The First Time I Licked Out A Vertical Innie Bellybutton

For as long as I can remember, I've had a bellybutton fetish. Couldn't tell you where it came from, never cared. When I discovered a guy's upraised shirt could make my cock hard, I couldn't get enough.

And while I have to say that for the most part, I like all the different kinds - the perfectly round and bulbous outie, the oval outie with the slight lip underneath, the dot dimple innie on a pale, hairless stomach, and many others - the one that's always made my dick hardest is what could be called the vertical oval "slit" innie.

Allow me to describe this kind of bellybutton for you, considering you're probably not a navel fetishist (and seriously horny navel snob) like me. A vertical oval slit innie is a bellybutton that resembles a coin slot or a slit - a dark, sensual, vertical line (without a T "hood" across the top) - if you took a dinner knife and slowly dragged it downward through a new tub of flesh colored ice cream, pushing slightly downward to give it depth, for a length of an inch, maybe an inch and a half, the sensual depression on the surface of the ice cream would be the navel that would be the vertical slit innie bellybutton.

And just as sweet.

Vertical slit bellybuttons are pretty rare in guys. They're fairly common in females, especially those of the slender body on whom a bikini is flattering. Guys are more likely to have hairy dots for bellybuttons, or outies. Some guys have vertical slits with body hair in and around them, but I can't get enough of guys with body hair so fine, so as not to be perceptible, or practically none at all. The vertical slit bellybutton sits symmetrically in the middle of the abdomen, a dark line.

Bellybuttons are kind of daring to show for some guys, anyway. As with chicks, a guy sporting a crop-top with his bellybutton showing - especially if it's a pretty navel, and he has a pretty stomach - will cause heads of all genders to turn in desire, envy, incredulity (and possibly contempt in a few cases).

I'm very thankful to fate that I was run into one such guy recently. I had just finished up a workout at a neighborhood gym with very convenient hours (open 22 hours daily except for 2 hours for cleaning). Since I work a lot, I often go after dark when it's not usually crowded.

I was on an elliptical machine, pedaling away, watching junk on one of the flat-screen TV's. Unlike a lot of patrons that go to gyms, I didn't have my earbuds on, the new universal non-verbal sign for "don't bug me." It was after dark, and I was pretty much the only one in the ellipticals area.

As I was vegging out watching one of the cable channels, I heard a lovely, male, tenor-pitched voice next to me.

"Cool! I'm a fan of that game show, too. I wanna go on it sometime."

I turned to look at who'd spoken to me, and inwardly gasped with delight. He was probably about 5-9, with straight blond bangs of hair down to his shoulders. Pert brown eyes looked back at me, and a face with some freckles smiled with what was clearly well-kept dental work. He could have been a model. Couldn't have been more than 24. Sporting an electric blue tank top which revealed shapely, toned shoulders, and white workout shorts to complete the look.

I chuckled to myself inwardly. "That's a word game up there. You good with words?" I shot back, with a light taunt and a mild laugh.

"Ohhh, yeah. I write several thousand in my journal every night!"

"Me too! That's how I'm keeping my sanity these days!"

"I know just whatcha mean," the blond said, closing in on matching my pedaling pace. "I'm Ian."

I extended my hand across the gap between our machines and we shook, me telling him my name.

"I don't think I've seen you here before," I started. "I've been a member here for years."

"Oh, I usually don't come this late," Ian answered. "That's just how time worked out for me today."

"Office job?"

"No, theater."

"Oh, really?" I said, eyebrows raised. "You act?"

"I wish. I'm in promotions and administration. We're a classic non-profit. It's still pretty fun, though."

"I think you're actually visually appealing enough that you could be on stage," I flirted.

"Awww, thanks," Ian said, blushing a bit. "I just suck at acting, it's not my thing. I love people who can do it. I'm more like one of the smart people behind the stars."

"Hey, you guys are important, too!"

"Thanks. They treat me well, but the only credit I get is a name in the show program. Few folks read those."

"Well, I happen to love credits. I read all the names."

Ian titled his head playfully at me. "Wow! You're a saint," then he chuckled lightly and warmly.

And we were off. Pedaling at a steady pace, we talked about his job, my job, other game shows he wants to be on, foods I like, and more. It was a good half-hour chat.

He looked at his smartwatch. "Hey, I'm gonna bolt. You're cool. I wanna talk with you again."

I thought briefly, then responded. "I'm about to finish, myself. Before I jet, if you're still here, I'll give you my contact info."

"Great!" Ian said, stepping carefully off the elliptical. "Time to clean up!" he said, practically bouncing into the locker room. (Who bounces? What's that about?, I thought to myself.)

While I finished, I thought to myself, You should have gone in with him, you stooge. You could have seen him naked, especially in the showers. You gotta capitalize...

But then I snapped out of it, the machine registering the end of my aerobic pedaling session. I strolled into the locker room, but slowly, hoping that if I caught a glimpse of his upper naked body, I could stretch out gazing at it.

As luck would have it, he had already finished showering. He had khaki trousers on, and a white, button-down shirt that was unbuttoned all the way to his navel. As I walked up to my locker - which was near his locker - I stole a look at the visible strip of his gorgeous, creamy upper body. It was slim, unmuscular (my preferred kind), hairless, and in the middle of his abdomen was a vertical slit oval innie bellybutton. My eyes focused on it as I walked up, smiling. (At least, I hoped I was smiling and not leering.)

"Good workout?" Ian asked me with a smile.

"Yeah, a good one. I needed this one," I said, unlocking my locker and preparing to undress.

An oh-so-brief pause.

"You like what you see?" Ian ventured, almost in a whisper.

The locker room was completely empty. It was just the two of us under the fluorescent lights and the sound of the showers and exhaust fans. Now my challenge was to be sincere without sounding lecherous...which I was feeling right around then.

I took a breath. I was about to do something risky and stupid...for lust.

"Yeah..." I started. "I think you're really great looking. And I think that--"

I pointed at his navel.

"--has got to be one of the prettiest bellybuttons I've ever seen."

Ian's eyes lit up. "I think so too!", he exclaimed. We both looked down at his vertical innie now, admiring it.

After a few seconds, Ian spoke again. "You wanna touch it?" he asked, with a delicious bit of mischief in his voice. He must know something. If not about human nature, then about me.

A relieved gasp involuntarily escaped my mouth. "Can I?"

"Yeah, no one ever...touches it. I guess I'd like for that to happen..." He was taking a chance, too.

In my still sweaty, unshowered state, this beautiful blond guy, very generous of spirit, was going to let me touch his body, particularly a part that some guys find ticklish, a part that others find gross or dirty.

I slowly extended my right hand, index and middle fingers together and pointed, moving it between Ian's shirt's open flaps, and toward his oval innie. Both of us were watching this scene play out as if our bodies were separated from ourselves, maybe even in slow motion.

Ian had just showered. He had dried off. He was practically all dressed, except for his bared chest and stomach. When my finger made contact with the skin at the right edge of his innie, he let loose an exhale of pleasure, the faintest of yelps. What met my fingers was skin - soft, warm, supple skin on an incredibly vulnerable part of his beautiful body. My penis swelled intensely as I felt semen swirling into my shaft.

I briefly looked up at his face. He was still watching my fingers take it all in. I looked back down.

I began to finger the shape of his bellybutton, feeling the wonderfully soft and supple walls on both sides of the opening. I traced the oval shape several times around, my eyes transfixed on his abdomen.

"This is so beautiful," I whispered.

"Your hand feels so good," Ian whispered back.

We were still the only ones in the locker room.

I pressed my fingers down in the deepest, center part of his bellybutton. It was so deep a full joint of both my fingers disappeared, the skin of his pliable stomach closing around the fingertips. The interior of his bellybutton was as warm as the surface as his stomach, and even a bit softer, if that was possible. It almost felt liquid like, but it wasn't wet. It was sensuously magical, succulent in a way.

After a bit more of this, I sat down on the bench - Ian was still standing. His beautiful vertical slit innie was now at the level of my face. I reached up with both arms and pulled Ian into a full embrace, bringing his stomach and bellybutton up to the side of my face, placing my hands and arms around his lower back, hugging him warmly and fondly, and lingering there for several minutes. Feeling his trunk on the right side of my face was unlike any feeling I'd ever had with any other guy. It's a wonder I didn't come right there, but I didn't. (But I wanted to.)

Ian had now placed his hands, gently, on the back of my head, and was affectionately stroking my hair, which almost made me want to just take a micro-nap right there.

After a few moments, I drew back and began to kiss his vertical slit with a flurry of light pecks, loving the warm sensation of his stomach touching my lips. I extended the tip of my tongue and - slowly and sensuously - dragged my tongue from the lower edge of his navel, upwards vertically and through the deepest, softest part of it, loving the feeling of the walls of his slit navel brushing against the sides of my tongue, and finishing my licking path at the top, pulling my tongue tip over the top edge of his slit.

Ian moaned. So I did it again, a little more slowly. The inside of a bellybutton tastes like skin - soft, supple, delicate flesh - warm and pliable, his was almost liquid like. It is a texture like no other a tongue can experience. I continued licking his navel several times, spearing it with the tip of my tongue several times in a way that was part affection, part torment.

And then something really interesting happened. I saw a moist spot on the shorts he was wearing appear suddenly - small but getting larger fairly quickly.

I had made Ian come by licking out his bellybutton. And it was my favorite kind of bellybutton.

Blown away by the optics of this incredibly erotic scene, I felt my own penis give way. Without stroking it with my hand, the sight of Ian's bellybutton inches from my face, the sensation of it, the taste of it, and his body warmth, was too much for me resist. I came in my own shorts also, causing me to writhe with pleasure, and for a stream of semen to drip from my crotch area onto the tile floor.

For a moment, I just gazed at his bellybutton, where my tongue had been. Then I looked up at him, in his handsome face. He was looking me in the eyes also, part playfulness, part love. At first we both smiled. Then we both kinda giggled, realizing what we'd just done. Ian would have the last word, softly uttered.

"I think I need to clean up again."

I took off my clothes for the first time since working out, and Ian took off what he'd put on. Both of us were completely naked now.

I stood up from the bench. He extended his arms, inviting me to an embrace. We held each other, warmly, for a good three or four minutes, our chests firmly squished against each other, beaming mutual affection. I kissed the top of his blond locks. He kissed the lower part of my neck.

And then we took our gym-issued white towels and walked, hand-in-hand, into the showers.