This is for a special friend, whom I hope will realize who he is should he ever find his way back to my page. I wrote it with him especially in mind. It might not be perfect but I hope you enjoy it. As a note, I left Max's image blank in hopes that people might be able to imagine themselves (or whomever they like) in his position, rather than giving you two characters to enjoy.
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It was a moment like no other, that's the only way I can explain it even to this day. I won't bore you with the before, though I've heard it's a great lead into any story, but this isn't a story this is passion. Let's get a few things straight before I go into this one night of magic. My name is Max, and I've been as straight as a guy can be for twenty-five years. I played football (though I know all the innuendos that go with the sport) and I played soccer. My first crush was at fourteen and I gave her my virginity. It had been special, but somehow not as special as this. I met Ben at a bar, I was there to see a girl but that never happened. I don't know what drew me to him or him to me but it was a powerful attraction. You know, it's really weird even now for me to say that; to say I was attracted to another man.
Ben was lean, like a runner, with dark hair and vibrant blue eyes. He had a natural warm glow to his skin that even now I can't help but dream about. You have to realize how embarrassed I was to be checking this guy out, that while my eyes were running over his form my body was reacting as it might a beautiful woman. I had left the bar rather quickly because of that only to stop about a block away, trying to get a grip on myself. That's where Ben found me. He had my jacket and with the smile playing on his all too perfect mouth I knew he knew why I had run out the way I had. Offering me my jacket he spoke in a low voice. "You look like you could use a drink or two."
"Yeah." I said with some relief behind my words. I had had this queer, fearful feeling that he was going to assault me right in the street. No, assault isn't the right word because I don't think any part of me would have been saying no; it just wouldn't have been... right. I wasn't gay!
Ben seemed to sense this and with ease gave a cock of his head to the left. "I live a few streets down, why don't you come over and try to relax a bit. I don't think you want to go back into a bar just yet, but I wouldn't feel right leaving you alone."
Oddly touched by his words I gave a nod and the two of us walked together down the street towards his home. It felt like it would if I was going with a friend. The silence was relaxed, the pace unhurried, but my heart was beating in my chest like it was trying to break free and my cock... my God, my cock was getting harder by the second. I was thankful that his home wasn't too far away, afraid that I might spill myself right there in my pants if we continued much further.
His home was tastefully decorated for the small apartment that it was, black leather couch, dark wood furnishings, LCD TV with surround sound. His breakfast bar was used more like an actual bar, and he poured two scotches before taking a seat beside me. In the living we drank and talked about mundane things; the weather, the latest happenings in the world. After a while though, Ben put down his glass and turned to me. It was clear he wasn't certain how to break through the ice either, his mouth opening and closing as if to say something before finally mumbling about getting us more to drink. I don't know what came over me but I reached out, my hands reaching out to grip one of his shoulders and a fistful of his shirt, keeping him in place as my mouth touched his neck.
I felt the shudder run through him and for a second I let my mouth linger there, fear going through my head that I made a mistake. However, Ben eased that fear. He reached up, cradling the back of my head, running his fingers through the short blonde hairs that were there even as he tilted his head back. With a groan I tasted his skin. I licked and nipped, easing closer to him. I knew my boxers were wet with precum and that again I was close to losing myself; yet at the same time I didn't care. It was like I knew Ben wouldn't think less of me.
I was in heaven sucking and nibbling at the warm, salty taste of his skin, drawing in the breath of rich cologne and the forest-scent of deodorant. I didn't think I would ever find those kinds of scents appealing but really, it was a drug that made my mind swim. I felt his hands on me as I clung to him, felt my shirt being loosened and then pulled from my pants. My body jumped at the first touch of his hands on my skin, his broad palms and long fingers dragging the undershirt up my torso.
"Easy," he said as he urged me onto my back. He smiled at me in that relaxed, masculine way we men tend to have, and looked me over. I felt vulnerable beneath his gaze, especially as his eyes lingered on that so obvious tent in my pants. I wanted him to touch me there; I wanted to thrust into his fist while my face contorted with pleasure. I gave a groan at my own thoughts and heard him chuckle before his hands were once me once more, caressing over my chest. "This your first time?"
I could only nod my head yes, hissing as I felt his nails scrape at my flat nipples. Yes, I said in my mind. Yes. It was an agreement to anything, everything, all that he wanted because at that moment I couldn't have cared less so long as he didn't stop. I gasped as his head lowered and his mouth parted to let that warm, wet muscle graze over each of my abused nipples. He held me steady as he worked, listening to me whimper, feeling me writhe to do more. As he changed to my other nipple, I gave a hoarse cry as his teeth caught the bud, pulling before his mouth sealed over it. Gently he sucked, lapping at it. My head fell back; my cheekbones flushed dull with color, one of my hands now coming to rest on his head. Oh god, this was heaven. Pure heaven.
Ben drew away after a moment, cool air striking my lower belly, pulling me from my euphoria to realize that while he had been paying such delightful attention to my nipples he had been opening my pants. I felt like a randy schoolboy, lying there with my clothing askew, his gaze viewing that tent now made by my boxers through the opening. Gathering up his glass, Ben sat back and he smiled at me, a purely masculine smile once more. "Strip for me."
It was the kind of the thing I said to women all the time, enjoying the way they wiggled and moved to get out of the complexity of their clothing. However, now being on the receiving end I wasn't sure what to do. Swallowing, I felt my Adam's apple bob and I looked away before rising up. I flushed as my pants fell down around my feet, the wet fabric of my boxers clinging to the head of my cock as I pulled off my button down and then undershirt. I gave him a timid glance beneath my lashes before allowing my boxers to pull free. There was no helping the tortured groan that left me when I peeled the wet fabric away, watching as my cock sprang up and curled against my stomach, wetting my skin with my own lubricant. Panting, I took a seat and removed my shoes then socks, pushing down the bunched fabric of pants and boxers until I was naked once more.
