Used for a Wee

"Just Like Old Times" - Sunday

A few weeks ago I received a LinkedIn request from someone I hadn't seen in decades - my boyhood best friend Billy, who now went by William. We had lost touch after high school when he moved to the West Coast. After a few catchup messages he informed me that he was spending a week in town for business.

I agreed to meet him for drinks the Sunday night he arrived, at a bar near his hotel. He was in great shape - his years of lifting weights showed - and he looked much younger than 50. He was dressed smartly, his hair was trimmed neatly, and his two-day stubble gave him a cool look. He was gregarious, funny, and flirtatious with the bartender. The drinks flowed as we talked about our lives: our jobs, our grown children, and our marriages (I had married at 25, he at 30). He had matured into a take-charge, domineering sort and while I enjoyed talking with him, I felt slightly intimidated by his personality and by his physique (I'm thin, even a bit scrawny, not muscular at all).

Around eight o'clock he decided we'd hit the strip club near his motel. I say 'decided' because I didn't want to go but he refused to let me call it a night. The place was somewhat seedy, and for an hour we sat in front of naked women shaking their bodies. Naturally the subject of sex came up. I confessed to having a vanilla sex life with my wife. "That's too bad," he told me. "There's so much to try. But who knows - you're not dead yet."

When William wanted a real drink - the strip club didn't serve alcohol - he said he had a 12-pack in his room. "One last brew before we say goodnight."

"No, I really should-"

"One more beer." The finality in his voice surprised me. Once again I allowed him to take control of the evening.

Soon I was following him into his room - 207 on the second floor. He emptied his pockets onto the nightstand and told me to grab beers while he relieved himself. I extracted cold bottles from the cooler. Since the room's chair were filled (a suitcase and cardboard boxes) I waited on the foot of the bed. William stepped out of the bathroom with his shirt opened (which displayed a forest of chest hair) and kicked off his shoes. I handed him a bottle. He clicked his against mine. "To old times," he said. "And new ones, too!"

Before he sat down he handed me an envelope of old pictures. We had known each other through middle and high school. We were in the same classes, played sports together, hung out and got in trouble, and obsessed over girls. The faded photographs brought back many memories. But there was one memory I was hoping wouldn't come up. William had other plans.

"We were horny kids back then," William told me. "Weren't we?"

I just said, "Yeah," hoping the conversation wouldn't continue.

"I can't believe the things we did with other. To each other. Remember?"

We had had a period of sexual experimentation that lasted about a year. Not wanting to talk about it I nodded and took a long sip of beer.

"And I admit I started it." William laughed. "In that theater on 12th Street, waiting for the movie to start. The place was empty; there was maybe a dozen people. And I took out that magazine -- Penthouse Forum, I think. And after a while I asked if you had a hard-on. And you said..."

I remained silent but William kept staring at me, waiting for an answer. Finally I gave in. "I told you that I did."

"And then I asked if I could feel it, and you said..."

There was no way to avoid answering. "I said you could.... if you wanted to."

"I guess I did want to, 'cuz I reached over and, yes, you certainly had a hard-on!" He eyed me, then shook his head. "What? Are you embarrassed about what we did? Ashamed?" When I didn't respond (which actually answered his question) he said, "What we did was normal. Natural. No harm, no fowl."

William could always rationalize away my concerns, could convince me to try different things. He had initiated all our explorations, which led to us not only rubbing each other through our pants, but stroking each other's cocks and even having me use my mouth on him. Now, to be clear, I wasn't controlled or even used by him. I had allowed - and even enjoyed - everything I did back then. But it was always - always - Billy in charge.

He placed his bottle on the floor. "Did you ever fool around with anyone el-"

"No," I answered quickly. "Just you."

"I guess I should be honored, huh? And you were good, good at sucking my cock." He let out a laugh, knowing that the talk made me uncomfortable. I had to look away. "But it was fun, wasn't it? I mean, we enjoyed it. I know I sure did." He took the envelope from my hand, leafed through the pictures, then set it on the bed. "And now here we are, what, some thirty years later, sitting side by side - just like in that theater."

I had to end this before it went any further. "I should be going."

"No, no, you stay." There was that finality in his tone again. His left hand patted my shoulder, nudging me to keep me seated. When he saw me acquiesce, he said, "Good."

William remained silent, as if knowing words would break the spell he now had over me. The silence made me uncomfortable, too uncomfortable to make a move. And while my body remained still, my mind was racing: Why was I staying there? Did I really want something to happen? Did I want or need an escape from my boring marital sex life? Or was I still just a horny male ready for anything, no different than the teenager I was thirty years earlier?

Without speaking William reached over and placed his hand on my thigh. He looked at me; I looked down at the floor. I may even had bitten my lips. Again, my lack of protest was a tacit approval, a sign that he could proceed. Which he did: He moved his hand up my thigh until it rested lightly over my fly. He didn't grab me; instead his fingers just lightly grazed me, as if he were tickling me through my pants. I started getting hard. Buzzed from the beers, horny from the strip club, it felt good to have my cock rubbed, even if it was by another grown man. I guess I was easy prey for William's seduction.

More thoughts: Was I going to allow this to happen, something I never even imagined doing again? We were no longer teenagers experimenting; we were grown men, with careers and wives and grown children and reputations and new moralities. Would I resent tonight, hate myself for allowing him to take control? What about disease? What about being unfaithful?

But with each passing second these deliberation were offset by my growing arousal. And as William's grip grew firmer so did my cock. Sensing how much I was enjoying this (and maybe sensing his control over me) he smiled. He waited for me to be fully hard before he asked the million dollar question. "Do you want to feel mine?" He gave my cock a tight squeeze.

I was too turned-on to turn back. "Yeah. Sure."

"No, say it. Tell me what you want to do."

I couldn't help but respond to the authoritative forcefulness in his voice. Maybe it allowed me to give up responsibility for whatever was about to transpire. Maybe I wanted to submit to him. I felt his hand tighten its grip on my fully erect cock. "I want to feel you, too... your hard-on."

He nodded. "Ah... just like old times."

(Yes, just like old times. Just as Billy had carefully planned our theater experience - picking an empty theater, sitting away from everyone, bring a porno magazine, starting the conversation - William had had carefully orchestrated tonight. He had suggested the strip club and coming back to his room, had the chairs full so we had to sit on the bed, had started the sex talk.)

William stood up and faced me. I remained sitting on the edge of the bed. As he looked down at me - keeping me in a submissive position - he undid his belt and unsnapped his pants. When he lowered the zipper his pants fell to his ankles. His blue bikini underwear were stretched out from the erection within, and I detected a tiny wet spot. He was as turned-on as I was.

Without a thought I reached over with both hands to fondle him through his underwear, and soon heard him let out an encouraging "mmm...." I rubbed him up and down with my right hand while my left hand moved below to massage his testicles. It felt surreal to be doing this, fondling a grown man, and yet there was something natural, even deja-vu about this. When he kicked off the trousers around his feet, I kept my hold on him, kneading his penis through his underwear. When he told me to take them off, I gripped his underwear by the waistband and lowered it his knees. "All the way off," he instructed, which forced me to lift off the bed to be able to push the underwear to the floor.

I wanted to return to sitting but William said, "No, stay." Then: "Kneel down." An order, a command, an instruction I followed.

I complied. Once on my knees I looked up and there it was - another man's cock. Of course I had seen other cocks at the gym, but never fully erect cocks, and never this close. It wasn't very large or fat; it was actually smaller than mine. I took it in my hands and felt the smooth skin, the black bush of pubic hair on his balls. I continued stroking him, mesmerized by what I was doing.

"Do you remember how you used to suck my cock?"

I nodded meekly.

"Do you ever fantasize about those days? About being in my grandmother's attic, sucking my cock while I looked at Penthouse or Playboy magazine?"

I couldn't lie. There were times over the years that I had masturbated to the memory.

"You missed sucking my cock, didn't you?" He inched closer to my face. "So now's your chance. You want to suck it, don't you." It was more a statement than a question. "It's OK, Al. You can admit it."

Lust can make me do most anything, so maybe I really did want to do it. Resigned now to pleasuring him I leaned into him.

But William backed off. "No, first tell me. Tell me you want to suck it. I want to hear you say it. Tell me you want to suck my cock."

I think I actually enjoyed being made to say it, at being forced to being submissive. "I want to suck your cock."

Only now did he bring his cock to my lips. I stuck out my tongue and tentatively licked the tip. There was no taste, not yet; it was more the odor that hit me, a musty smell with a hint of urine. I swirled my tongue for a few seconds, then started to lick the side. This was such a turn-on for me, too. I felt - how? dirty? slutty? sexy? I licked each side, dampening his skin, then worked up saliva to lubricate the head. William - who had probably been waiting for this moment all night - was impatient. "Open up," he ordered. I opened my lips and soon found the head of his cock entering my mouth. He was hard and horny, and quickly began sliding his cock in and out of my mouth. I kept my lips pressed around it, trying to maintain suction, grateful that his cock wasn't very large or fat. He went easy on me, never making me gag, just sliding in and out as if my mouth was an obedient pussy. My head, too, bobbed back and forth, back and forth. I was all action, no thought, just a sucking machine.

But then he slipped his cock out of my mouth. He grabbed it with his hands and started to jerk himself off. Without realizing it I reached down and rubbed myself through my pants. "Tell me you want me to cum," he said forcefully. "Tell me you want my cum. Say it."

"I want your cum," I told him, and then, surprising even me, this: "Please."

It didn't take long. William grunted as he stroked himself faster. The first glob of warm sticky fluid spurted out and landed on my face, then a second. A third, smaller wad hit my right cheek. I tried to back away but the bed was behind me. Instead I turned my face sideways and felt another glob land on my ear. William took a step back, his hand still gripping his cock.

I still had one hand rubbing myself; with my other hand I wiped at the cum off my face. And when William told me to take my cock out I did so quickly, pushing my pants halfway down my thighs. Freeing my throbbing erection I wrapped my hand around my cock and began stroking.

"You're a good cocksucker," William told me as I masturbated in front of him. "But you should have taken my cum in your mouth," he told me, his voice rough and breathless.

My hands kept a steady rhythm as I stared at his still firm cock. He moved it left and right, which forced me to keep focused on it, all the while as I got closer to cumming. Then he wiped the tip of his cock with his fingertip, collecting a few drops of cum, which he reached over and applied to my lips. When his finger pressed into my mouth I opened up my lips to suck his finger. I grew hotter and hotter, my head dazed, my orgasm building inside, getting closer and closer, until it ultimately burst upon me, filing my hands with my own cum.

Whew!

I stayed there a moment, kneeling on the floor, at William's feet, my breathing unsteady, my heart racing. I leaned back against the bed. My head still dizzy. But as my lust receded, worries and regrets resurfaced. What had I done? How had I allowed this to happen? And the worst thought of all hit me. Only now had I asked the most important question. "Are you... clean?"

"Nothing to worry about. No diseases." He walked to the bed and removed the coverlet.

Back in reality all I wanted now was to get up and get away. I stood up, pulled up my pants, and without speaking headed to the bathroom. I washed my face, wiped my groin, and urinated. Once dressed I stepped into the room hoping for a quick exit. He was lying in bed, fiddling with his cell phone. "You certainly enjoyed that. And we'll have plenty more fun. I'm here all week."

"But I don't do this," I told him.

He smirked. "But you just did do this."

I shook my head and headed for the door. And even though I was sure I wouldn't be returning, I wondered if William wouldn't somehow trick or coerce me to return, would somehow lead me to further experimentation - just like the old times.

End of Part 1

Note: This is fictional story and is Copyright (c) 2018 by MRALX99. You may not copy or use it for any commercial purpose.