About a Minute or an Hour

Together we unlatched the gate, and held the latch open while re-closing it to avoid a clink-and-rattle noise. We avoided every pebble on the walk and stepped heel-toe slowly. The whole time we looked casual, just in case someone did see us. Two young men walking into a house, maybe after a late movie. I opened the back door to the basement, a newer door without any squeak, encouraged the nervous guest in, and then turned the door latch before closing it, to avoid a click. In the basement living room still we were silent, until we entered my bedroom, with its computer still on but closed of Gay.com, with a small lamp on, with the bed clean but blanketless, with the floor cleared of clutter. I had no idea how to prepare a room for casual sex, but I tried to imagine a man with various sexual desires and locations and did my best to accommodate scenarios.

And then there was a man in my bedroom who had come for the purpose of having sex with me.

I was nervous at the thought too, but clearly him more so. He had the same knee-tremble I remembered in myself a couple of years ago at my first time being touched, the mixture of charged sexual impatience and bashfulness. A sense of unreality.

"Hey Juan. We made it. Let's keep whispering, but if I were you I think I'd like to hear this first: you can leave if you want. You can leave now or you can leave later, before, during, or after. Okay?"

"Okay. Thanks. Now what?"

"Well I don't know. This feels weird, but maybe we could make it kind of cool. Do you want to talk for a while, or do you want to find out what kissing is like, or do you want... other stuff?"

"Yeah. Okay. Let's kiss." He was casual, but his smile was a little embarrassed. It must feel weird to say those words out loud.. "Um I don't know how to start."

"Here, there are tops and bottoms in kissing, just like in sex, got it? And maybe the best way to learn what kissing is like is to be kissed, and let it happen. Your body will start telling you what to do, and it's okay if something doesn't work. Are you ready?"

This was new. I was now in a position of being about to kiss a person who grows hair on his face, who isn't in love with me, for whom there is no relationship to protect but a new friendship. I shook off my philosophizing about what his lips would feel like, because I didn't have to guess. I just went for it.

I had the presence of mind to guess he was expecting his arms to go under mine, so I experimentally put my arms around his neck as I softly opened my mouth to Juan. My point of contact had a little up-and-down to invite his mouth open, nuzzling in so we could feel the raw insides of each other's lips slide along each other, soft on soft. I led our kiss like a dancer leads. Getting the feel for it, the repeated sliding motion of our mouths, Juan kindled and ignited his own inertia, and his hands took the small of my back. In his first kiss back, I realized I had assumed a role preferring his lower lip, because now, with for the moment in control of our touch, he chose my lower lip to engulf and suck on. Inhaling through my nose at the intriguing feel of it all, I gently consented to Juan's first experimental touches. He wasn't gentle though, he pushed into me. It wasn't unpleasant, but we slowly got the hang of each other.

I nearly forgot the newness of the act for me, and we simultaneously shared the same surprised look at one another when our excited arms around each other pulled in and brought together two solid erections, each pulled slightly sideways by our constraining clothes. I had zero script for how to transition from a kiss to touching a man's cock. But he didn't either, right? So I kissed Juan again, looked at him meaningfully, and slid our midsections softly up and down against each other. With my own cock I could feel the exceedingly soft scrotum underneath and then again the solid form above, yielding just slightly with its soft surface to my own skin.

"Do you like kissing so far?"

"...Yeah man......".

"Me too...." My voice had a nervous shudder now too. "Hey would you like to kiss with no shorts?"

"......Yeah. Okay."

I wanted to see him naked, but decided to keep us close for the moment. Our faces stayed a couple of inches away, as I reached down and gently pulled his shorts over the front of his groin and slid them down away from my reach, and slid my shorts gently over my own erection and slid them down out of my reach, never bending down. I watched his face and he still showed active consent, just bashfulness. Me too probably. I crouched down just an inch or so, leaned a little closer, and brought up my right hand in front of us... my hand searched for, found, and softly held and caressed four testicles. As his eyes darted open and then shut closed, and his lips opened wide, I kissed him.

I all but worship "balls", the tender little place under a penis. The skin is impossibly soft, they're vulnerable and need the gentlest of touches, and adore being tickled, and it makes everything feel safe and exciting when they're held. Having my balls held by someone could completely relax me or race me towards a thrashing orgasm. I held Juan, and slid my fingers along underneath as I kissed, letting his kiss tell me how to do it: as he tightened his lip's grip I held him fully, as he opened his mouth to gasp I feathered my touch, and as his breath shuddered I ground us softly together. We broke the kiss, and I backed up. And we looked at each other.

Juan had skin impossibly soft and smooth, with downy hair surrounding a penis with perfectly unspeckled skin. He had foreskin as elaborate as mine, fully sheathing and crowning a long but unassuming penis with long slender balls underneath. The shaft was shaped like three welded-together cylinders, dimpling in-between. The whole thing had a wreath of hair tufted around the penis and scrotum, but the cock/balls area itself was strangely smooth looking. Or maybe that was the lack of colour contrast, making details invisible. Only touch and taste would answer my more involved questions.

Automatically, upon uncovering his penis, Juan grabbed it and started beating in a stereotypical-man sort of way. He stopped when he saw I wanted that to stop, and I think he thought I had changed his mind, so I cut in:

"No wait not like that. There's no hurry, can we try it slowly?"

"Sure man, do you want to kneel, or 69, or, what?"

"Okay, as a start, why don't you lean back on the bed, like this, and open your legs a little, yeah like that." I moved his legs just a little bit more closed, so they were open without being stretched open. A relaxed body. I wasn't an expert in any of this, but I knew what I'd like to feel. And hell, I wanted this just as much.

Once he seemed ready, a little less tense, I started my first touch, where the base of his penis meets the scrotum. It was unfathomably soft there, no wrinkled contours but just a pear-shaped expansion at the base of an inflexibly firm and strangely long plinth. I was so glad I had spent days treating my own hands to be as soft as possible. I wanted nothing more than to introduce Juan to gentle touch, soft-against-soft. After some time of soft grazing across each inch and crevice, I experimentally gave a gentle little grasp of the length, my hand twisted in an underhand grip, and as I softly held Juan in my palm his gaze, which had been evolving from urgent pleading to spellbound peace, now shifted again as something deep within slowly awoke. A single low raspy breath came from deep down his throat, still stealthy, still delicate and soft and lovely but with a promise of power - the perfect metaphor for the penis slowly twisting in my palm and fingers. He had a gorgeous penis and balls. Listening one more time for any commotion upstairs, beside the lying man on the bed I feathered my fingers on his scrotum, and again, and drifted upwards to explore his shaft. He was at first too tentative to process the sensations, but with a bit of eye contact I confirmed his assent to go on. With a persistent feathering of my left hand, I waited for the next time his pleasure flexed his penis upwards away from his torso and took the opportunity to slither my tongue around its tip.

As I explored each inch, and found certain perfect places in his individual and unique cock, something in Juan's body every moment or two acted as though struck with electricity. As Juan shuddered and swooned in palpitating breaths, I continued. And continued.

I examined the now-larger-than-hard shaft, now vibrating with a visible pulse from thick conduits near the surface, and noticed that right at the base there began a line: a skinny little bump of skin like the vein of a leaf descending downward. Curious I followed it down, keeping Juan more than occupied with a feather-touch of his fingers along the shaft. I saw the funny line of skin continued all the way along the testicles, dividing each ball, and merged into the crack of his bum at the bottom. The best course of action was obvious: I gingerly licked it, softly slowly going all the way up, softly slowly going all the way down. My affectionate tongue stayed unflexed and feathery, and my mouth smooched lightly and opened again for another lick, up and down. Now the whimpers from Juan's mouth were ethereal with surprise and pleasure, far away. And I stayed there, keeping this going, up and down the line. It wasn't fleeting, it was like the balls were getting the blowjob. It went on and on and it was in no way altruistic: tasting and exploring this penis and these balls was one of the most pleasurable moments of my life.

I remembered fondly the first time I made the sounds Juan now made, how he paid close mind to the sensations within him and what it meant to feel good for this long at one touch. I had once thought those feelings, those reactions, were reserved for women. I hadn't even noticed I had been longing for what I saw women doing when they were touched, I didn't know it wasn't impossible to feel this good for more than a single instant of cum. I realized what I had been craving was to give this feeling to another man, my touch evangelistic about the lovely possibilities of male pleasure.

As I moved on, kissing an inner thigh in what was still intense lovely pleasure, Juan looked down at his cock. The very tip of it was now glistening with moisture, though he was nowhere close to cumming. Juan seemed confused and intrigued, as though he had never seen his penis do that. Aha, I thought: he had never taken time with himself.

Precum is not premature semen. It's a natural lubricant, a substance all on its own, with its own qualities. It's clear, quick liquid, and it looks feels and tastes like melted butter. Precum is wonderful. And most men probably had no idea, attaining an erection and then beating it until it cums or fucking a woman counting on her own lubricant, never knowing that his is even smoother. Men weren't just taught to neglect their lovers, but themselves: a delicate touch in anticipation of a greater touch, a slow promise of pleasure to come, activates in a cock a greater form of arousal, a stronger erection with ready-made lubricant and a doubling of all pleasure within. And the taste. I had first learned to love the taste when in a relationship with a woman, who would go down on me until coming up for penis-in-vagina sex, first elaborately kissing me with full hungry lips. She was such a good kisser that she taught me to love the tastes my own cock produced. She taught me to crave my own taste. Or was it just the taste of aroused penis, the delicious taste only activated when you accept sex as something slow?

I taught Juan this lesson by slowly licking the rim of Juan's foreskin, encouraging out a little more with a frustratingly light stroke down and up, maintaining touch on the cock with a palm snaked around the shaft, and luxuriously kissing him, introducing him to his own taste. And then I returned, to find a new wellspring of precum having emerged in the shock of pleasure. With slow gentle movements up and down with his grasping left hand I pumped out further precum into my happy mouth. I was surprised with myself. I had come into this as an average joe wanting to screw around with another guy, but had been revealed as some ecstatic cock worshipper.

Once my cheeks and tongue were coated with the stuff, they had become considerably slipperier, and so when I softly slid my mouth down and engulfed the length of Juan's cock into me, Juan curled his toes and stretched back his head, now soundless without any idea what noise to make to express this feeling.

I wasn't just watching his cock anymore, I was gazing up and down his torso. It was definitely the first time I ever enjoyed looking at any other part of a man than his penis. I was attracted to penises, I've liked the idea of touching them since I was a teenager, but this time I loved the look: of his friendly curves, skinny but subtly shapely at the sides, and of his perfect unblemished skin, so few differentiations in shade that his cock was hidden from the front like a mountain blending into the night sky. In profile it was a proud thing to look at, slender but so tall, with cat-ear soft foreskin, and unwrinkled naturally hairless balls. I kept going back to one specific touch, where the edge of the bottom of my tongue touched that foreskin, soft on soft. That's when he couldn't stay silent anymore, and I enjoyed his face in those little instants.

Last time this happened I was meeting someone who almost treated the whole affair like a drug deal. It felt illicit, even though I wasn't ashamed. He just treated the whole meeting like he was obtaining something he shouldn't have. But Juan and I weren't meeting for an exchange. We were having sex. I liked thinking of it like that. I'm having sex with you. Even though we're hiding from other people, even though you're whispering your moans and I'm even making the slathering of my mouth around you as silent as I can (which was probably making it feel softer, better) we were allowed to do this. I hope he felt that way: here, apart from a family that civilizes relationships into somber things, Juan chose to take off his clothes and touch another human being. He probably needs to feel a little agency right now. And that's what I told myself, that was my rationalization for why I asked him to touch me. I was probably being 50% honest with myself: he needs to choose to touch another cock, so this isn't something happening to him, but something he's doing. A choice to hold a penis and taste it. Choose what to do with its cum, choose what touches will erupt it.

"I think I need your touch, badly." He wasn't hesitant, just caught off guard. "You can still say No, and I'm still all-in to keep going with you too. Just seeing if you'd like to try. Either way, don't worry, I won't leave you hanging!"

"Okay I'm ready. I'm probably going to not be that good."

"Good!" I said. "It would feel weird if it were some expert. I have no idea what I'm doing either, let's figure it out. You're sure you're up for this?" He smiled and nodded.

"What do I do?"

"Juan? I don't want you to like, 'service' me -- we're here to find out more about what we like and to enjoy it. I love doing this! You taste good, and this is fun."

I was nervous about spreading open the middle of my body like that, showing my torso and penis as I spread my knees apart for him. I wasn't very proud of my body, but he looked deeply interested in my penis and the balls underneath.

My penis had been dripping precum. It had a little trail halfway down my bumpy, veiny shaft, and my foreskin was at its superbly-excited position, no longer able to fully engulf me, just beginning to open at the zenith instead of bunched up in a gathering of touch-sensitive skin.

He smiled and positioned his closed hand around the mid-shaft of my penis. He smiled bashfully, and, turning his gaze downward to watch what he was doing, a penis he'd never seen before in his hand, started a motion I hadn't felt in my body since I was just learning to masturbate. He wagged my penis forward and back at a medium then gradually swifter pace, like a dog's tail. The stimulation and pleasure of my skin sliding up and down the flesh inside was an emergent property of the forward-and-back, enhanced by abundant natural lubrication within. I had long since switched to an up/down motion (although probably much slower than most men) but I had forgotten how intense and arousing this motion was. Every time my cock's motion came to a sudden stop and flung in the other direction, twice a second, it was like G-Force was swishing around all the fluids inside me. It was a surprisingly overwhelming and erotic sensation.

I enjoyed this for a while, pulsing my bum back and forth a little, and he watched the cock move -- he'd probably never seen one from that angle, and the view, feeling, and motion is qualitatively very different, the grasp reversed. Eventually, I smiled at him, gently took his hand, positioned each finger widely apart, guided him into a very gentle clasp around me, and guided his other hand to softly hold my scrotum in his palm, drawing it back a little to emphasize a gentle touch. As he looked at me and I pulsed with stimulation, I guided his left hand slowly slowly up, and slowly slowly down. I whispered, "Soft. So soft."

And he stroked slowly, watching how the look of it transformed on the up-stroke and the down-stroke, the skin sliding along firmer meat beneath, open a little to show the vulnerable tip, then bunching together at the top and gathering together my natural lubrication. Eventually, he licked me once. It was a swift thing, done before I felt him, but he did it again, licking the space around the tip, at first avoiding the slick foreskin. With a sort of daring-do look on his face, he experimentally plunged the head of my penis into my mouth and quickly closed his lips around me.

He had a respectable amount of me inside his mouth, and I could feel his lips and tongue and the inside of his cheeks. Inside he was warm and slick and perfect; though nothing was happening. I quickly understood how literally he took the phrase "sucking", as he kept his mouth in place and sucked me like a popsicle. He looked beautiful doing it, though the occasional movement of his mouth to reposition enticed me to need more, more.

I smiled fondly down at him. "That's perfect. Now slowly, slowly, take me all the way out of you - yeah! - and now slowly do it again, as far down as feels good for you." He slid me into his mouth again, and I saw one cheek swell with the presence inside him. As he slid me back out this time, some drool remained behind and trickled down to tickle the balls. "Ohmyyes, that's nice..." He was encouraged enough to softly grip the balls as he kept it up, using them as a joystick to point my penis right at his throat, and his ups and downs went deeper. "Okay, Juan, I can't keep talking, I'm just going to glaze over and - ughhh - let myself feel this, UUUUUHHHhhhh....."

Long moments went by as Juan established his rhythm and technique and stuck with it. It felt lovely, though with the same one motion, up and down, with a little twist of the head each time. Eventually, he came up for air and rubbed his lower jaw. And I gladly gave him a break, guiding him up onto the bed, turning around so I saw his penis from above, and, crouching over his torso, began eagerly to taste him again. His stealth was becoming progressively less successful, as he encouraged me and moaned, and we were no longer silent lovers in this risky territory. As I lavished him with my mouth, more to just enjoy myself than to give him pleasure, I felt soft little fingers slide along and curiously explore my foreskin and balls, slipping open fingers up and down to teach himself my texture shape and proportions. I adored angel touches, and as my full mouth whimpered and groaned, with each sound Juan heaved and his precum flowed. Each time. My moans of pleasure were actually turning my mouth into a vibrator, overwhelming the entire erogenous zone, and this was the best news I had gotten all day.