You Deserve This Orgasm Pt. 01-02

Josh had instincts kick in to respond to my movements and took the small of my back in his palms to hold me up as he slathered and tasted. The fervour and the obvious need rang in me some sort of alarm I didn't know I had, that said, "You're not done yet, but just an FYI, this will be the biggest one you've ever had. Just sayin'." My body was telling me all sorts of things. One of them was "This is going to happen again. I'll MAKE this happen again, I'll keep asking for it until I have it, but you want this again."

Next-time thinking was making me absent and I came back to reality: Josh, having stopped for an instant below my balls, with this apparent 'Am I doing this?' look, nodded and slowly descended his tongue to that space just below the balls, just above the ass. He was licking there. This wasn't a "penis-penis-penis" suck; my body was being loved. My sounds were no longer what's stereotypically known as masculine nor feminine, something different entirely, just very human.

Nothing before had been like this. Because we were awkward as individuals we weren't awkward together. Because we weren't macho we just let ourselves need each other. We had no context of relationship or love, we just manufactured it together in what we perceived in each other: the exact same need to be treated like beautiful humans that needed physical reminders.

He stopped for breath and rubbed his jaw, panting. We were sweaty and we each generated our own smells. His was savoury like barbecue food (sweetened like Americans do to savoury food), mine was musky like sauna wood. Together was a grand combination.

I gazed at him as my hands came between his legs up his thighs again and we exchanged consent with our eyes. I half-closed my eyes, made my hands into a little hammock, gently held his balls (raising his penis), and made my mouth and tongue as soft as they possibly could get as I randomized the way I stimulated him -- unpredictable slathers, swooning gladly, hungrily, telling him with every breath how much he excited me with his taste and fullness. I needed it all in my mouth, I needed to feel him on the back of my tongue and taste him on the tip, I needed to feel his scrotum tighten in my hands and loosen again in my mouth. I needed to experience the shape and taste of his renewed erection as I returned from his balls to engulf him again.

Tactile signals began in his penis, communicating to me with pulsing expansions and convulsions that something big was coming. I did the opposite of what he probably needed and made my touches softer, lighter, lovelier, and soon his gasps told me I had made him a believer in this touch he formerly wanted to happen so differently.

With beautifully glad moans, unleashed and pleading, this man whose penis I was tasting (I repeated this beautiful phrase as a mantra in my head - man whose penis I'm tasting, man whose penis I'm tasting, yesgodyes, man whose penis I'm tasting) let the process happen, and then it was happening. As Josh gasped and gasped somewhere far away, my mouth's sensations changed, saltier and fuller, pulsing its fullness with more of this liquid. I had been nervous about this but I had no problem re-creating what my own penis begged for those few times it actually got to feel home in a mouth: I gladly and successfully swallowed in sync with those pulses, making the act itself another stimulation; and I kept Josh in my mouth throughout the whole thing, letting him feel at home and loved inside me until, a minute later, his orgasm was long gone.

I slid him out and looked: a beautiful tired penis came out of my mouth and I felt semen down in me. I kissed his balls once more. I let him come to. I was so unbelievably horny and needed to give him my cock but what was happening was too important; I needed to be there when he came to, check in. This was the moment: the post-orgasm moment when guys like us suddenly felt differently and maybe needed to leave.

And I was right: a pleasant moment became a thankful moment became a sheepish moment became an awkward moment. And then he honoured me with return frankness: "I'm not sure I feel like going on, now that I've cum. Sorry..."

I deliberately smiled, and said "That matters. I don't want you to feel bad about that. We can stop. How do you feel about what just happened?"

He nodded his head back and forth. "Good? I mean, that was incredible, I mean, Jesus... it's like, I can tell we're inexperienced, but... I've never felt anything like that! I don't know how I feel about it all."

I nodded. "Sounds like you have some processing to do Josh. That's great."

He smiled at me. "Thanks man. Thanks for being... nice about it, y'know?"

We talked for a few minutes (while he went back and forth about whether he was going to get ready to leave - he had put his clothes back on and I had buttoned up my shirt), and then he made his last frank comment:

"I'm completely straight, but every now and then I want dick, I don't know why. Someone posted an article about how it's that guys just want pleasure, but I don't feel like that. I just think I like the idea of making a dick feel good, and of someone with a dick making mine feel good. Y'know?"

I smiled very sheepishly and nodded. My penis was purple with desire, despite my acceptance of this conclusion, and so I wouldn't make him uncomfortable with it I went for my dress pants (it had been a work day).

As I slid on the left leg, I was stopped by a gentle hand, wrapped again around my long shaft -- my penis was instantly overwhelmed with desire again, with pressure, tingling, and pulses. I looked back at him. Josh was there beside me, and he smiled sheepishly. He seemed to process what he was feeling for one more moment, flushed more than ever, and then kneeled.

"Hey" I said: "Josh are you sure?"

Josh smiled, not shy at all. "Thank you for asking, but man am I sure."

His eyes dropped to his eye-level again, and then the eyes closed. There were those unbelievably soft lips again (first sliding on my tip and then engulfing), and a lovely tongue doing mysterious things I couldn't see. His movements weren't just hungry anymore, they were affectionate, and as he held my bum in place, I felt safe and loved in my new favourite place to be - in Josh's mouth.

His swoons and groans of happiness vibrated my penis inside him, and I found myself anticipating each exhale for what the next delicious sound would bring me. Every time he swooned even my balls felt the vibrations, but each time he groaned his drool-soaked mouth squeezed me, releasing it in a strong slather that challenged my legs and their gait. After he had showed his affection for every inch of my length (tip, shaft, balls, beneath the balls, up again, and ohgod he's kissing my thighs where they meet my cock, how did he knows), he then simply went far up and far down my penis, with strong slow movements. My balance buckled with the waves of it, but Josh had me in his hands. His soft body belied a little more strength than it had seemed.

That alarm soon went off again, and I had the presence of mind to say "Josh I'm about to cum----you do what you want with it----but you feel so good, oh god..." That last word was said with a deep sexy voice I almost didn't recognize.

After half a second of hesitation that cost me 10 seconds before cumming, Josh then proceeded in earnest, vibrating my penis with his moans, activating it further with renewed drool, and pushing every button. At the last-straw plunge downward, he slathered his mouth softly left and right, nuzzling and cuddling me with the inside of his entire mouth. So I gave it to him: I gave him days (and in a way years) of pent-up orgasm deep into and all around his mouth. I wasn't a 'squirter' but I know that I was now giving him something overwhelming to him, whether literally or proverbially. With one shared action we overwhelmed each other, gratefully and lovingly.

I lost track of the moment. Somehow my bum was on the floor, slowly lowered by his cupped hands as he gave me after-shock slathers with his lips and tongue, up and down, back and forth, kissing, licking, smiling, kissing, bottom, top, along. We smiled in our after-glow, content with no thought of escape. Though our bodies were satisfied we still appreciated the bodies we had been making love to. I gazed adoringly at his resting cock, with its unassuming but alluring presence. He looked at mine, apparently seeing something he found attractive.

Josh and I didn't make some "friends with benefits" agreement before he left that day. We were still two awkward guys who were straight-except-not. But we knew we had given each other the orgasms we needed, the orgasms we deserved, and it healed and awoke something in us both. As an experiment, just in case, and consented to wordlessly, we tried embracing and kissing each other. It did nothing for us sexually, but it served as one final "thank you", and one final titillation as we finally tasted our own semen in each other.

After he left, I (still naked) took the after-shock semen that had formed and without reservation tasted myself. I was ready to accept myself. And for the second time ever, I went to the mirror—

--and loved myself to an after-shock orgasm—

--far more readily finding attractiveness in myself and far more readily touching what asked to be touched. I came without further semen, which somehow redirected the feelings around my body. I buckled onto the floor and held my shaft and balls gently, opening my eyes to watch myself bring my body home.

I was okay.