My Trusted Friend

Many thanks to my excellent editor,

LarryInSeattle

, for helping my words flow!

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In the three months since my best friend last visited, we never mentioned what happened between us when we spoke on the phone. Things seemed just like they had always been, but I knew that I hadn't just imagined kneeling on the floor in front of the sofa and sucking hot cum out of him while pumping my own onto the floor. I'm not certain if I was more scared or more excited when I got home from work one day and my wife told me that he had just called. He was coming to town next week and she'd told him that we expected him to stay with us and that the guest bedroom would be ready for him.

I worried that things might be somehow "weird" between us, but after he arrived on Friday evening everything seemed just like it had always been. The three of us went out for margaritas and gossiped about mutual friends. When we were alone at several points during the evening, things didn't seem any different between the two of us at all. To this day I have no words to express how relieved I was that what we had enjoyed together didn't seem to have—excuse the expression—queered our friendship. Conversation flowed freely and we stayed up late, drinking and chatting. That night I went to bed and made drunken love to my wife.

Once, when we were running around town on Saturday, my friend quipped something and I shot back with, "That's so gay!" After all, it was the 90s and the expression hadn't yet become socially unacceptable. I sort of panicked as I realized what I had just said in the context of what he and I had done on his previous visit. I looked at his expression to gauge his reaction. Out of view of my wife, he raised his eyebrows ambiguously and shot me a look that seemed to me to say, "After what your mouth did to my cock, you're calling that gay?"

My wife and her parents had for some time planned to visit relatives for the next week so Saturday night my wife packed and Sunday her parents passed by to pick her up. I fired up the barbecue that afternoon and my friend and I grilled steaks and drank beer. After dessert, he brought out the traditional joint and we enjoyed that as well.

No, things didn't get "weird" between us—not until it was time to go to bed.

I changed into pajama pants and a T-shirt and he stepped into the guest room to do the same. A few minutes later I went to see if there was anything he needed before I turned in. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on clean socks (he had a thing about sleeping in clean socks, never barefoot) and I sat next to him as we talked.

There was a change in the air. Suddenly, we were alone and physically closer than we had been since his last visit trip. We both seemed to have trouble speaking. I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears. We were uncomfortable, but I was helpless to move away.

"So, how do you feel about, you know, what we did last time I was here?" he asked softly.

"I—I'm pretty o-okay with it," I stuttered, shaking a little bit, hoping he didn't notice. "No guilt and—as long as we're still friends—no regrets."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Me too."

"It was just an experiment between friends."

"Exactly," he confirmed.

Without knowing what I was doing, my hand reached out of its own accord and moved to his crotch. "So," I heard myself ask, trying to sound suave in my nervous excitement, "you feeling, uh, 'experimental' tonight."

"Maybe," he said. He tried to sound playful but failed to hide the nervous look on his face.

My hand closed on his hard cock through the soft fabric of his shorts. I could feel its pulsing heat. I wasn't sure whether I really wanted to do this again until this moment, but feeling his hardness in my hand and my own standing like a tent pole in my pajamas settled it. I rubbed the underside of his cock and then reached into the leg opening of the shorts to grasp his naked flesh firmly in my hand. I could feel his pulse through his cock as surely as I could feel my own heart banging the inside of my ribcage in excitement.

I had closed my eyes to concentrate on the silky texture of his cock on my palm and had not noticed his hand reaching to the hardness in my pajamas. I jumped a little, surprised at his touch. He rubbed it with an open palm before sliding his hand inside the waistband and wrapping his fingers around me.

I looked at his face. His eyes were closed. I closed mine again and we slowly, silently stroked each other. I was afraid to open my eyes again, frightened that any awkward look passing between us might end the pleasure. The feel of his cock in my hand was every bit as stimulating as his hand on my cock.

I don't know how long we sat there stroking before he lifted his hips from the bed and began to pull down his shorts with the hand he wasn't using to give me pleasure. I released him, then took hold of his meat again before removing my pajama bottoms in a similar awkward one-handed fashion. I didn't want to let go of his cock any more than I had to.

At some point we lay down, facing one another with our feet hanging off of the bed. His hand was gently stroking my member with a feather-light touch. As I mentioned in the first installment, my friend is well built, but on a small frame. His hand seemed small compared to my cock, which measures nearly eight inches when erect—and I was fully erect as he teasingly moved his hand up and down my shaft.

His slender cock, conversely, seemed to fit entirely within my large palm. I didn't really know how to stroke anyone but myself and I was used to having more to grab and stroke than my friend's five inches. It was wonderfully erotic to look down and watch us stroke one another. His small hand moved along my larger, more-or-less straight shaft, while mine moved around the arc of his smaller one as it curved upward towards his belly.

Almost by instinct, I leaned down and licked his nipple before sucking it into my mouth. I had never even thought about sucking a man's nipple. It seemed all sorts of urges I had never known were coming upon me. I felt him shiver as I tongued his nipple and another urge, one I did recognize, came surging up in me. I slid down his body, causing him to lose his touch on my cock and he seemed about to protest before he felt my mouth close around the hot, silky-soft flesh of his erection.

Having mentally replayed my memories of our last physical encounter again and again over the past three months, I had long imagined how I would suck my friend's cock if I had another opportunity to do so. I lavished him with my tongue's wet affection. The tight 'O' I formed with my lips constricted around the base of the shaft on my every downward stroke. Unlike the last time, I was able to take all of him into my mouth. I forced myself down to the root repeatedly, holding myself there as long as I could until the need for air made me relinquish what I had taken. In my hand he was small and it was difficult to make him feel the things I wanted him to feel. In my mouth he was the right size for me to make every different part of his cock feel exactly the way I wanted it to feel. Had he been much longer my strong gag reflex would have prevented me from taking him all in.

Once, when I came up for air, I licked teasingly down the underside of his shaft until I reached the soft, wrinkled flesh of his scrotum without really having planned to do so. Before this moment I hadn't given much thought to a man's balls when I fantasized about sucking cock. But now, when they were literally on the tip of my tongue, I explored a bit. He moaned as I ran my tongue around and found one of his balls. I kissed it. It felt good on my lips and I gave it an open-mouthed kiss. I did the same for the other. New possibilities and urges came upon me. My mouth watered and, as I was about to start exploring those urges, my nose brushed the hot flesh of his shaft and I was distracted.

I slid my nose up along the curve of his erection until my lips made contact and I sucked and licked the very base of the underside of his shaft. He groaned again. I licked up to meet the head and put him back into my mouth for further treatment.

Returning to the technique of constricting the ring of my lips tighter as I reached the bottom of his shaft, I began thrusting my mouth down onto his cock in a steady rhythm. I began to feel the telltale tiny thrusts of his hips as he moaned breathlessly, "Don't stop!"

I didn't.

Straddling his legs with a hand grasping each side of his waist and pulling myself down to force him as deep as possible on every stroke, my excitement built as his body started to shudder. He hissed sharply and I opened my eyes and looked up at him. His eyes were closed and his head was flopped to one side. His mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water. His fingers were pinching his nipples.

His cock started to spasm in my mouth, a feeling I had known only once before. A mouthful of hot juice shot out and I tried to swallow, but succeeded only partially before more liquid flooded out. I lacked the coordination to pump my face down and fill my mouth with his cock, suck that cock, and simultaneously swallow with that cock still in my mouth. I kept pumping with my mouth and sucking and he released even more. It was a much larger load than the first time we had done this. I slowed my bobbing up and down and loosened my lips around his shaft. It flowed down onto his balls. More followed, even when his orgasm seemed over, and small amounts of liquid kept bubbling up into my mouth.

Even though I hadn't cum, I felt strangely satisfied. We lay together for a while and I occasionally nuzzled his soft, sticky cock. Then I got up and grabbed a towel to clean up a bit, my still-hard cock leading the way. I also grabbed a drink of water from the kitchen to cut the thickness of the semen flavor and refresh my mouth. It hadn't tasted bad, but my mouth was starting to get dry.

I returned with the towel and found him sleeping, unconscious in the exact position in which I had left him and quietly snoring. I gently wiped up what I could before any more got on the sheets and then covered him with the blanket. This was the second time I'd tucked in my sleeping friend with smell of him still in my nostrils.

My erection hadn't diminished since I had first sat on the bed next to him an hour before. When I got into the bed I usually shared with my wife, I took it in my hand and began to pump myself hard. As my mind relived the sensations of him spurting in my mouth, my own cock spurted again and again. Cum splashed down my shaft and over my fingers.

Too exhausted to get up, I pulled off my T-shirt and used it to mop up the cum before falling into a deep sleep.

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This updated version of Ch. 02 benefits greatly from Larry's editorial expertise.

Stay tuned for Ch. 03 and hot sex in the shower.