A Foot Too Far

Day 61 of quarantine.

It was bad timing to have my sexual awakening. I was 35 and I had realized about 50 days ago, masturbating to a sex video, that in my fantasy I wished I was the woman kneeling instead of the man disappearing deep into her mouth. In that moment I realized I had had those thoughts before, without noticing them, that the reason I adored watching blowjobs is not just because I enjoy getting them.

My complete thrill at watching the balls beneath a penis being kissed and gently rhythmically slapping a chin during thrusts in and out, or during more sensual or sentimental moments watching length slowly vanishing and slowly emerging, watching slack lips soak a penis and slosh it around the tongue to really taste it, was, as it turned out, not always about what I wanted to happen to my penis. I wanted to know that taste. I wanted to feel the softest part of the human body strike my face in rhythm.

Or maybe I was imagining it. You know how it is, when you're almost at orgasm your mind grasps for that one last thought that will blow you up inside, maybe something crazy you'd never think of any other time. I should make sure, maybe I was just going crazy. How though.

I paused the video long enough to find something the right size in my suite... it was a humongous, ridiculously thick carrot, narrow part cut off. I was planning on making another stew out of boredom. I started the porn again while I experimented with how much carrot would fit in my mouth. I screamed an orgasm into the carrot before I knew what was happening. After one particularly absurd moment at the height of pleasure when I hoped I was making the carrot feel nice with my vibrating moans, my answer became apparent enough.

Nope, I must just be crazy, I must just REALLY miss company or I'm going stir crazy trapped in this apartment. Here, I'll prove it to myseWHY DO I LIKE CUM. THIS TASTES AMAZING. HOLY SHIT HAVE I BEEN THROWING AWAY LITRES OF THIS STUFF MY WHOLE LIFE?

I soon found the most popular site on the Internet where men who weren't supermodels but wanted to jack off together collated. You've already guessed which one. I was in a sea of alike men, but when they found out I enjoyed my own taste, I... became somewhat popular. "Do it do it!" They were all too shy to do the same, but I was going to anyway. I mean, what would you do with cum if it was literally chocolate syrup or caramel? Would you throw it away? I mean, maybe you would, if you felt weird about it having come from inside you, but I had been in quarantine long enough to be all out of fucks.

The second time I went on, I had spent the day trying to feel normal by wearing a tie, and it paid off. Partly because I was shy about my tummy, I kept my white dress shirt and boring grey tie on. Someone said, "Okay, I LOVE the whole 'horny executive with a great cock' look!" After that comment I committed I would wear the tie next time, deliberately.

They loved that I liked something in my mouth when I came, even though they didn't see it on-screen. They were invigorated those times I collected my precum and obviously licked it off my finger, though all they saw was a shiny finger going up and off-screen and coming back clean. They cheered during that moment when my palmful of cum rose up above the screen and came back just as empty.

We were all in the same boat on that website: we were isolated, with or without the lockdown, and most of us didn't just enjoy doing this, we needed to be doing this to each other. But this would do. I mean, I had already escalated the situation really quickly, from noticing I liked penises to surrounding myself with men showing me their jackoffs. I probably needed to calm down. But not this month...

I gradually realized I liked a certain profile of penises. Medium-long, lots of foreskin, enjoyed a slow touch... that's what I liked.

Every now and then, me and someone else were particularly drawn to one another, and we left the others behind and privately continued. That's when I generally felt brave enough to show my face, to show my whole self. (How weird is it that I show my penis doing its little stunts but I don't show my eyes.) For some reason, only in these situations did anyone speak instead of type. We were worldwide, and we weren't exactly going to show up on a video website, we weren't interesting enough to broadcast. But it was instinct to make it be this way.

Eventually I felt safe enough to select people from my physical corner of the world seeing me. I didn't have anything to worry about, either no one in my circles would ever be on here, or if they were, well, he'd be in the same predicament I guess?? Like it was really going to happen though, there's like 2 million people in my city.

You know how foreshadowing works. Of course this happened. Maybe some algorithm calculated I'd want that. But either way, someone with a beautiful penis, who began having lots of fun watching my twisting-shaft technique, started chatting me up and we found out we were in the same city. We didn't mind. We went with it. Two nights in a row we found each other, and thoroughly enjoyed watching each other touch our bodies.

On the second night, before long, he told me he could feel some cum coming, and I told him mine was coming too now that he'd said that. We both agreed we wanted to watch each other, completely. So we each added a password to our feeds, and when we were alone, I said, "Ready?" and he said "Yep! Ready?" I adjusted my cam, and backed up as I watched him back up. The shot of the lovely penis and the soft tummy above it broadened to reveal some fuzzy winter socks, and the face of Preston.

Preston and I watched each other, recognizing, and not completely able to look away from the really attractive genitals we had both been showing each other. Automatically, our gazes both drifted to my South window and his North window. I saw a sihlouette. I stepped over and opened the blind for a moment. Turns out he did just the same thing.

It was a pair of mirror-image postmodern complexes we lived in, each suite a separate box-shape jutting out, and our apartments jutted out more than the others towards each other. These windows were ridiculously close. We were two men with erections watching each other. This wasn't extremely awkward because of any neighbourly relationship we had, I just knew his name and we had only ever said a hundred "HI's" to each other". No, this was awkward because of the quarantine. There's a guy with a great penis who just said he'd love to watch me cum, who just last night said "God I wish I could taste that", and if this were any other year than this stupid fucking year, it's possible, just possible, that right now we'd be talking through which one of us would come to which's home to all-you-can-eat each other's cocks. He was here, he wasn't on a screen, but other than the fact that I could feel some pleasant cold air on my cock, this was just the same boat I was in when I was watching him on a screen.

"SHIT," we both shouted to ourselves. But not in an embarrassed way. We didn't hide our bodies. And like cowboys about to draw (I really, really hate that I just said that analogy, I hate cowboys), we were inching right back to our penises. And we took them.

"Can you still hear me?" I heard behind me.

"I can hear you."

"This sucks."

"How isolated have you been?"

"Nope. Can't take that risk. I let myself see my parents."

"You're right. You're right." I went through ridiculous, preposterous scenarios. Shooting wads at each other? No that's just hazardous, and RIDICULOUS, that was a stupid thought. No kissing, just sucking? No, that's also fluid exchange, that's the WHOLE POINT. Shooting in each other's mouths no contact? Still fluid exchange. Grinding? We'd be breathing each other's air, really heavily.

Even as I was thinking it, we were both beginning that orgasm we promised each other.

"Some day, friend. Some day. Are you going to drink it?"

"I will if you will."

[...]

We soon became each other's favourite orgasms. But after a couple more nights, it wasn't enough. There was a hypothetical mouth who wanted me. There was a hypothetical penis that wanted me.

We had it all planned. And please, don't take this is an endorsement, this was not wise. This is not social distancing.

We had showered just before. We had put on masks, and we had sanitizer for before and after. We had snuck out, past midnight, into some neglected grass naturally growing between our buildings. There weren't any lights here.

Sucking was out of the question. But I had to feel him. We met, and nodded to each other conspiratorially. Hesitantly, we both stepped closer past the six-foot threshold. We whispered "Hi" to each other, as we gently, lovingly, patiently slid our palms around each other's shorts. I was very, very glad he made the same decision as me and didn't wear any underwear. While I slid slowly up and down his shaft, he felt for my balls beneath, and lingered there, preoccupied with the soft experience of their underside.

We hadn't had any action for a very long time, so this tiny allowance was overwhelming. We could hardly stand, hardly stay silent. My tented shorts created broad access underneath. And soon a real hand was feeling my balls. His touch hadn't just excited me, it had relaxed me, and while my penis was larger than it usually got, taught in its erection, my balls were flopped and relaxed in a smoothed slope, and I knew they were silky to the touch like that. That's how I liked them best too.

I slipped off his shorts and, closer than ever, saw the shaft I had become so used to watching, so fond of. With an underhand grip I brought the shaft gently into my palm. I watched his penis in my hand, as I shifted up, corkscrewed a little, and down.

Every trick I had taught myself and had researched (Googling "advanced masturbation technique") I gave to Preston. Softly up and softly down, twisting slowly with every move. Underhand, holding the whole shaft from behind, fingertips touching the most sensitive part instead of palm. Tickling the place under the balls with the other hand, and then eventually pressing hard on that place with one finger, externally acccessing his prostate.

Preston watched my precum-slicked foreskin completely retract, and then watched it flop all the way back on the up-stroke. He must have liked it, because soon his powerful but slow touch was to send my foreskin all the way back and all the way forth on repeat. My own horniness made this pleasurable and not too much, soaking me and giving me pleads for more, more of anything. More of this touch.

After months of being completely alone, there was a hand I couldn't predict, and when it touched my penis in surprise grabs and surprise pulls, I had no idea what would happen next, I was giving something outside of me that I didn't control access to all my buttons. With an obvious gasp and eye-squeeze he knew what he was doing to me.

Preston and I smiled and Preston and I nodded at each other.

We both put the open palms of each our left hands in front of our own penises. As we whispered through our unrelenting and rapid orgasms we stroked each other into our own hands. We watched each other's penises give up all their cum. So much cum. We kept our palms gyroscopically centred so we didn't lose the precious fluid.

It was all about a love of penis, and we only looked up into each other's eyes at that last moment to watch each other unabashedly ladle our orgasms into our smiling mouths. We lazily stroked each other a tiny bit more as we lapped up remains for a second swallow.

Again: not recommended. Until you are vaccinated, do not do this overwhelmingly pleasurable and delightfully horny kinky thing.

I masturbated after we left. I needed more, but I noticed his light was off, he had gone to sleep. Or at least to bed. My entire body tingled, and, like some sort of animal instinct, it started giving me extremely specific instructions. I felt a tingle inside me, under my penis and inside my ass, a tickle all along the inside that needed to be rubbed - no, more than that, like the space inside needed to be occupied. I needed something in my ass, and also most definitely something in my mouth, and my body was for the moment completely secular about whether there was anything happening to my penis. THAT was rare, that my penis wasn't the forefront of my sexual needs.

More intriguingly, it was utterly too impatient for either of those two activities to wait their turn to happen. So, before I knew it, after rummaging around That Drawer and noticing that one of my smaller (new) toys happened to have a suction cup and the larger one didn't, I was soon in my shower, and my bum was swiveling slowly into a piece of silicone mounted on the wall, and my mouth was humming sentimentally deep into a rather larger one. The one in my ass had realistic veins and bumps, and the larger one in my mouth had unrealistic vertical bumps (it looked like a whole bunch of blue twizzlers melted together). The larger one still had a very realistic head, though, and I cursed myself then for not getting one with foreskin. Those apparently exist.

My ass was immediately open enough to let it in, but something didn't feel quite right, quite realistic enough for my libido, and, obeying the instinct again, I adjusted the wall-mount nearer to the floor of the shower, got on my hands and knees, slid the wall-mount into my bum again, plopped the large dildo down onto the floor, and slathered it gratefully.

The implication wasn't subtle. I had just received a memo from my body to please find two men, one to fuck / let fuck me from behind, one to lie down beneath me and bring into my mouth with lavish ministrations. That was not just impractical, but somehow impersonal... getting intimately acquainted with one man was one thing, but drawing a mental venn diagram I noticed that represented seven factors to account for. A sexual interrelationship between three men. Two men that I would have to trust and make feel nice, while hoping they got along with each other.

At that point I realized I was humping a dildo while calculating venn dynamics.

And then a nice little thought came into my mind. It didn't have to be that complicated. One of those penises could still be silicone, the other real. But which one...

What was happening behind me was impersonal, by its nature. My back was turned to it. And when I realized how lovingly I was treating the dildo in my mouth, how gently I was stroking it inside me and how I exploited my hungry drool as though to pamper it with sensations, and how much it was the mouth activity that activated the ass' pleasure, I knew I needed my neighbour right under my face, so I could gently lap at his very real penis with its real tastes and its unpredictable humps and shivers while something intense but far less personal happened behind me.

Once I had resolved that plan, at last my penis woke up and begged to please be touched. Pretending to make a penis happy in my mouth was all my own needed to erupt within seconds. It was a small orgasm, exhausted from cumming outside and distracted by my mouth and ass. I experimentally kept sucking, trying out how long I could comfortably keep sex going after ejaculating. I spent another minute elaborately sucking the large dildo until my motions became lazy and moving was hard. Sex torpor is real.

We met and did what we had already done twice more. It was torture and bliss. But it was also like we were upholding a relationship, a "some day" promise.

2021's winter was chillier than normal. Especially since this was Canada. But I was still so, so thankful this was Canada. The Health Minister had downgraded our alert status, and cases were contained here. For a few days, I celebrated with direct family, a movie with a friend, but eventually I knew what I really needed.

That night, by 10:00 or so, Preston lay on the floor of my walk-in shower (pretty much the only perk of my suite). He had thoroughly enjoyed teasing my bum open, and happily watched me tease the wall-mount along my crack, slithering it slowly in. I wasn't exactly an expert, but I knew difficult penetration was suddenly easy if I treated my body like something that deserved pleasure. I was so gentle with myself, so patient, that it begun accidentally sliding in, past the opening, thwumping its head through, and twisting gently further.

I did all of this while never touching his penis. He hadn't yet touched mine. I had done all this lying prone on my knees with him under me, knees on either side of my head. I had humped the dildo inside me while the balls of his cock were directly below my face, one inch below. We had waited for so long to actually touch each other like we wanted. I watched his penis make little movements of desire for me, flex for me and change shape for me, hardening, solidifying, gathering up the skin of the balls, glistening with precum, flexing again. While I humped and twisted into my dildo I had breathed in the presence of Preston's cock, enjoying his scent. The shower we begun with hadn't taken away the fundamental scent of him. It was in a moment of irresistible fervour that I finally kissed those balls.

I humped my bum and kissed again. I twisted and humped deep and hummed a deep sigh into his balls with an open, salivating mouth, and with two slow open-mouth kisses he was soaked and slippery to his ecstatic relief and I was tasting fantastic musk. Once I was at last tasting him the inside of my ass became electric, crackling and tingling with pins and needles of pleasure at the lubed-up explorations of a pretend penis deep inside me.

This was supposed to be fleeting. I instantly changed my mind, I was staying right there. There was something about this skin, right here, right at the bottom tip of his whole private area. The skin was impossibly smooth, silky, it stroked my tongue instead of the other way around. As I tasted Preston here the silky skin brushed against my lip, sliding back and forth.

The scent/taste combination couldn't have been predicted. There's not actually a word for it, it just tasted... human. Right there, at that bottom tip, everything was more HIM than any other inch of his body, it had coalesced, perspiration gravitating towards this upside-down peak, emanations from his secret little places emerging and inviting. I was tasting pure pheromones, sloshing them around my mouth as I slathered and soaked silky skin with my lips and tongue.

I thought to myself that this exact place was where I was staying until I became annoying... but as I thought to actually start paying attention to Preston, the person, the person who I was having sex with and whose feelings mattered, I came to my senses enough to glance up. He was not annoyed.

He was delirious.

His lower back jutted clumsily off the flower toward me. His bum was torsioning randomly, apparently unable to decide what inch to present to me next but just aware enough to eagerly present to me in general.

He wasn't just a meal I was tasting. I was designed to hunger for this because he was designed to desperately enjoy it. This was so normal. We weren't meant to be in metal cubes alone, human were meant to damned-well be in each other's mouths.

Finally my horniness informed me I should begin a bottom-to-top journey, learning the distinct taste of each inch of him. The skin further up was not as silky, but I loved that this flesh was both solid and yielding. And delicious. Wonderful.

And then there was silk again. There at the top. Even softer than the bottom, was the ring of bunched up skin. It was shiny with liquid, and I had left no liquid there yet. It was from within him.

I resisted the hurry I felt within me and slowly kissed, like I was kissing lips, feeling silk kissing me back, wet with desire like a second kiss is.