The idea came to me suddenly. I was sitting in my room, staring at the measuring tape I had kept in the drawer for a long time, and I knew it would be my excuse. I walked into the living room, where Max was sprawled on the couch, still in the same boxers, beer in hand, the TV screen flickering pointlessly.
“Hey, man,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Can you help me with something?”
He raised an eyebrow. “With what, exactly?”
“I want to measure my body. Arms, chest, waist... you know, to see if my training is working. It’s hard to do it accurately by myself.”
“Sure, no problem,” he replied immediately. “Give me that tape measure.”
I smiled to myself and went to my room to get ready. I deliberately took off my shorts and left only my tight white boxer shorts on. Every inch was highlighted. I returned calmly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and stood in front of him.
Max glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. He didn't say anything, just snorted with laughter. “Well, you've prepared professionally,” he muttered, taking the tape from me.
“I told you I wanted it accurate,” I replied.
He stood up and came closer. I could smell him: beer, deodorant, and somewhere in the background, that distinctive, warm scent of male sweat. He placed the tape on my shoulders, wrapped it tightly around my biceps, then my chest. Each time, his fingers brushed against me, as if by accident, but I absorbed every touch. I felt my body reacting faster than it should have.
“Not bad, man,” he muttered. “How much can you bench now?”
“One hundred and ten,” I replied, my voice sounding lower than I had intended.
He put the tape on my waist and leaned in close, his arm brushing against my side. I held my breath, my heart pounding. Nothing had happened yet, but I knew the plan was working.
Max moved the tape lower, to my hips. I felt his knuckles on my skin, the warmth of his hand through the thin fabric of my boxers. That was enough to make me feel something stir inside me. I clenched my teeth, but there was no way to stop it. My cock slowly, decisively rose until it was hard, and the fabric stretched so tightly over it that there was no way to hide it.
I glanced at Max. He paused for a second, looked straight at the bulge, and snorted. “Seriously, dude?” he said, pretending to be amused, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. “All it took was me measuring you and you’re already hard?”
I didn't look away. I smiled to myself. “Well, you were touching me, so I got turned on. Is that so hard to understand?”
He went silent for a moment, holding the tape in his hands as if he didn’t know how to respond. Then he pressed the tape back against my waist, as if he just wanted to finish the job.
But I knew I had him. I saw his eyes dart down again, to the distinct shape under the fabric. My boxers left nothing to the imagination, and I didn't even try to hide it. On the contrary, I moved slightly to tighten the fabric even more.
“You know,” I said calmly, as if in passing, “since you're measuring... maybe you could check the length of my cock too.”
Max raised an eyebrow, looked at me in surprise, but didn't say “no.” And that was enough.
I didn’t take my eyes off him as I slowly slid my fingers under the waistband of my boxers and pushed them down. The fabric fell to the floor, and my cock sprang free, hard, throbbing, ready. Max’s eyes locked on it, for a moment not knowing what to do, but he still held the tape in his hand.
“Come on,” I said quietly, provocatively. “Check how much I've got.”
He sighed briefly, as if to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but he leaned forward anyway. He put the tape to the base, stretched it along the hard shaft, and muttered under his breath, “Fuck... twenty.”
I smiled broadly. “I knew it was a lot.”
And then it happened, the first drop of pre-cum flowed from the tip. Thick, clear, glistening in the light of the lamp. I looked at it, then at him. “Oh, see? It's starting to leak,” I said calmly, as if it were something completely natural.
Max reacted instinctively. He ran his finger over the tip, scooping up a drop, and quickly wiped it against the side of his hand, as if trying to play down what he’d just done. “It’s gone now,” he muttered, avoiding my gaze.
After a moment, another drop of pre-cum appeared.
I tilted my head, still smiling. “Just wiping it off won’t help,” I muttered low. “I need to unload.”
He fell silent, holding the tape in his hand, but I could see his neck turning slightly red. I made it clear. “I know it sounds stupid... but you could suck me off. Only then will you really help me.”
He didn't answer right away. He took a deep breath, looked at my dick, then back at me. He didn't say “no.” And that was what I needed to hear.
Max hesitated for a moment, but I didn't take my eyes off him. I could feel the air thickening between us.
Finally, he sighed, threw the tape on the table, and slowly slid to his knees in front of me. The sight of my straight friend kneeling with his face at the height of my cock made my heart pound like a hammer. “Okay...” I whispered, placing my hand on the back of his neck.
“Open your mouth.”
He obeyed. At first hesitantly, he touched just the tip with his tongue, licking up the bead of pre-cum as if testing whether he could handle it. He drew in a breath through his nose, then slid it deeper. The warmth of his mouth hit me instantly.
“Yes... just like that,” I murmured, clenching my fingers tighter in his hair. “Don't stop.”
He sucked me harder and harder, learning as he went. At first clumsily, too fast, but I guided him: with a gentle pull on his head, short commands. “Slower. Harder with your tongue. Deeper, Max... Deeper.”
I looked down at his focused face, at the saliva gathering at the corners of his mouth, at how his throat was working. And then I saw it, a clear bulge in his boxers. He was hard too.
That finished me off. I grabbed his hair tighter, held his head in place, and thrust deeper with my hips. And then I let go. Without warning. My cum shot straight down his throat, and he gagged instinctively, but he didn’t pull away. He swallowed as much as he could, the rest spilling from the corners of his mouth and running down his chin.
I collapsed onto the couch, panting heavily, and he pulled away, wiping his mouth.
“Fuck...” he muttered hoarsely.
I looked down at his boxers, where the bulge was now impossible to hide. I smiled. “I see you're hard too... So, Max? Now it's my turn to suck you off.”
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