How Much Do I Say?

I wasn't really sure how we got to this point. Steve and I had been friends for some time, and although I had begun to think of myself as bi, there is no chance I would have ever raised the topic with him. My encounters with other guys were very discreet, many miles away from where I lived, and with men I would not run into on the street.

Steve and I met through work; we were both in claims' assessing for a large insurer, and ended up socializing from time to time. We both had girlfriends, but oddly, never met as a foursome. When I moved to another company for better wages, Steve and I stayed in touch and would meet for lunch every few weeks. Our chats were always fun, and easy. Thinking back, we never really talked about women, apart from polite enquiries about our respective girlfriends.

At one lunch, we decided on a drinks night later in the week, and met up in a quiet bar about equidistant between our homes. I'm 5 foot 10, about 65 kilos, slim in an athletic way. Steve is taller, not as slim, with a slight hunch to his shoulders. Both of us are clean-shaven, casually dressed, and probably not people you look at twice if you happen to walk past.

We drank, not to excess, but to the point where we were both delightfully merry. During the night we noticed two gay guys at another table, and from the light reflecting on their wedding rings, we tossed about the idea that they were recently married. They were affectionate, whispering closely, stroking hands, fairly oblivious to anyone else like any couple in a new love.

Steve looked at them for awhile, not obviously, and then came out with a blunt question, so unlike him:

'Have you ever thought about sleeping with another guy?'

What to do? Do I tell him that every now and then I meet up with a random guy, get my cock sucked, and then fuck them? So far I had only hooked up with a few guys, all bottoms. Apart from my dildo, nothing else has been inside me. Do I tell him I would like to know what it feels like to have a real penis penetrating me? That I want to experience the taste and sensation of having someone cum in my mouth? Of the four guys I had met with so far, only one wanted me to suck him - his cock was about 4 inches long, thickish. I'm circumcised, and this guy's penis wasn't. It was fun moving the foreskin over the head, licking the tiny bit of pre-cum, and then being able to get it all in my mouth. I wasn't sure about whether to continue until he came, when he pulled away from me and turned around, ready for me to fuck him. He masturbated while I moved slowly in him; in porn clips the guy pulls out and then easily slides back in. In reality, it took a bit to get in, and if I pulled back too far and slipped out it was a small effort to re-enter him, so it was easier just to move slowly and deeply. I felt his ass clench on my cock and then his back arched a little, and I glanced around to see his cum hit the couch he was kneeling on. He was happy for me to continue, and after a few more moments I was close and pulled out. I took off the condom and his mouth moved down towards me as the cum started flowing. It felt so good when his mouth went around me and sucked me until there was nothing left.

How could I tell Steve this?

'I have been curious,' I say, 'but I think it's a genital curiosity. I'm not sure that I want an emotionally intimate relationship with another guy. I know what it feels like to have my own hand on my penis, and sometimes I wonder what it would be like to play with someone else's'.

'Me too', he said.

There was a momentary awkward silence, and he got up to get more drinks. So much for that lead-in. I'm not sure how we would move to a friends with benefits place, and I wasn't convinced I would even want to with him. Too close to home, so to speak.

We continued to chat until it was time to consider leaving, as this bar closed at 10. Steve invited me back to his place; his girlfriend was away for the night. I hesitated, but decided yes, and we went out to find a taxi. It wasn't too late, taxis were around, and soon we were on the way to his place.

We decided to continue with glasses of port, and the TV was on in the background. I'm not sure what we talked about; perhaps movies, perhaps books. And then another of those unexpected questions:

'How often do you and K have sex?'

I was a little startled by it, since this is not how our conversations usually go. Still.

'About once a week', I respond.

'Is that enough for you?'

'No', I say, and in another surprising moment, I added 'that's why I masturbate 2-3 times a week'.

'Do you?' Steve asked rhetorically. 'J and I rarely have sex - maybe once a month. I'm just not that keen. But then I also masturbate as often as I can!'

We both sort of shrugged, fatalistically, and silently declined to ask each other the obvious questions about why we were having less sex than the supposed average, and what it meant, if anything.

'You know how you said you wanted to find out what it's like to hold a prick that's not yours? I do too, but I have no idea how to go about it'. Steve didn't look directly at me as he said this.

Inspired by one drink too many, and taking myself again by surprise, I offered 'You can hold mine if you want'.

Steve might have been angling towards this. At least, I thought he was. But there was no way to describe his reaction other than to say he looked embarrassed.

'And I'll return the favour', I said.

He said nothing.

This was the moment when we either did this, or lost the chance. I stood up, and simply undid my jeans and took them off. I had already removed my shoes and socks in deference to the hardwood floors in Steve's house. I folded my jeans and put them on the end of the lounge, and stood facing Steve, who hadn't moved at all. If anything was going to happen, it was up to me to move it along. I had boxer shorts on, and the press of my cock against the material was obvious. As I said, I'm circumcised, just a tiny bit short of 7 inches long, not unduly thick. Being very slim, when erect I'm a flagpole person, as my girlfriend once described me.

What next? Steve still hadn't moved. I think he was a bit shocked that we had unexpectedly arrived at this point. Okay, so it was still up to me. I pulled down my boxers, and then took off my shirt. I was naked in front of Steve, cock almost fully erect. In for a penny, I thought, so I stroked myself slowly to full harness, and walked closer to Steve.

'Here's your chance, Steve'.

It was only a few seconds, a few seconds that felt like a year, and I wondered if he was going to say he had changed his mind, leaving me standing naked on his hardwood floor. Nope, he reached up and gently took the shaft, and started moving his hand in a slow, firm hold. It felt very nice. With that feeling there was an odd emotion about the fact that it was Steve's hand making me feel good. I had had enough drinks to care less about that, and more about the movements of his hand. I'll sort the conflicting feelings out in my head later.

We stayed like this for awhile, me standing, Steve sitting, him slowly jerking my cock. It had been a few days since my last orgasm, and I didn't want to cum too quickly, so I asked him to be less firm with his grip. That helped, and I could enjoy the sensation without thinking it was taking me too quickly to an ejaculation.

Steve was content giving me his first hand job. He couldn't take his eyes off my genitals, and added another hand to caress my balls when I said I liked that too. His lips were not too far away and I think he was thinking about whether to suck me, but he didn't. One step at a time, I thought.

'This is really nice, Steve. I want to know what it feels like to have your cock in my hand too', and I moved back away from his hand. Steve stood up, and I gave him space to get undressed, thinking that he may get a bit weirded out if I started taking off his clothes.

He hesitated when it came time to take off his underwear. He had black jocks, the ones with the pee-flap, and he was obviously hard. I moved closer to him, and simply grabbed his package in my hand, squeezing without force, and Steve uttered a sort of moan. I hooked my fingers in to take them down but Steve did it, and his cock sprang up. Also circumcised, about 6 inches long, maybe a little bit thicker than mine, and I could see pre-cum glistening on the tip. I used my finger to take it off, and licked it off my finger. Steve looked a bit startled, so I distracted him by starting a slow hand job on him. He took my cock in his hand again and we stood there facing each other, not looking at each other, while our hands moved over each others' cocks, occasionally brushing. It added to how good it all felt.

Steve asked in a quiet voice, 'How does it feel?' I remembered then that this is the first foreign penis I am meant to have held, and I said, 'Better than I imagined. I love being able to stroke you and see your reactions'.

'Ditto', he said.

There's only so long you can be standing in front of a guy jerking his cock, avoiding eye contact. It just feels strange.

'Let's move to the couch', I suggest.

That's better. Somehow we seem to be sitting close enough to be able comfortably to hold the other's penis, but not close enough that our actual bodies are touching. Odd, but okay.

Steve asks me if I want to watch porn as well. I think that's a good idea. I don't need it, but it will give us another focal point. This is all new, after all - for Steve, at least. As I stroke his penis, feeling the softness of the skin on the hardness, I feel okay that this time it's a person I know, and not an anonymous dick. I might feel differently tomorrow. So might Steve. We might have screwed up our friendship when the light of day clears away the alcohol. I care, but don't care - I'm too aroused to dissect it.

Steve puts porn on - bog standard het fucking, in the amateur style. As he comes to sit down again, I move, onto my knees in front of him, and Steve again looks uncertain.

'I want to play with your balls too', I say, and he relaxes. Did he think I was about to put his cock in my mouth? That might have been a move too far. His balls are hairy. Very. I fondle them, squeeze them, and go close to his asshole without getting too close, and then return to stroking him while my other hand stays on his balls. He's watching the porn as I do this, and I make my grip on his cock a little firmer. He squirms but doesn't stop me or say anything, so, what the fuck, let's make him cum.

I increase my tempo, and move a bit closer to the glans, while my other hand caresses under his balls, and his hips move more than they have been. Steve still doesn't say anything until finally out it comes: 'It's going to happen'. I stroke faster and the first spurts of cum appear. I don't cum buckets, as they say, and neither does Steve. But it's great. I watch as 3-4 small spurts of cum appear, then squeeze out more. It flows onto my hand, and I slow the pace, jerking with less speed and pressure. After a while Steve falls back even further onto the lounge, and then makes a move that seems to say, 'It's okay, you can stop now', so I do.

I go into the bathroom and get a hand-towel, washing my hand while there, and come back in and give Steve the towel to clean up. He looks a bit anxious, so I say to him, 'That was great. It was everything I thought it would be'. He's pleased and obviously still satisfied from his release.

My cock, however, has lost a little hardness, and needs attention. This is the point where I wonder, now that Steve has cum, whether the refractive period has kicked in and he'll just want me to go. Nope. I'm still standing, and his hand moves out and grabs me again, stroking me. It's not long till I'm as erect as I have ever been, and super horny. I really want to cum.

Instead of suggesting I sit on the couch, Steve just jerks me while I'm standing. It's getting more frantic, and he's losing a bit of style, nothing I can't compensate for with a slight move of my hips or body to stop the angle becoming uncomfortable.

'God, Steve, that feels wonderful!'

He needed the encouragement, and goes back to it, forgetting I have balls that would like to be touched too. Never mind, this is feeling good.

'I'm about to cum', I say, eschewing the euphemisms and getting straight to the point.

And I do. Steve is right in front of me. He must know it's going to hit his body, and he aims me towards his chest. I start ejaculating, Steve moving feverishly on my cock as I do. The head of my penis gets unbearably sensitive at orgasm for about five seconds, but I bear it so as not to ruin the experience for him. And then I see it. A small bit of cum hits his lips, and he licks it off and swallows it. I pretend I saw nothing.

We clean up, say platitudes about how good it felt, say nothing about tomorrow or how we should react when next we catch up, or even when the next catch-up will be. We don't do anything too intimate, like shower together, or cum-kiss, or even kiss. Hug? Nope. Right now we have a genital connection, and it's enough.

I stay for a bit, I call a cab, I go home.

I have no idea what happens next. For now, I'm happy that someone gave me a pleasant hand job, and that I got to do the same thing, and delight in watching someone else's orgasm (hard to miss when cum is flying). Would Steve want to suck me off? Do I want to fuck him? Or have I fuck him? My gut reaction is no. But then, I swore to myself to keep my encounters anonymous, and that didn't happen.

Damn, thinking about these things has made me aroused again.