Clive was a melancholy artist, whose life was spent discovering himself and others. I never truly understood his art, though we discussed it at length during the many conversations that lasted into the candle-lit early hours. We always discussed the forbidden, the interesting; never dull things. This situation had come about from an earlier conversation about sexual liberty - which of us was the most free and wild. It had led to a charged discussion about our friendship and sex, one in which we had joked about our pleasing each other. I don't think either of us had thought the conversation was entirely a joke, though I'm equally sure that neither of us thought it would progress any further.
We had been in a late-night café before, talking, smoking and drinking coffee. When we returned, the conversation had become more daring, each of us pushing it a little further, not expecting the other to continue the theme. But each of us had, and finally, we both knew it was inevitable.
It was about ten-thirty. I went to the bathroom, thought about it, then took my clothes off. I looked round the door nervously, though the anticipation of what was to come was considerable.
And that's how it happened - there I was, in just a shirt, looking out into the apartment nervously.
"Come here", he said. He motioned at the sofa. He was smoking, though he moved to put out the cigarette as he spoke. He was wearing jeans and a shirt, looking soft & comfortable, leaning against the sofa. I walked out of the bathroom, and stopped, unsure. He motioned again and sat up. I went to the sofa and sat down. I couldn't have been more full of anticipation. He crawled across and sat down alongside me.
He reached out, lifted my shirt and touched me. The feeling was immense; it shot through me, focusing my attention entirely. He took my soft penis between finger and thumb, and rubbed the end of it gently. Each stroke took my breath away. Within a few strokes, I felt it stiffen, my earlier anxieties disappearing without trace. I shifted a little, and opened my legs for him.
He wrapped his finger and thumb round me, and rubbed a little harder, and I could feel it stiffening quickly. I leant back into the sofa, relishing the sensation, as his movements became more firm. It felt so good - so natural - but I was very aware and excited that this was my friend sat here, rubbing me like that.
As his strokes became more vigorous I could feel myself unconsciously leaning back further, relaxing more, offering my penis to him. He shifted his grip a little, and his motion became quicker. It felt fantastic. I could feel myself getting carried away, the feeling removing all my inhibitions.
"Stand up," I said, "just here."
He moved, though he leant forward to keep wanking me as he stood up. I sat up, reached for his jeans, and unbuttoned them. I could see the bulge of his cock inside, and I longed to feel it. I fumbled with the buttons, not able to concentrate through the immense feeling of his attention. I got them undone, and tugged the jeans over his hips, past his knees. He stepped out of them, trying not to lose his grip on me.
His cock was there, just in front of me, only his boxer shorts keeping me from it. It was quite a bump, pushing tightly against the cotton. I undid the button, they slid down, and his cock sprang out, half stiff.
It was huge! Even in this state, it was easily four inches longer than mine, half an inch wider, and it was just hanging there, in front of my face. Granted, I'm a little on the small side, but this thing was massive!
I looked at it, wondering whether he'd want me to suck it. I wanted to, I was desperate to. The way I was feeling, I would have done anything. I was completely resigned to this fabulous sensation he was giving me. I glanced up at him, and he was looking at me.
"Yes," he said, "do it. I'd really like you to."
I couldn't believe I found myself feeling so desperate for him. I pulled his hand off my cock, slipped past him, onto the floor and sat down.
"Come here," I said, "kneel over me."
I lay down, beckoning him. I guided his knees either side of me and he crawled up, his great cock getting stiffer. He stopped, lowered it down and for just a second, it lay on top of mine, touching. His was so big, and so hot, I'd never felt anything like it. He moved again, on hands and knees, his knees ending up either side of my chest. His shirt fell over my face; I pushed it over my head, feeling his warm back under my hands. I couldn't help running them down his back, down over his bum. It was so round and soft, and I could feel his cheeks apart a little. I'd never thought of him like this before, but he was so shapely, he felt wonderful.
His cock was there, in front of my face, a little damp at the end. When I reached out for it, it felt so big, so firm. I rubbed it a little, studying it intently. He groaned, muttered that it felt good. I felt compelled to go for it - I kissed the end of his cock. It tasted a little salty, kind of nice. I held his balls; they felt warm and soft, though huge compared with mine.
I kissed it again, and again, and before I knew what I was doing, I was kissing it madly, each time gradually moving it in my mouth a little more. It got stiffer and stiffer, and even larger. I was overwhelmed - it was so thrilling, knowing it was him, my best friend. My cock had never felt bigger, I don't think I'd ever been so excited.
I took it into my mouth, sucking and licking it like a huge sweet. I tried to make it feel so soft and wet for him. His skin slipped back and I could taste little drops of salt appearing. It tasted great. I was going mad - I wanted him to come, there and then, to feel his orgasm shaking him, taste his spunk pouring out into me. I mean, I really wanted to taste it. I was sucking like crazy, desperate for him.
I started to rub him a little as well, but he moved, sat up, pulled out of my mouth. He was sat over my chest, looking flushed, his cock glistening in the light from his salty liquid and my saliva. I grabbed him, wanked him swiftly, but he stopped me again.
"No! It's your turn," he said, and shuffled back down my body.
He knelt between my legs, opening them so he had room. My cock felt so large and full, bulging almost. He lowered his head, I felt dizzy with anticipation, and in a second, it was in his mouth, feeling all warm and wet. His mouth felt so soft, I could hardly breathe; the situation, the feeling, I loved it.
I talked to him; too much, I guess. I told him breathlessly that I'd never felt anything like this, that I loved it; that I wanted to come; that I wanted it to go on forever. I lay there, on the carpet, completely unable, and unwilling to move, my whole soul focused on my cock, his mouth.
"Stop! Please!" I begged him, torn between coming like this and making it last longer. "Come up here!"
He moved back up, on all fours over me.
"Don't touch me, please," I said, "I can't take this."
I unbuttoned his shirt, he sat up, took it off. He unbuttoned mine, and pushed it off my chest.
I grabbed his cock, he felt so sticky and wet. I rubbed him, slowly and heard him groan a little. I wanked him a little more quickly, and he leant forward again, looking into my face. I smiled, he smiled back and I wanked him even faster. He moved one leg between mine, it was easier for me, and I wanked him smoothly.
His foreskin was slipping back and forth, and he looked consumed by the feeling as I rubbed him. He lowered his chest onto mine; it almost burnt as our skin touched. Our faces were next to each other, I put my spare arm around him, and held him close as I wanked him.
As it went on I could feel his body tensing and twitching more, as he got closer to coming. He kissed my neck, nibbled my face, bit my ears. I held him close, pulled at his back, and felt his hot breath on my neck. His cock felt swollen, he was writhing, I knew he would come soon. We were close, our slippery cocks next to each other, on the edge of coming.
He moved a little, grabbed my cock and started wanking me furiously. I felt like I would come straight away; the feeling was immense. I felt his cock swelling, twitching, I knew it, and sure, it burst, his white spunk shot out. I felt it all over me, over my stomach, my hand, all over my cock. It finished me off. A second later I came too, and my spunk jolted out, joining his in a creamy mess all over our close stomachs.
That orgasm seemed to last a lifetime, his spunk just kept on coming, and mine did too, it felt hot, and special. Our rhythm slowed down, the spasms stopped, we let go of each other and the orgasm gave way to dizzy peace.
"Well," he said, "I wasn't expecting that."
And we giggled, a lot, our slippery cocks rubbing together in blissful warmth.