Xander Shows Me My Prostate

Xander's erection pushes out the front of his blue Calvins. Somehow it's like it's even more obvious, even clearer, from the way the fabric is stretched taut around him. Grabs your attention even more than if he was just naked. 

I know it's not enough for him, though. Even without him saying anything. 

He's smiling as I pull at his briefs. My fingers dig under the elastic waistband, slick knuckles grazing at the firm creases of his V-lines. I don't know what sort of workouts he does, but fuck, I need to find out because he looks ridiculous. In a good way. 

Lucy's a lucky bitch, I find myself thinking, then I feel bad because she's always been nice to me and that wasn't fair.

Seeing his cock slip into view drags my attention back, the slow expose of his erection as I tug the Calvins down to join the tangle of his shorts pulled taut across his thighs. It's tricky, with him crouching and me being so close to him too, my legs spread wider than Xander's, knees flanking his own. Looking at him, it's like I'm staring in a mirror, at least for our positions. 

Only I'm still totally naked, my cock still more than half-hard now and glistening with lube and cum, while Xander's only bare around the middle and is totally fucking rigid. His chuckle drags my eyes up to his face. 

He winks at me. I find I've already started grinning back, my face operating independently from where my brain is at.

I don't think he'd stop me if I reached out again, wrapped my fingers around his dick and started jerking him. Like, Xander already did that to me; it was his hands that just got me off, as I pushed two fingers into my hole and gasped into the sheets. The fact that I'm not kneeling in a pool of my own cum right now is only because he caught it all in his palm.

I'm trying to decide whether I dare grab his cock when he beats me to it. Fingers dripping with my load, squishing around his hardness with a sound that's basically disgusting and hot and makes my nuts clench with excitement and disbelief. 

If it was me, I know for certain, there'd be no way I couldn't just jack off pretty much frantically. Xander, though, is just staring at me with that knowing grin, as his hand slowly runs up and down his dick. Using my cum as lube, and now when I look down I can see it smeared, all creamy around his length. 

I have to swallow, take a breath, because my head is suddenly kinda dizzy and feels light.

He's jerked off in front of me before, or next to me anyway. That first time, one hand pumping my ass while the other strokes himself. Only I wasn't really watching, was too caught up at the time by the way my own orgasm was rushing up and consuming me. Brain only figuring out the bandwidth to understand what else was happening around me when I felt his load splatter against my balls and across my crotch.

Now, though, there's nothing to stop me from watching Xander's technique. Something I never thought I would've ever seen.

It's not much different to mine, I realize, though he puts more focus on the head than I do. When I jack off, I'm mainly rubbing the shaft. The tight ring of my fingers nudging up against where the tip flares out. If I play with the very top, it's too much for me, and I cum much faster than I want to. 

Xander doesn't seem to have that problem, at least not judging by what I have a front-row seat to now. When he strokes, he's going all the way from the thick root of his dick, down the cum-glistening length of it, and then kinda circling around the head. Palm brushing across it completely, leaving behind a sheen of my load and the lube he brought me, before he does the whole thing in reverse. 

It feels wild that I'm watching him like this. 

"Does... uh, does Lucy watch you do this?" I manage to stutter out. Wince, for a split-second, at his chuckle. Convinced in the brief moment that he's about to call me a pervert or something. 

He doesn't, though. Shakes his head, which I see out of my peripheral vision because I can't take my eyes off his stroking hand. Or, for that matter, the way Xander is using his other hand to gently pull on his balls now, too. Long fingers reaching deftly under his body, and if I can guess how that feels it's only because he just did it to me, now, only minutes before. 

"If I'm hard, dude, I'm usually inside her," he points out to me. I can't help it, my cock twitches at the idea of that. Lucy is fucking hot, and sort of intimidating with it, and the mental picture - because there's no fucking way I can't imagine the way it would happen; how she'd not be content with sitting like I am, my knees pressed either side of Xander's, and instead would shift forward until she could lower herself onto his hardness - is hitting replay on my dick. I might've cum only a couple of minutes before, but I'm well on the way to another boner.

"Fuck," I murmur, and he chuckles again. 

"You're the only person who watches me do this," Xander adds, and now - as addicted as my eyes apparently are to seeing his hands do their thing - I can't not look up at his face. Meet the intensity of his stare, tempered just a little by the twist of his grin. 

I want to say something, to make it clear how awesome I think it is that he's okay with all of this. How grateful I am that he showed me what he did; that he's so willing to suspend judgment and help me figure out the ways my body can feel that I didn't have a fucking clue about. So many things I want to say, but my brain and my mouth aren't connecting. All I can do is stare at him, my eyes wide.

"That's cool," I manage, finally. I feel ridiculous, but then Xander winks at me again and I suddenly wonder if I'm actually doing okay. 

His hips are moving, now. Just a little, kinda like a rocking motion that's pushing his cock through his cummy fist while he also strokes himself. Hand pressed a little further underneath himself. 

There's no fucking way that I can not ask.

"Are you, uh..." I'm blushing, which is ridiculous given everything else that's happening. "Are you... y'know... your ass?"

There aren't enough words there, too many missing to make any sort of sense, and yet it's apparently enough for Xander to understand. "Just playing with the outside," he tells me, and now I have the mental picture of how that must look, too, to contend with. His fingers digging between his spread cheeks, slick and slyly rubbing around his entrance. 

I want to watch. No, fuck that, I want to help. Do the things to him that he just showed me how to do, even though I'm clearly a total novice in comparison to how he knows he can make his body feel. Only there's zero fucking way I can say that to him, make that offer. Not if I don't want my brain to melt from embarrassment. 

How are you supposed to tell a dude that you want to help finger him while he jerks off, without it sounding insane?

Xander's legs spread a little more, pull the fabric even more taut across his thighs. It pushes my own legs even wider, too, and my body slides down a little in the process as I try to stay balanced between him and the mattress. My hips tilt up, almost like I'm presenting my dick to him, showing off how rigid it is again. 

Maybe he's thinking that too, I don't know, but I see the moment his lips twist in a smile. "Damn, Luka, that's one fucking pretty dick."

He's said it before, but it still makes me blush fiercely. Nobody has said that about my cock before. Hell, nobody has seen it like this before, hard and throbbing. I didn't even know that dicks could be described as being "pretty" and yet, coming out of Xander's mouth, it doesn't sound dumb. 

In fact I kinda want to preen at the compliment, somehow. 

"Show me that pretty dick, then, dude," Xander continues, and automatically my fingers are starting to obey. It's already basically pointing at him, the way my pelvis is angled right now, and so I push my thumb in at the base, lever it down so that it's more horizontal instead. Watch as Xander conspicuously stares down, into the diamond gap our thighs are making, at the length of it jutting out from my crotch. 

I don't know if I'd call it pretty, or even think to say something like that, but I guess it's okay. Given how often my hands are touching it, I figure you'd say I was a fan. But it's not like I ever have much to compare it to, at least not other than soft dicks in the locker room, or the crazy big ones in porn. That shit can make you feel seriously inadequate. 

Xander's not laughing at it, or looking unimpressed, or anything now, though, which makes me feel better about myself. And it feels kinda good to be able to look at his cock as he rubs it in front of me, even if I don't quite measure up to him. Like, what is happening isn't normal, I know that, but at the same time he's not making me feel weird either. 

"You ever put that pretty dick inside someone?" he asks, and I blush again. Not that I think Xander is gonna judge me for being a virgin with a capital "V"; mainly just because I judge myself for it, really. Like, given how much Dan and I talk about fucking, it's even more ridiculous that neither of us has actually done it for real yet. 

One day one of us is going to, and then the other person is gonna have to try to catch up before it starts to feel awkward, but I don't like thinking about that. Xander, I'm hoping, isn't going to feel that way.

"Plenty of time for that stuff," he says, and it's like he read my mind or something. Maybe it didn't take that, though, and he just remembers how it felt before he did it the first time, too. Not that I can really picture Xander ever struggling to get laid. 

"I guess," I agree, softly. I can't quite meet his eyes now, so I'm back to staring at his fist as it slides wetly down his cock. My brain picks that moment to remind me that he's jacking using my cum as lube, and my own dick twitches at the idea of it. Fresh precum bubbling at my tip in excitement. 

"Seriously, Luka." Something about his tone makes me look up, force myself to hold his stare again. "This is why it's good to figure out what makes your own body feel great," Xander continues. "So that when you finally are with someone, you can show them how they can make it good for you while you make it good for them."

It feels strange that he's giving me advice that's making my stomach twist while he's also jacking off in front of me, but somehow it doesn't feel wrong. Or, at least, like the two things can coexist at the same time, without either of them being anything less than they are. 

I nod at him and Xander grins, as his attention drops to where I'm still pushing out my cock at him. "Fuck, Luka, you're a precum machine."

There's no teasing in his voice, but I still feel a little embarrassed by it. "Yeah, I can't help it," I say, almost apologetically. 

Xander chuckles. "I'm jealous, dude. That stuff makes grade A lube, y'know. Nothing like it."

It's the way he says it, like I should be mega-proud of my body and what it does. The way it behaves sometimes, even though I have no real control over it either way. Both of us are watching what's going on between our thighs now, his fist is still sliding and the bubble of pre at the head of my dick is getting even bigger. In a minute, I guess, it'll drip off onto the floor. 

Xander pushes his hips forward, just a little. Enough, though, that I pick up on the idea. 

I sit up a little, lifting myself with my thighs and feeling the rub of his knees against mine as I do it. But that's nothing compared to how it feels when the tip of my cock smudges against Xander's, as I smear my precum around him.

I've been holding my breath, I realize. Try not to make an audible gasp as I suck in fresh air. 

He'd stopped stroking as I did it, but now Xander's fingers are moving again. Gathering up the extra lube I added, and stroking himself in earnest once more. He hasn't pulled back, though, and I've not moved back either, so with each pump of his fist our cocks are rubbing against each other messily. 

It feels like nothing else I can imagine.

I start slowly rubbing myself without even meaning to. Still watching how Xander does it to himself, only now the head of my dick has replaced his palm-brush motion at the end of each upstroke. My own fingers are getting closer and closer to my tip, and I know what I want to do - what my body has in mind, anyway, my brain almost an observer more than anything else - but just have to figure out if I have the guts to actually do it. 

He grunts when my hand bridges between us, rubbing the end of his dick while also rubbing my own. 

I almost stop, at the sound that comes from deep in his chest, but something makes me keep going. Tell myself that it was a sound connected with pleasure rather than anything negative; remind my brain that, if Xander wasn't interested in something, he'd have no qualms telling me about that. 

And so I rub my fingers around the thick, swollen ridge of his cock, feeling the way my cum and precum have left it slippery and hyper-sensitive. 

I know it's that, because I can feel the way Xander is twitching and throbbing as I corkscrew my palm around him. Feel the jerk of his hips, as he pushes himself further into my grip. His own hand has retreated to the base, making half-strokes along his shaft as I focus on the tip. 

"Is it..." I start to ask, haltingly. I don't quite know what I'm trying to find out, some combination of whether it's okay what I'm doing, whether I'm doing it right, and more questions I don't have the words for right now.

"That feels so good, Luka," he tells me. His voice is soft, but it still cuts through the spiral of doubts and indecision that I'd started to fill with. "You can squeeze a little harder, maybe."

I do, and it's almost enough to blow my mind. The feel of Xander as he pulses in my fist, as I start to stroke even further along him until he lets go of himself altogether. 

He's still got one hand pressed underneath him, fingers toying with himself, while the other reaches out and hooks around the back of my neck. Pulls me into him, leaning in himself until our foreheads are pressed together. Both of us staring down, fixated on my hand as it jerks him. 

I can feel the heat radiating off him, even through his shirt. His hand is slick on my skin, Xander's breathing louder now that our faces are so close. He smells fresh but with a hint of musk there, and some side avenue of my brain wonders whether I stink of sweat and cum to him. All the exertions of my body culminating in something unmistakably sexual.

"Harder," he mutters, and I obey. My strokes are rougher now, my grip tighter, and I can feel the way his shaft swells halfway along as it forces my fingers apart. Wonder, unable not to, whether Lucy can feel that too as he's pounding into her. 

"Keep going..."

I know what comes next, what he wants from me. What he needs. Our bodies may be different, our experience different too, but I've felt the way he feels right now so many times before. Maybe the way Xander likes to jerk himself off isn't the same, but the technique doesn't matter. I know he wants to cum, and it's my job to make that happen.

The way his fingers squeeze the back of my neck tell me I'm doing it right. That I'm about to prove to him that I can be good with my hands, too. 

Xander hisses through his teeth, and then I feel his cock swell as the first splash of cum slaps across my groin. The next lands wetly across my own dick, followed by more and more as he soaks my pubes and even hits my belly. The smell of it strong between us, and the push of his forehead into mine almost painfully as he grips me.

My hand slows, as I milk out the last droplets. Creamy white bubbles still clinging to his tip. Xander panting, the sound of it thick in my ears. 

"Fuck, I needed that," he tells me, finally. I giggle, the feel of his load dripping down me beginning to tickle. Gradually Xander's fingers ease their hold on my neck, and I pull back a little. Enough that I can see his face now, check - despite all signs pointing to that being paranoia - to make sure he's smiling rather than having some sort of bad reaction. 

"I got cum all over your pretty dick," he says, and I giggle again, his bluntness still somehow managing to surprise me. Xander laughs too, and then his hands begin to gently stroke all across me, rubbing his load across my shaft, my crotch, and underneath me until I can feel his slippery fingers probing quickly at my hole. Not all the way in, but enough that my breath catches in my chest. 

"I think I must smell pretty ripe," I tell him, as Xander's hands paw at me with a casualness I can't quite process right now. His eyebrow arches.

"I dunno..." His hand slides up my side, lifting my arm until it's almost vertical above my head. Leans in, nose close to my pit and sniffs. Close enough I can feel the rush of air past my sweat-slicked skin. "You just smell like a dude," Xander counters. 

I stare at him. One arm raised above me, his fingers gripping my elbow; his other hand still pushed underneath my body. Pressing at my ass, and suddenly I'm super-aware that it's a mix of his cum and mine that's making it so easy for him to finger me right now. The thought makes my brain spark. 

A beat, while he stares back at me. I'm trying to decode his expression, but I can't. And then Xander grins, and a second later he's letting my arm drop down again, and pulling his fingers out of me. Settles back on his haunches, as I slump back a little against the edge of the mattress. 

"But yeah," he says, as his eyes glance down my torso and then back up to meet mine, "you might wanna take a shower." He gives my erection a pointed look, then grins. "Have fun..."

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This is the fourth part of an ongoing story, and you can find more of my writing at www.alexpendragon.com - thanks for reading!