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I got into bed with Marcus, having to push him to one side so that the two of us could fit into the single bed.
“Move over, you dick-munch!” I whispered to him, when it was clear that I’d awoken him.
We might have sex but we’re not that big on sweet talk.
“What time is it?” he grunted, moving across and making some space for me behind him.
“A bit after one,” I replied, climbing in and getting under the duvet with him. “My dad has a tendency to ramble.”
“That’s what you’ll be like in twenty years, mate,” he chuckled.
“Not bloody likely.”
I snuggled up behind him with my semi nuzzling into his arse. His bum felt nice and firm through the thin material of his shorts and my cock wedged snugly in the warm valley between his round cheeks.
“You don’t fancy a quick one, do you mate?” I asked him on the off-chance.
“What, an actual fuck?” he whispered, no doubt aware of what was poking into him and where it was poking into. “Here, with your dad right next door?”
“He’ll be fast asleep by now. He’s had a bottle of wine and a pretty large whiskey down him since we ate.”
I didn’t want to tell Marcus that my dad would, in any case, have no problem with hearing the two of us lads having sex in the next room. It seemed a bit weird to just announce out of the blue that, like us, my dad swung both ways. I mean you expect it from young guys our age, with no-one really caring these days who gets off with who, but when it’s an older bloke dating a woman while he’s screwing just about every guy he meets behind her back, it seems kind of… I dunno… improper, maybe. Double standards, I know, but that’s how it feels.
That’s why I didn’t tell Marcus, anyhow.
“I’ll be really quick,” I persisted, pushing my cock more firmly against him so he could feel how hard it was getting at the thought of easing itself properly between his muscular cheeks. His hot, sticky tunnel was right there between them; just a quick fumble of our underwear would have me sliding in and out of him.
“If you want,” I whispered in his ear, “I’ll push my tongue up it to get it nice and wet!”
“I’m actually really tired, Jake. It’s not that I don’t want to…”
I was going to say, “Come on, mate, you sound just like Ellie”, aware of how comparisons with my girlfriend can piss him off (“I’m not your fucking boyfriend, Jake! You can’t compare me to her!”). In the end, though, I stopped myself: I could push that joke way too far sometimes.
So I ended up saying, “It’s okay, mate. You’ve had a shit day. I get that.”
“I mean, normally I would… you know how horny I usually feel…”
“It’s okay – honestly. As long we have a really good one tomorrow night. The full works. You on me, me on you. Every which way – all the good stuff.”
“With your dad in the next room, though?” he queried again.
What was the biggie about my dad being in the house? I wondered again if I should tell him about my dad’s ‘gentlemen friends’. But no – it would sound too bizarre. I’d let him find out in his own time; see how things panned out.
“It’ll be okay,” I reassured him. “He’s a very deep sleeper.”
“Well, if you’re absolutely sure,” Marcus said hesitantly.
“Yeah, I am,” I asserted, working my fat, pudgy helmet between his cheeks through our underwear. Even if I wasn’t getting a fuck tonight, I like to sleep with it poking into him, as if it was sniffing at the hole it so often got to enjoy.
“That’s nice,” he sighed. “I like it when you do that.”
I kissed the back of his neck. “You’ll like it even more when it’s properly up there. And when I bend over for you to do the same to me.”
“Okay… you win,” he conceded, making it sound like he was giving in to me far more reluctantly than I knew he really was. “The full works tomorrow night… you’ve got yourself a date, fella.”
“Nice one,” I whispered, kissing him again. The back of his neck always smelt so good. Musky and male, but really nice.
“It’ll be pretty cool to do it in your old bedroom with all your stuff around from when you were a kid.”
I smiled into the skin of his neck with my nose nuzzling into his hair. I hadn’t thought about it like that, but I figured he was right. My old Arctic Monkeys poster had never got to witness the delights of a proper butt-fuck, although I had wanked off with my finger up my arse in here more times than I could count since Craig had shown me how. It would be pretty cool for the bedroom I’d had since I was little to see its occupant finally doing the deed with someone – and not the sort of someone it would probably have expected.
I said, “Night then, mate,” and then I wrapped my arm more tightly around him and snuggling against his back, hoping I’d be able to nod off like that in spite of the fact my cock was now running a full-on boner.
I thought about the part of my story that I hadn’t yet told my dad. How Marcus and I had woken up the morning after we’d first had sex and, once I’d made the two of canlı bahis us some coffee, we’d sat on my bed in our underwear talking about what we’d done.
I’d expected it to be difficult – I’d worried, actually, that we might part from what had happened and end up having little else to do with each other – but things turned out far better than I could have hoped.
For a start, we’d ended up having sex a second time. And for a better start, we’d ended up going a lot further together – pretty much as far as it’s possible for two guys to go.
Marcus had started the ball rolling by saying, “Look, Jake, whatever happened last night, it doesn’t mean that either of us is gay.”
I’d laughed at that. “I know that, mate! I’m not a total fucking div!”
He’d looked surprised by my reaction; a bit hurt, even. He went on, “It’s just… you know… when two guys get sexual together, it’s the obvious supposition that at least one of them might make.”
I knew he was saying that because of the way I’d been so freaked out after we’d both cum. I’d had a sudden shot of self-reproach – a feeling that what we’d just done had been totally and irreparably wrong – but it hadn’t lasted that long and, after lying awake mulling things over for an hour or so after we’d gone to bed, I’d actually ended up having a better night’s sleep than I’d expected.
“I’m in love with Ellie,” I told him, and then, thinking that was maybe too strong, corrected myself to, “Or at least I like her a lot. I fancy girls, not boys – that’s the point I’m making.”
“Me too,” he agreed. “But the point I’m making is that we had sex last night.”
“We didn’t have actual sex,” I refuted.
“We had our fingers up each other’s butts and we rubbed our dicks together. We spunked up over each other. I’d pretty much call that having sex, mate.”
“Well, okay then, so we had sex,” I conceded, suddenly realising that it didn’t really matter to me.
It was as if all the mixed-up thinking I’d that had troubled me before I’d slept had suddenly resolved itself into a clear and coherent acceptance of what we’d done. I knew in at that moment how I wanted to play this: that what had happened was, pretty much, just boys being boys.
“We were both horny,” I went on, “and we found that we enjoyed doing stuff together that we might not have expected to. It doesn’t mean we want to get married or anything – we were just two lads with hard-ons helping each other out!”
Marcus stared at me glumly and had gradually nodded. “If you’re sure it’s that easy, Jake.”
“Of course it is, mate. It’s the only way. I mean, we’re not gonna end up as, like, ‘boyfriends’ or anything just because we screwed around with each other.”
“I agree with you – of course I do,” he said. “I was just trying to play it carefully. I just thought… you know… after the way you were last night, you’d be all, like, ‘What the fuck did we do?’ and stuff.”
I chortled. “You should know me better than that, mate!”
I liked the way his dick looked in the orange boxer trunks he was wearing from the previous day. The way he was sitting, with his legs open, gave him a cute little bulge in the front of the shorts: not like my cock which always makes an obscene, gratuitous mound no matter how shrivelled and limp it is.
“Okay,” he said, still looking far too serious. Now that it was morning, he was clearly a lot more troubled about this than he had been last night. “So where do we go from here?”
“Where do we go from here?” I laughed. “You make it sound like something momentous has happened!”
“It’s not every day two guys – two straight guys – end up doing the stuff we did,” he insisted.
“Come on, Marcus – it was basically a wank! That’s all it boils down to. We did that before with no deep and meaningful discussions afterwards. What’s so different this time?”
“Well, I dunno… let me think… perhaps the fact that we had our faces in each other’s butts. And our fingers inside each other as well. And,” he shuddered at the memory, “the way we were kissing as well. We were kissing when we came, Jake – that makes it pretty different from just two dudes having a wank together, doesn’t it?”
I laughed again: it was funny how, to him, it seemed that kissing was the most scandalous thing we’d got up to.
He scowled at me for laughing: he was a lot more upset about this than he was trying to let on.
I made my face more serious and restated my case. “But the point remains, Marcus, we were just using each other for relief when we were horny. No strings attached. What’s the biggie, mate?”
“Well, I suppose it’s not a big deal. I just worried that you might -“
“Stop trying to pin whatever you’re feeling on me, Marcus! We dicked around together and that’s all it was. We’re not going to date each other – I don’t want… I dunno… candlelit suppers with you or any shit like that. We’re just close enough mates to give each other a bit of help when we’re both feeling boned-up.”
For bahis siteleri a brief second, I’d wanted to tell him about my dad. To explain to him how he’d gone from dating the occasional godawful woman to having much more regular sex with like-minded men. Men who, like Marcus and me, found themselves getting horny more often than the women in their lives could handle.
A moment’s reflection told me that it was wrong to draw my dad into things, though. This wasn’t about him and I didn’t want Marcus to think I was using what my dad had been through to explain how I had behaved the previous night. I mean, I didn’t need to justify myself by pulling in my dad’s sexuality.
“Okay,” Marcus agreed with a nod. “Yeah, I suppose I’m okay with that.”
His cock and balls really did look cute in his orange shorts. Not too big but not too small. Making a nice package but not totally in-your-face, if you know what I mean.
I glanced further down, underneath his balls, where the material of his shorts disappeared between his legs and into his butt-crack. It had been such a turn-on to have my nose sniffing at the material back there last night. I could feel my cock fattening up a little from just the memory of how hot and raunchy it had smelt between his cheeks.
“What about the kissing, though?” he asked. “That was kind of… intense…”
I smiled at him, picking my coffee to take a swig of it. I’d pretty much forgotten I’d made it. “We got carried away, mate,” I reassured him. “Put it down to that.”
He nodded and picked up his own mug which he must have similarly forgotten about.
“Kissing’s pretty serious, though,” he persisted, taking a sip from his drink and pursing his lips with pain. I’d made it way too hot. It’s always difficult to get it right when it’s black coffee.
“It doesn’t have to be,” I countered and, as we drank our coffees, I told him about something that had happened to me about six months earlier back at home.
Me and a few mates had been out in town at a nightclub which was like the big wide world at the time but now seemed tiny and quaint compared to those I was more used to in Leeds.
This joke had started up – and I honestly don’t remember exactly how – that me and mate Dan were there as a gay couple. We were all sitting round in a sort of semi-circular booth, four of us lads and a couple of girls. I think one of the girls might have fancied Dan and he was trying to get her to back off, but I don’t really know. It just kind of ended up that the two of us were pretending to be gay together, much to our mates’ amusement and to the girls’ mock-disgust.
It had started out with us holding hands and getting close to each other in a jokey sort of way.
“There’s no way you two are gay,” this girl kept saying. “Well, he might be,” she added, looking at me, “but you’re definitely not.”
“I’m fuckin’ well gay, me,” Dan insisted, in a deep burly voice that made it seem even more funny. “And I’m shaggin’ his arse! Every fuckin’ night!”
“And I’m shaggin’ yours back,” I was quick to chip in. I didn’t mind us bullshitting around that we were gay, but I didn’t want these girls getting the idea that I was his butt-boy or something.
“Okay, if the two of you are gay,” the girl said, “prove it by groping each other up.”
We’d laughed at that – it was just like joshing around together, the way we often did after football practice.
Dan had fondled me through my jeans and I’d reached across to have a feel of his. I’d enjoyed the look on his face when he’d realised how massive my dick felt inside them: he’d seen it loads of time in the sports centre showers and when I’d stayed around at his house but I guess he’d never really took in what a King Dong schlong I’m packing away.
I found to my surprise, as we felt up each other’s pricks, that I really enjoyed it. I told you that, as far as guy stuff goes, I’m definitely a dick-man and groping Dan that night was, I reckon, was the start of my interest in other lads’ meat. I liked the feel of my mate’s knob through his trousers: it was smaller than mine and kind of tapered off in thickness towards the tip, but the differences made it all the more interesting and I was fascinated by the sensation of touching another lad’s most private place.
And, needless to say, I liked the feel of his fingers on mine.
It actually wasn’t at all like groping each other after football practice. In the locker rooms, we did it quickly and roughly; just a brief grab of each other’s crotches to make the other guys laugh. This was altogether more deliberate and sensual; the two of us caressing rather than just snatching at each other, appreciating the size and shape of each other’s dicks rather than lunging in and then pulling our hands away.
Our mates laughed at the sight of Dan and me with our hands fondling each other’s crotches. Dan started rubbing back and forth along the ridge of my cock through my jeans in an overtly sexual motion, so I did the same to his. We both bahis şirketleri grinned across at our mates, opening our legs wider and flaunting our crotches to show off that we were, in effect, wanking each other off.
I made a face like I was cumming and bucked my hips rhythmically into his hand and he laughed and worked his dick firmly against my fingers, the whole time with the ridge of it getting thicker and harder as I jerked it through his trousers.
Mine was getting a bit fatter too: I could feel it steadily growing as Dan’s fingers squeezed it and rubbed up and down it.
The lads found it all hilarious but the girls weren’t impressed, though. The more assertive one – the one who liked Dan – said she still didn’t believe us and that if we really were gay we should prove it by kissing each other.
“And not just a quick peck,” she clarified. “I mean, a proper, deep kiss – a Frenchie. Tongues and everything. And doing it like you really mean it.”
We’d grinned at each other – this would be even more fun.
We shuffled a little closer together on the seat and moved our faces towards each other. We were both trying not to laugh to make it seem more like we were doing this for real, but it felt so weird and funny to be lunging in to kiss each other that we couldn’t help but suppress our giggles.
Our lips touched and I suddenly found it a lot less funny. Dan did too: his face became almost instantly more serious.
We opened our mouths and pressed the tips of our tongues together, the taste of Dan’s beer breath hot and moist. He worked his tongue into my mouth, gently teasing mine and flicking it against my teeth and I was like, “What the fuck?!” It felt way too good, vying a guy take control and kiss you like you were a girl. It felt so good I could feel my cock growing really quickly now. I was getting a full hard-on with my mate’s tongue in my gob!
I didn’t tell Marcus this part, of course. I made out like it was just a joke that me and Dan had been having. That guys sometimes kiss for laughs and when they do it means diddly fuck.
Dan had put his hands on my shoulders and angled his face against mine so that he could work his tongue right into my mouth. The girls giggled and the guys laughed uproariously: this really was a proper snog we were rolling out for them. I gave into him, blown away by how good this felt and sensing from his quickening breath that he was too.
My cock was straining in my jeans; fully hard and oozing against my underwear. I wanted him to reach down and grope me again; pull it out and wank me off properly. I’d do the same to him, jerking his stiff dick as he kissed me like I was his girlfriend, and then I’d dip down to suck him off while he worked a finger up my butt.
But we didn’t do any of that, of course. We were in the middle of a fucking nightclub for God’s sake!
Instead, Dan pulled back and whispered, “This is way too good, mate. I’m gonna have to stop.” I looked down and saw the mound of his hard-on poking upwards on one side of his fly.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s, like, scarily good.”
He glanced at my crotch and saw that I was also bulging, though far more prominently.
The upshot was that the girls were now convinced. Our friends were throwing us odd looks too but fortunately our straining crotches went unnoticed.
“Okay, so maybe kissing’s not so serious,” Marcus agreed, buying into my somewhat adapted version of the story. “We just had a wank together and we helped each other out as best we could. Like you say, there’s nothing more to discuss.”
“Exactly,” I smiled.
I could have dropped it there – the two of us just getting dressed and going into the kitchen to hang out with the rest of the guys – but I couldn’t help but make occasional glances at his shorts. I was curious to see if I could push things a bit further with him and I figured if I didn’t make a move now, I might have to wait weeks to get another shot.
So I added, “Except for one thing, though.”
“What’s that?” he asked, his face the model of innocence.
I smiled more broadly. “What else we can do to help each other out in future?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, taking a drink from his coffee which now seemed to have cooled.
“I assume we’re gonna get horny together again,” I explained before gulping down some of mine. “I’m just kind of wondering what other things we could do to give each other… you know… a bit of occasional relief…”
I knew I was taking a risk, moving things on so soon after our first hook-up, but it seemed like it was the right time to do this. It seemed, at that moment, like it was now or never.
After staring at me uncertainly, he asked by way of clarification, “You wanna do some stuff again?”
“Why not?” I asked with a nonchalance I didn’t really feel. “We’ve agreed it’s not serious, so what’s to stop us having some fun again when we’re both in the mood?”
He kept staring at me and I might have chickened out – pretended like I was only joking and headed the fuck off for a cold shower – if I hadn’t have seen the front of his orange boxer briefs twitch a little, as if something inside was stirring at the image that had formed in its owner’s mind.
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