The train pulled into Brighton station exactly on time. It was Christmas Eve and it seemed like half the country was on the move, so I'd been expecting the traditional yuletide delays and endless apologies from bored-sounding tannoy announcers. But everything had gone very smoothly, and I'd even managed to get a seat for the last part of the journey from London. Watching the white frosted fields and cosy little towns racing past in the darkening afternoon I was feeling warm and quite festive, and suddenly excited to be going home to my family for the first time in a year.
I'm at university in the north of Scotland, pretty much as far from Brighton as you could get. As a result it's quite a slog to get home and not cheap either. Anyway there are plenty of other distractions to keep a young man busy and occupied even in small town Scotland. There's my studies, involving increasing hours of lectures, seminars and research. Then there's a busy social life to keep up with. Living with friends for the first time, in a small house in the town, has been an amazing experience. Just being able to buy what you like to eat, sit up all night watching crap horror films, sleep in all day if there's no lectures, have a sexy, naked, hard body in the bed with you when you wake up...ah, yes, that brings me to Paul.
I'd gone away to uni knowing that I was gay, constantly feeling horny, wanking about three times a day, and feeling absolutely terrified that I might finally have the chance to do something about it. The first term had been quite quiet, sexually speaking, as I'd settled in, got drunk too often and bonded with the disparate mix of people on my corridor in halls.
I'd joined quite a few different student societies too, notably the rowing club as I'd had a bit of previous experience of rowing at school, and found I was actually pretty good at it. There was also the constant pleasure of being surrounded by fit, muscular guys, and surreptitiously eyeing their cocks bulging in their lycra shorts didn't exactly put me off either. The training sessions involved getting up really early, puffing and panting up and down a sometimes freezing stretch of water, then back to someone's house for a cup of tea and a fry-up. It was great fun! Paul and I were on the same team, and shared much the same sense of humour, so we became firm friends pretty quickly. I vaguely knew that I quite fancied him. He was tall and solid, dark featured, and had great muscular legs. He also filled out a pair of lycra shorts very nicely, at both front and back but I knew he had a girlfriend, was a Christian, and led a fairly sedate life.
Until, that is, the Easter holidays of my first year. I was staying in Scotland, I had a part-time waiting job and badly needed some time and space to catch up on some research work in the library. Paul was also staying in town for the holidays, and as we lived fairly near each other he popped over to my place quite often. So when his boiler packed in a few days after the end of term, it was only natural he should turn to me for help. I, of course, said he was more than welcome to come and crash at mine, although it would involve us sharing my double mattress.
The first night he stayed was a pretty normal night really. We had a drink in the pub, came home, stayed up a while with a smoke and another drink, then got ready for bed. I couldn't help but cast admiring glances his way as he stripped down quickly to a very fetching pair of faded grey cotton briefs, the bulge of his cock prominent in the worn pouch. It was unseasonably warm so he took his t-shirt off too, and I was able to surreptitiously get a good luck at his lean muscled torso and firm pecs. God! He really was a beautiful man. He had let his thick dark hair grow out a little bit over the term, and he now ran his fingers through it, settling it behind his ears. He had a couple of days growth of dark stubble, but the rest of his skin was creamy white, clear and healthy. His eyes were a beautiful hazel colour, large and fringed with thick dark lashes. He saw me looking at him, gave me a slightly bashful smile, and quickly got in between the sheets. I stripped down quickly too, turning my back to him so he wouldn't see the little tent pushing out my jockey shorts, and slid onto my side of the bed leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor.
We lay side by side for a while, talking about this and that, then I yawned and reached up to turn off the light. The room was still quite well lit from the full moon shining onto the back of the house, and I remember hearing the steady rise and fall of Paul's breathing as I drifted off into sleep...
I woke up, must have been some hours later, to feel a hand sliding up my inner thigh. I didn't move, was hardly breathing, wondered if Paul was moving around heavily in his sleep? This half-formed question in my sleepy mind was answered almost immediately as the hand tentatively found the cotton edge of my boxers and worked it's way underneath, travelling higher to stop just at the side of my heavy scrotum. I became aware that Paul was breathing heavily and I sensed that he had turned his body to face me. I didn't know yet if he thought I was awake or not, but my cock had definitely woken up and was beginning to lengthen and thicken where it lay on my thigh.
I was feeling seriously aroused, though aware at the same time that Paul was straight and had a girlfriend. However, any misgivings I may have had about what was happening were quickly banished as Paul's fingers tenderly cupped my hairy balls and I heard a sharp intake of breath. I moaned gently, as if in my sleep I hoped, and turned my body slightly towards him, opening my thighs a bit wider as I did so. Paul's hand stopped abruptly, as did the heavy breathing, so I quickly settled myself and began to breath regularly and deeply, hoping this would just pass for restless sleep movements. A minute or so later his soft hand resumed it's gentle caress of my hairy sack, then moved to circle the base of my throbbing hard prick. He gingerly moved his hand higher until my cock was lying flat on his palm, then he gently closed his fingers around my stiff shaft. There was another intake of breath as he felt it's hardness and length.
I couldn't very well play at sleep now, with a man's hand wrapped around my swollen cock, so taking a chance, but still not saying anything, I slowly reached out my own hand and rested it on his bare hip on top of the elasticated band of his undies. Paul didn't say anything but I felt his hand freeze around my cock. I began to make small circular movements with my hand, hoping to relax him enough that he'd carry on and after another few seconds passed I felt the first tentative movement of his fingers on my throbbing stiffy.
We were now lying facing each other and as he began slowly wanking me my hand slipped under the leg of his briefs. I laid my hand flat on his hip then slid it down over the smooth muscular expanse of his arse until I could cup his cheek in my hand. It felt amazing, solid and muscular when his arse tensed, as it first did on my contact, then smooth, meaty and round as he relaxed. I moved my hand around to his front, brushing his lightly haired belly, pulling out the front of his briefs as I did so. I could feel the weight of his prick pushing out his briefs, so I gently reached in and slipped my fingers around his length. His cock was fat and hard, filling my hand like a warm fleshy banana. Paul's breath was coming in ragged pants, and he moaned softly as I moved my hand back to push his briefs onto his hairy thighs, exposing his prick in it's full hardness. And still, neither one of us said a word...
I pushed back the bedclothes and manoeuvred myself between his bent legs, making Paul lie back on the rumpled mattress. Half kneeling over his panting frame I slowly drew his undies down over his arse, noticing in the strong white moonlight that flooded the bedroom that a patch of dark grey was highlighted on the pouch where his stiff tool had leaked precum. I could see his eyes were tightly closed. His hand had relinquished it's hold on my cock when I moved, and he now put both arms behind his head, thrusting his chest out towards me.
I slowly leaned in towards his groin and as my nose made contact with the wiry hair on his balls, I breathed in the heady scent of an aroused male groin. I ran my tongue over his slightly sweaty balls and, as he gasped and wriggled slightly, I licked my way to the base of his cock. I tongued my way up his thick length until his massive swollen head was against my lips. I could feel his precum coating my lips with a slippery discharge so I opened them over his fat mushroom. He groaned, louder this time, and then louder again as I took him into my mouth, my lips stretched wide over his thick shaft.
I hadn't given that many blow-jobs in my time, but I thought I knew roughly what I was doing, and Paul certainly seemed to enjoy the sensation. He wriggled again on the bed, gripping the sheets with his hands, and when I moved back to get a better angle on his cock, he raised his arse off the bed, panting to keep his length stuffed into my tight mouth. I grabbed his smooth arse cheeks and used them to pull him in and out of my mouth. His stiff prick slid easily in and out, his arse rhythmically clenching and softening, and time seemed to slow for a few minutes as I feasted on his large knob.
I found my fingers sliding over Paul's smooth bum cheeks until they came to rest on each side of his crack. He strained upwards to fuck my mouth and as he relaxed before the next thrust I slipped a finger further along his damp, lightly haired arse crack and found his tightly puckered hole. I rubbed a finger over it, flattening the ring of damp hair around the hole, feeling the ridges of his muscle. The tip of my finger fit perfectly in his small hole and, using the natural lubrication from his sweaty cheeks, I slowly wiggled my finger inside. Paul let out a stifled gasp as my finger slid past his tight sphincter muscle but continued bucking his hips to drive his shaft into my eager mouth. Slowly, as he released after every thrust, my finger slid deeper and deeper into his guts until my knuckles came to rest against his straining hole. It was an incredible sensation for me, having my finger up my mate's muscular bum, feeling the velvet softness of his insides, the heat and tightness where it gripped the base of my finger.
I moved my finger around in a small circular motion, and this movement inside his bowels seemed to prove the tipping point for Paul's increasingly frantic thrusting. His faint moans suddenly built in intensity and speed. His hands grabbed my hair, just above my ears, and he held my head steady as he gave a small cry and his cock stiffened to a steel bar. His thrusts almost stopped. Sensing he was about to cum I tightened my lips around his shaft. He pulled his cock half way out of my mouth and slowly slid it in again a couple of times, then moaned and squirted a long jet of spunk against the back of my throat. This was followed by another, and another, and I swallowed his warm salty cum greedily, revelling in it's taste and feel as it slid down my throat.
Eventually Paul's thrusts stopped and I let his slippery knob out of my mouth and slowly withdrew my finger from his tight arsehole. A string of cum hung off my lip and I wiped it away. I eased myself up to straighten my back, which was having a weird cramp from being bent over so long. A minute or two passed as I kneaded the parts of my back I could reach and Paul recovered his breath. He gave a small cough and I looked up. He was looking at me, holding my eyes. I didn't know what I'd see in his handsome face: fear, guilt, loathing? But instead he looked deep into my eyes, reached out a hand and stroked my cheek tenderly.
