Noah entered the apartment like a shadow. He threw his bag on the floor, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed onto the couch as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. I had already showered, was wearing shorts, and had a beer in my hand, and I immediately sensed that something was wrong. He didn't say anything, but his body, his tense neck, his tight muscles, screamed that something was wrong.
“Something wrong?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the screen.
Silence. For a moment, I thought he wasn't going to answer. But finally, he sighed heavily and said,
“Something’s not working, Matt.”
I put down my beer and looked at him. He was lying there with a hand on his forehead, like he’d been holding something in all day, and it was finally starting to come out.
“What exactly?”
“I don’t know, man… lately… when I cum, I barely feel anything.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? You ran out of cum?”
“No. The cum’s there… but it’s like it comes out of pity. No power. No kick. I feel like I’m running on some kind of backup mode.”
I laughed. “Seriously? Maybe your equipment is just tired. Did you wear it out?”
He looked at me without smiling. Seriously. “Don’t laugh at me. I mean it. I barely feel anything. Not when I’m fucking, not when I’m doing it myself. It’s like… everything’s muted.”
I sat up straight. Okay, now he had my attention. Noah wasn't the type to share something like that. He wasn't the type to talk much at all. He was more the type to walk around the house with his shirt off, a towel around his hips, his incredibly muscular body smelling of sweat and shower gel. He always looked like he'd stepped out of a fucking underwear commercial.
“Were you looking for something? Solutions?”
He nodded. “A little.”
“And...?”
He rubbed his face with his hand. “They said online that sometimes it helps… when you massage it from the inside.”
I fell silent.
“I mean… with a finger. Through the ass. Apparently, if you hit the right spot, everything works better. It’s stronger. You feel more. The orgasm’s better.”
I looked at him slowly. “I don't know whether to laugh or congratulate you on your courage for saying that out loud.”
“I tried it myself. I can't reach it. I can't figure it out. And you're the only one I trust.”
“So?”
He looked me straight in the eye.
“Can you help me?”
And then time stopped. I sat there next to my roommate, a body I knew almost by heart from seeing him half-naked in the kitchen, the bathroom, the living room so many times… And he had just asked if I’d stick a finger up his ass to see if it would help him… cum better.
And I felt myself getting hard.
I burst out laughing, trying to defuse the tension. “Dude, that sounds more like a scene from some fetish porn than advice from the internet.”
“Seriously. I'm not kidding,” Noah replied calmly. He didn't take his eyes off me. "I'm not asking you to do anything weird. Just technical. One finger. No questions asked. Just... see if there's anything there.
“And who do you think I am? A certified… special-task masseur?”
“I think you're a guy I trust. And who... don't pretend you've never sneaked a peek at me when I'm getting out of the shower.”
I choked. I didn't answer. But I didn't have to. He already knew.
“Well, what the hell,” I muttered after a moment. “We already live together. I’ve seen you in a towel like a million times. And without one, when you forgot to close the bathroom door.”
“I never forget.” He smiled slightly, as if he had just admitted to provoking me.
I looked at him. At his chest, tense under his thin T-shirt. At his shoulders, which could easily lift me with one hand. At his hand, casually hanging down, as if he were talking about the weather, not about me sticking my finger in his ass.
Something stirred inside me. Curiosity. Maybe excitement. Maybe it was because I had been fantasizing for the last few months about what it would be like to touch him. Really touch him. And now he was asking me to do it himself.
“I have gel,” he said, as if he were ordering pizza. “And gloves. Let's keep it clean and normal.”
I got up slowly. “Okay. If you have everything ready... let's go.”
Noah got up without a word and headed for the bedroom. I watched his broad shoulders disappear through the door. And then I followed him, my head full of thoughts and my cock hard from just listening.
I followed him into the bedroom. Everything was dim, like he’d prepared it in advance. The blinds were half-closed, a lamp on the dresser casting a warm, diffused light. On the bed, a towel. Next to it, a small bottle of gel and a box of latex gloves. Way too professional for something that was supposed to be just help.
Noah didn't say anything. He just pulled his T-shirt over his head and threw it somewhere to the side. He stood in front of me in his shorts, without a word. And I... watched.
His body was like something out of a catalog. A hard chest that rose with every breath. Shoulders like they were sculpted. A six-pack so defined that I wanted to run my tongue over it. And that dip in his stomach, the line leading down, as if pointing the way to exactly where I was about to touch.
Noah slowly slid down his shorts. He wasn't wearing any underwear. He was naked. Without a hint of hesitation.
His cock was bigger than I expected. Thick at the base, darker at the tip, twitching slightly as if it were waking up on its own. His balls were heavy and hung low. The whole thing hung perfectly between his strong thighs. Smoothly shaved, clean, fragrant. But it wasn't the smell of shower gel, it was him. Skin, warmth, sweat, masculinity. He smelled like something I wanted to wear. On my tongue. In my mouth.
“On your back?” he asked.
I nodded. “And spread your legs. Wide.”
He lay down as if he had been waiting for this his whole life. His movements were calm, obedient. He lay down on the towel, legs wide, arms along his body. And his cock lay on his stomach, already slightly swollen. I watched his breathing quicken, the skin on his thighs tremble slightly. He was ready. And I was more than I wanted to admit.
I put on a glove. I squeezed out some gel. The cold, sticky ointment settled on my finger, but my body was burning. I knelt between his thighs. I was so close that I could lean over and lick that perfect, heavy cock. But that's not what he asked for. Not yet.
I put my finger to his entrance. The moist, pink hole tensed slightly, as if sensing the touch. I pressed. Slowly. Millimeter by millimeter, until the resistance gave way and my finger slid inside him. It was hot. Tight. And damn intimate. I felt his insides pull me in, tighten around me.
“This is officially the weirdest thing I've ever done with a roommate,” I said half-jokingly, trying to hide my own excitement.
But he didn't answer.
Because at that moment, his body stiffened, his breath caught, and his stomach twitched.
I felt that I had found something. I didn't need to ask.
I knew it when he moaned, quietly, hoarsely, and tilted his head back as if something had just exploded inside him.
“There...” Noah croaked, tense as a string. “Right there...”
He didn't have to tell me twice. I began to move my finger, slowly, gently, then harder, deeper, with short, decisive movements. His chest rose unevenly, his fingers digging into the sheet. I watched his body react, every muscle, every spasm, as if he were being electrified.
He didn't even touch his cock. He lay with his legs spread, my finger deep inside him, just panting quietly, tensing his thighs. But in the end, he couldn't take it anymore.
“Can I...?” he asked tremulously, reaching behind him.
“Do what you have to do,” I said low.
He grabbed himself, like he’d been waiting for it for years. His fingers wrapped around the thick shaft, slick with precum. He started stroking slowly, up and down, with precision, as if every movement of his hand mattered. His breathing immediately quickened, his abs rising and falling. His head tilted to the side, eyes half-closed, lips parted.
He moaned. Deep, quiet, throaty.
I started moving my finger harder. I could feel his insides reacting, tightening around me with every movement. He pulsed against my finger. His body trembled.
“Matt... fuck...” he gasped, losing his rhythm. “I feel... everything... so intensely...”
My hand on his cock sped up. Now it wasn't gentle anymore. He was jerking himself off, the smooth motion turning into desperate jerks. His hips trembled, his chest rose rapidly. He was red, hot, sweaty. A long moan flowed from his mouth, interrupted every few seconds, as if he was losing control with every passing second.
“There... there... don't stop...” he begged in a low voice, biting his lower lip.
I held him inside me tightly, deeply. I didn't have to do anything else. I was where I needed to be. And I knew he wouldn't last long.
Until finally, his body went still. His fingers tightened around his cock. A sudden, raw sound tore from his throat. His hips lifted. And then, boom.
He came.
Cum burst from his cock, thick, pale, in strong, long spurts. One hit his stomach, another his chest, a third reached his neck. He trembled under my touch. Every muscle in his body tensed and worked, as if he was coming with his whole being. The cum ran down his torso, and he kept moaning, as if the orgasm refused to end.
I kept my finger inside him until the end. Moved it gently, drawing it out, until his moans faded, his hand slipped off his cock, and his breathing slowly returned to rhythm.
I pulled out of him very slowly. I heard a hiss, but not from pain, from longing.
“So, does it work?” I asked quietly, watching the cum run down his tense body.
Noah opened his eyes, still shaken. “Definitely,” he whispered. “We'll do it again tomorrow.”
I smiled as I took off my glove.
Because I knew that sooner or later, we’d try something bigger.
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