OK guys this is my first story attempt. I'm rock hard having finished it and knowing I'm going to post it. It will seriously get me off to know if you like the story and (in detail) if you came reading it.
I want to do sort of a contest: the best photo of one of you cumming to the story gets a photo of me not only cumming but with a dildo just like Andrew's dick would have been in the story. If it's a deal then post your photos here or message me for my email to send them privately.
Not sure if I can put all of this in one post, I guess it is the first chapter.
Chapter One
In my inbox was the invitation from facebook: Andrew wants to add you as a friend.
Andrew was one of my best friends in high school, star of the cross country team, a bit of a jerk, but part of our circle made up of the smartest kids at school, the ones that got out of regular classes from time to time for special, advanced courses. We had a sort of rivalry/friendship, as he was dating a girl with whom I thought I had fallen in love—those were my closet days. We went away to different colleges, he broke up with the girl, and after two years I transferred to the state college he was attending. We had gotten back in touch and he offered me a room in an apartment he was renting with two other guys from cross country (he ran for the college team), and though still in the closet, I was aware enough of what was going on to jump at the chance.
That was a crazy year, our junior year in college. I fell in love with one of our roommates, and when the others found out, Andrew admitted during the course of an all-night drinking binge that he got into guys now and then, especially when the stress of finals hit. One thing lead to another and at the end of one of those drunk nights I ended up with his magnificent cock in my mouth. I had heard the legend of his dick during high school, and everything was true. He even tried to fuck me once, but it would have been my first time, and it hurt too damn much. I sucked him a few times as finals approached, always late at night, and there was never any kissing or anything like that.
Summer came, he went back home, and we didn’t live together the next year. About five years later we got back in touch briefly, and I even visited him at the high school where he was coaching track and teaching. He had a few stories of the horny high schoolers coming on to him, and one close call with another young running star with whom he’d gotten a bit too close, but otherwise he was happily married and seemed to have put his playtime with guys aside.
So the facebook message, twenty years after our high school graduation, was a surprise. We traded a few messages, and I learned his first marriage ended when his Southern Baptist wife left him for another woman (ironic, huh?) and his second was on the rocks. After a few emails back and forth he said he always thought of me as one of his best friends, and I said the same. I told him about my life in France, and he mentioned that he would probably come to Paris this summer as his dad had an apartment there. We pledged to get together.
Fast forward to last month. Andrew did come to Paris, and I drove up to see him. We’d talked about just hanging out for a few days, so I could show him parts of the city only a French speaker would know about, and I planned to stay at the apartment as his dad and step-mom had already taken off for Italy. When I got to the building he buzzed me in and I bolted up the stairs. Bolted? What I forgot to say is that ever since I got his message about us being best friends, my cock got hard every time I thought of him. I saw facebook pictures of him in cross country gear, and strained to see the outline of that huge cock through the silky shorts. I loved that he had stayed slim (I had, too), and except for a little grey around the edges, he looked as hot as ever.
He opened the door and we hugged immediately. We were both all smiles as we talked and caught up, and after an hour or two I asked if he wanted to hit the town, get something to eat, whatever. He got quiet and hesitant. “I dunno, what do you feel like?” he asked.
“Anything, I’m up for whatever,” I answered. He looked down and I got the distinct feeling that he was doing his best not to look at me. “What’s up?’
“I don’t know, it’s just that…oh, fuck it. It’s so fucking great to see you, man.” Andrew always had one of the foulest mouths in our gang of friends, and I loved it, as I could say whatever the fuck I wanted with him. I laughed and told him the same was true for me. Then he continued, “Ever since I friended you on facebook, I can’t stop thinking about you. That semester when…you know?” He looked up at me finally with a devilish squint in his eyes. I liked where this was going.
“Yeah, I know. I’ve been thinking about it, too. I mean, things were fucked up, me in love with Mark, you three freaking out about me being gay, you and your library bathroom adventures, then us…”
He asked, “Really? You’ve been thinking about it too?” This time he looked me straight in the eyes. My cock, already stirring, was pushing hard between my thigh and my jeans for more space. I didn’t dare look for a sign of his, though it would have been pretty easy to find.
“Yeah,” I continued, “can I tell you something without freaking you out?”
“What would freak me out coming from you?” he laughed.
“Well, I remember sucking you, and that was awesome, but I also remember you tried to fuck me…”
“..and you squealed like the guy from Deliverance!” Andrew wasn’t all that delicate when it came to sex. “Yeah, I probably was a little rough. And any way, it would have gotten even weirder then.”
“Things are different now, though, aren’t they?” I prodded. “I mean, mechanically I wouldn’t have the same problem. And, well, what was weird then might not be so weird now.”
He sat quiet and once again looked down, twisting his fingers together as if trying to concentrate hard on something. I was hoping it was that hard cock he was thinking of. “Fuck, Jonny, I can’t believe you’re bringing that up!” His face looked shocked, and I started to think that I had read the situation with my dick rather than my brain. My cock was doing its best to blow smoke over my brain, though, and him calling me “Jonny” didn’t help; he was the only one of my friends who ever dared do that and there was an intimacy to it that drove me wild. Then he looked up and said, “because I never would have had the balls to. And I am so fucking horny and want to fuck you so bad.”
I smiled at him and he smiled back and laughed his half-grunt, half-laugh, a sort of guttural chuckle that betrayed the animal he really was. In college, it was all about the sex, and I had put up with servicing him since it was one of very few chances to get any action. But right away I started to think that I wasn’t likely to put up with that now, and at the same time I had a hunch that it wouldn’t be that same, animal lust and shooting his wad that it had been for him before either. I decided to get it going.
“OK, but there are rules.”
“What rules?” he asked with a puzzled look.
“First, nothing that happens can make anything weird between us. We’re still friends no matter what.” This was easy; we could always talk about anything, maybe it was that we both cursed like truck drivers, that neither cared too much for the rules of society, who knows? But I was sure that no matter what we’d be able to laugh or kid our way out of just about anything. He nodded his head to the first rule. “What else?” he asked.
“OK, anything goes. We can try anything, either of us. Nothing can freak us out; if one of us isn’t into something, we just move on, no getting hung up.” He smiled at this one. “That one I like!” he laughed. “You done?”
“Yeah. I’m done. Anything for you?” I wanted to see what he was thinking. Was this a fuck or something else?
“Nah, nothing. Wait, fuck, I don’t have rubbers. My ex was on the pill so I never had them. I hate fucking rubbers.” He was groping in his mind for something. “Hell, anyway, you’re not sick are you? You get tested?” He had been around enough faggots that he was pretty fluent, especially when it came to the sexual parts of homosexuality.
“No, I’m not sick, and yeah, I get tested all the time. I’m clean.” I felt like I was talking him into something, making a sale, but I soon learned he had already had the same idea.
“Cool. Do you have rubbers?” he asked.
Of course, I did. Whenever I came to Paris, I was always ready, not only with condoms, but with my favorite lube. Paris is a horny city and you’re always able to find what you want if you look hard enough. And of course, I lied. “No, I’m out and need to get some, but I did bring lube.” I reached into my bag and pulled out my little flask ready for any occasion. I looked him straight in the eyes to see if he was getting my drift, and if he was playing along.
“Well I’ve only been with Dawn, and I just got tested. So if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna stick with the lube.” You couldn’t have wiped the shit-eating grins off our faces with a sandblaster. We laughed. Here we were, after 17 years, still the same foul-mouthed, perverted little fucks eager to do anything to get off. But I could feel something deeper too, something in how we talked before, even in the hug at the door. I knew I’d have to go easy, though, as I wasn’t at all sure just how much had changed between us, or just how ready he might be to admit that he had something more for guys than dick-lust.
He was sitting on the couch and I dropped to my knees and undid his belt and the button of his shorts. He shifted down a bit as I unzipped him, and then lifted up as I grabbed at the sides of his waist to pull his shorts and underwear off in one movement. And there it was. That cock. Andrew’s monster cock, not too long, but thick, meaty, soft, cut, a perfect head, a drop of precum, hard already. I was drunk with the memories of the last time I had it, and the thoughts of getting it where I really wanted it, deep inside me, his skin on and in mine, bare.
He lay back on the couch and I went to work. Of course I had told myself I wasn’t going to be just the faggot sucking off the straight guy (OK, the bi guy) like in college. But what can you do? I licked his balls, his huge, hairless sack and its cum-filled ovals, and he let out a sigh that told me that it had been far too long since anyone had thought of his pleasure. I licked up his smooth shaft in long strokes, pausing only to rewet my tongue, and flicked at his piss-slit, lapping up the precum that had kept beading up like sap in the wound of a massive tree trunk. He shivered, spread his legs, and I took his dick in my mouth for the first time in so many years.
Andrew practically shouted out a groan of relief, and I realized I had forgotten how verbal he was during sex. Part of me worried that it had been so long that he would cum right away (and then think better of the idea of fucking me), but the better part of me was egged on, wanting him to moan more, grunt deeper, scream with pleasure with every touch of my tongue around his pole. I shifted a bit to get in a better position, and adjusted to the girth of his tool. I kept my hands on his runner’s thighs, loving the feel of his leg hair on my fingers, and pumped up and down on his cock, sucking “Fuck!’ and “Shit!” out of him each time I took more of him in me.
He grabbed the sides of my head (did he touch me like that in college? I tried to recall) and followed my head up and down on his cock, not forcing me on it, but with his hips beginning to rise off the couch when I pulled off him too far for his liking. With runner’s legs I knew this was something he could keep up for hours, and I also thought that him starting to thrust was a preliminary meaning that he was eager to be the one pumping me. He kept leaking precum, I kept swallowing it, and now I was moaning with the pleasure of making his moans and curses louder and more violent. I was still fully clothed, but sucking him was enough, and the added pleasure of my stiff cock rubbing my shorts (it was summer and I never wear briefs in summer) was almost too much. I didn’t want to cum and miss out on what I really wanted.
Suddenly he pulled my head off his cock, reached up and almost violently tore off his tshirt so that he was finally naked. Andrew was by nature averse to having the slightest bit of clothing on during sex, and would even walk around our college apartment naked at times (probably because he was always thinking about fucking!). I knew that what this meant was that his animal side was taking over, and he was entering his almost trance-like state of pure testosterone and savage fucking. I glanced up at him from the floor and took in his magnificent body, licking my lips at the profuse sweat beginning to ooze from his pores and drip down the trail between his abs in the Parisian heat.
What came next surprised me. “Take off your clothes,” he said, a wild look in his eye, his voice almost panting through the heavy breaths he was drawing. I stood and obeyed, as if a spell were being cast over me, and entered the trance myself. I ripped off my tshirt and quickly slid my baggy shorts to the floor. He grinned when he saw I wasn’t wearing underwear; he knew I was as perverted as he was and he loved it.
Though I couldn’t have been bothered to think about it at the time, there was none of the awkwardness we both might have feared the moment we admitted we wanted to fuck. There was lust, connection, sweat, and cock. Andrew eyed me up and down, seeming impressed at the shape I had kept myself in after so long. He stepped towards me and took my cock in his hand and watched himself stroke it, rubbing my pearl of precum over my cockhead. He had never touched my dick in college, and my entire body flushed with the thrill of learning how another guy’s hands work a cock. And then a second thrill of knowing that things had changed: Andrew was stroking my cock, pleasuring me.
We looked up, standing face to face, my hand now on his cock, and I stilled an urge to kiss him. I’m a faggot; I kiss guys when I fuck. Fucking isn’t worth it if you can’t kiss. But I was still feeling Andrew out, and kissing, at least at this point, would have been going too far. Anyway, we were having fun, a lot of fun, and I certainly didn’t want to fuck up what would surely come next. Instead of the kiss, we just stared into each other’s eyes, back to our cocks, and back to our shared gaze. Andrew broke the silence: “I love your cock, man. It’s perfect.”
I laughed, “I think you’re the one with the perfect cock, stud!” He wasn’t listening. He was on his knees, hands on my hips, forcing my cock into his mouth as if his life depended on it. Same moaning, same groaning, but my cock in his mouth. And he was loving it. It was all I could do to keep from fainting on the spot, or, worse, cumming. Getting your cock sucked is one thing, and a good thing, but here was my buddy Andrew, my jack-off fantasy when I was 14, my one-time fuck buddy in college, my best friend, long-lost and now back again, sucking my dick for all he was worth. And he was worth a million. In all the late-night trips to the library bathrooms on campus, he apparently didn’t only get sucked. He gave head like the champion runner he was: swift, intense, sopping wet with spit, deep, and caring. Yes, caring. I couldn’t help thinking in that moment, if only for an instant, that we were making love.
The fear of an impending and premature orgasm wiped that sweet thought from my mind, and I pulled out of his mouth, a string of spit bridging his smiling face to my bouncing dick. “Fuck, Andrew, fuck! You can suck cock!” He roared out another of his animal laughs from the floor and so did I. “You like that, Jonny?” he asked, again with a shit-eating grin on his face.
Now I gave the order. “Sit on the couch.” He flopped in the middle of the sofa and spread his legs wide, thinking I was going back to sucking him. I smiled and instead grabbed the lube from the table beside the couch. His eyes widened and his face softened, and then that devilish smile crept over his face. I looked at him straight on, taking in the anticipation that was filling his body, noticing his cock standing at attention, bigger than before, and throbbing slightly with each pulse of blood that flowed through it.
Without looking away, I raised one foot to the couch, placing it against his outstretched thigh, again relishing the contact between us. His look changed to one of curiosity; I didn’t know if he had ever fucked other guys, but assumed he had. But I imagined it must have been fast, brutal, in a college library bathroom, all business. This was pleasure. I squirted lube on my fingers and began to finger myself, spreading my legs so that he could see. I was breathing heavily, my mouth open, and sweating so much that it was dripping over my balls and down my taint, mixing in my opening asshole with the lube.
“Oh yeah!” he cried, clapping his hands together. It was almost like the husband who finally got his wife to put out after a year of trying. He watched as I worked in one finger, then two, then relubed, the three, but only enough to know that I was ready. I knew Andrew’s cock would hurt, even with years of experience, and I wanted it to hurt. Really? Yeah, I wanted it to hurt, a little. I wanted to be able to take it, for sure, but wanted to be tight for him, wanted it to be better than any ass or pussy he’d ever had. I gasped a bit as the third finger pushed inside, and he looked up at me with his mouth open wide.
I took out my fingers and lowered my leg and lubed up his cock, barely touching it. I wanted to save the impact of my hole swallowing his cock for the last possible moment. I grabbed my tshirt from the floor, wiping my hands of excess lube, and straddled him on the couch, teasing him a bit with my winking hole rubbing barely against the huge head of his cock. Here we were, finally, about to go where we had only gone in my fantasies, jacking off with a dildo fucking my ass, imagining it was Andrew’s cock in me. “So you want this ass, stud?” I teased.
“Fuck yeah. Fucking fuck yeah.” He grabbed my hips, I grabbed his cock, and aimed it for my hot insides. He didn’t push into me, he seemed to know that I had to be in control, and just maintained his touch on me as I lowered myself, really, impaled myself, on his gigantic dick. My asshole burned at the first push of the head going in, but I knew to push a bit until it slipped past and the gland was fully inside me. He grunted like a pig, then started panting. I also knew I’d better not wait, as my sphincter was twitching at the girth of his cock threatening to tear me open. I’d been fucked before, and by a few guys with monster cocks, but Andrew’s was something else. I lifted half a centimeter off and sat down again, the lube doing its work and slicking the way for his cock to go deeper inside me.
It took a few minutes of easing up and down, Andrew the model of patience, to be able to sit down all the way, the intense feeling of cock inside me, mixing with the heat, our sweat and smells, the feel of his hands now rubbing my hips, all getting me high. Until I got him all the way in, I had kept my eyes closed, concentrating on opening to him and getting off to a good start. Now he was in, Andrew was fucking me, no rubber, like boys do, like buddies do, like lover do. Lovers? I couldn’t keep the thought away, opening my eyes and looking at him fiercely, meeting his gaze once he opened his eyes after the initial shock. His mouth was open, and he could barely utter, “Fuck, Jonny. You…are…so…fucking…tight.”
In that moment it was like the first time you watch a friend get high, his pleasure accelerating your own. And you want to pass him the joint again and again to see just how high he can get. I kept soaking him in with my eyes, watching the waves of lust wash over his face, as I tightened my hole, each time squeezing out another “Shit!” or “”Fuck!” And then I lifted off, careful to keep his gland inside me, slowly, and sat back down, watching the sweat bead on his forehead, up and down again, watching his lips tremble, up and down again, smelling his breath as he exhaled as hard as at the end of a 5K run.
His grasp on my hips tightened, and as he had before when I sucked him, he started thrusting from the couch, the powerful runner’s thighs finally unleashed to do their work. As his thrusts went deeper and faster, they became more urgent, the animal side taking over. And I slowly gave in, keeping my hips and hole where they were, and letting him do the work. He was cautious, even gentle, at first, knowing that even though I had sat completely down on his cock there was the possibility that he could go too far (he probably had learned his lesson, especially from the girls he’d fucked). But he gradually forgot all that, stopped caring, and started to really fuck me. Each time he shoved his dick in deeper than the time before, and each time I moaned, sometimes almost grunting from the shock of how deep, but he knew not to stop. Anyway, we had agreed on the rules: anything goes, if you don’t like it, move on. I liked it.
He must have been getting a bit tired after about ten minutes as he settled his hips back onto the couch, relaxed those powerful legs, and shoved me back down on his cock, this time working himself in deeper by shifting my hips around over his cock. He caught his breath, and then our eyes met. We were caught in a mix of animal lust, disbelief, homecoming, sweat and heat. And yes, something else. He didn’t break our gaze, but suddenly grabbed me around my waist, stood up, me still impaled on his dick, and carried me to the bedroom. He carefully eased us on to the bed, this time me on my back, his cock never slipping even a millimeter out. He pushed me up on the bed, lifted my legs over his shoulders, and looked at me again. “Now I’m gonna fuck you.”
The next fifteen minutes could have been three or thirty or seven days for all I know. He had prepared me enough before so that he knew he didn’t need to ease into anything. He fucked. He fucked like a straight (OK, bi) guy fucks. He fucked me hard, deep, faster and faster, his hips smacking into mine with a violent crack accentuated by all our sweat. His balls knocked against the lower part of my ass, and I could feel both of them and relished knowing that this was getting his cum ready to flow. His sweat drenched me, falling from his hair onto mine, from his chest onto my belly. My cock was flopping between us, but I couldn’t have cared about having a cock at all. I knew that I was getting close, but I was sure I would cum by the force of getting fucked alone. His dick was so thick that he couldn’t help rubbing and pressing on my prostate with each successive thrust.
We were in that place where there is no rational thought, only cock-lust. I had given up any hope of trying (honestly, I didn’t care!) the depth or force of his thrusts and was lost in the pleasure of knowing Andrew was taking me. I was his, he owned me, I was what he wanted. I opened my eyes and regaled in the sweat pouring off his chest, arching my neck and back up to lick it off of him, to taste him. He fucked me harder, pounded me, grunting now, and I kept licking, and smelling, tightening my hole from time to time just to see what it would do to his body. I licked up to his neck, the thick muscles, and suddenly he lowered his head, near exhaustion, his face right next to mine. We weren’t thinking, we were fucking, I licked his face, and in an instant he was thrusting his tongue in my mouth with the same force he was fucking my asshole.
We kept going, I was swallowing every drop of his spit that wasn’t overflowing onto the sheets. He grabbed my hands and held my arms over my head, stretching his legs out so that his entire weight was pressing his cock into me. All of him, every gram, was fucking me, in me or giving force to his cock, and I was tasting his sweat and spit, anything in him was in me, or would soon be. His lips tightened, though he didn’t break our mouth-fucking; it only got deeper, his tongue lapping up the insides of my mouth as mine fought to do the same to his. I felt it first in his legs, then his belly, he started to shake, all while continuing his violent thrusts. A sound came from my mouth, his sound, a low, muffled “Mmmmm” at first that turned into a cry, and I knew he was cumming. Andrew, my buddy, was going to cum in my ass.
He lifted off me slightly, almost as if in pain, and screamed a grunting “Fuck!” that sent me over the edge. It was all I needed, the confirmation that I had made Andrew cum. “Cum inside me Andy, fuck me, cum in me!” I yelled. He did. His balls now pumping cum into me, cock throbbing as it squirted his jizz deep inside me, all of his force coming out in this one moment, in this last liquid that I wanted so much.
My orgasm had squeezed more and more cum out of his cock, my hole tightening with each spurt of semen that landed on his belly, my chest, and when fucked out of me by a particularly deep thrust from his dick, onto my lips. My flopping cock rubbed it into his abs, and twitched even more in the sticky mess between us.
He shuddered as he pumped his last thrusts into me, still plowing me as if he couldn’t stop, but more slowly, breathing heavily, as I looked at his face and the complete lust reddening every inch of his skin. The smell of his breath was intoxicating. He was slowing down, coming to, and then, kissing me again, just as deeply, but now sweetly, tenderly. He didn’t mind the cum on my lips, my cum. Andrew had tasted my cum, he wanted me in him just as much. We let my semen dissolve in our kiss.
He broke our kiss and put his lips to my ear and between pants said, “Jonny…I…love…you.” I didn’t think. “I love you Andy.”
I want to do sort of a contest: the best photo of one of you cumming to the story gets a photo of me not only cumming but with a dildo just like Andrew's dick would have been in the story. If it's a deal then post your photos here or message me for my email to send them privately.
Not sure if I can put all of this in one post, I guess it is the first chapter.
Chapter One
In my inbox was the invitation from facebook: Andrew wants to add you as a friend.
Andrew was one of my best friends in high school, star of the cross country team, a bit of a jerk, but part of our circle made up of the smartest kids at school, the ones that got out of regular classes from time to time for special, advanced courses. We had a sort of rivalry/friendship, as he was dating a girl with whom I thought I had fallen in love—those were my closet days. We went away to different colleges, he broke up with the girl, and after two years I transferred to the state college he was attending. We had gotten back in touch and he offered me a room in an apartment he was renting with two other guys from cross country (he ran for the college team), and though still in the closet, I was aware enough of what was going on to jump at the chance.
That was a crazy year, our junior year in college. I fell in love with one of our roommates, and when the others found out, Andrew admitted during the course of an all-night drinking binge that he got into guys now and then, especially when the stress of finals hit. One thing lead to another and at the end of one of those drunk nights I ended up with his magnificent cock in my mouth. I had heard the legend of his dick during high school, and everything was true. He even tried to fuck me once, but it would have been my first time, and it hurt too damn much. I sucked him a few times as finals approached, always late at night, and there was never any kissing or anything like that.
Summer came, he went back home, and we didn’t live together the next year. About five years later we got back in touch briefly, and I even visited him at the high school where he was coaching track and teaching. He had a few stories of the horny high schoolers coming on to him, and one close call with another young running star with whom he’d gotten a bit too close, but otherwise he was happily married and seemed to have put his playtime with guys aside.
So the facebook message, twenty years after our high school graduation, was a surprise. We traded a few messages, and I learned his first marriage ended when his Southern Baptist wife left him for another woman (ironic, huh?) and his second was on the rocks. After a few emails back and forth he said he always thought of me as one of his best friends, and I said the same. I told him about my life in France, and he mentioned that he would probably come to Paris this summer as his dad had an apartment there. We pledged to get together.
Fast forward to last month. Andrew did come to Paris, and I drove up to see him. We’d talked about just hanging out for a few days, so I could show him parts of the city only a French speaker would know about, and I planned to stay at the apartment as his dad and step-mom had already taken off for Italy. When I got to the building he buzzed me in and I bolted up the stairs. Bolted? What I forgot to say is that ever since I got his message about us being best friends, my cock got hard every time I thought of him. I saw facebook pictures of him in cross country gear, and strained to see the outline of that huge cock through the silky shorts. I loved that he had stayed slim (I had, too), and except for a little grey around the edges, he looked as hot as ever.
He opened the door and we hugged immediately. We were both all smiles as we talked and caught up, and after an hour or two I asked if he wanted to hit the town, get something to eat, whatever. He got quiet and hesitant. “I dunno, what do you feel like?” he asked.
“Anything, I’m up for whatever,” I answered. He looked down and I got the distinct feeling that he was doing his best not to look at me. “What’s up?’
“I don’t know, it’s just that…oh, fuck it. It’s so fucking great to see you, man.” Andrew always had one of the foulest mouths in our gang of friends, and I loved it, as I could say whatever the fuck I wanted with him. I laughed and told him the same was true for me. Then he continued, “Ever since I friended you on facebook, I can’t stop thinking about you. That semester when…you know?” He looked up at me finally with a devilish squint in his eyes. I liked where this was going.
“Yeah, I know. I’ve been thinking about it, too. I mean, things were fucked up, me in love with Mark, you three freaking out about me being gay, you and your library bathroom adventures, then us…”
He asked, “Really? You’ve been thinking about it too?” This time he looked me straight in the eyes. My cock, already stirring, was pushing hard between my thigh and my jeans for more space. I didn’t dare look for a sign of his, though it would have been pretty easy to find.
“Yeah,” I continued, “can I tell you something without freaking you out?”
“What would freak me out coming from you?” he laughed.
“Well, I remember sucking you, and that was awesome, but I also remember you tried to fuck me…”
“..and you squealed like the guy from Deliverance!” Andrew wasn’t all that delicate when it came to sex. “Yeah, I probably was a little rough. And any way, it would have gotten even weirder then.”
“Things are different now, though, aren’t they?” I prodded. “I mean, mechanically I wouldn’t have the same problem. And, well, what was weird then might not be so weird now.”
He sat quiet and once again looked down, twisting his fingers together as if trying to concentrate hard on something. I was hoping it was that hard cock he was thinking of. “Fuck, Jonny, I can’t believe you’re bringing that up!” His face looked shocked, and I started to think that I had read the situation with my dick rather than my brain. My cock was doing its best to blow smoke over my brain, though, and him calling me “Jonny” didn’t help; he was the only one of my friends who ever dared do that and there was an intimacy to it that drove me wild. Then he looked up and said, “because I never would have had the balls to. And I am so fucking horny and want to fuck you so bad.”
I smiled at him and he smiled back and laughed his half-grunt, half-laugh, a sort of guttural chuckle that betrayed the animal he really was. In college, it was all about the sex, and I had put up with servicing him since it was one of very few chances to get any action. But right away I started to think that I wasn’t likely to put up with that now, and at the same time I had a hunch that it wouldn’t be that same, animal lust and shooting his wad that it had been for him before either. I decided to get it going.
“OK, but there are rules.”
“What rules?” he asked with a puzzled look.
“First, nothing that happens can make anything weird between us. We’re still friends no matter what.” This was easy; we could always talk about anything, maybe it was that we both cursed like truck drivers, that neither cared too much for the rules of society, who knows? But I was sure that no matter what we’d be able to laugh or kid our way out of just about anything. He nodded his head to the first rule. “What else?” he asked.
“OK, anything goes. We can try anything, either of us. Nothing can freak us out; if one of us isn’t into something, we just move on, no getting hung up.” He smiled at this one. “That one I like!” he laughed. “You done?”
“Yeah. I’m done. Anything for you?” I wanted to see what he was thinking. Was this a fuck or something else?
“Nah, nothing. Wait, fuck, I don’t have rubbers. My ex was on the pill so I never had them. I hate fucking rubbers.” He was groping in his mind for something. “Hell, anyway, you’re not sick are you? You get tested?” He had been around enough faggots that he was pretty fluent, especially when it came to the sexual parts of homosexuality.
“No, I’m not sick, and yeah, I get tested all the time. I’m clean.” I felt like I was talking him into something, making a sale, but I soon learned he had already had the same idea.
“Cool. Do you have rubbers?” he asked.
Of course, I did. Whenever I came to Paris, I was always ready, not only with condoms, but with my favorite lube. Paris is a horny city and you’re always able to find what you want if you look hard enough. And of course, I lied. “No, I’m out and need to get some, but I did bring lube.” I reached into my bag and pulled out my little flask ready for any occasion. I looked him straight in the eyes to see if he was getting my drift, and if he was playing along.
“Well I’ve only been with Dawn, and I just got tested. So if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna stick with the lube.” You couldn’t have wiped the shit-eating grins off our faces with a sandblaster. We laughed. Here we were, after 17 years, still the same foul-mouthed, perverted little fucks eager to do anything to get off. But I could feel something deeper too, something in how we talked before, even in the hug at the door. I knew I’d have to go easy, though, as I wasn’t at all sure just how much had changed between us, or just how ready he might be to admit that he had something more for guys than dick-lust.
He was sitting on the couch and I dropped to my knees and undid his belt and the button of his shorts. He shifted down a bit as I unzipped him, and then lifted up as I grabbed at the sides of his waist to pull his shorts and underwear off in one movement. And there it was. That cock. Andrew’s monster cock, not too long, but thick, meaty, soft, cut, a perfect head, a drop of precum, hard already. I was drunk with the memories of the last time I had it, and the thoughts of getting it where I really wanted it, deep inside me, his skin on and in mine, bare.
He lay back on the couch and I went to work. Of course I had told myself I wasn’t going to be just the faggot sucking off the straight guy (OK, the bi guy) like in college. But what can you do? I licked his balls, his huge, hairless sack and its cum-filled ovals, and he let out a sigh that told me that it had been far too long since anyone had thought of his pleasure. I licked up his smooth shaft in long strokes, pausing only to rewet my tongue, and flicked at his piss-slit, lapping up the precum that had kept beading up like sap in the wound of a massive tree trunk. He shivered, spread his legs, and I took his dick in my mouth for the first time in so many years.
Andrew practically shouted out a groan of relief, and I realized I had forgotten how verbal he was during sex. Part of me worried that it had been so long that he would cum right away (and then think better of the idea of fucking me), but the better part of me was egged on, wanting him to moan more, grunt deeper, scream with pleasure with every touch of my tongue around his pole. I shifted a bit to get in a better position, and adjusted to the girth of his tool. I kept my hands on his runner’s thighs, loving the feel of his leg hair on my fingers, and pumped up and down on his cock, sucking “Fuck!’ and “Shit!” out of him each time I took more of him in me.
He grabbed the sides of my head (did he touch me like that in college? I tried to recall) and followed my head up and down on his cock, not forcing me on it, but with his hips beginning to rise off the couch when I pulled off him too far for his liking. With runner’s legs I knew this was something he could keep up for hours, and I also thought that him starting to thrust was a preliminary meaning that he was eager to be the one pumping me. He kept leaking precum, I kept swallowing it, and now I was moaning with the pleasure of making his moans and curses louder and more violent. I was still fully clothed, but sucking him was enough, and the added pleasure of my stiff cock rubbing my shorts (it was summer and I never wear briefs in summer) was almost too much. I didn’t want to cum and miss out on what I really wanted.
Suddenly he pulled my head off his cock, reached up and almost violently tore off his tshirt so that he was finally naked. Andrew was by nature averse to having the slightest bit of clothing on during sex, and would even walk around our college apartment naked at times (probably because he was always thinking about fucking!). I knew that what this meant was that his animal side was taking over, and he was entering his almost trance-like state of pure testosterone and savage fucking. I glanced up at him from the floor and took in his magnificent body, licking my lips at the profuse sweat beginning to ooze from his pores and drip down the trail between his abs in the Parisian heat.
What came next surprised me. “Take off your clothes,” he said, a wild look in his eye, his voice almost panting through the heavy breaths he was drawing. I stood and obeyed, as if a spell were being cast over me, and entered the trance myself. I ripped off my tshirt and quickly slid my baggy shorts to the floor. He grinned when he saw I wasn’t wearing underwear; he knew I was as perverted as he was and he loved it.
Though I couldn’t have been bothered to think about it at the time, there was none of the awkwardness we both might have feared the moment we admitted we wanted to fuck. There was lust, connection, sweat, and cock. Andrew eyed me up and down, seeming impressed at the shape I had kept myself in after so long. He stepped towards me and took my cock in his hand and watched himself stroke it, rubbing my pearl of precum over my cockhead. He had never touched my dick in college, and my entire body flushed with the thrill of learning how another guy’s hands work a cock. And then a second thrill of knowing that things had changed: Andrew was stroking my cock, pleasuring me.
We looked up, standing face to face, my hand now on his cock, and I stilled an urge to kiss him. I’m a faggot; I kiss guys when I fuck. Fucking isn’t worth it if you can’t kiss. But I was still feeling Andrew out, and kissing, at least at this point, would have been going too far. Anyway, we were having fun, a lot of fun, and I certainly didn’t want to fuck up what would surely come next. Instead of the kiss, we just stared into each other’s eyes, back to our cocks, and back to our shared gaze. Andrew broke the silence: “I love your cock, man. It’s perfect.”
I laughed, “I think you’re the one with the perfect cock, stud!” He wasn’t listening. He was on his knees, hands on my hips, forcing my cock into his mouth as if his life depended on it. Same moaning, same groaning, but my cock in his mouth. And he was loving it. It was all I could do to keep from fainting on the spot, or, worse, cumming. Getting your cock sucked is one thing, and a good thing, but here was my buddy Andrew, my jack-off fantasy when I was 14, my one-time fuck buddy in college, my best friend, long-lost and now back again, sucking my dick for all he was worth. And he was worth a million. In all the late-night trips to the library bathrooms on campus, he apparently didn’t only get sucked. He gave head like the champion runner he was: swift, intense, sopping wet with spit, deep, and caring. Yes, caring. I couldn’t help thinking in that moment, if only for an instant, that we were making love.
The fear of an impending and premature orgasm wiped that sweet thought from my mind, and I pulled out of his mouth, a string of spit bridging his smiling face to my bouncing dick. “Fuck, Andrew, fuck! You can suck cock!” He roared out another of his animal laughs from the floor and so did I. “You like that, Jonny?” he asked, again with a shit-eating grin on his face.
Now I gave the order. “Sit on the couch.” He flopped in the middle of the sofa and spread his legs wide, thinking I was going back to sucking him. I smiled and instead grabbed the lube from the table beside the couch. His eyes widened and his face softened, and then that devilish smile crept over his face. I looked at him straight on, taking in the anticipation that was filling his body, noticing his cock standing at attention, bigger than before, and throbbing slightly with each pulse of blood that flowed through it.
Without looking away, I raised one foot to the couch, placing it against his outstretched thigh, again relishing the contact between us. His look changed to one of curiosity; I didn’t know if he had ever fucked other guys, but assumed he had. But I imagined it must have been fast, brutal, in a college library bathroom, all business. This was pleasure. I squirted lube on my fingers and began to finger myself, spreading my legs so that he could see. I was breathing heavily, my mouth open, and sweating so much that it was dripping over my balls and down my taint, mixing in my opening asshole with the lube.
“Oh yeah!” he cried, clapping his hands together. It was almost like the husband who finally got his wife to put out after a year of trying. He watched as I worked in one finger, then two, then relubed, the three, but only enough to know that I was ready. I knew Andrew’s cock would hurt, even with years of experience, and I wanted it to hurt. Really? Yeah, I wanted it to hurt, a little. I wanted to be able to take it, for sure, but wanted to be tight for him, wanted it to be better than any ass or pussy he’d ever had. I gasped a bit as the third finger pushed inside, and he looked up at me with his mouth open wide.
I took out my fingers and lowered my leg and lubed up his cock, barely touching it. I wanted to save the impact of my hole swallowing his cock for the last possible moment. I grabbed my tshirt from the floor, wiping my hands of excess lube, and straddled him on the couch, teasing him a bit with my winking hole rubbing barely against the huge head of his cock. Here we were, finally, about to go where we had only gone in my fantasies, jacking off with a dildo fucking my ass, imagining it was Andrew’s cock in me. “So you want this ass, stud?” I teased.
“Fuck yeah. Fucking fuck yeah.” He grabbed my hips, I grabbed his cock, and aimed it for my hot insides. He didn’t push into me, he seemed to know that I had to be in control, and just maintained his touch on me as I lowered myself, really, impaled myself, on his gigantic dick. My asshole burned at the first push of the head going in, but I knew to push a bit until it slipped past and the gland was fully inside me. He grunted like a pig, then started panting. I also knew I’d better not wait, as my sphincter was twitching at the girth of his cock threatening to tear me open. I’d been fucked before, and by a few guys with monster cocks, but Andrew’s was something else. I lifted half a centimeter off and sat down again, the lube doing its work and slicking the way for his cock to go deeper inside me.
It took a few minutes of easing up and down, Andrew the model of patience, to be able to sit down all the way, the intense feeling of cock inside me, mixing with the heat, our sweat and smells, the feel of his hands now rubbing my hips, all getting me high. Until I got him all the way in, I had kept my eyes closed, concentrating on opening to him and getting off to a good start. Now he was in, Andrew was fucking me, no rubber, like boys do, like buddies do, like lover do. Lovers? I couldn’t keep the thought away, opening my eyes and looking at him fiercely, meeting his gaze once he opened his eyes after the initial shock. His mouth was open, and he could barely utter, “Fuck, Jonny. You…are…so…fucking…tight.”
In that moment it was like the first time you watch a friend get high, his pleasure accelerating your own. And you want to pass him the joint again and again to see just how high he can get. I kept soaking him in with my eyes, watching the waves of lust wash over his face, as I tightened my hole, each time squeezing out another “Shit!” or “”Fuck!” And then I lifted off, careful to keep his gland inside me, slowly, and sat back down, watching the sweat bead on his forehead, up and down again, watching his lips tremble, up and down again, smelling his breath as he exhaled as hard as at the end of a 5K run.
His grasp on my hips tightened, and as he had before when I sucked him, he started thrusting from the couch, the powerful runner’s thighs finally unleashed to do their work. As his thrusts went deeper and faster, they became more urgent, the animal side taking over. And I slowly gave in, keeping my hips and hole where they were, and letting him do the work. He was cautious, even gentle, at first, knowing that even though I had sat completely down on his cock there was the possibility that he could go too far (he probably had learned his lesson, especially from the girls he’d fucked). But he gradually forgot all that, stopped caring, and started to really fuck me. Each time he shoved his dick in deeper than the time before, and each time I moaned, sometimes almost grunting from the shock of how deep, but he knew not to stop. Anyway, we had agreed on the rules: anything goes, if you don’t like it, move on. I liked it.
He must have been getting a bit tired after about ten minutes as he settled his hips back onto the couch, relaxed those powerful legs, and shoved me back down on his cock, this time working himself in deeper by shifting my hips around over his cock. He caught his breath, and then our eyes met. We were caught in a mix of animal lust, disbelief, homecoming, sweat and heat. And yes, something else. He didn’t break our gaze, but suddenly grabbed me around my waist, stood up, me still impaled on his dick, and carried me to the bedroom. He carefully eased us on to the bed, this time me on my back, his cock never slipping even a millimeter out. He pushed me up on the bed, lifted my legs over his shoulders, and looked at me again. “Now I’m gonna fuck you.”
The next fifteen minutes could have been three or thirty or seven days for all I know. He had prepared me enough before so that he knew he didn’t need to ease into anything. He fucked. He fucked like a straight (OK, bi) guy fucks. He fucked me hard, deep, faster and faster, his hips smacking into mine with a violent crack accentuated by all our sweat. His balls knocked against the lower part of my ass, and I could feel both of them and relished knowing that this was getting his cum ready to flow. His sweat drenched me, falling from his hair onto mine, from his chest onto my belly. My cock was flopping between us, but I couldn’t have cared about having a cock at all. I knew that I was getting close, but I was sure I would cum by the force of getting fucked alone. His dick was so thick that he couldn’t help rubbing and pressing on my prostate with each successive thrust.
We were in that place where there is no rational thought, only cock-lust. I had given up any hope of trying (honestly, I didn’t care!) the depth or force of his thrusts and was lost in the pleasure of knowing Andrew was taking me. I was his, he owned me, I was what he wanted. I opened my eyes and regaled in the sweat pouring off his chest, arching my neck and back up to lick it off of him, to taste him. He fucked me harder, pounded me, grunting now, and I kept licking, and smelling, tightening my hole from time to time just to see what it would do to his body. I licked up to his neck, the thick muscles, and suddenly he lowered his head, near exhaustion, his face right next to mine. We weren’t thinking, we were fucking, I licked his face, and in an instant he was thrusting his tongue in my mouth with the same force he was fucking my asshole.
We kept going, I was swallowing every drop of his spit that wasn’t overflowing onto the sheets. He grabbed my hands and held my arms over my head, stretching his legs out so that his entire weight was pressing his cock into me. All of him, every gram, was fucking me, in me or giving force to his cock, and I was tasting his sweat and spit, anything in him was in me, or would soon be. His lips tightened, though he didn’t break our mouth-fucking; it only got deeper, his tongue lapping up the insides of my mouth as mine fought to do the same to his. I felt it first in his legs, then his belly, he started to shake, all while continuing his violent thrusts. A sound came from my mouth, his sound, a low, muffled “Mmmmm” at first that turned into a cry, and I knew he was cumming. Andrew, my buddy, was going to cum in my ass.
He lifted off me slightly, almost as if in pain, and screamed a grunting “Fuck!” that sent me over the edge. It was all I needed, the confirmation that I had made Andrew cum. “Cum inside me Andy, fuck me, cum in me!” I yelled. He did. His balls now pumping cum into me, cock throbbing as it squirted his jizz deep inside me, all of his force coming out in this one moment, in this last liquid that I wanted so much.
My orgasm had squeezed more and more cum out of his cock, my hole tightening with each spurt of semen that landed on his belly, my chest, and when fucked out of me by a particularly deep thrust from his dick, onto my lips. My flopping cock rubbed it into his abs, and twitched even more in the sticky mess between us.
He shuddered as he pumped his last thrusts into me, still plowing me as if he couldn’t stop, but more slowly, breathing heavily, as I looked at his face and the complete lust reddening every inch of his skin. The smell of his breath was intoxicating. He was slowing down, coming to, and then, kissing me again, just as deeply, but now sweetly, tenderly. He didn’t mind the cum on my lips, my cum. Andrew had tasted my cum, he wanted me in him just as much. We let my semen dissolve in our kiss.
He broke our kiss and put his lips to my ear and between pants said, “Jonny…I…love…you.” I didn’t think. “I love you Andy.”
