I came back from the library early. I was tired of studying, and besides... I just wanted to go back to my room and relax. The door was ajar. I pushed it quietly and something stopped me immediately. Jake.
He was sitting with his back to me, on his chair, completely naked. Headphones on his ears. There was porn playing on his laptop. But not just any porn. Two guys. One kneeling, the other fucking him hard from behind. The image was sharp, dynamic, uncensored. And Jake... Jake had his hand on his dick. He was masturbating. Slowly, lazily, with his eyes closed. And he didn't look like he was just “experimenting.”
I stood there paralyzed. Everything went numb. Blood was pounding in my ears. My straight friend was watching gay porn and jerking off to it. Now he moaned softly and quickened the movement of his hand.
Instead of backing away, I quietly closed the door behind me. It clicked shut, but he didn't hear a thing. Moans and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh played through the headphones. Jake moved his hips, staring at the screen. His ass was slightly tense, his legs spread apart. There was something damn perverse and... exciting about it.
I took a step. Then another. I approached him slowly, like a predator approaching its prey, but with my heart pounding like crazy. I had only one thought in my head: is this really happening?
He didn't notice me. He was still sitting with his back to me, headphones on, completely absorbed in the screen. His arm was moving slowly, rhythmically. Sometimes faster. Sometimes with tension. He sighed. Quietly, but clearly. If I hadn't seen what he was doing, I would have known anyway. He was watching porn and jerking off. And not just any porn, the screen showed two muscular guys, one holding the other by the hips and fucking him mercilessly, his ass stretched out, the camera close up. Jake was staring at it like he was hypnotized.
I moved closer. Slowly, carefully, barely breathing. My heart was pounding like crazy. I shouldn't have. But I couldn't stop myself.
Jake spread his legs. More space. As if he wanted to give himself better access. His balls hung heavy, taut. His head was resting against the back of the chair, his eyes half-closed. Leaning slightly forward, he moved his hips, his wrist barely keeping up.
I stopped right behind him. I bent my head. I could see every detail, the taut skin, the glistening head covered in pre-cum, his clenched fingers. I swallowed hard. I knew I was hard. I could feel the weight of my boxers. But I didn't even touch myself. All my attention was on him.
At that moment, Jake reached for the saliva. He moistened his fingers and started stroking himself again, even harder, even faster. He moaned. Clearly. And then, as if sensing something, he stopped. He didn't stop completely, but he slowed down.
I took a step to the side and stood next to him. And then his head turned. He looked at me.
His eyes widened. But... he didn't pull his hand back. He didn't cover himself. He didn't stop the video. He looked me in the eyes and continued masturbating. Slowly. Ostentatiously. With a look on his face as if to say, “Well, what now?”
I didn't look away either.
He didn't have to say anything. His gaze was enough. A little feisty, a little defiant. He seemed to be testing boundaries. As if he wanted to see if I dared.
I dared.
Without taking my eyes off his, I reached out and simply placed my hand on his wrist. I stopped him. For a moment, everything froze, the image on the screen continued to move, the actors' moans echoed in the headphones, but we remained silent. His hand in mine. Warm. Trembling.
I slowly moved his hand aside. And then, without asking, without warning, I grabbed his cock myself. It was hard. Taut as a rope, hot, sticky with saliva and tension. I could feel it trembling, pulsing, begging me.
Jake just watched. His head resting against the backrest, his lips parted, his breathing rapid. But he didn't protest. He didn't pull away. He didn't try to take control. On the contrary, it was as if he was breathing for me. As if my every move confirmed something that had broken inside him long ago.
I started slowly. My hands moved calmly, sliding along its length. I touched the sensitive spot under the head with my thumb. He jerked slightly, but didn't push me away. He just sighed louder.
“Do you want what we had back then?” I whispered, leaning so close that he could feel my breath on his ear.
He didn't answer with words. He just spread his legs wider.
I knelt between his thighs. His penis was right in front of me, wet, tense, beautiful in its submission. I looked at it again. He didn't look away. He watched as I opened my mouth and slowly took him inside.
He moaned.
I slid it deeper until I felt the tip on my tongue. I held his thighs with my hands, tightly, as if they were about to run away. He lay motionless, only his hips twitching again and again, trying to push himself deeper into me.
I sucked him slowly, deliberately, sucking hard, then slowing down. Every time he moaned louder, I pulled away slightly to tease him again. I liked being in control. And he let me have it.
At one point, his hand wandered to my head. I thought he wanted to guide me faster, deeper. But he just laid it there. Quietly. As if to say, do what you want. But stay with me.
He groaned when I pulled my lips away. His cock was wet, hard, twitching in the air. I could see he was close, his whole body was telling me so. Swollen veins, clenched fingers, breathing like he'd just run a sprint. But I didn't let him come.
“Not yet,” I whispered. “Not without my permission.”
He looked at me with a mixture of pleading and tension. He wanted it. He needed it. But he knew that now I was in control.
Jake reached down, wanting to finish himself. I grabbed his wrist, hard. “Don't touch yourself.” My voice was hard, calm.
“Only I can give you that.”
He trembled. He swallowed hard. All his calmness was gone. He was no longer my straight friend. He was just a body that wanted to be touched.
“Matt, please...” he whispered, struggling to catch his breath.
“Say it again.”
“Please... finish me.”
I didn't answer. I leaned down and began to slowly, deliberately suck him off, looking him straight in the eyes. Every movement was controlled. Every squeeze was rhythmic. His hips jerked slightly, but I didn't let him speed up.
“Don't take your eyes off me,” I ordered.
His gaze was like an open door. He stopped pretending. He was no longer the friend who had turned on porn “as a joke.” He was a boy who couldn't control himself.
I felt his body tense up. Violently, pulsatingly. I didn't stop.
“Come for me,” I said low.
And then he spilled. He moaned my name, his hips rose high. Streams of cum hit my hand and his stomach. He was shaken. Destroyed. Devoted.
We didn't say anything for a moment. Just his breathing. My gaze. And the tension that hadn't ended, but was waiting for more.
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