I wasn't planning anything big. A few friends, a crate of beer, some laughs. That's how I feel best, in the chaos of a house party, when the sound of cans being opened one after another mixes with loud music and silly conversations about everything and nothing. Almost everyone was there, even those who usually refuse “because of the gym in the morning.” And then there was him. Tayler.
I don't know why he came. We know each other from the gym, we've talked a few times. Sometimes we exchange a few words about our training plans, sometimes about TV shows that we both pretend to watch anyway. But he came. He was wearing a sweatshirt with nothing underneath, so every time he reached for chips or adjusted his hood, his muscles blew my mind. And not only that.
He was sitting a bit off to the side. Laughing with the others, but never too loud. Sometimes he glanced at me. Or maybe I just imagined it. At one point, a friend handed me a gift in a plastic bag. “For your lonely nights,” he said, and everyone burst out laughing. Lube, condoms, and a pink dildo. Perfect. Just what I needed for someone like Tayler to think I’m a total pervert. I shoved it all under the table, pretending it was funny.
The party was slowly coming to an end. People were getting ready to leave, someone suggested an after-party, but I'd had enough. They left only cups, crumbs, and spilled beer on the counter. And Tayler. He stayed. He said he would help clean up. He didn't say much. He walked around the kitchen with a damp cloth, then collected the cans into a plastic bag. When he finally stood in front of me, my heart raced.
“This is for you,” he said. He handed me a clean, white piece of paper.
“What's this?”
“A birthday card. But... a little different.”
I looked at him questioningly.
“I'll grant you seven wishes. Any wishes you want. No kidding.”
I fell silent. He just smiled. And waited.
I looked at him as if he had just said he would give me his body for the evening. Maybe... that's what he said?
“Any wish?” I asked cautiously, trying to sense if he was teasing me.
“Mhm. But only seven.” He leaned his hip against the counter and raised his eyebrow slightly. “The first one?”
I swallowed. The words spun around in my head like a carousel, too fast, too crazy. But he said it himself. I had a choice. I had the power. And there he was, standing in front of me: my straight crush from the gym.
I sat down on a chair. Slowly, as if it were a scene from a movie, I looked him straight in the eye.
“I want you to sit naked on my bed,” I said quietly. “...smell my boxers… and jerk off next to me.”
Silence. For half a second. Maybe less. And then... nothing. No resistance. Tayler just nodded, grabbed the bottom of his sweatshirt, and in one smooth motion pulled it over his head, then pulled down everything he had on below.
I froze.
He was naked. Completely. Every muscle, every detail of his body that he had previously hidden under layers of fabric was now in plain sight. He didn't take his eyes off me as he crossed the room and sat down on my bed as if it were his everyday routine. As if he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Which one?” he asked calmly.
I pointed to the boxer shorts I had thrown next to the bed after the gym. He picked them up. Slowly, he pressed them to his face. He inhaled the scent. He closed his eyes. He trembled slightly.
I watched his body tense with this small gesture. I watched his abdominal muscles twitch, his cock already rising, even though he hadn't even touched it yet.
I couldn't believe this was really happening. But I wasn't dreaming. I was breathing heavily. And I had a hard cock begging to be freed.
Tayler moved his boxers over his face again. He inhaled the scent like something forbidden, as if he couldn't believe he was doing it. And then he looked at me. Straight on. Without shame.
I sat up straighter in my chair, not taking my eyes off him.
He started slowly. He ran his hand over his neck, running his fingers through his short hair. His muscles tensed with the gesture. Then he slid his hand lower, over his chest, strong and evenly hairy, down to his nipples, which were already hard.
That was the moment. Without words. I pulled down my shorts and boxers. My cock sprang out, all tense, wet with pre-cum. I touched myself, just once, and almost moaned.
Tayler saw it. And he kept playing. He stroked his thigh, then reached between his legs with his other hand and ran his fingers over his balls. He was still holding my boxers in his hand. He was breathing heavily, deeply, so that his chest heaved with every breath.
“I like the way you smell,” he murmured.
I almost couldn't believe he said that.
And then he wrapped his hand around his cock. He tightened his fingers. A deep, confident movement, from the base to the very tip. Slowly. I watched him squeeze it with his thumb, turn his hand, his abs trembling with tension.
We were a meter apart. Naked Tayler on my bed. Me, with my cock in my hand, my mouth slightly open, barely breathing.
It was like watching live porn. But not an actor. Someone who had been turning me on for months. Someone who was supposed to be straight, but now sat here, exposed, submissive, with my boxers on his face and his dick in his hand.
At that moment, nothing else existed but us.
Tayler quickened his movements. His hand tightened more firmly, his body trembling in a rhythm that could no longer be controlled. His eyes were half-closed, but sometimes he opened them and looked straight at me. As if checking to see if I was still watching. If I still wanted him.
I was watching. I couldn't stop.
The muscles in his thighs tensed as if his whole body was preparing for one irreversible moment. His stomach rose with each breath, heavy and deep. When he reached for my boxers again and pressed them to his face, he sighed louder, long and drawn out, as if with relief. As if it was the scent he needed to come.
His moan was short and hoarse.
I saw his body tense up sharply, his hips twitching, the last strokes of his hand making his cum spill onto his stomach. One shot, then another, and a third. He trembled, braced his hand on his thigh, breathing fast, almost silently.
And then... he smeared it across his chest.
I don't know if he did it for me or out of habit. But I couldn't take my eyes off him. It was wild. Intimate.
I was right there with him. My hand moved in the same rhythm as his had earlier. My cock throbbed in my fingers, the tension bursting in my stomach. A few strokes, a glance at him, and I shot my load, shiny, sticky, naked.
I moaned softly. I shook. And he watched.
“That was wish number one,” he said calmly, as if nothing had happened. “What's next?”
The smile he gave me then was confident. But in his eyes... there was uncertainty. As if he had just crossed a line he had only thought about before.
And I think he liked it.
If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Patreon.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
