Xander Shows Me My Prostate

Dan says it with a smile, though I notice he hasn't stopped stroking himself. 

I shrug, grinning too. "You offering to be cameraman again?"

"I mean, you said he liked the photos." Dan puffs up his chest, looking smug. "He'd like video even more."

Rolling my eyes, I watch him settle back against the couch cushions. Still gently stroking himself, glimpses of his thickness as his fist brushes against the hem of his silky basketball shorts. "Maybe you should be the video star. Record your epic attempt at four fingers"

He tilts his head. "I think I'm just too tight, dude." 

The mental image of Xander spreading open around my cock suddenly blooms in my mind. Then the memory of how it felt as his shaft pushed inside me, how unbelievable it was that I'd ever be able to open up to that. I wink at Dan. "Oh, trust me... you can take it."

I watch him swallow, thickly. 

"He doesn't want to see me, though," my friend points out. "We both know what he wants."

There's a twinge of something in my chest. The sharpness of the knowledge that what I still suspect Xander wants, what I might want too, isn't a desire we're allowed to have. Or, at least, not if we ever want to be satisfied.

"What did you have in mind?" 

Dan smirks at me. "Gimme your phone and lose the shorts."

It somehow manages to be simultaneously weird and not, to be pulling my clothes off in front of him. Not like I haven't got undressed while Dan was there a couple thousand times before, at school and when we've stayed over at each other's houses. I'm not normally tenting out the front of my boxer-briefs on those occasions, though, nor watching him level a camera at me. 

I go to sit down again, but Dan shakes his head. "Turn around so we can see the goods," he suggests. I snort, but do it anyway. Slowly pivoting, arms held out a little, feeling self-conscious but excited with it, too. 

"You're hard already," Dan observes. My hand finds my dick on instinct, fingers briefly squeezing around myself through my underwear. "What got you boned up?" 

This isn't what I was expecting. More intimate, maybe. More revealing. Not like I was hiding anything in the photos, but each was just a snapshot of a moment. A pose, and Xander could read whatever he wanted into my expression and the way I was exposing myself. This, though, feels deeper. 

"Thinking about getting fucked," I say, wondering what particular image will surge into Xander's brain when he hears those words. What the chances are that it's the same moment I was picturing.

"You got hard when you thought about him breeding your ass," Dan pushes. I nod, the meat of my bottom lip caught between my teeth. "Take your shirt off."

I tug the fabric over my head, wondering what I look like on the screen in front of my best friend's face. As far as I know this is the first time he's done anything like this - though, given this is Dan we're talking about, I wouldn't put making homemade porn past him - but it's not like he hasn't watched plenty of dirty videos. I'm pretty confident he can get the angles right.

"Show me your biceps," he suggests, and I snort, softly. 

"Come on..."

His voice is low, coaxing. "Show me."

Feeling more than self-conscious, pretty close to ridiculous in fact, I lift my arms. Tense them, biceps swelling, but it's hardly like I'm some bodybuilder or gym rat. Even so, Dan takes his time panning the camera across me. Even reaches out and squeezes one muscle, fingertips digging into the meat of my arm. Pulls his hand away, but not before giving my bicep a slap. 

He's panning the camera down my chest, across my stomach. A close-up of my dick as it strains against the white cotton of my boxer-briefs. 

"There's already a big wet pre spot here, dude," Dan tells me. I feel myself blushing, relieved that my face isn't in the frame. "Now turn around and show me your ass."

I twist again, skin tingling at the knowledge that I'm being looked at but can't quite be sure what part of me is the focus. Well, that's not true. Maybe it's more that I wish I could be certain how my ass looks from that angle.

"Fuckin' peachy butt, bro. No wonder it's popular."

"Dude..." I scold, but even I can tell that my heart's not in it. Dan chuckles. 

I'm not expecting his hand on me, his fingertips digging under the waistband of my trunks and tugging on them. Skinning them down over my cheeks, the elastic snapping just beneath my ass and making me jolt.

"Well fuck, look at this," Dan narrates. "Talk about a perfect ass."

It's close to mortifying, being described like I'm something up for sale on market day, and yet my cock is throbbing all the same. Twitching against the fabric's grip, and it's taking serious effort not to just push my hand down into my underwear and start stroking. 

Maybe Dan figures I must be thinking something along those lines. Or maybe we're just working from the same imaginary script. "Take 'em off, dude," he suggests. 

I slide my last scrap of clothing down my legs, kicking them away from my feet. Wait for my next instruction, for what my best friend thinks Xander will want to see next. 

"Show me the goods, buddy," he teases, and I turn back to the camera. Knowing that, from his crouching angle - his butt perched at the edge of the couch - my cock will be filling his frame. "Yeah, that's it. Now show me how you stroke that thing."

Face still crimson, I wrap my fingers around my dick and gently ease my fist along it. Looking down at where a glistening bead of precum is already gathering at my tip. 

Dan shifts the camera around, taking in the angles as I slowly jack myself. Then sits back, gesturing me with his other hand to move to the couch. 

I take the same spot I was in before, leaning against the arm, looking down at him through my splayed legs. I may not be able to see the screen, but I know the view Dan - the view Xander, if I really do send him this footage - will have of me. Cock standing up, thick in my grip, and the tight clench of my balls as my body reacts with growing eagerness. 

"You like playing with your ass?" Dan's question makes me shrug. 

"I like having it played with," I reply, honestly. He chuckles. 

"Show us, then."

It's still weird to be naked in front of him, naked and so very hard. And yet that doesn't stop me from scooting down slightly on the couch, pushing my ass a little further toward him. Spreading my thighs wider, one hand still on my dick while the other reaches underneath myself and pulls at my cheek. Watching as Dan crouches down, the unblinking lens focusing on where I know my hole must be exposed.

"I said show us," he says, and there's an edge to his voice now. Playful and teasing, still, but it's an order as well. Something which takes me back to how Xander speaks to me sometimes; the way I feel like there's no option but to obey.

My fingers inch further between my cheeks, until I'm pulling at my hole. Feeling the way the muscle protests, but knowing that the stretch is irresistible. 

"Get your fingers wet," Dan suggests, and I sweep them obediently across the tip of my cock. Flinching at the rush of sensations that causes, even as I'm already returning my hand to its insistent probing. 

My fingertip slides in with little effort. Maybe I'm still kinda open from how Xander reamed me earlier; maybe it's just because my body has relaxed into this new world where my ass is fair game for play. 

Dan chuckles. "Don't stop with one, dude."

I grunt, as the second finger pushes in alongside the first. My hole feels soft, pliant; I'm trying to remember if it was always like this, or if what Xander and I have been doing has actually changed me. 

"You took some dick today, didn't you," my best friend asks, sending my preoccupations fluttering away. I nod, then wonder if the camera is too close to my ass to actually see that. 

"Yeah," I tell him, just in case. 

"But you're still horny now."

I bite my lip again. "Yeah. Maybe because I got fucked," I admit.

Dan snorts. "Thinking about getting plowed turned you on?" 

I wag my cock around, figuring that's as good an answer as any. 

"That's two fingers in you now... how many did you take today?" 

Instinctively I find I'm rubbing the tip of a third around my stretched muscle, as though his question alone is an instruction. "Three," I tell him. 

"And how did that feel?" he presses. 

There's no way to hide the fact that I'm trying to press that third finger inside myself, now. My body protesting, even as I know that it'll succumb eventually. 

"Wet," I tell him, hearing the distraction in my voice. "Soft."

"Because you just let someone breed you, right?" Dan asks. I whimper, not entirely sure whether it's because my ass has just swallowed my three fingers, or at the reminder that Xander creamed my hole. How it felt when he swelled in me; the way we'd both pawed at my insides, using his load as sloppy lube. 

"It felt so good," I blurt out, then bite my tongue. Horrified, for a split-second, at how needy I sound. If Xander was here right now, I know, I'd let him fuck me raw again. With Dan watching, filming it even. Stretching my legs apart so that nothing of my reaming was hidden, even as I begged for it harder. 

"Pull yourself open for me, show me where he sprayed all that goo," Dan taunts, but even embarrassment isn't enough to stop me from complying. Scissoring my fingers inside my tightness, stretching my ass as he points the camera directly between my cheeks. Xander has seen this, I know, has run his tongue around it, pushed into it. Lapped at his cum as it dribbled out of my ruined hole, left almost obscenely squishy and pliable from how he'd pounded me. 

Fucking him felt good. No, it felt amazing. Mind-blowing. And yet right now I can't think of anything but the rough friction of his cock sliding into me, and the way it would leave these three fingers feeling like a vague outline of pleasure in comparison.

"You're so fuckin' hard and needy, aren't you," Dan observes. Honestly, I'd almost forgotten about my cock, rigid and dripping in my fist. All of my attention caught up in my ass and how I know Xander could make it feel. 

I give myself a few, long strokes. Feel the precum sliding down across my knuckles, leaving wet tracks along my balls. 

"Are you gonna cum like that?" I look down, between my legs, past my dick, at where Dan is staring at me. 

"Please..." I don't know why I feel like I need permission, why hearing him tell me it's okay is so important, but it is.

Dan chuckles. "Put on a good show, then."

I do it the best way I know how. One hand making wet slapping sounds as I jerk myself, while the other tugs and toys with my hole. Pulling myself open, trying to give the camera - and Xander on the other side of it - the perfect view of how I want him to see me. Ready for him to slam balls-deep, to hear me whimper and yelp as he torments my ass, and then cum like a fountain as he grinds across my prostate. 

I grunt when I feel Dan's hand on my wrist. Still holding the camera, but pushing my fingers deeper inside me. Jabbing them until I can't force them any further, the sound of my hole almost obscene as I desperately stroke myself.

It's the thought of Xander watching, of him seeing me like this, which topples me past the point of no return. Cum erupting from the swollen head of my cock, spraying across my belly as Dan keeps driving half my hand inside me. Gasping for breath, and then the sudden feeling of emptiness as he yanks my fingers free. 

I look up, to see him panning the camera across my torso. Know that I must look like a sweaty, wrung-out mess. 

"Push it in your hole," he instructs, as I blink at the lens. Filming still, as I swipe my fingers through the creamy streaks across my skin and, legs pulling back a little further, slide the glistening digits inside me. 

There's no resistance, no objection from my overwhelmed muscles. Dan records until there's nothing left on me but drying streaks, then taps the screen.

"Holy fuck, dude, that was awesome." 

He's grinning at me; I just about manage to smile back. Know that I should feel strange, or even awkward, at what he's just watched me do, but my brain feels like it has slumped into molasses. 

His cock is still sticking out of the leg of his shorts. The shiny blue fabric hooked up around the jut of his erection. I look down at it, pointedly. 

"Jerk off, then," I tell him, smirking at him. Dan gives me a smile that's almost bashful. "Come on..." I needle him, "cum. I know you want to."

He's kneeling up still, between my legs on the couch. Takes no more prompting to nudge down his shorts - the silky material pooling on the cushions - and I see now he was freeballing underneath. Dick pointing out urgently, and Dan's hand taking little encouragement to grab it and start stroking. 

"Send him the video," he tells me, sounding a little breathless. "Don't wuss out on me, dude."

I roll my eyes at him, but he's not wrong that there was some nugget of doubt in me about whether I really should show it to Xander. Photos are one thing, but what Dan just filmed seems so much more intense. 

"He's gonna love it..." 

I want to believe him. Want to trust the beguiling edge that has crept into his voice; the afterglow from my orgasm and the way my body currently feels. I reach for my phone, pull up the conversation with Xander. 

"Dude," Dan prompts me, softly. I snort, amused by his eagerness, but still add the clip and hit send. Look up at my friend's face as we hear the 'whoosh' of it being delivered.

"Fuck, you looked so slutty," he teases. "Like all you could think about was getting nailed again." 

"Who was encouraging me into that?" I remind him, chuckling. Dan doesn't even bother trying to appear contrite, still kneeling between my legs, pulling on himself with firm, determined strokes. "I'm starting to wonder who I was filming that video for, him or you."

He laughs, and gives my splayed body a conspicuous leer. "Can't a guy want his best buddy to look his best?" 

My eyebrow curls. "And I look my best when I'm jerking off and finger-fucking myself?" Dan winks.

"I think so, but we'll have to see what lover-boy's review is, won't we."

Sighing, I shake my head slowly. "Just get off already, I know you're close."

He looks it, too. Muscles tensing, his hips pumping his dick through his fist as much as he's stroking it. Like he's fucking his hand, and it almost makes me think - the way he's framed by my thighs, my body spread in front of him - of what it would be like if Dan was screwing me, instead. If the idea of hooking up with my oldest, closest friend wasn't so hilarious. 

Doesn't mean I can't tease him about it, though.

"Stop thinking about putting it in my ass and just cum, dude, come on."

Dan snorts, but it's a strangled sound, a twisted one. Matching his expression, face screwed up as his fingers focus on the thick head of his cock, a ring polishing around the swollen flare and then I have a front row seat for the cum that splashes out of him. 

The first blast reaches my belly, and then he's painting long, haphazard stripes of it across my thighs and down between my legs. Enough of it that I can feel it dripping over my balls and even along the crack of my ass, joining the remnants of my own load smeared around my hole.

"Fuck," he grunts, milking out the last few drops and - I notice, with a glare - wiping the head of his dick on my inside thigh. Chuckles when he sees my reaction. "Hey, no point in us both needing to shower, right?" 

"Thoughtful of you," I reply. The sarcasm is dripping almost as much as I am. 

Dan snorts again, tugging up his shorts. "Has he replied yet?" 

I give him a look. "Not everyone is glued to their phone like you are," I point out.

All the same, I can't pretend I'm not antsy to see what Xander's reaction might be. Not that I'm kidding myself that I'm the next big up-and-coming porn star, but still... he's the first person I've ever sent that kind of thing to, and as much as it seemed like a hot idea at the time, with Dan coaching me through each escalation, there's also part of me which is nervous about how well it will be received. 

I try to look as surreptitiously as I can at my phone. Still get caught. 

"So?" Dan asks, grinning. I shake my head. "Damn. You gotta tell me what he says, dude."

I watch him get up off the couch, running a hand through his unruly hair. "Oh, so you cum and then you leave. I see how it is."

Dan snorts. "I can't fall asleep here a second night, dude, my mom has a list of shit she needs me to do that's about a mile long." He sighs. "If your dude is rich you should totally run off with him and be a kept man. Easier than this bullshit."

My brain automatically tries to imagine what it would be like to tell Xander that I wanted him to support me now. Wife me up, not just for the winter but for the long haul. It's a funny idea, but there's part of me - the part which knows I can't expect that much from him, no matter how I'm realizing I might be interested in that - which can't quite muster a smile.  

"It's not like that, dude," I tell Dan. He gives me a glance, and I'm reminded of just how well my best friend knows me. Despite how much crap we might give each other. 

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," he suggests. "Or, y'know, you could stop being a little bitch and tell him the truth."

I cut my eyes away, not wanting to see his face and the expression on it right now. "What truth."

Dan sighs. "If he was a girl, I'd be telling you that you need to move in on that hella quick, yeah?" I shrug, not arguing. "So, what the fuck does it matter that he's a guy?"

There's nothing I can say to that, so I push myself up and reach for my t-shirt instead. Use it to swipe - pretty ineffectually - at the cum dripping down me. "Fuck, you totally hosed me," I complain, glaring. Dan laughs. 

"It's meant to be good for the skin, right? You should be paying me." He ducks just in time for the t-shirt to miss his head. 

The shower feels good, but it's a reminder that it could feel a lot better if Xander was in there with me. A thought that is quickly followed by a stab of self-recrimination, as my brain points out to itself that I'm not meant to be thinking of him like that. By the time I'm toweling myself off, I'm feeling a frustrating mixture of annoyed and anxious.

No reply from him on my phone. I toss it down on the bed in disgust, only to snatch it back up again when I realize my brain is too antsy to follow anything on TV. 

He doesn't need to compliment me on the video. Doesn't need to say he thinks it's hot. At this point, with my paranoia simmering like it is, just a sign that he's out there and isn't ignoring me would be enough. 

The reality of that truth makes my stomach lurch. 

I could message him now, but then it'd look even more desperate. Sending first the video and then some stupid "hey" follow-up, looking needy and attention-hungry in the process. 

I jab my earbuds in my ears and put on some music, closing my eyes and trying to remember the relaxation methods they told us at school during exam season. Breathe in and count to five, breath out and count again, that sort of shit. It's not that it doesn't work, it's more that the volume of all the things I'm preoccupied with is louder than my counting. 

I'm five tracks in, eyes squeezed shut, trying to focus on not focussing, when I hear the beep. The music dimming, as the synthesized voice of my phone pipes up instead. 

"New message from Xander," it reads, the words stilted as though they've been cut and paste together in a ransom note. "Look, we need to talk."

The song picks back up, but all I can hear is the hammering of my heart in my chest. 

---

Huge thanks to everyone who has commented, shared, or rated this so far - I really love hearing what you think!

If Luka's exploration of his sexuality has you looking for more straight-boys-discover-gay-play tales, and you enjoy your erotica filled with ass-play, cum, college boy hookups, and some remote-control sex toys, then I think you'll like my story "Seven Days to Squirm" too...