couldn't see much, given the baggy clothes he was wearing and his uniform smock, but what there was to see looked solid. His face wasn't spectacular, but it was certainly enough to warrant a second or third look -- ash-blond hair darkening to brown at the roots, parted on the right side above a rounded brow, grey eyes set close on either side of an average little nose, and full, coral-coloured lips that looked equally ready for pouting or kissing, above a dimpled chin. He didn't say much, but he could keep up with me -- and at the time, that was all that mattered.
A few weeks into the term, as I was heading back to my locker at the rec center after a long, hot shower -- following an equally long, hot volleyball game -- I almost literally ran into Jeff. He was heading for the showers himself -- and what I could see over and around the towel wrapped around his waist made me wish I could find a good reason to grab another shower and a look at him sans towel. He had killer legs, long-ish for his short frame (he only stood about 5 9 ), nicely furred on his calves, and a six-pack abdomen that you could have done laundry on in the days before washing machines. The valley between his pecs was big enough to take my cock with no trouble -- and not a hair on his chest, apart from a bit of fuzz around his nips and a soft trail leading down from his navel below the line of white cotton that hid the rest of him from my view.
I smiled at him, apologised for not paying attention to where I was going, and got the hell away from him before he could see the tent forming under my own towel. Not knowing the lay of the land, I didn't want to take any chances with him suspecting he even remotely turned me on -- and that quite apart from the fact that I had a steady boyfriend waiting for me at home, quite probably buck naked and wanting some action.
The weeks went rolling by, and Jeff and I kept running into each other -- at work, at the weight room, at one or another of the bars. I did find out that, although he was terribly shy around groups of people, he was quite affable otherwise, and the beginnings of a real friendship seemed to be in the making. He'd been a wrestler in high school and at the junior college he'd attended before transferring this semester, but hadn't wanted to take a chance on messing up his grades with the extra time it required. He was majoring in physical education -- and the youngest of six brothers, which went a long way toward explaining some of his shyness. It also explained a few other things, as I found out later.
Then this past weekend Ryan, my boyfriend, had to go out of town for a family wedding. He left at noon on Friday and wasn't due back until late Monday evening. With nothing to do, I thought about hitting a movie but decided to put in an hour or so at the weight room, as I'd been too busy all week to put in my regular sessions. I was just getting dressed after my shower when I heard Jeff's voice behind me.
"Hey, Mike," he said, smiling as I turned in response to his greeting. "I thought that was you."
"Hey, Jeff," I said, noting that he, too, appeared to be fresh from the shower -- and I found myself wondering how I'd missed him (again). "What's up?"
"Not a damn thing. How about you?"
"'Bout the same. My roomie's out of town for the weekend and I've got no plans. I was thinking about grabbing a movie. Anything good playing in town?"
"Not 's far as I'm concerned," he said. "Wanna check the video place? It's right on my way home."
"Sure," I said. "Sounds like a plan. Got anything to drink, or should we stop for some of that, too?"
"I've got a few beers and some rum, but not much else."
"That'll do for me, I think. Got your car here? I walked."
"Sure do. C'mon, let's blow this joint."
"I'm not sure about 'this joint,'" I found myself thinking, "but I wouldn't mind blowing yours--" I hoped he wouldn't notice the stirring in my pants.
His place resembled him: compact, economical, and pretty nice, if not spectacular. When we got there, he excused himself to "change into something more comfortable," at which point my suspicions began to rise along with my dick.
He came back from his bedroom wearing a loose T-shirt that had apparently been a PE uniform of his in high school, and a pair of black nylon athletic shorts, also fairly loose, but still showing a fair-sized bulge in the middle. He went into the small kitchen to get us a couple of rum-and-cokes, while I popped the tape we'd rented into the VCR. We sat at opposite ends of his couch and watched it, sipping our drinks -- which we replenished several times apiece.
When the movie was over and he'd used up the last of the rum to make us each a fresh drink, we sat back down on the couch and shot the shit for a while. My suspicions about his intentions had faded throughout the evening, but never disappeared completely. They rose again when he asked if I'd rub his shoulders for him.
"I think I may have strained something. Would you mind giving me a hand?"
"Not at all. Scoot on over here," I said, again hoping he wouldn't notice my lengthening cock in the dim light before he turned his back toward me for the massage.
I worked both his shoulders for maybe 15 minutes and, to his credit, there did appear to be some tension and a tender spot or two in his left one.
"Feel better?" I asked when I had finished.
"Yeah -- thanks, Mike," he said. "You could work your way a little lower, if you don't mind."
"I don't see why not. Why don't you take off your shirt and lie down on the floor," I suggested. "Got some lotion or something? Your skin feels a little dry."
"Yeah, there's a bottle in the bathroom, on the sink," he said, pulling his T-shirt over his head in a single fluid motion that made his lats and delts ripple very pleasantly.
"Be right back."
"I'll be here."
Returning with the lotion, I noticed that he'd put a George Winston CD into his stereo and turned out all the lights, leaving only the candles he'd lit when we'd first gotten back to his place for illumination. I complimented him on the music, and went to work on his arms and back. Maybe half an hour later (but who was keeping track of time?), he asked if he could roll over, as his neck was beginning to get uncomfortable.
I quickly discovered that his neck wasn't the only thing uncomfortable. When he rolled over, his cock was beet red and sticking up at least two inches beyond the waistband of his shorts. Its tip glistened with pre-cum. My own prick, which had been hovering near half-mast the whole time I'd had my hands on Jeff, quickly traveled the rest of the way, worming down my right thigh.
Noting the direction of my gaze, he blushed a little, then raised himself up off the floor slightly and pulled off his shorts and jockeys, revealing a trim bush of light brown hair growing around the base of a lean, limber slab of sausage that was at least an inch -- if not an inch and a half -- longer than the eight-inch trouser tool threatening at any moment to pop a seam on my 501s.
"Jeff," I said, "I--"
Still blushing slightly, he smiled up at me and replied, "No sense in locking the barn after the horse has been stolen, is there?"
"You're gay, then?" I inquired.
Blushing furiously again, he answered, "I don't know for sure. I've never really done anything with another guy before, but I've thought about doing it with you for weeks now. Can't seem to think about much else, in fact."
I was seriously torn at this point. Jeff's need was clearly evident -- if anything, his cock was harder now than it had been when he'd first rolled over -- and mine was responding to his. On the other hand, although he'd had a cold for most of the week before he left for that wedding, and even given we'd been having something of a rough time in our relationship for a week or so before that, I had really come to love Ryan in the year and more we'd been together, and I knew he felt the same way about me.
In the end, I don't know whether it was the rum dancing in my bloodstream, the horniness of a week without sex beyond a quick morning j/o in the shower -- or both -- but I decided to go with the flow of the situation and worry about the consequences later. To my credit, though, I at least had enough sense left to double-check with Jeff before I started to strip off.
"You're sure you're OK with this -- with us having sex together?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said, "I'm sure."
I quickly stripped and stood naked -- and erect -- before him.
"This is your party, Jeff -- you call the shots," I told him. "Where do we start?"
"Would you s--s--suck my dick?" he asked, stuttering a little over the verb.
"Of course," I replied, settling to the floor beside him and taking a closer look at his love weapon. It looked to be at least nine and a half inches long, and maybe three inches wide at the base, though it tapered down to about half that at the circumcised head. It was still leaking pre-cum, which was puddling in the hairs of his treasure trail, just above his navel.
Not being sure of how he might react, I decided to cut out most of the things Ryan and I habitually did during foreplay -- kissing, licking, nibbling, and the like -- and cut right to the chase. So I wrapped my left hand around his warm, hard dick, and lapped my tongue over his all-but-hairless ballsac, nibbling the skin lightly from time to time and gently sucking his nuts while I slowly stroked his hose, letting him get used to the idea of having another man handle his 'nads before I actually did anything potentially too startling or shocking for a first-timer.
After a couple of minutes, I let his nuts fall from my lips into my right hand, which gently rolled and fondled them as I licked and kissed my way up his long, long shaft. His copious pre-cum was light and sweet on my tongue, and he sighed as I began running it around the fringe of his glans and poked the tip into his piss slit.
"Yeah!" he breathed, all traces of hesitation now gone from his words, "suck my dick!"
I gave a gentle tug on his scrotum to raise his cock in the air and went down on it, pausing only briefly to allow the muscles in the back of my throat a chance to relax before I swallowed the whole thing raw. The scent of his musk in the pubes pressing around my nostrils was a tonic as I held his cock prisoner in my throat for several moments, milking it only with my gullet.
Jeff opened his eyes at that and saw me down on his dick to the root. "Damn!" he said. "No one's ever been able to get it all in before!"
I let him slip from between my lips, caught my breath, and said, smiling over at him, "Practice makes perfect, Jeff."
"Can I s--suck yours, too?" he asked, hesitating once more.
"Sure," I said, "if you want to. But relax and enjoy the ride first, OK?"
"OK," he agreed, lying back once more as I began to work his dick once again, "but I really do want to suck your dick."
"You got a deal," I said, letting him slip out of my mouth for the last time.
The only sounds from then on, other than the music, were moans and sighs of pleasure from Jeff, and slurps and smackings as my lips, tongue, and hands worked their magic on his cock. A bare five minutes later, less than the time it took to get through one track on the CD, his ragged breathing, regular sighs, and all-but-constant thrashing on the floor let me know that I had him at the point of no return. I debated about stopping and prolonging the ecstasy, as Ryan and I often did with each other, but decided against it, again not knowing how he might react.
I dove all the way down and swallowed the whole of his cock again, then increased the suction of my lips to maximum and slowly started up the length of his shaft. No sooner had I started to move my head upward than he went totally rigid in my mouth and I heard him say, "Oh, God, Mike, I'm gonna come!" followed by a long, low moan of utter ecstasy.
I nodded, my mouth very full of his cock, and kept up the slow-motion suction. He'd barely finished speaking when I felt the first blast shoot into the back of my throat, followed by several more before I could get the head of his cock into my mouth again to taste his juices. The last few spurts, warm and sweet, flooded my mouth and coated my lapping tongue.
I held his still-hard cock in my mouth, gently sucking him dry of the last of his cum, until he stopped thrashing and his breathing slowed a bit. Then I let him slip from my lips with an audible pop! and a smack! as his cock snapped to attention against his belly. I scooted over beside him and stretched out on the rug before I pulled him close to me and held his warm flesh, still suffused with the glow of orgasm, against mine.
"How was that?" I asked.
"Mike, dude, I--I never knew it could feel like that. And no one's ever swallowed it before. Can I--can I suck you now?"
"Rest a bit first, Jeff. We've got time."
We cuddled and held each other, stroking, touching, squeezing -- both our cocks still hard between us -- for perhaps ten minutes, until Jeff's breathing was back to normal.
"Still want to suck me off?" I asked him.
"Oh, yeah," he breathed. "Can I?"
"All yours," I said, letting him slip from my arms.
No sooner had I said this than Jeff's mouth was slipping around the (very wet) head of my dick. What he lacked in technique -- and that was plenty, in comparison to Ryan -- he made up for in enthusiasm. After a couple of minutes he tried to repeat my deep-throat job on his knob, but gagged and had to pull back for a bit. He looked dispirited, so I told him, "Relax, Jeff, and give it time. Almost no one is able to swallow a cock whole on their first try -- and certainly not when it's as big as yours or mine. The trick is to give yourself a chance to get used to the idea -- and the size -- before you go trying to stuff it down your throat. This isn't a competition, and you're not being graded so enjoy yourself, and don't worry too much, OK?"
"OK," he said, smiling as he dipped his head to go down on me once again. This time it worked, but he couldn't keep it there for long -- so he switched techniques to a hand-and- mouth job that really got my pump primed. It seemed like no time at all before I was warning him, "Jeff, dude, I'm gonna come!"
To my very pleasant surprise, he didn't pull away -- just milked me all the harder -- and took my not-inconsequential load like a man. He only spilled a few drops, which he then licked off my thigh when I had finished shooting.
"Thanks, man," he said. "You don't know how much I've been wanting to do that."
"Thank you, Jeff," I said. "For a first time, that was really good."
"Well, hey, if you stick around for a while, I might want to get in some more practice. Can you stay?"
"Well, I do have to work tomorrow morning--"
"I'll take you over."
"OK, Jeff, OK," I said. "In for an inch," I thought, "why not a mile?" and tried very hard to tell my conscience to shut up.
Jeff and I spent the couple of hours before we went to bed (to sleep, anyway) pretty much in the same way we'd spent the last hour -- cuddling, stroking, squeezing, sucking dick, jerking each other off. I finally did kiss him, just after he'd squirted out his fourth load of the night all over my chest. He looked a little surprised at first, but evidently decided he liked it and quickly gave back as good as he was getting.
He woke me the next morning in time for work by giving me a blow job that was at least an order of magnitude more proficient than the first one he'd given me, the night before, and drove me in to work after extracting a promise that I'd stop by and see him after I'd finished my shift. Something told me he had more on his mind than just talk, but I did want to see if I could get some idea about how he felt about this whole sex-with-guys thing and if he'd done any kind of reading on the subject.
After work, I stopped off at my place to get a change of clothing and a couple of other items I thought I might be needing. Fortunately, there wasn't a message from Ryan on the answering machine, or I'd have been in a pretty bad spot explaining to Jeff why I was so upset. I hadn't even so much as hinted that Ryan and I were fucking each other's brains out regularly, much less in love. I had to wonder, though, whether he'd figured that angle out for himself yet.
When I got to Jeff's place and knocked on the door, he called out "Come on in, Mike, it's open!" so I did -- only to find him bare-assed on his couch, with that nine-and-a-half-inch hard-on waving blatantly in the air.
"I waited for you," he said.
"I can see that," I replied. "Shall I leave the door open?"
"Close it, please," he said, "and then get in here and get naked!"
"What did you have in mind, Jeff?" I wanted to know.
"Suck my dick and let me shoot off all over your face?" he ventured.
"What's in it for me?" I shot back.
"Your choice, afterward."
"OK by me, dude. Spread your legs, then, and let me at it," I said, stripping off my sweatshirt and kneeling before his manhood.
I think he must have been jerking off some while I was gone, because it wasn't more than about five minutes, all told, before he pulled his dick out of my mouth and shot off a tremendous load all over my face, in my hair and down my chest. I felt like I'd just had a cum bath.
"Wow!" I said. "Do you always shoot such big loads?"
"No," he said, blushing again as he handed me a towel to wipe myself off with. "Must be that you excite me, or something."
"Well, OK, now it's my turn to get your face all messy. Not so fast," I said, as he moved to start sucking my dick. "I had something different in mind."
"You ever hear of something called a 'Hawaiian titty fuck'?"
"Sure, but I thought you could only do that with girls."
"Well, usually that's true. In your case, though, your pecs are big enough I think I can squeeze 'em pretty good around my cock. Wanna try it?"
"Sure, I guess."
"You don't sound very enthusiastic about it, Jeff. Is there something else you'd rather do?"
"Well--," he said, so softly that I had to lean forward and strain to hear him at all, "you could fuck me -- back there -- if you wanted to."
"Are you sure, Jeff? I mean, my dick's pretty big for a cherry fuck."
"Can we -- try it and see?"
"On the understanding that we'll go very slowly and you'll tell me or stop me if it gets to hurting too bad."
"OK, I will."
"Reach me my gym bag, then. I brought a couple of things we'll be needing." I pulled out the pack of condoms and bottle of For-Play that I'd put in, just in case. Jeff was already assuming the "doggy-style" position, bent over his couch.
"No, Jeff, let me sit where you are. This will work better if you sit down on it, first time through. That way you're the one in control of how far and how fast it goes in, understand?"
"Oh, OK. What do you want me to do?"
"Well, you want to put the condom on me?"
"That'd be cool."
"See if you can milk up a drop or two of pre-cum before you put it on; if not, squirt a dab of that lubricant on the top of my cock before you roll on the condom, 'K?"
"Sure. Now what?" he asked, when the rubber was securely in place down the length of my shaft.
"Grease up your hand really good with that lube, and smear it all over my cock, then come up here and straddle me."
"You got it."
He squatted in front of me on the couch, his ass only inches from the tip of my erect dick, and his hard-on waving in my face, as his slick hand stroked my cock through the rubber. I grabbed the bottle of lube, squirted some onto my fingers, and gently worked it around the ring of his ass. He jumped a little when my fingers first touched him, but he kept right on stroking my cock.
"If you're ready, Jeff, I'm gonna work a finger in, very gently. Be sure to tell me if it hurts or anything."
"Right," he said, but jumped again when my index finger slipped very gently past his ass ring and into the warmth beyond. Predictably, he tensed up.
"Just relax, Jeff. You're doing fine. Still want to go ahead with this? I won't mind if you want to stop."
"Yeah," he said, relaxing slightly, "I still want to."
"OK. I'm going to try to loosen things up a little with my fingers before I try anything else. All you need to do is relax and try not to worry. I won't do anything without telling you, and remember that you're the one in control here. If it hurts too much, or feels strange, you say something, and I'll stop."
True to my word, I warned him before I slipped a second finger into his hole and worked it around, then a third. He was still pretty tense, but I thought I could manage to calm him down if I sucked on his dick a little, which I did for a couple of minutes.
"Think you're ready to try something a little more substantial than my fingers?"
"Guess so. What do I do?"
"Just sit down on my dick. I'll hold it, or you can if you'd prefer, and guide it in. Take it in easy stages, and remember we can always stop this and try again later if you still want to."
"I do want to try, Mike. I think I can take it," he said, as he began to squat down on my hard cock, still gripped in his slick hand.
As I expected, he tensed up when he felt the head of my cock pressing against his asshole, so I wrapped a hand and my lips around his own rod to distract him, and he kept on pushing back against my bone until it was in. I was surprised to find that once I got my cockhead past the sphincter, he took the rest of my shaft like he was an old pro at getting fucked. It wasn't long before he was bouncing on me like a maniac, and pushed my hand away to jerk himself off in time with the movements of his ass up and down on my rock-hard dick.
"Oh yeah! Oh yeah!" he chanted. "I'm gonna come! Fuck me, dude, I'm gonna come!"
Suiting actions to words, he sprayed another enormous load all over my chest and upper body -- and, I think, the wall behind me, but I wasn't thinking any too clearly at the time, so I can't rightly say for sure. That was just the trigger I needed to blow my wad in the rubber up his ass. I was totally unprepared for what happened next.
As he came down from the high of his orgasm, my cock still lodged in his ass, Jeff's eyes opened. It seemed like he only then realised exactly what had just happened -- or what had been going on pretty much all weekend between us. He looked at me, his face all a-quiver, and completely broke down in tears -- looking for all the world like he'd just lost his last friend. What else could I do? I pulled him close, held him gently, stroked his hair, and waited for the storm to subside, saying "It's OK" over and over again -- wondering the whole time exactly what in hell was going on, though I was beginning to have some very unpleasant suspicions.
Eventually, he cried himself out. I got us disentangled and cleaned up a little, then pulled him back into my arms as we lay along the couch, so his back was to me. I figured it might be a little easier for him to tell me what was up if he didn't have to look me in the eye while he did it.
"Wanna talk about it, Jeff?" I asked, as gently as I could.
"Listen to me, dude," I said. "I'm here if you want to talk about whatever it is, and I'm here if you don't, too. Anything you do tell me will stay between us: no one else will know unless you tell 'em, or you give me permission to. Is that OK?"
He nodded in answer and I continued, "Now, was it something I did, or didn't do, or what?"
He shook his head violently this time. "No, it wasn't you, Mike. I loved having you fuck me, and I've wanted it for a long time. I've dreamed about everything we've done together this weekend, in fact. It's just, you've been so -- gentle, and -- caring, and careful to explain things, and -- you asked if you could do things to me -- I mean, with me--"
I knew where the conversation was heading from that point on, and I didn't much like the look of the land -- or have any kind of a clue what I should do about it.
"Um, one of my brothers--used to--"
"Jeff, buddy, you don't have to say it if you don't want to."
"No, Mike, I've gotta get this off my chest before it kills me. He used to make me suck his dick, or he'd fuck me up the ass -- but it was never the way it's been with you. He never asked, he was never gentle, he just forced himself on me or in me, whenever he felt like it -- and swore he'd kill me if I ever told anyone about it. It was three years before he went away to college, and I never knew when he was going to sneak into my room after everyone else was asleep and rape me. I used to dread having to go to bed at night, never knowing if I'd find him naked in my bed when I got there, or wake up with him poking his dick in my face or trying to wedge it up my asshole--"
Heart-sick, I held him close and whispered, "Jeff -- Jeff: Why in God's name did you ask me to fuck you? I wouldn't have done it if I'd known."
"No, Mike," he said, "I wanted you. I wanted to suck your dick, and to feel you shove it up my ass while you came. With Brian it was never like that -- he just hurt me and made me feel like the old rag he used to wipe off his dick after he'd finished with me. I wanted to be with you this weekend, 'cuz girls have never really done anything for me. I've always been too scared to try anything with another guy, just in case he turned out to be like my brother, but I did want to know if I could really enjoy it, if maybe that was what I liked even after what my brother did to me.
"You were different, Mike. You didn't jump my bones the first chance you got -- or even put the moves on me like I was sorta hoping you might. You always took time with me, you let me go at my own pace and didn't push me to do anything -- you listened. That was the most important thing, I think."
"Have you talked to anyone else about this?"
"No," he said, "but I've been thinking about it for a while."
"I think you should, man. I don't know enough to help you work through this kind of shit. But whatever I can do to help, whatever you'll let me do to help, I want to do it!"
"You've helped a lot just by being my friend, Mike, and by being with me this weekend. Does Ryan know you like doing it with guys?"
I was a little surprised by the quick change of subject.
"Umm, yeah, he does," I said. "We've been together for a little over a year," I whispered, conscience-stricken both at having told a third party without first asking Ryan, and the reason I was in a position to be telling that third party.
"'Together'? You mean like lovers?"
"Does he know you're here, with me?"
"No. I'm feeling a little guilty about that, but I'll deal with that when he gets home."
"Is he going to be angry with you?"
"Probably at least a little. We've been having some rough times lately, and this isn't going to do much to smooth them over. Can I tell him what you told me? I think he might be a little less mad at me, and he may even know of some people who can help you to get help."
"I--I guess so. If you think it'll help."
"It might. I don't think it'll hurt any -- and Ryan's not the kind to shoot off his mouth when he shouldn't."
"Does he like taking it up the ass, too?"
"Well, he's never complained to me about it," I laughed. "Then again, he usually gives as good as he gets."
"You mean he fucks you, too?"
"Sure. We don't keep score or anything, but I'd bet it's pretty much even money which of us will fuck the other at any given time. It all depends on who's in the mood to pitch, and who wants to catch."
"Well, we could at least try it. Bear in mind that Ryan's cock is the only one that's been in my ass for more than a year, and his isn't as big as yours is. I may have some trouble taking it all."
"I don't mind. I've always kinda wondered what it was like to be the one doing the fucking--"
"This isn't going to bring up any unpleasant memories, is it?"
"I don't think so -- but if it does, I promise I'll stop before I start taking out three years of abuse on your ass, OK?"
"OK. Want me to glove you up?"
"Sure. Let me get situated for you."
Considering that he'd been crying on my shoulder not 45 minutes before, he was rock- hard and ready for action practically before I could get out of his way on the couch. It wasn't much longer before his cockhead was pushing its way past my sphincter, and lodging itself very pleasantly up my ass. He was a little rougher than Ryan, but under the circumstances, I didn't worry about that too much. His probe was doing all the right things to my prostate, and his hand felt very pleasant, working up and down my shaft in time with his thrusts up my ass. I think I shot off a fraction of a second before he slimed the rubber inside me, but I can't be sure of that, as he never said anything -- just screwed up his face and rammed it all the way in and held it there for several moments.
The rest of the day Saturday and well into the night was spent in pretty much the same fashion. We talked a lot, in between and around the sex. Fortunately for my cock, which was more than a little tender by Sunday morning, he and I both had tons of homework to get done and so we went our separate ways after trading affectionate morning blowjobs that turned into a very pleasant session of sixty-nining.
"I was going to tell you, Ryan," I sighed. "I wasn't planning to do it right after fucking you, though. Can you forgive me?"
"Look at me, Mike," he said.
I turned to gaze into his eyes once more, relieved -- overjoyed -- to see them still glowing with the love and respect that had been there before I began my "sordid" story.
"I'm not going to pretend I'm not upset that you slept with Jeff," he said, his gaze darkening a bit as he said it. "But I do understand what led up to it, and I'm sorry if my actions before I got sick and left town for that ridiculous wedding contributed to what happened between you two. I won't ask you to stop seeing him, either, because I think he's going to need some understanding friends if he's really going to start working through this whole abuse thing. But I'd rather he found his own boyfriend!"
"I'm not sure he's going to be ready to go looking for one for a while, at least until he's gotten his head sorted out. Once he does, though, I don't think he'll have a very hard time finding someone to warm his bed, if that's what he wants."
"We'll worry about that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime," Ryan said, grinning, "pass me the condoms. I think it's time I evened up the score we aren't keeping--"
Copyright © 1996 by Michael J. Spires. All rights reserved. Permission is granted to download this document only if this copyright statement is retained. Any other use constitutes a violation of Title XVII of the United States Code.