I'm getting ahead of myself there. Let me introduce our passionate duo first. I am a playful, curious, and down-right horny brunette young adult. I have always considered myself straight, but there is one man whom I have always fantasized about. Simon is a meek blonde, who also could have a fiery temper when provoked. He never really dated anyone, and as things progressed between us, it seemed only natural that we experiment. I have always masturbated a lot, but when I do I don't considered myself gay although I'm thinking about things Simon and I might do with each other. We play a game we invented called, "don't be a fag." I know that is sounds terrible, but were very naive when we invented it, but it worked for us. It worked to create the moments that got us to this story. I am always getting-off from the "wrongness" of it all. It would have been terrible if I was caught doing anything sexual with him. My whole family would probably disown me, but I couldn't help myself when these perverted thoughts crept into my head—Simon is my best friend after all! We had always been mates. Growing up in nearby flats, I had pretty much gotten to know everything about him.
Our parents trusted us alone, because we were boys, and boys simply don't do sexual things with other boys. That was the Christian motto. Maybe never formally verbalized, but that was it. We didn't know any girls our age, and it was a time of hormonal change. All it took to set us on the path of sin was discovering our father's stash of adult magazines and videos. We grew up looking at each other's stolen porn. The picture of girls, girls and guys, girls and girls, it was a fruitful time of innocence. We were horny boys growing up, so sometimes things became interesting.
It was on the evening following my eighteenth birthday. I was feeling depressed because I had done anything fun the day prior. I frankly didn't have many friends at that point in my life. My one and only friend, my best friend, wasn't going to be in town for another week. He had gone with his parents on a vacation. It really wasn't fair, I thought: I had helped him celebrate his eighteenth birthday six months ago. Maybe it was that we were so close in age that family and other friends often thought we looked like twins, only one boy blonde, and the other brunette. Now I was a man by state qualifications. I could smoke and I could go to war. I wanted to party and meet girls. Honestly, I wanted to fuck a girl. I had never done that. Not yet anyway. I had ate Sarah's pussy that one time. She tasted like strawberries and cream. I imagined the strawberries, she provided the cream. But other than a taste of dessert, I would have counted myself as a virgin. I know what I said about the horny boys growing up together, but those times certainly never amounted to anything I'd call sex. While these thoughts of lust were arousing my member, I suddenly heard a knock at the door.
He was standing there in the doorway. His hair was as wet as his clothes. It was raining out, and he stood in the doorway dripping wet.
"Happy birthday," he said.
"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be on vacation with your parents?" I asked.
"Yeah, but we came home early. I don't want to talk about it." He said earnestly, and in a strange voice.
At this point I invited him inside. After he dried off, we talked for a bit. His parents were fighting. Talking about divorce. He changed the subject abruptly and asked if I wanted to play truth or dare. It was an odd request, but for some reason I didn't want to reject it. In fact, considering my previous wonton boner, I perked up (so to speak) to some dirty subconscious desire now stirring as we spoke. I accepted his proposal and we stripped to our underwear. This had been customary in previous games, but we never went beyond that whitey-tightly boundary, but tonight was different.
On this summer evening of horn-dog private time we invented a new game. This game evolved on its own. It was only dares. It started somewhere a few turns into the original truth or dare game and then after neither one of us seemed to want a truth. The idea would be to write the dares on little notes and take turns randomly picking them up and reading them out loud. The dare was unavoidable, whatever you read from your little note was the thing you were going to do. It became a competition of determination. Neither of us were willing to back down from a challenge and wanted to see what kind of limits we could find. Most of the dares we each began to write on the notes mostly solo dares. At least, mine were. I did get brave and I wrote a few double dares: that meaning we both did the dare together. My double dares were to kiss each other, rub our each other's dick through his underwear, and dry hump.
The game ensued and we were drawing dares like: "kiss", "play with yourself", "flash the other", "reach your hand down his underwear and touch the other boy's dick", "touch his butt" , "copy a pose from a naughty magazine", and "make a fake moan." Nothing naked, nor overtly sexual. Although, when he drew the "reach your hand down his underwear and touch the other boy's dick" note and we performed the task, my man-meat sprang to life. I hardly felt my body's response to his touch because I was in awe at the flesh held in my own hand. His member was rock-hard with a few soft veins. It didn't seem as long as mine, maybe only seven inches, nor was it very thick. It was a quarter size if you'd grip a coin around the circumference. Mine was probably eight inches long and silver dollar thick. But it was the smoothness of his skin that surprised me the most. He was baby soft and shaven. We squeezed our hand around the other person's genitals and stroke like we'd stroke our own. It had to be one minute, then we'd resume the game and be done with the awkward closeness. He stroke me slow, to the point I barely felt it, but I was so focused on the sensation of his cock pulsing in my hand for me to notice. The alarm sounded, and when I withdrew my hand a little tickle caught the side of my face. I swiped my tainted hand across my cheek to scratch it when I felt the warm goo sticking to my fingertips, and in a moment of horror and sexual intensity I inadvertently smeared a streak of it across my bottom lip. I could taste it before I even puckered my lips together. It was terribly salty and almost bitter. It was in that moment I felt mortified he knew what I had just done, but honestly I don't know if he even knew the response his dick had made to my touch. He was himself quickly scooting away, adjusting his posture, and trying not to look at me. Maybe I had dribbled on his hand as well, so I thought, looking down at the bulge in my underwear, there was indeed a moist spot darkening the cloth.
It was a few more turns into the game, when I pulled a card of his making: "suck dick" it said. I didn't know how to respond, I was in shock. I hadn't expected him to write anything that erotic! "Well?" he said, looking at me queerly and removed his underwear.
"ok, but no more than a minute" I reluctantly said, half wishing I could spring on this opportunity to explore my new life as a man, no longer a boy fantasizing about dirty forbidden desires.
He laid back on the bed and I awkwardly climbed on top of him. I crawled from his feet up to his hips. I adverted my eyes from his gaze. I tried to look elsewhere, but all I could focus on was his hard thin dick. It was smaller than mine, and as I had learned accidentally, he had released a clear seminal fluid that made the surface of his skin tacky the moment I grasped a hold.
I quickly darted my mouth around him and began sucking him off. The entire width and length of his member fit easily into my mouth. I had a mouthful of that bitter and salty taste; how much pre-cum could he produce? For what felt like an eternity that doesn't last long enough when you wish back onto it, I slobbered his shaft from top to bottom. I felt dizzy and I could taste only the warm sourness leaking from his pee-hole. I gagged a little when I went too far down and quickly surfaced for air.
"That's enough," he said.
I climbed off of him, wiped my clean hand across my mouth and acted disgusted. His eyes were glazed over, and he stared at me the same way he had when he was standing in the rain.
"Do you want to stop playing?" he asked sourly, to which I quickly replied, "no" almost stammering.
"If we stop now, you've one up me, I had to suck you off and dammit, it's my birthday, you better suck me at least," I said in a jesting sort of way.
