"Yo, we had a deal, prison rules dude," he retorted angrily.
"Again with the prison?" I uttered shaking my head.
"Dude, you better fucking blow me now, you made me a fag! I finished you, you have to finish to me."
I let out an an awkward laugh and let him know there was no fucking way I was gonna blow him. I asked him to just give me some time and I promised to finish him off. I needed to at least "refill". We sat there, in silence, watching the next scene which ironically was a MMF threesome. Both dudes had big dicks, but I bet Garrett could compete. The feelings of guilt and shame remained and more confusion set in. As I watched the actor's big dicks enter the women's vagina and asshole simultaneously, a curiosity for pleasuring Garrett's cock set back in. It was like I went temporarily homo. I wanted to, I mean I think I wanted to, as I remember, I was fantasizing about sucking his dick.
After about 20 minutes Garrett broke the silence. "Dude, you ready?"
"Yes," I responded sheepishly and shifted to get into position to stroke his monstrous member.
"Nah, I'm fucking soft as shit now," he informed me, "you gotta do better than that," he continued as I reached for his now flaccid but still impressive penis flopped over his fly.
"Im not sucking your dick dude," I said assertively.
"I know, pull your pants down. Im not having you cum first again though. Let's rub cocks. Im gonna hump you until I'm done," he ordered stressing the "I'm".
I didn't resist, I wanted it. I was a little drunk, getting horny again, and already a fag, so I figured what the fuck. I picked my ass up off the couch to slide my shorts and underwear off as Garrett stood up and dropped his pants. As he stood straight up I was eye level with his low-hanging cock. He pulled his shirt up a bit exposing the lower-part of his lean, muscular six-pack. I almost leaned forward to take it in my mouth but I resisted the momentary urge. He then straddled me with a knee on each side of my outer legs, grabbed the back of the couch and started rubbing his cock against mine.
Garret was about 4 inches taller than me, about 6'2", and he rested his goateed chin on the top of my head as he pressed his hardening manhood into mine. I looked to the side and saw his fully-flexed muscular forearms and the bottom of his bulging biceps under the short sleeves of his polo as he pulled on the back of the couch for leverage with each thrust. I was fully erect again as the thin, soft, warm skin of the undersides of our shafts rubbed against each other and our sacks intertwined. I really am not attracted to men but in the heat of that moment, be it the drunkenness or taboo-ness, I lost myself. I buried my face in his chest and grabbed his rock-hard muscular ass cheeks and humped away.
In retrospect, Garrett must have realized how into it I was and stopped with the posturing "prison" and other bullshit. He took off his shirt and directed his left nipple into my mouth. I accepted it willingly, tonguing it in a circle and nibbling it lightly as we dry-fucked. Before I knew it I was kissing his neck and shifting further up to softly bite his earlobe. He moaned softly as I lightly scraped my teeth on it and then he turned and planted an open-mouthed kiss on me.
I accepted his tongue and grabbed the back of his head, running my fingers through his tight-cropped brown hair with one hand while I pulled his huge cock into mine by his ass cheek with the other. After kissing for a minute or so, I pulled my face away. Breathless, I looked at his deep-set brown eyes and high-cheek bones, and uttered a short sentence I would regret for the rest of my life right after I blew my load, "let's 69."
Garrett didn't hesitate. I was athletic, but he was much more powerful. He got up and pushed me by my shoulder to a missionary position on the couch. He carefully placed his knees on each side of my shoulders and bent over into a 69 position. His warm, slightly sweaty sack rested on my face, covering my eyes. I quickly moved my hand up to grab the base of his cock to maintain some control and opened wide. I stuck my tongue out and placed it on his bulging mushroom head and guided it into my mouth as he journeyed downward. I felt the ridge of his tip pass my lips and his thick shaft travel down my throat a few inches more, as far as I could physically accept. I held that base firmly as he pumped his cock into my mouth to somewhat control the depth. Everything happened so quickly, I didn't even realize right away that he was already sliding his mouth up and down my pole.
Garrett got into a rhythmic cadence sliding his massive erection in and out of my mouth as he pleasured me. Unfortunately, I again was not able to hold out for long and prematurely ejaculated in his mouth. Garrett reached over to the coffee table and grabbed my half-full glass of bourbon and spit my seed into it. As he did that he tightened the grip of his knees on my head to make sure I didn't pull the same shit and try to get away. I did want it to be over after I came, but having that big dick fuck my face at that moment was still exciting.
After spitting my load into the glass, he put it back down on the table and wrapped his arms under my legs. He buried his face in my cock and thrusted his pelvis, concentrating on finishing.
I still remember feeling him approaching arousal. He began to shake and changed the cadence of his thrusts. He would give three or four quick insertions into my face and then press down hard into my throat. I tried hard to open as wide as possible, yet still keep pressure on his shaft and minimize scraping it with my teeth. After four or five iterations of that pattern, he let out a loud groan, which coincided with a large deposit of semen into the back of my mouth. I struggled not to swallow it but to no avail. After his first release, he picked up the pace of his thrusts in and out. As I opened wider to release his penis, his cum slid down my throat as the next shot of spooge erupted from his penis. I enjoyed the feeling of his man juice sliding down my gullet, so I joyfully swallowed the second shot. That one was larger than I expected though, and I decided to spit out any further deposits. However, Garrett continued to forcefully press his full body weight down upon me for the duration of his lengthy orgasm, and did not release me when it was over. I think he wanted me to swallow it all because when I finally did, he released me.
The rest of that night was really fucking awkward. I had no idea until the next summer what was going through Garrett's mind, but I couldn't stop thinking about how I was going to deal with the fact that I just swallowed a cock. We didn't talk much and did not see each other the next two days. Three days later, I went over to say good-bye when we left for the summer, but did just that, said a quick good-bye as I headed for the ferry.
The next summer was the last we both returned to the island at the same time. In fact it was the last time I saw him until a few months ago in the restaurant. The summer didn't begin well and it didn't end well. Our homosexual encounter the previous summer put a huge strain on the relationship. We only called each other once and it was an awkward conversation. In fact, I was drunk and a few nights before and jerked-off to the thought of swallowing his cum. I truly only had the one homosexual encounter, but I have fantasized on very rare occasions over the past 20 or so years.
However, when I arrived in the Vineyard the summer after my freshman year, I was determined to put our indiscretion behind me and salvage the friendship. The night Garrett arrived we went out to a few bars, just the two of us. We talked to some ladies but didn't get lucky. Everything was normal. I mean it was just one night. We were drunk, it happened, what the fuck, why not. I thought I could get over it. And maybe I could have except...
After the bars closed we got in my car and drove to a beach parking lot. We were having a few more beers and talked about sports, pussy, college, cars, etc. The topic of our dick's in each other's mouths the year before didn't come up and it seemed like a distant memory we both wanted to and could put behind us. Until. Until that is, when we were about 14 beers deep (don't judge that I was driving, I was 19 and stupid with a rich father who knew all the local cops), Garrett told me he was an actual homo, always knew he was a homo, and was in love with me. I didn't let him go for long, since as he continued I got really pissed. Before we did what we did, he had experiences with older men. He knew what he was doing and it really pissed me off.
I am much more tolerant and open-minded now, but I was a testosterone-fueled jock in the 90's then. I could have fucking knocked him out. That is, if he didn't outweigh me by about 40 pounds of rock hard muscle. The night we fooled around was a fleeting memory, an experimentation, I was a straight, alpha, pussy-loving, anti-homo jock, who just happened to one time, in a moment of weakness, swallow my best friend's penis and massive load of cum. That night and the relationship didn't end well. I knew I couldn't kick his ass so I just got out of the car and walked home from the parking lot. We never had a civil conversation again.
As I laid in bed that night, I remember thinking about how bad this could be. He could tell people what we did. I mean, he seemed ready to tell the world he was an ankle-grabber. I couldn't have him outing what I did. So I devised a plan. A plan that worked. A plan that as I grew older and more tolerant, I regretted, but at least it kept my secret, for a long time that is. But a few months back at the restaurant, that plan backfired.
