Grown-up Bedtime Stories

Pt. 01: He tasted me.

Author's Note: This work is the first in an anthology of mostly unrelated or loosely related short erotica.

*****

We're over at his. One bedroom apartment. Total bachelor's pad meets gay man's wet dream. Incense burning, cheap furniture, expensive electronics. Black and white photos of sexy male models in various states of undress on the walls, coffee table book pile including The Joy of Gay Sex, a pump bottle full of expensive-looking lube on the rack under the glass top of the coffee table. We're only half paying attention to the movie on the huge flat screen. Some throwaway action flick he's streamed. Protagonist is hot enough, at least.

I'm sitting to his left on his black leather couch, slumped over, resting on my elbow. He's on his phone, cycling through memes. I've overdone it on the drinks. We're laughing over some stupid sex meme he's flashed me on his phone when he turns to me and says, "I need to get laid. Fuck this dry spell."

"How long?" I ask, draining my whiskey. In my defense, there wasn't much left in the glass besides ice. The glass clinks against the glass table when I return it. I set one foot on the table's edge and sit with my other foot pressing into my thigh, legs splayed open, hands in my lap.

"Three months." He grins sheepishly. I see a flash of embarrassment in the crinkle at the edges of his eyes. He looks at me, nodding slightly. It's obviously my turn.

"Got you beat: a year and three months." I realize my tone is a little too smug. This isn't necessarily something to be proud of. I'm too liquored up to care. I grin.

His almost-charcoal eyes widen. He scratches at the mocha stubble around his mouth. "No shit. Dunno how you do it. You're like a monk."

"Yeah, I don't think so. Monks don't fuck."

He slaps my arm and grins. "Monks definitely fuck. They're not supposed to fuck, but they get all horned up under those robes and reach for-"

Here, he paws at my crotch, shaking my dick playfully.

"Sexual harassment!" I shout and laugh.

He recoils and raises his hands just above his thick chestnut locks. "Sorry, sorry. Don't go saying I was making a pass at you. I know you're much too much a prude to mess around with a guy like me. Jeez."

My laugher dies away. "Huh? What's that supposed to mean, Bri?" He hates when people call him that, but I would say I'm allowed. I've called him that since we were in peewee soccer together.

He shrugs, smiling at me and then looking down at his faded red zip-up and fiddles with the zipper. "You never seem like you're interested in just getting out there and meeting people, Davey." I'd say I hate that nickname almost as much as he hates Bri, but I don't mind it when he uses it. "You always gotta be in a relationship, or else you gotta be desperately trying to find Mister Right. You miss out 'cause you won't just cut loose and see what's out there."

I lift both hands in self-defense. "Look, just because I'm not looking to fuck some rando on the apps doesn't mean I'm uptight."

"See? You act like there's nothing between going from long-term to long-term and fucking everything that moves. You're so uptight, man."

I cross my arms and sigh. "Maybe... I just don't know how to get out there and feel OK about it, you know. I get self-conscious."

"About sex?"

"Yeah. And my body." Here, my hand goes to my neck. "The apps make me feel like I'm getting sized up: height, weight, build... even the size of my dick."

"I don't remember there being a problem... there," he offers, helpfully. Bri leans back and sighs. He's got a grin on his face, eyes curved slightly in mischief. He thinks his teasing is funny, no doubt.

"Har har. Very funny. I'm trying to be serious."

"Maybe you just need to meet somebody you can experiment with."

"Experiment how?"

"Maybe a friend with bennies?"

"A fuck buddy?"

"If you wanna be crude about it."

"And the idea of a fuck buddy isn't crude?"

He rolls his eyes and pulls downward at his cheeks in consternation. I can't say whether it's mock or real. "Ugh. Never mind. You manage to take all the fun out of being gay."

"I didn't realize being gay was supposed to be some particular way to be fun."

"You know what I mean. There are a lot of available gay guys out there who aren't uptight about experimenting, having fun, feeling good. You, Davey, get to meet up with one, experiment, have fun-feel good, even. That can be part of the fun, don't you think?"

"I'm not..."

"Oh, you're 'not like that'?"

I sigh. "No. I'm just not comfortable, man. Wish I were. Wish I could just let go and get into it."

He gazes over at me. His big charcoal-colored eyes are always too expressive. I know just what he's thinking. I see pity. He pats my shoulder. "You just need to try it. Just meet up with a guy. Doesn't have to be a date. Doesn't have to be going anywhere."

"Netflix and chill?"

He leans over and his hands snap to my ribs. His fingers curve, and suddenly, he is tickling me. "No! Sitting around, talking about feelings! No sex allowed!"

The urge to laugh builds and I gasp. His fingers reach my pits, and I'm convulsing in laughter. "Stop!"

My words are lost on him. He reaches my ribs again. "Never! You're too serious! For your own good! You need to lighten up. Say it! Say, 'You were right, Bri. I'm uptight.'"

I tug at his hands, but he's freakishly strong when he's been drinking. He pushes me down into the couch cushion and straddles my hips, legs draped over mine, pinning me down.

"Off! Get the fuck off, you-you-"

Bri flashes his pearly whites. His olive skin and thick eyebrows make a stark contrast. His eyes are curved upward again in mischief.

"Say: 'You were right, Bri. I'm uptight. I'm gonna lighten the fuck up!'"

I wedge my knee upward and press into the muscles of his ass, lifting him upward.

"Hey! That's cheating, Davey!" he pleads.

"Oh, now there are rules?"

He lifts my shirt, exposing my tummy. I stop lifting with my thigh and reach to pull it down. He can see me. I shake my head.

Bri laughs and dips his head down to connect with my exposed midriff. He presses his lips there and blows a raspberry. It's so ridiculous, I fall backward, laughing.

"OK, OK: 'You were right, Bri. I'm gonna lighten the fuck up.' Happy?"

Bri looks up at me from my tummy and pats it twice. He leans up to gaze down at me. "Good boy."

There's something in his eyes. Something about the playfulness. Something. My hands go to his zip-up and slide under the hem. I brush over his abs.

His eyes widen. A look of confusion. And then he busts out laughing. I've gotten him. In a moment, he's let his guard down, and my hands are in his pits, raking at the skin there. No mercy. Tickling him.

His arms quake. I redouble my efforts. Bri falls on top of me, shaking with laughter. "OK, OK. You win. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Tears are forming in the corners of his eyes.

"Don't start something you can't finish!" I tease. He is shaking with giggling laughter. One hand firmly lodged in his underarm, I pull down the zip on his hoodie. His exposed nipples are hard, his tummy taut with laughter.

"Fuck, man. I said I'm sorry. What do you want?"

From my position underneath him, I duck my head down and swipe my tongue at the light brown smudge around his nipple. He moans. And then my hands aren't in his pits but raking at his nips.

Bri claws at my shirt, pulling it up. My attentions to his chest falter, but he pulls upward, pulling the hem of my shirt above my head and behind my head. The sleeves are still around my arms.

"Bri... I feel... shy..." I whisper. He looks down at my tummy. It's not as taut as his. The lines I had from lifting and soccer in high school have softened some. He runs his hand across my tummy and pulls upward toward one rosy nipple, tugging at it. And then, his mouth is over mine, tongue inside of it.

"Mmph... Mmm..." My moans are all the confirmation he needs. He suckles my tongue into his mouth, stroking it with his own. His hands are busy at my fly, unbuttoning me and tearing at the zipper. It falls without resistance. I'm out of my jeans now, ankle socks still on my feet, shirt still in a crude triangle about my torso, chest exposed.

Bri leans down again to kiss me. One hand goes to my right nipple, his index and middle finger beginning to strum across it. He doesn't tug at them with the pads of his fingers but runs the sides of his slender fingers up and down, back and forth across my nip. The sensation is so fucking delicious. I moan into our kiss. I can feel his other hand on my bulge, cupping it. The hand is gentle, stroking my member, coaxing it upward. It slides upward in my briefs and grazes the waistband. I can feel my sac being kneaded and caressed.

"Yeah..." I moan. His lips and mouth are on my neck now, suckling and nipping at the skin. My fingers are in his hair, tossling it and tugging at the roots. "Feels so fucking good, Bri... Massage my balls... Ah, fuck."

He wastes no time in sliding his hand into my briefs, taking my balls in his palm and tugging at the scrotum. I nod my head up and down, both of my hands cradling his head now, pressing his mouth to my neck.

"Make a mark," I plead. His tongue snakes out and my neck is wetted by the slippery tip. He reaches down to the base of my neck, just above my shoulder, and sucks. I can feel him, can feel his virility. "Yeah, that's it... Fuck, Bri..."

I remember now where I am and my hands come to life, exploring my best friend. I press the length of my fingers into his brown nipples and strum at them, mimicking his work on mine. I am rewarded by soft nips and bites on my shoulder. Bri leans in and takes my right nipple into his mouth. His tongue is pressing on it, and then his lips are suckling at the tip.

"Ah-Fuck, yeah, dude. Suck my tit. Get a little rough with it..." No sooner have I made my plea than his teeth settle down on it and rub against it, tugging at the flesh. "Mm-hmm. Yeah, like that."

Both hands are in my briefs now, molesting my cock. I feel a soft grip around the base and a finger working along the underside. I'm sopping. His fingers are wet with precum now. The hand at the base wraps snug around the root of my cock. The other is wet with my excitement.

I feel a pressure against the corona, and then my legs tense up. An onslaught of sensation shoots through my cockhead. I whimper and look down to see what the fuck is going on. Bri has his wet palm pressed against my bared cockhead. The intense sensation rips again through my thighs and pelvis. I press his head to my chest and thrust my crotch into his hand.

"You like that, Davey?" His voice is sweet. I look down at him and into his eyes. His head is at my waistband now. I nod, and he pulls back the band of fabric. My cock springs forward, a syrupy strand of precum dribbling down and soiling my briefs. "Look at that... What's that, Davey?"

I whimper.

"Do you want to watch me taste it?"

I nod. I clench my eyes shut. In the pit of my stomach, a wave of embarrassment swirls.

"I will. I'll taste you, Davey. God, I want to taste you. But you have to watch me... Tell me. Tell me what you want."

I feel a tingling at my perineum. His fingers are there, stroking it. I watch my stalk give way and leak more precum. I'm so horned up. Bri's eyes are locked on my expression. He smiles and blows cool air on my dick. I gasp at the heat and cold and the knowing gaze.

I can't seem to get the words out. He guides my hips to the edge of the sofa. Without a word, he guides my legs open and leans down. I feel a wet pressure against... God, I can't even say it.

"Oh, no... Bri, no..."

The wet pressure tickles and teases me.

"If you want me to suck you off, tell me what you feel me doing, Davey... Relax. It's OK."

I screw my eyes shut and concentrate on the warm wetness. I can feel my muscles clenching and then relaxing.

"Come on, Davey. Give it up to me. Just relax."

"Uh-huh..." I whimper. And then my legs fall open, exposing my hole to him. I open my eyes to see him between my legs, his head rising and falling. I can feel the wetness of his tongue on the most vulnerable part of me.

My fingers go to my nipples, stroking them like he did. I take one nipple between my fingers and pinch and tug at it. The sensation of his tongue on my hole and the attention to my nipples is almost too much. I whimper. I can feel my cock spasming now. It drools precum.

"Just say it for me, Davey... Tell me who's tonguing your hole for you."

"Bri, don't stop. Ah, fuck. Lick my hole. That's so fucking good. Taste me. Please, Bri... Suck my cock..."

He reaches back to the bottle under his table and then leans forward, taking my cock in one hand and running his hand along the shaft but ignoring the head. Bri jerks it back and forth. Precum drools down the length and then splatters his cheek. I see him smile.

"That's my good boy. See how good it feels to let go, Davey?"

I nod. "Please, Bri... Suck my-"

He nods, but I feel a new pressure at my pucker. I gasp and nod without thinking as I feel what must be Bri's slender finger sliding up my canal.

"Oh, yeah..." I whimper. I'm nodding my head up and down frantically, trying desperately to will him to touch. To touch my...

"Right there?" He answers my plea. His curved finger strokes my gland. My hips buck forward. I can feel him sliding against it. I'm so full now. I can feel Bri inside me and feel his breath on my dick. My swollen cock is leaking all over. My trimmed bush is sopping wet. The smell of precum and good, clean sweat is intoxicating.

"Please, Bri... Please, be nice to me..." I whimper.

My friend nods next to my cock. His tongue darts forward and makes contact with the stalk of my member. I thrust upward, trying to get him to take me into his mouth, and then let myself glide back against his finger.

"Finger me, Bri..." I moan. And then his finger is sliding back and forth against my little gland. I can feel him stroking it back and forth. It's maddeningly gentle.

"Taste me, Bri... Just fucking taste my goddamned cock. Now, goddamn it. Suck my fucking dick."

And then his mouth is slurping my cockhead. I see his head bobbing and twisting, hitting my corona and my fren from different angles. My fingers are raking at my nipples now, tugging at them, torturing them. I can feel ecstasy building in my cockhead and a throbbing in my gland, like ripened fruit, full and firm.

"I'm gonna... Bri, I'm gonna... Fuck, I'm gonna shoot in your mouth. Oh, god, taste me. Take it! Take it down your throat... Fuck!"

And then my muscles are clenching around the finger Bri has stilled inside of me. His fingertip strokes at the spot I need touched most. His mouth sucks at my fuckpiece, his tongue licking at the spout. I can feel the spirts of masculinity firing off in his mouth. Both my hands are stroking his hair and holding his head in place.

"Suck me, Bri. That's it. Just like that. Please, please, keep sucking me. Taste my jizz."

I can hear him swallowing and feel the muscles conveying my jism to his throat. My desperate pleas continue until my orgasm slows to a dribble. I don't even know what all I am him to do. I just need him to accept my need and for it to be OK. I sigh and look down to see him gasping for air. He's swallowed almost all of me, his lips glossy with my essence.

I pull Bri up toward me, his finger sliding from me with a pop. I wince but tug him by his hoodie. It's still draped around his shoulders. I launch my lips at his and suckle at them, tasting myself, trying to convey my gratitude and the fraternal bond I feel. He lets me taste myself on his tongue.

"That was fucking wild," he whispers. "You sure know how to cut loose and have fun, Davey." He smiles.

"Maybe it was just what I needed to let loose. Let's see if we can figure out an arrangement for this, too, eh?" I smile and let him guide my hand to his throbbing member. I nod and give his cum-glossed lips one last kiss before reaching down to give his beautiful cock a first taste.