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I Owed You That, Didn't I? (mm:oral sex, 1992 words)

Author: Wildboy
Added: May 17 2018Views / Reads: 148 / 101 [68%]Story vote: 9.75 (4 votes)
For a year I'd been holding him at arm's length. But finally, I did what I'd always known I would....
 


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If I'd been a little smarter about things... less self-conscious, and maybe less squeamish... he could have been my first. But I had been and that is probably the greatest tribute to our friendship, the fact that even after I turned him down, not once, not twice, but on innumerable occasions, we remained close. So close that other friends had already decided that we were a couple, and treated us accordingly.

His name was Jim, a musician in a band I adored. I, on the other hand, was just a fan, and when he gave me his number and said "call anytime," I took that at face value. A little less so when he invited me over for the evening, and even less when he made it plain that I was welcome to stay the night. And when it became clear (to him) that we wouldn't be sharing the same bed that night, I definitely felt a twinge of something when I caught the shadow of disappointment on his face.

"Okay," he said, "but if you need anything in the night, I'm just up the hall." And I knew exactly what he meant by that, which is why I lay awake for who-knows-how-long, all manner of thoughts rushing through my head, while the blood literally pounded in my rock hard cock. I had to jerk myself off before my mind would still.

We settled into a routine after that - I'd visit, he'd flirt, I'd joke, he'd give up. Part of it was stubbornness; I was at that age when it seems imperative to establish yourself as either straight or gay, and I liked girls too much to argue.

Which isn't to say I didn't like boys as well. Just that the handful of encounters that I'd had so far all occurred far from the prying eyes of friends, or even people who knew me. A guy I met at a party. A guy I met at a different party. The driver who picked me up hitch-hiking, and gave me a bed for the night. A succession of one night, or one-hour stands, and nobody need ever know.

Whereas fucking a friend in front of our friends... that just felt weird.

One night, my resolve did crumble, and he blew me in the armchair. "Better than sucking my own," I wrote in a diary that was probably even more self-conscious than I was, and there was another occasion too, play-wrestling on the bed, when he pushed me to my knees while he stood unsteadily before me (springy mattresses are not the easiest thing to stand up on), and I knew it would be easy to....

He was wearing a gray tracksuit bottom and T-shirt, and probably not much else. Definitely nothing else below the belt - his cock was straining against the fabric around it, a tent pole so taut that, even as I watched, I could see the growing pool of pre-cum soaking into the fabric.

This time, my resolve did not crumble. It disintegrated. Turned to dust and blew away. I leaned in, already parting my lips to engulf his cock head through his clothing, and raising one hand to steady myself. But I moved too quickly. Knocking into his leg, sending him sprawling, crashing back onto the bed. We were laughing so hard that all else was forgotten.

There were other near-misses. Other close shaves. Other wasted opportunities, and I'd regret them all after. Tonight, though... tonight was different. He'd moved house recently, and every room was piled high with either discarded boxes or still unpacked ones. Including the guest bedroom which meant I had a choice between the couch downstairs or the vast bed with him. I chose the bed, but only after extracting the promise that he'd be on his best behavior.

Which I expected him to break the moment he switched the light out.

He surprised me. Minutes passed. He didn't move. It was almost disappointing. I'd been so sure....

Lying there with my back towards him, my thoughts were in uproar. The mere proximity of his body, and the weight of expectation, left every nerve end jangling. My balls were tight, my cock semi-hard. But then... finally....

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