My Boyfriend's Bellybutton

We walked a few more steps.

"Do you...feel like people are looking at you...unfavorably...because you're with me?" he ventured thoughtfully.

Most of my life, I've generally felt invisible anyway. I am not "hot" like Ben. I am actually pretty boring looking, if truth be told. The old joke goes that I have "a face for radio". My body is what's now being called a "dad bod" - which, interestingly, has found its own fans in recent years, thankfully.

Incredibly, Ben absolutely loves my body. He's a navel fetishist like me, also, and he enjoys fingering and playing with mine...and I love the sensations (not enough to come, but stirring nonetheless). Maybe it's an opposites attract kind of thing, but I don't consider myself "ugly" - just not "up there" in the hierarchy of looks.

I went for a joke in response.

"If they're looking at me, it's because they think I'm a freak," I said, laughing a little.

Ben drew me to himself, in a sort of side-hug that said That's not true. He rested his toussled black hair on my right shoulder, puppy-dog style, and squeezed me. "Mmmmmm," I sighed, pleased.

"It's not just your beauty physically that turns me on, ya know," I said, still locked in the embrace. "You are so sweet, so kind, so... feminine. I like guys that look like guys, but not the shit about them acting like guys -- the machismo, the tough-guy thing, all that. You are just...lovely."

As Ben smiled back at me with his pretty hazel eyes affectionately, another obnoxiously loud pickup truck sped by. This time it was just a guy driver on board, crazy hair, big mustache, probably 30-ish.

"Get a room!" he shouted from his window.

Ben and I were startled for a moment, then we looked at each other.

And then we both burst out laughing, hard.

Three

It was one of those fall nights on the Gulf Coast -- the kind where it's no longer bone-dry, and where rainfall comes a little more regularly, either because of cool fronts clearing the middle of the state, or a tropical system spinning around offshore.

Dusk had come and gone. The day had been largely cloudy, and threatening to rain all day. Only now, after dark, was it starting to come down. It was a steady, slow rain, not the kind where you're sure your car will get flooded out, or accompanied by thunderstorms that make the lights flicker. No, this was a gentle, simple rain.

I had invited Ben over. Both of us had been a bit low energy most of the day, and even part of the latter portion of week. That period before things get cool and stay cool hadn't happened yet, and the temperatures and the heat of the day, when sunny, was still enough to drain your energy just a bit.

I had the door to my apartment open, and was staring off into space, not really thinking about anything in particular -- perhaps another indicator of my psychically drained state mentally.

I heard footsteps in the stairwell a short distance away. It was him. He was coming.

"Hi," he greeted me with a smile, putting down and closing his umbrella, shaking the excess droplets off. I let out a sigh of pleasure.

This evening, he was sporting a red half-shirt, framing his oval slit of a bellybutton with about a three-inch band of belly and denim pants. This is significant for me personally because it's a throwback to another time I saw someone clad similarly.

*****

I was in college at the time, home for the summer. A new burger place was about to open. Construction hadn't yet fully completed, but it was close. The place was open for those wanting to stop by, gawk, and fill out a job application.

Even though I was of legal age at 19, there was still a lot of the world I didn't understand. I didn't understand the foodservice industry, for one, nor capitalism. I didn't understand about owning a business or running a business, or much of anything else business. I just wanted to earn some money.

On the afternoon I stopped by, it was pretty hot -- over 90 degrees. Not much rain had fallen, so the dryness was really noticeable, almost to the point of being dusty.

Other applicants, most of them either upperclassmen in high school or underclassmen in college, were walking around, or were seated at tables, scratching their data in on paper applications with pencils or blue ballpoints. The place being new, everything smelled of newness -- chemicals from freshly installed tile, linoleum, wallpaper. There were no food aromas in the air yet -- nothing had been cooked, although the grills were in place in the kitchen.

And while I was in the kitchen near the drink station, I saw a guy who I found stunning and a bit daring. A guy with a sort of caramel-brown, straight-banged hair -- think rock star, but a little shorter -- a touch of a squint in his hazel eyes, and a sort of soft, thin-lipped mouth was walking around in a candy apple red half-shirt. The shirt rode above an oval, innie bellybutton -- rather deep, from what I could tell -- by only an inch or two and was surrounded by a creamy, smooth, undeveloped abdomen. There wasn't a shred of body hair visible anywhere in the region -- just a navel defiantly showing.

I was stirred but also a bit shocked. Many jokes have been made about wearing the appropriate form of dress for an interview or job application, even a casual one. And I get that it was hot, but was it so hot that showing skin was not admissible? I doubted the general manager -- who I'm betting was a guy -- would probably not go for that. He might say such dress was indicative of a classic bad boy or rebel.

And yet, I felt my dick harden. I love handsome guys showing, well, something not conventionally shown by guys.

I don't recall saying much to the guy in the red crop-top. As is the case with someone I think beautiful, becoming tongue-tied is very easy. So I just discreetly gawked at his midsection, hoping I wouldn't be busted.

*****

That came back to me when I saw Ben. All that. The desire, the daring, the bareness.

We walked into each others' arms, him dropping the umbrella on the walk in the process. His hug felt warm and emotional -- and I found myself buoyed a bit with one hand on his upper back/shoulder area, and another on the back of his waist.

"You are so beautiful," I said, looking him up and down again, still in my arms.

"Wearing these will never get old," he replied.

I paused, then reached out with my right index finger and dragged it from the top of his navel, slowly and sensually downward, through the pit of it, resurfacing at the lower part of his belly.

"Mmmm," he cooed.

"Again?"

"Yes...again, please."

I gently took him by the hand and led him inside, then closed the door and locked it. Still in the doorway, I once again, lovingly and lustfully, dragged my finger vertically through his bellybutton, this time making slight shimmying motions as my finger drifted southward.

I looked in his eyes. There was an ever so slight grin on his face, equal parts happiness and mischief.

I knelt down on one knee, bringing my face parallel with his waist. I leaned my head forward and with lips extended, planted them gently on his navel, allowing the moist inside of my lips to touch the navel opening. Slowly, I pressed maybe a half-dozen additional kisses on his stomach.

He brought me up to my feet again, and then hugged me tightly, firmly. It felt amazing, warm. I felt the strands of his dark brown hair brushing against my temples and ears. I could hear his breathing. And I heard the rain quietly falling in the background.

Ben then took my hand, and led me into my bedroom -- where he'd spent many overnights before. This time, though, I'd sprouted a wild hair and made the bed, so it was actually neat, for a change.

He playfully jumped on the bed and lay down, face up, his bared stomach nicely illuminated by the ceiling fan light fixture. After a moment, he spoke.

"I need for you to come in my bellybutton and fill it."

I felt my cock spring up almost instantaneously. Few concepts can get me horny like spraying a hot guy's stomach.

"Um...let me get more comfortable," I said.

I stripped off my T-shirt and let the light khaki shorts I'd been wearing fall to the floor in place, belt still in them. He was watching me with equal parts bemusement and affection.

I was down to my briefs now. I stepped to the bed and climbed on it, and him, in a straddling position.

Now on his back, I felt more of a rush to pleasure him, to express my affection for him physically. I planted a flurry of kisses on his bared stomach, also stroking it lovingly with my hands, in a sort of caressing motion. He guided my right hand to his navel as if to say, non-verbally, please -- play with it, I love when you play with it. I want to come, too.

I fully mounted him, still with the briefs on. He reached through the opening and nursed out my penis, beginning to masturbate it lecherously. Now I was the one moaning.

There we were, for a few minutes, me on top of him, fingering his deep, sensitive bellybutton, and he playing with my equally sensitive member. It wasn't long before we saw precum on the tip of it.

He slowly began to lengthen and accelerate the strokes. Oh, his fingers felt so good -- so warm, so soft, and yet so firm and strong. I love the sensation of another male's hand grabbing and tugging my cock.

I continued to gaze at his perfectly framed bellybutton in the low light of the bedroom, the rain still coming down outside. Neither of us were talking -- not with words, anyway. But we understood each other, plenty.

I was starting to feel myself approaching climax, feeling my whole body getting into it now. I saw Ben getting more into the strokes and motion also, with a sort of irregular rhythm that kept me guessing a little bit. Then, with both hands, he mashed my naked shaft against his warm stomach, against his bellybutton -- and I felt the sloping sides of his navel, pressing against the underside of my penis.

He rubbed my member side to side. I was breathing a bit more loudly now. Actually, both of us were. I'm not sure who was making more sound.

My eyes, meanwhile, were transfixed on the sight of my penis, being rubbed by two lovely, male hands, servicing my cock. The crown of it was just underneath the lower part of his navel, the piss slit poised above the opening.

I was starting to moan out loud now. I was very close. The whole scene was unbelievably erotic. My heart was pumping with excitement, my body stiffening with anticipation, my legs and thighs firming up in advance of what was coming.

"My bellybutton," he said almost in a whisper. It sounded so hot hearing him just say the word. "My bellybutton...my bellybutton..." He was uttering it almost as a mantra now, continuing to yank my penis as he did. He kept it up for several minutes at this heightened, intense pitch.

Finally, I couldn't hold it in anymore. "Aaaaaahhhh....ahhhhhh...coming," I moaned in a husky whisper.

And then the tip of my penis erupted with a thick blast of warm, syrupy, white cum, landing in the deepest part of his navel, filling it halfway up. The next spurt hit in the same place, landing slightly off to the side, filling it up more, almost to the top.

"My bellybutton...my bellybutton," Ben continued to moan in a near-whisper. Hearing him say that word in his voice always stirs me.

Another blast landed on his bellybutton, covering most of the outline of it. I had managed to flood his navel with semen and I wasn't done yet.

I moaned aloud another time, and let out two more strong squirts. The first completely overflowed his navel and began to run down his side. The last sent a final blast of cum running down his side, onto the bed covers, now becoming moist from my lecherous sloppiness.

I paused again to behold the glorious mess we had made together -- him, with his beauty, and I, with my lust. The gray-white semen glistened in the dim bedroom light, vibrating slightly under the breeze of the ceiling fan and the rise and fall of his breathing. Drops of semen slipped down his left side, making a single thick, stringy, clingy strand that connected his side with the bed surface.

I allowed myself to lean over and fall completely on his chest in a body-on-body hug. I felt his cum moisten my lower stomach now, and my hard nipples pushing up against his chest. His arms were completely around my upper back in a full embrace.

And we began to kiss. I kissed him on one cheek, then the other. He did the same to me. I stroked his hair lovingly. His semen-moistened fingers ran through mine.

I changed positions, allowing myself to slide down on the mattress next to him. We hugged, side by side, cuddling, the sides of our heads and our hair touching.

Blissfully, deeply, we lapsed into an incredibly sweet slumber under the early fall rain outside.

OTHER POSSIBLE EPISODES/VIGNETTES/STORIES TO ADD:

The first time I came in his navel -- DONE [have a photo of a guy with semen in his navel nearby]

Walking down the seawall with his navel showing -- DONE

Something involving his navel and some kind of personal danger or jeopardy, maybe him hanging by his arms, shirt riding up, navel showing

We talk about our fetish, how it came to be

Something about how feminine and kind and supportive he is, and how he uses his bellybutton to reward and strengthen me -- creating an archetype of a male who's feminine and sensitive and kind, in short, the kind the West doesn't have nearly enough of -- could be an angle for this.