Of Course I was Nervous

With my erect cock in his. He stroked my soft foreskin back, and exposed my smooth dark wet glans. Darker than his I noticed, smoother maybe. Seeping the same glistening pre-cum.

"Oh god Sam, fuck, I love your soft skin, your beautiful soft foreskin, fuck, your dark fat cock head looks so fucking good, oh fuck, oh god."

"Rob, can I, can we..."

"Say it, Sam, say it."

"Can I touch my cock against yours, can we rub our hard cocks together?"

"Oh fuck, oh..."

I took this as a yes. And pushed him onto his back. His penis hovered stiffly above his stomach. I moved over him, my legs touching him now, either side, and felt the heat from his cock against mine, I slide my hard prick over his, the soft valleys between our rigid tissue slipping and pushing. I felt my scrotum move up over his stem. This was so bad, so wrong, I was straight, all my friends, I had a girlfriend, I really did, I know, at the fucking least I was cheating on her, which would be bad enough, but I was fucking another man, not a woman, I was pressing my stiff prick against his, his larger, longer, thicker dick, and it was driving me wild.

"Can I touch your ass? Sam? Can I stroke your soft little ass?

"Yeah, oh fuck, oh fucking hell"

And I felt his hand pull me closer, I spread my legs, this felt so natural, I sat astride him, my balls against his, my rigid stem pressing and moving against his. And felt his rough fingers touching my naked butt. Pulling me onto him, holding, stroking, kneading the tight muscles of my bare ass. We rubbed cocks, our flat damp bellies sliding, and he whispered now, and I realised he was as turned on as I was. I don't know why this surprised me, his cock was hard, but that his excitement was making his voice so hoarse, so ragged. This was arousing, this sent a fresh flutter of pleasure into my penis.

"Sam, oh fuck, I want to touch your asshole, oh, oh fuck, will you let me touch you there?"

"Oh fuck yes, touch me, fuck, touch my tight little ass. Fuck, I want to kiss you."

"Mmm, mmm. Are you gonna?"

And I kiss him, I kiss another man with passion and pleasure, for the first time our lips touch, our mouths open, and our tongues stroke. I feel his strong hands on me, his huge stiff cock on mine, and his full soft lips, I can feel the prickle of his stubble over his chin, above his lip, less than a day's worth, I kiss him harder, and lose myself in the crossing of this boundary, this first, most intimate invasion. I hear myself groan, without affect, without self-consciousness. I groan and gasp and kiss him deeply, wrestle his tongue with my own.

I touch his bare chest, I feel his hard long cock against my skin, against my belly, rubbing with unbearable friction next to mine. And then his fingers touch my soft tight hidden asshole. Our penises together. And another guy's finger on my virgin ass. What did I want? I pulled my head back. And looked down.

"Turn over, can I turn you over?"

He pushed me off and rolled onto his front. I gazed at his long smooth back, his shoulders, his narrow waist. And the bulge of his full strong muscular ass. His skin was clear and pale, virtually hairless, I touched his back, his shoulders, and kissed him there. I felt my lips touch his soft sweet smelling skin. And moved lower. Fuck. I could stop, I should. I didn't. I moved my mouth lower until I was licking his butt, until I was opening my mouth over this guy's tight firm ass. I heard him moan now, and gasp.

"Oh fuck, oh god..."

"I want to taste you, can I? Can I put my lips on your asshole? Can I lick your tight little asshole?"

"Oh fuck Sam yes, oh god, eat my asshole, oh let me feel your soft sweet lips on my tight ass."

I pulled him up and kissed the damp humid cleft of his butt. And pushed my head lower, he was almost kneeling in front of me, I could see the twin globes of his testicles hanging between his legs, and the tender skin of his perineum. Fuck. I didn't do this that often with women. Was I really going to do it with this guy? Again, I didn't answer, or choose, it was there, I wanted to, had to. I pulled his ass to my face, and looked at his anus. I looked at his soft, smooth asshole, pink, hairless, a tight wrinkled slit. I dipped my head and touched ran my tongue all over his hot dam cleft, up to the small of his back, over his ass, kissing, tasting the salty tang of his sweat, and back, between his buttocks, licking every inch of his smooth crack, finally, fuck, feeling his crinkled opening, and touching it with my lips. Fuck. I kissed his hidden bud. I opened my mouth and pushed my tongue against him, I licked his asshole, I stroked his smooth warm anus with my moist probing tongue. And heard him gasp. And nearly came. I really did. If he had still been touching my cock I would have climaxed there and then. The knowledge and sensation of what I was doing was nearly excruciatingly arousing. I held his tight buttocks in my hands, held them apart, and licked this man's anus. I breathed his odour, his sweet pungent earthy smell, and pushed my tongue harder against him, I wanted more, I pulled and reached and gripped his cock, and felt how hard he was.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck Sam, oh god, oh... oh, touch my cock, oh fuck, stroke my fucking dick, fuck, hold my cock, oh fuck, kiss me, let me feel your tongue on my asshole, oh fucking lick my tight little ass, oh god..."

I pressed my lips against the smooth flat skin of his crack and pushed the tip of my tongue onto the centre, onto the tiny opening of his sphincter, I pushed, and felt the tip of my tongue enter him, oh fucking hell, this was so incredible, this was, I mean it, utterly fucking pleasurable. I felt my tongue slide inside his asshole, and felt his cock thicken, fuck, he pulsed, his huge thick cock pulsed with arousal, as his hot I stroked his slick penis, along his shaft, I feel each delicious ridge, each tiny undulation in his solid thick stem, slipping up to his bare glans, I ran my fingers over the crown of his tender swollen cock and slid my tongue into his tight beautiful asshole. I am close without being touched.

"Oh Sam, oh fuck, oh god I am going to come, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh this is so fucking good, this feels so fucking... oh, oh fuck. OH FUCK..."

And he comes. I make him come. With my hands, my mouth, my probing tongue. I make this gorgeous strong hard big guy climax. His anus tightens, my tongue is squeezed out, I feel his balls quiver, I let my fingers touch the tight full skin of his scrotum, I feel the pulses and spasms in his body, and my fingers are suddenly covered in thick warm liquid. And I realise he is coming, for real, another man is ejaculating over me, over my hand, I touch his soft fat glans and feel each hot jet of cum as it is spurted out of his huge hard cock. And as he comes I raise myself, and hold myself, I grip my own turgid rail of trembling cock, and give in to my own orgasm, fuck, I start to come over another guy, I hold my stiff prick and stroke myself, once, once is enough, pulling my foreskin back and watch myself spurt my own white trails of semen over his bare back, I feel his hot issue as I watch long streams of white fluid leap from my penis and splash over his naked back, his ass. He seems to come and fucking come, we empty our tender swollen balls, my fingers are dripping with his thick semen. I run it over his pulsing spasming member, coating his penis with his fresh spunk, rubbing my warm seed into his soft skin.

He falls flat onto the bed, I fall next to him, he rolls onto his back, his cock flops upwards, we lay next to each other in this position, both of us still naked, both of our spent penises thick and heavy and seeping cum onto our bellies.

I think we stayed that way for about ten minutes or so, dozed. I woke, and had that split second or so of wondering where I was, then why I was naked. Then, this was the kicker, why there was a naked man lying next to me. I surveyed my head: what did I feel? Some guilt? Or shame? Some fear about what this meant? That I was now different? Not me? None of this really, more, well, exhilaration: fuck, oh my god, I am naked with another man, also naked. I just had sex, of a sort, with another guy, I just had gay sex, I held a man's erect penis, and licked his ass, I stroked his soft smooth asshole with my mouth, and ejaculated over his nude body. The thought was thrilling.

And I looked at us, when I could have got up, got dressed, left. I looked at his naked body, his soft heavy cock, still lying flat over his stomach, still long, still thick. I stared at his exposed tip, the soft seam running down the underside of his stem. And his now stretched scrotum, his large balls pulling it low over his thigh.

I have the invading idea to bend and pull the soft tip of his bare penis into my mouth.

I looked at myself. My own spent cock. My foreskin still retracted, a smear of clear fluid escaping my opening. I did get up, I walked to his bathroom, staying naked, pissed, and splashed water on my face, and looked at myself in his mirror. My naked body, my patch of pubic hair, my long soft penis. And then he is behind me, I see him, wearing his underwear again, his T-shirt. He has got dressed. I think it's probably time to leave. This is my thought: I don't want to be the one to hang around here. And then he says:

"Well, are you still okay to do some modelling? You don't have to, if you'd prefer to leave?"

"No, sure, of course. Yeah let's do some."

"If you don't mind, sorry Sam, but, I wanted to draw you in a particular state, your penis I mean, and your scrotum, I wanted you to look as you do when you model for the class."

"Sure, how is that?" I think I know what he means, but I push for some clarity.

"Well, you penis looks soft and quite small, and your testicles are pulled up tight, your scrotum is drawn in tight I mean."

"Right."

"And at the moment, well, your penis looks long, like you just came, your foreskin is pulled back, and your balls are low."

"Do you want me to take a shower? A cold shower?"

"Is that okay?"

"Sure, yeah."

He nods to a cubicle in the corner of the bathroom, not a cubicle really, a large flat basin on the tile floor, not surrounded by a door, or a curtain, just a larger, slight concave space with a drain at the centre. And a large metal shower head fixed from the ceiling.

"Here?"

"Yeah, it that okay?"

I walk to the shower, aware he is still in the room, still looking at me. I stand with my back to him, and turn the taps on, and feel the outer edges of thin streams of warm water. I step under. And let myself get wet. I feel my skin tighten and react. Again, still aware he is watching. I tweak the dial and make the water as cold as I can stand, and let a nearly icy stream blast against my face, my chest, I step back and let the water flow over my midriff. I feel the cold affect my cock, begin to pull my scrotum in tighter. I turn. He is still there. He is looking, up and down, I look at him, in his eyes, down to his groin. I stare at the long curve of his penis in his underwear. And smoothed the cold water over myself, aware, I think, that he was looking with something more than professional interest, and, again, enjoying him look. I was showering for him, showering naked for another man. I let water cover my penis, my balls, and took hold of myself, holding my foreskin back, rubbing my exposed tip, cleaning myself, stroking back so my glans was covered, and feeling a fresh pulse of arousal leap into me. I felt myself hardening again.

"Sam, uh, do you think you could stay in the shower for a little, whilst I draw you? Quickly I mean?"

"Yeah, I could do that."

He leaves, for less than thirty seconds, and comes back with paper, a stick of charcoal.

"If you could do what you just did, with your hands in your hair, facing me, and looking at me, is that okay? And hold that?"

"Sure."

I posed. My hands just at the top of my forehead, my elbows wide, my legs a few inches apart, the cold water flowing over my back, over my shoulders and down my chest, trickling over my cock, my now tight balls. And he drew me. Sitting on the closed toilet seat. His legs crossed, the sketch pad resting on his crooked knee. I stood as still as I could, feeling my arousal wane, feeling my cock shrink and my scrotum tighten. The pleasure was intense though, at a level less than sexual, but thrillingly physical, being looked at during such an intimate moment, being studied, I felt the sweetly nervous churning in my stomach, hyper aware of my nudity, of being examined. My eyes were open, looking at him, watching his eyes move between my body and his charcoal version of it, watching his hand move, feeling myself react, feeling each stroke of his gaze, over my belly, my wet plastered flat pubic hair, and my penis. I knew I was soft, I was desperate to look down, to see how soft, to see if there were signs of arousal. My cock seems to have several minds of its own, seems to have half a dozen co-existing personalities and physical manifestations of same. I wondered which was showing, the shy, cold, withdrawn one, when I my cock does look small, soft, thin, a narrow wrinkled curl of bobbling skin. Sometimes longer, fuller, thicker, hinting at arousal, hinting at length, solid size.

I held my pose for about five minutes. Not thinking of anything, I realised, I was not thinking of him, of his penis, the one I had just held in my hand, I wasn't thinking of his naked body, his smooth bare skin, his tight strong ass, the tight soft sweet asshole I had just tasted. I was deep in a physical experience, but not exactly that either, it was close to an out of body experience, being watched, aware of this objective presence and effect.

Then my arms started to throb. And the water was starting to make my head ache.

"Do you want to stop? I have a nice sketch. You can stop."

I dropped my arms, and stepped forward, out of the water. Glancing down. My penis was tight and small. Soft, childlike really. This was familiar to me, and to him, this was how I appeared when modelling for the class. When I made sure I had taken a cold shower beforehand. Preferring the class members to think I had a small cock than see me even slightly aroused. Not that this was guaranteed to work, sometimes a cold shower had the opposite effect and I stepped out feeling both invigorated and erect. Not now though, possibly as I had just come. Anyway. I turned the water off and stood in front of Rob, wet, naked, soft, and small. My balls were pulled up into a tight round pouch, and my penis was a little wrinkled frond of damp skin.

"Wow, this is exactly, I mean, you look just right now, sort of ... well, beautiful really. God. If you could dry yourself, and come next door, I want you to stand by the window, and the light should just catch you in a certain way, if that's alright?"

"Yeah, of course, however you want me." Aware of the slight double meaning, aware that I am saying it with less innocence than an hour or so ago, that there is the real possibility of acting out this second meaning. Again. I find I do not back away from this, or bury it somewhere in my sub-conscious. I am naked, I am ready to pose.

He positions me in front of a large bay window, which doesn't have a blind or curtain, which may not quite be visible from the street, but which I am sure allows anyone in the building opposite to look in and see me. Again. this thought has some merit, has some appeal. I am modelling, I am nude, legitimately so, if people can see me then so be it, frankly, more than so be it, I hope people can see me, see us, I want people opposite to glance out and see my nude body, see my naked ass. I am half profile, mostly facing into the room, but I think from one of the windows further along the opposite building someone could look over and see my front, they might easily look and see the exposed soft penis of an adult male. They might look and see a fully naked man standing in the window, his soft small cock in full sight.

I hope they notice I am standing still, if they look at all, I hope they know I am posing for an artist, and not posing for them, not deliberately exposing myself, flashing. This is not my thing. I consider this as Rob sharpens pencils and charcoal and sits, still wearing just his tight briefs and T-shirt. As he sits, and studies. I look at his eyes, roving over my bare skin. I like to be looked at, this seems obvious, not from vanity, not to show off ('look at me, look at my glorious nude body, look at my fat cock and wonder'. No, I am under no illusions about my attractiveness, I know I have some, perhaps even a lot, but I don't imagine the sight of my soft penis will cause anyone, certainly not everyone, to collapse in heaps of moist or erect quivers), and, as I said, only when there is some legitimate reason, a changing room, a clothing optional beach. A casually open bedroom door might be a parade too far. Now though, a paid life model posing for an artist, able to be seen, obviously, by him, also, as it happens, possibly, by people in the flats and apartments opposite.

I hear the scratch of his pencil on the paper. He shifts his position. I look at the thick bulge of his penis. And feel my own. I want to see myself as he does, I realise, I want a sense of what he sees.

Minutes pass. My legs start to cause me some pain, I stay as still as I can. Did he give me a time for this pose? Ten? Twenty minutes? I could ask. I say nothing. The pain is off set by the delicious sensation of being looked at naked. Of being naked. This is really what I came for, nothing else. The knowledge that we had both been naked a short while ago, both of us nude, erect, that we touched each other's bare bodies, each other's hard cock, this was receding into the familiar territory of many memories, it happened, I knew it did, but it was as if, somehow, it had happened to a different person.

"Right, you can move, would you like to see?"

"Yeah, yeah I would."

I know I should find my towel, wrap it around myself. I do not. I want to remain exposed to him. I stretch and bend and walk to his side and look at the two quick sketches he has done of me, and the one more detailed one. It is me, I can see it is me, my body, my face, my shadow of pubic hair, and my cock. My breath takes a dip as I look at the small circle of my balls, and the slim short length of my soft penis. At the window, the hint of outside. I look, aware of him looking at me, closer now. I look down past the paper, at my cock. Familiarly soft, familiarly small, a round wrinkled bobbling prong protruding from my soft pubic bush.

"Do you need a break? A drink of something?"

"Uh, maybe water?"

"Sure."

I watch him walk to his kitchen, his tight ass covered in clinging blue cotton. He returns holding a bottle of water, I look down at the shape of his soft penis, the large bending bulge hanging to the side, held almost upwards, flat, above the rounder bulge of his testicles. I feel a twinge.

"Um, if I could draw you facing the window, I know it's open, but I want to draw you from behind, if that's okay?"

I think of facing the window, of other people being able to see me.

"Sure, sure, whatever you want."

I stretch, and shake my arms, and stand in front of the window again, facing out, facing the windows opposite, my hands, as instructed, above my head, touching the frame of the window, so I am leaning out ever so gently, one foot in front of the other. My ass pushed out, my back bent in slightly, my penis pushed out.

I look at these windows, and see little. A dark shape here, a shifting curtain there. Then a passing figure. A figure who returns, and looks. And my breath drops out of my body. I see a female figure, pass then return to her window, and step back into the shadow of her room. I can still just about see her though, looking directly at me, staring, thinking, I assume, that she is unseen. I remain still. I am posing, but not for her. She can look though, the idea that she is sends a tremor of excitement through me. A new tingle of sensation. Which I try to control. I am facing out, facing her, not him, it would be bad form, illegal even, for me to stand naked at an open window and expose my erect penis.