IV
His hand gently massaged my thigh, his fingers grazing upwards with each pulse. My skin burned beneath his touch, even through the fabric of my shorts, and I was surprised by the intensity of such a simple gesture, by the responsiveness of my body. Electricity radiated up into my abdomen, branching out like lightning across a stormy sky, warming my chest, stirring butterflies in my stomach. My eyes held his, each of us watching each other, scanning for the tiniest details or signals, of what I wasn't sure.
I felt the pressure of his hand graze my crotch, pressing softly against my balls through my shorts, and I let out an involuntary sigh. My hips shifted forward on the couch, my legs falling open to grant him easier access. He took this sign of permission and pressed his palm against my crotch, squeezing and kneading gently. I let out a shaky breath, and the thought flashed briefly in my mind that I should feel shocked or scandalized by the situation, that my head should be spinning with confusion, but in reality I felt a searing clarity in Parker's hand on me, in his eyes boring into mine.
“That feels good,” I said, my voice soft and breathy.
“Good,” Parker smiled. “That's the point.”
He cupped my balls in his hand, giving them a soft squeeze and letting them slip from his grasp as his hand traveled upwards, coming to rest on my stomach. With a cautious look in his eye, he slid his fingers under the fabric of my shirt, his palm warm and soft on my bare skin. I rested my head back against the sofa, letting myself feel the sensation of his skin on mine.
It was pleasant, his touch, and through it I felt a sense of heightened reality, a sort of anchoring to the world around me where his skin met mine. His fingers dragged slowly across my stomach, betraying his curiosity while demonstrating his patience and restraint, and he traced a circle around my belly button, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He followed my happy trail to the waistband of my shorts and slipped a finger just barely beneath the elastic, pausing here. I opened my eyes and looked at Parker, his face waiting on permission, which I gave in the tiniest nod of my head. I looked down and watched his hand slip into my shorts.
I felt his fingers slide across my groin, weaving through my pubic hair as they went.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I'm pretty hairy down there right now.”
“Don't apologize,” Parker said gruffly. “It's hot.”
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He flashed a devilish grin, and slid his hand further down, his fingers splitting around the base of my cock and making contact with my balls. I gasped, my back arching, writhing at his touch. My hand reflexively grabbed Parker's shoulder, bracing myself as if my body may fly away from me at any moment. His hand massaged me for a moment, giving me time to adjust to the feeling of his touch, and I watched his hand rise and fall beneath black fabric, the shape suggestive and erotic, the details hidden from view. With each roll of his hand, a wave of heat washed over my body, and I was already moaning softly under my breath.
I was shocked by the intensity of feeling he aroused in me. I was no stranger to pleasuring myself; I masturbated most nights at bedtime, and often on lazy Saturday mornings when I first woke up. I'd always assumed the sensations would be more-or-less the same with another person, so I was unprepared for this difference, this potency of Parker's hand on me. I didn't want it to stop.
Satisfied with his warmup, Parker's hand traveled upwards, his fingers wrapping around the base of my cock, which rapidly hardened in his hand. He slowly traced my dick from base to tip, his grip loose. I threw my head back, and my breath hitched in my throat, and Parker began to really stroke me. As my cock stood to attention, my shorts quickly became a hindrance.
“Can I take your shorts off?” Parker asked, clearly noticing the issue. His voice was kind and reassuring.
“Please,” I growled.
I lifted my hips from the couch and pulled my shorts down, my cock slapping against my stomach. I heard Parker let out a quiet gasp.
“Shit, dude,” he said under his breath. As I sat back, my shorts on the floor around my ankles, his hand returned to my cock and he began to stroke me with a newfound zeal. He pumped me in his fist quickly, in short bursts, then tightened his grip and slowly worked up and down my shaft, twisting his hand and swirling his fingers around the crown, drawing a bead of precum on the tip. He continued in this offbeat rhythm, teasing and surprising me, never letting my body settle into a predictable cadence.
“Parker,” I gasped, my hand returning to his shoulder. “Dude, that feels so good.”
“Good,” Parker grinned. “Dude, you're so fucking hot right now.”
His hand kept pumping and somehow my cock got even harder than it was before, heat radiating into my abdomen, down into my toes. My legs writhed as if on their own, my fingers gripped the couch, Parker's shoulder. After a few minutes, Parker paused and climbed off the couch and positioned himself between my legs. His forearms rested on my thighs, his free hand slid underneath my shirt and up my stomach, and he stroked me slowly, intentionally, as if wanting to avoid any possibility of ending the party too soon.
In this posture, his face was distractingly close to my cock. It was wild to see that, fully hard, my shaft ran almost the full length of his face. There was something satisfying and terribly arousing about seeing my size next to him, seeing my erection standing tall and proud and shameless before him. He looked up, watching me watch him, and, flashing a wicked grin, he leaned forward and gently licked the tip of my cock.
I gasped, and bucked my hips, pushing Parker backwards. I heard a thud as his back hit the coffee table.
“Oh shit,” I exclaimed, leaning forward, nearly knocking our foreheads together as I did. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” he said with a grin. “Sounded worse than it was.” We looked at each other for a moment, my cock standing tall between us, twitching slightly with my pulse. “Would you want to go to your room? Maybe give us a bit more space?”
“Oh,” I said, a bit surprised. I wasn't sure if a new location implied new activities, but in my current state I was willing to find out. “Yeah, we should.”
Parker stood and offered me a hand, pulling me to my feet, my erection brushing against his stomach as I stood. He turned and began walking towards the bedroom.
I sat on my bed and shuffled over so my back was propped against the pillows, legs splayed before me, my dick resting flat against my stomach. Parker looked at me from the foot of the bed, his eyes dark. “You should take your shirt off,” he suggested. I obeyed. As I tossed my shirt to the floor, Parker placed his knee on the bed, starting to crawl towards me.
“Wait,” I said, startling even myself.
“What is it? You good?” He asked, removing his knee from the mattress.
“Yeah, I just…” I paused. “You should take your clothes off, too.”
The corner of Parker's mouth raised a fraction of an inch, and he nodded. “Okay.” Slowly, he pulled his shirt off over his head. I watched the hem of the shirt lift, exposing the smooth, tan skin of his abdomen. My eyes were once again drawn to the definition of his abs, the rounded curve of his chest. His nipples were hard, and in this moment I found myself almost as fascinated by his chest as I typically felt about a pair of breasts. I filed this thought away for later, telling myself in the interim that bare skin is bare skin, while Parker hooked his thumbs into his shorts and dropped them to the ground. His cock was about half-hard, much larger than when we’d showered earlier in the afternoon, and his foreskin had retracted slightly to expose the head of his penis. It was a dark purple and glistened from precum.
“Better?” He asked.
I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly very dry, and nodded. His eyes scanned up and down my body, and he shook his head, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing, just…” he paused. “You’re so fucking hot, dude.”
I laughed, feeling my cheeks warm, trying to wrap my head around the situation. Lying there naked and aroused, my cock hard and my skin flushed, and seeing the lust in his eyes, I felt sexy, desirable, powerful. It was a far cry from my usual state of timidity. “Right back at ya,” I heard myself say.
Parker climbed onto his knees on the mattress and leaned forward, his ass raised high in the air. I felt his tongue tease my balls, wet and warm and coarse against my soft skin, and I gripped the duvet for support. I stared at the long, smooth line of his back, the shapely curve of his ass, wondering what it looked like from the other angle. Suddenly, I found myself asking a curious and familiar question – What would it feel like to fuck him? What would a guy’s body feel like beneath mine? It felt like a radical escalation considering we’d just started experimenting with mouths, but I couldn’t shake the thought from my brain.
Meanwhile Parker’s mouth explored my balls, my taint, the crease of my thighs, and my pubes, licking and kissing and nipping everything but my dick, teasing me until my cock could no longer stand the anticipation. Finally, he licked my shaft, slowly, from base to tip, and took me in his mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, the friction from his tongue and suction of his lips unlike anything I'd ever felt before. His head bobbed up and down while one hand rested on my stomach and another teased my balls, and I watched as my cock disappeared into his mouth.
Somehow, I wanted more, and hips bucking up against him, sliding my dick even further into him. He gripped my shaft and took me all the way in (I felt myself hit the back of his throat) and I moaned loudly, releasing the duvet and burying my hands in his hair. Gripping his head, I rocked my hips feeling his throat open around me, until I heard a gagging sound, and I let go, suddenly embarrassed.
“I'm sorry,” I blurted out. “I got carried away.”
Parker looked up at me with watery eyes and a fiendish smile. “Do not apologize for face fucking me,” he growled. “Ever.”
I laughed. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Parker grinned and returned to licking my balls.
My hands moved from his head to his shoulders, massaging the sinewy muscles, feeling the curve of his biceps. I leaned forward, sending my hands down his back, my hands gliding effortlessly over his velvet-smooth skin. I’d never imagined a guy’s skin could be so soft and sensuous, and I stretched my arm as far as it would reach, my palm flat against him. Parker read my mind and began to walk his knees, bringing his lower body up to my abdomen, never loosening his grip on my cock.
His knee rested against my ribcage, and my hands, following an automatic response, reached out and touched him – his lower back, his upper thigh, his abdomen, his ass. His skin felt delicate and smooth, totally hairless everywhere I made contact, and as my hand continued to explore, I couldn’t help but wonder what it felt like to touch his most private area, to grip him in my hand, to feel his hardness and warmth. My hand, resting on the small of his back, slowly dragged down, across his bare ass cheek and thigh, my fingers trailing around his hamstring until I gripped the inside of his leg, then, slowly, cautiously, I began to move my hand up.
I felt his balls first graze the back of my hand, warm and soft, then extended my fingers and felt the backs of them brush against his cock, which hung beneath him. A jolt ran through him, and he took his mouth off me, turning to look at me with a raised eyebrow.
“What?” I asked.
“You don’t have to…reciprocate,” he assured me.
“I know,” I confessed. “I want to.”
“Oh,” he nodded absentmindedly. “Well then. Carry on.”
My fingers wrapped around his dick, and I felt him shudder. I was surprised by the feel of it, the softness of the skin over the hard, dense tissue, similar to mine yet simultaneously new and strange. His foreskin slid up and down easily with the motion of my hand, a foreign but not unpleasant sensation. I felt the wet warmth of Parker's mouth on me and I tried to stroke in synchrony with his movements, eliciting a moan which vibrated through and on and around my dick. A smile crept across my face and I fought the urge to laugh, whether from nervousness or embarrassment or sheer ecstasy I couldn't quite be sure.
My hand continued its exploration, finding Parker's balls and giving them a gentle squeeze. My finger traced the line of his taint, surprised by how smooth and soft the skin was – especially compared to the hair between my legs – and, with an odd mix of arousal and fascination, my finger slid across his hole. Parker let out another moan, clearly excited and surprised by the contact. I took this as a positive sign and continued to touch him, swirling and circling, feeling the folds and ridges of skin at my fingertips. Then, as Parker breathed heavily and stroked me slowly in his hand, I pressed my finger against him. He gave way with surprising ease, and my finger slid inside him. I removed it, startled by the impulse that had motivated me.
“Oh God, do that again,” Parker panted.
Carefully, I obliged. I brought my finger to my mouth and licked it, then returned it to his hole where I pressed against him. Again, his body relented at my touch, and my finger entered him, pausing about halfway. Inside, he was warm and impossibly soft, not too terribly different from the sensation of his mouth, but the effect on him was noticeable. He writhed and arched his back, pressing back against me until my finger was inside, buried to the knuckle.
“Fuck, Luke,” he moaned. “That feels good.”
Emboldened, I pulled my finger back and thrust it into him again, eliciting a cry from his throat. His upper body dropped to the mattress, his arms extending above his head, his ass high in the air. I did this again and again, feeling an enormous sense of pride and power wash over me, savoring this newfound ability to have this influence over another person's body, to cause such pleasure. As I pressed into him again, my finger came across a small, rough lump, and Parker jumped, crying out at my touch.
“Shit, sorry,” I said, removing my hand immediately.
Parker laughed, the side of his face on the mattress. “Luke, stop saying you're sorry.”
“Sorry,” I stuttered. “I mean…I just mean, I thought I hurt you.”
He turned his head to look at me, his expression warm, his brow furrowed. “You didn't hurt me. You just hit my prostate.”
“Oh,” I said flatly. “Oh! Wait, that's what a prostate feels like?”
He laughed. “Yessir, and if you hit that a couple more times I'm probably not gonna be able to contain myself. Literally.”
We looked at each other for a minute and then burst into laughter. My hand came to rest on his upper thigh.
Suddenly, Parker swung around and straddled me, his thighs squeezing the lower part of my rib cage, his ass hovering above my stomach, his dick pointing straight out in front of him. He looked at me with a muddled expression.
“This is weird, right?” He asked casually.
“It is,” I laughed. “But also…”
“It doesn't feel weird…right?” He finished my thought exactly.
“No,” I swallowed. “It doesn't.”
“Okay, good,” he chuckled. “Thought it was just me.”
Parker cocked a grin and reached behind him, taking hold of my cock, rocking back and forth so that his hand stroked me with the movement. Each time he rocked back, his ass came to rest on my stomach, the heat from the contact radiating through my core. The weight of his body on mine, the pressure of his thighs on my side, felt protective, secure, grounding me, preventing me from drifting away in doubt or disbelief. I looked up at his body, all lean muscle and sharp angles and graceful curves, like a marble statue somewhere in a museum, and a word leapt into my mind that I would never have expected to use for any of my male friends: beauty. I was struck by his beauty. And the thought that someone beautiful could look at me with such desire made me feel infinite.
I reached up and took hold of his cock, letting the rhythm of his body move him in and out of my fist. He threw his head back in ecstasy and began to rock more fervently, his hand stroking and twisting and gripping my dick all the while. A moan escaped my chest, vibrating through my throat, deep and rough like an animal’s growl, and I began to pump my hand faster and faster. We dissolved into a jumble of rocking bodies and thrusting limbs, a cacophony of heaving breathing and ecstatic whimpers, until I felt the pressure building up in my groin.
“Parker,” I gasped. “I’m gonna…”
But I was too late, I felt myself begin to shoot ropes of cum into the air as Parker’s hand continued to work on me without mercy. For a moment, the room fell away, as if sight and sound were cut off to make space for this overwhelming sense of touch, this tidal wave of pleasure washing over me, the weight of Parker on my stomach. It may have been minutes or milliseconds, but I was aware of nothing besides my body and his, until I heard him inhale sharply, felt his cock twitch in my hand, as he spent himself in strings and splatters across my chest, some hitting me in the chin.
My chest heaved and my heart raced and I tried to catch my breath. As I opened my eyes, I saw Parker looking down at me, an expression of awe on his face.
“Dude, that was…” he began, but his voice gave way to laughter.
“It was,” I agreed, laughing with him. He looked down at me, no doubt at the puddles of cum – his cum – covering my chest.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get that all over you,” he said, his cheeks turning pink.
I looked down at the mess, at his cock slowly softening on my stomach, and grinned.
“It’s okay,” I assured him. “I don’t mind.”
He stared at me for a good minute, neither of us sure what to say. Finally, he swung his leg over me and fell face-down on the mattress beside me.
“Well if I wasn’t worn out before,” Parker mumbled into the pillow.
“Yeah,” I smiled. “I know what you mean.”
I looked at him, his back covered in a few splatters of my cum, and marveled at what had just happened. I didn’t know what I’d expected it to feel like, but I certainly wasn’t expecting it to be like this. With a friend. With a guy. But it was good. It was very good. And in a weird way, as I watched Parker’s beautiful back rise and fall with his breath, I realized I didn’t see him differently because of it. He was someone I enjoyed being with, someone I cared about, someone I trusted, someone whose presence in my life had come to mean a lot. Someone who’d just made me feel better than I’d ever known I could.
I admittedly didn’t have a lot of experience with attraction, and even less with romance, but I had to wonder, laying here, side-by-side, smelling of sweat and sex, what more it required beyond what had just taken place. I felt warm, and my hand, almost of its own volition, reached out and rested gently on Parker’s bare butt. It wasn’t a sexual gesture – at least, I didn’t intend it to be – but it felt intimate, possessive, vulnerable.
Parker raised himself on his forearms and looked at me, his brow furrowed.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing, just…,” he weighed his words. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, giving his butt a playful squeeze.
“You’re not getting hit by the post-nut clarity?”
I put on my best thinking face and let out a long, “Hmmmmmm.”
Parker laughed and shoved my shoulder playfully, leaving his arm draped across my chest. “Oh shut up, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t regret anything.”
“I don’t,” I said earnestly. “It was fun, and it felt…” I tried to find a sufficient word. “It felt amazing. Truly.”
“Good,” Parker smiled. “You deserve to feel that way.”
His words hit me in the chest. It was such a simple statement, but it felt like the most radical truth in the universe, an unprecedented rejection of everything I’d grown up believing about myself, about my body, about the space I occupy in the world. It was like a door had opened, one that had long been locked and marked with the words DO NOT ENTER, a door I had been warned against for years and years, but having opened it and stepped inside I found only pleasure, connection, a sense of joy and playfulness and excitement I’d long extinguished, writing it off as naive and immature. I found something I’d thought had been lost for me.
“What?” Parker asked, reading the expression on my face.
“I…” I thought of how to say what I felt. “I think I’d like to do this again sometime. If you’d want to, that is.”
Parker’s eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”
I nodded.
Parker’s head bobbed side to side as if deliberating my proposal, only the coloring of his cheeks betraying his real excitement as his eyes met mine. “I think I’d like that, too.”
“Cool,” I smiled, relieved. My right hand came up to clasp his forearm where it fell across my chest. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know what that means. Like, I don’t know if we’d just be friends fooling around or if we’d be…”
“Hey,” he cut me off. “You don’t have to know. You’ll figure that out when you’re ready.”
His eyes burned into mine, and I suddenly felt my nakedness, my vulnerability. “Okay,” I agreed.
Parker laid back down, his side pressed up against me, his face nuzzled against my upper arm, and we laid there for a while, chatting aimlessly, continuing our usual, friendly banter as if nothing new had happened. Despite our nakedness and the contact of our bodies and the cum slowly drying on our skin, it was just like any of our other conversations, enjoyable and reassuring.
“So,” he said as we exhausted our discussion about the pros and cons of PC gaming versus console, “what are you doing tomorrow?”
I laughed and thought for a second. “No plans yet. Why?”
“I’ve been wanting to try this new brunch spot in Uptown,” he said casually. “Would you want to go with me?”
A grin spread across my face, though I kept my voice calm. “Sure. I could do brunch.”
“Cool. Sweet,” he said nonchalantly. “Can’t wait.”
I laughed, and he offered my shoulder a gentle kiss. It was a quick peck, playful and affectionate, and lasted no more than a second, but as we chatted into the night, gradually winding down and drifting off to sleep, I felt the warmth where his lips had been for a good, long while.
THE END
