"Listen to this shit!" he read off the screen: " ... and the head of his huge cock just popped inside my virgin hole!"
"Yeah, right! Followed by my mom's SUV. It just sorta slipped in," I lilted.
"Oh, yeah. Popped. Like Ahh, Ahh, Ka Booom! Splat! Guts everywhere."
"Plow me with your manly mauler."
"Get over here and be my screwdriver slave."
"Why don't they make these fuckers so they seat properly?" he bitched, trying to get the sound card to screw down into the slot.
"Hey Mike?" Quietly, looking at him.
"Yeah?" Equally softly.
"I... I want you to know I really enjoyed last night."
"I ju... " he started.
I interrupted. I didn't want him covering and fucking this up.
"Before you go on, I just... Look, I'm the one taking the big chance here, so just listen to me for a second.
"I... I really enjoyed what we did, but... " He started to get ready to cut me off.
"BUT! ... I just want you to know that what I liked more than anything else was that it was with you. I hope you know that... ummm. I... it kinda... meant something to me. I'm sorry. I'm not saying it too well... " I trailed off.
"Listen, Justin... I'm kinda scared to even talk about it. I mean, I think about it all the time, but I guess I've never really even talked to ME about it, so it's sorta scary.
"But... Justin. There isn't anybody else in the world it could have been with, but you. I just hope you won't decide to hate me, now," he said sorta sadly.
"Fuck, no!" I got closer to him. Punched him in the arm fairly hard and pushed him back on my bed and pounced on him, pinning his shoulders with my hands. "Fuck no. We're tight, dude. Fuck that shit! That was good! I feel like... like... like so relieved. I feel like this whole load of crap in my head just... evaporated or something."
"Me too! It's like this concrete thing went away." He paused, looking down. Then he looked up, kinda jerkily. I could tell he had trouble meeting my eyes. "Justin?"
"Thank you." I guess I looked surprised, cuz he went on: "You're... you're really... brave, Justin. I... I didn't have the guts."
I felt a little hum of pleasure at how this was going. "Well, you certainly have the balls," I smiled, leered: "Cute ones!" Remembering him.
That made him blush. Made me get hard. My dick started to get bigger, so it moved. And the movement felt so good that it got harder faster and moved more and I just flopped onto the bed and pulled Mike on top of me. I figured if he got uncomfortable, he could just sit up. Meanwhile, he owned whatever he did.
What he did was look at me. What he did was come closer and touch my cheek with his lips. What he did was pull away and look into my eyes, looking for something. My reaction. What he did was lean back in and place a sweet, tentative, tender, chaste little kiss on my lips, and then turn his face away, putting his head against my shoulder, holding still. What he did was relax against me. What he did was make me want to hold him, make a tickle in my chest. Make my dick so hard. Make me kiss the top of his head. Make me curl my stomach and rub my dick against him. Make me sigh and feel so warm.
I just put my arms around him, and we stayed that way for a while, listening to each other's breathing.
Eventually, he stirred, rolled off me. "Justin?" he asked, sorta hoarsely.
"This isn't gonna fuck things up, is it?
"You mean our... being buds?"
"No. I'll still give you a hard time and kick the shit outta you on Tricky."
"Yeah right. You can't even stay on the fuckin' course! ASS-hole!"
"See? We're cool."
"Oh! Yeah. Good," he said, thoughtfully. Then he reared back and smirked: "That's fucked!"
"Yep!" I smirked back.
The warm feelings were... warm and all. But the deep, urgent tickle behind my dick was unbearable. Swallowing my fear, I touched him there. He was hard, of course, and I just unzipped him. Touched him. Needed him. Needed the touch of his hand. Moaned, when it happened. Raced him to get naked. Pulled the skin up his dick until his balls followed. Blew on them to make 'em tight. Kissed them. Made him pulse from my touch and draw up, more.
I felt him touching me. Felt his moist, warm breath on my nuts. Felt his tender kisses on my sack. Felt my own sack tightening rapidly. Felt a little shiver of delight and desire. The itching got worse. I whimpered for the need of his hand on my shaft. I pulsed when it came, the pleasure hard and painful-weird and sweet. I knew I needed his lips there.
I knew how to show him my need: I kissed his beautiful tasty bag, but only for a moment, before bending him down and placing my mouth worshipfully around the outer half of his prize. Slowly withdrawing, enjoying him with my lips. Pausing, sliding, sweetly, back down the hard, tender tube to treasure all of him in my mouth, for a moment. Treaure him and the glory of his sucking me, too, pleasuring me painfully, so I forgot who was who and who was doing what and just sucked him with rising delight until the itching became a screaming whine and his jetting cream hit my tongue hard, hard, as I slid up and over and deep into the shuddering glory of it, thanking, thanking, thanking him for the pleasure and the joy of giving me his penis for my lips.