We were sitting as usual after the gym, sweaty, in boxer shorts, with pizza between us and barely alive after leg training. Jake turned on Netflix, but instead of a series, he played something from an external folder on his flash drive. It took me a moment to realize what it was. The screen lit up with a warm glow, and the sound of moans and wet thrusts filled the room. Two men. One was kneeling in front of the other, sucking his cock so deep that he had tears in his eyes.
I glanced at Jake. He had an amused look on his face, but something about him was different. “Really?” I asked, feigning surprise.
“What? Don't tell me you've never watched gay porn for laughs,” he said, biting into a slice of pizza and leaning back more comfortably on the bed.
“Maybe once,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. “But not with a friend next to me.”
He burst out laughing but didn't turn it off. What's more, he didn't take his eyes off the screen. There was silence for a moment, only the fan above our heads humming monotonously.
The image changed slowly: now the man was on all fours, and the other was holding him tightly by the hips, thrusting into him with every push. Jake flinched. His fingers moved across his stomach, sliding lower, almost to the elastic of his boxers. I pretended not to see, but I was tense.
“Sometimes I wonder how it actually works,” he muttered. “What it's like... doing something with a friend. Just like that. No strings attached.”
I turned toward him, slowly, leaning on my elbow.
“Really?”
He shrugged. “People do strange things out of curiosity.”
“Are you curious?”
He smiled half-heartedly. “Maybe. Why?”
I moved a few inches closer. Our knees were almost touching. He looked me in the eyes but didn't pull away.
“If you want, we can find out,” I said quietly. “But only if you say ‘yes.’”
His gaze shifted for a moment. He swallowed. For a second, I thought he was about to get up, laugh, and say it was just a joke. But no. Instead, he nodded.
“Okay. But don't laugh, okay?”
I leaned in, and my hand slowly moved toward his thigh.
The skin beneath my hand was taut. I could feel it trembling slightly, as if he wasn't sure if he was going to pull away. But he didn't. He didn't say “stop.” I took that as an invitation.
I started running my fingers up his thigh, slowly, getting closer to the inside. Jake tilted his head back and rested it against the wall, closing his eyes. His breathing was heavier now, his chest rising rhythmically. His hands were still lying loosely by his body, but his fingers were clenching slightly, as if he was trying to control his reaction. When I touched the fabric of his boxers, he was already hard. He wasn't pretending. He didn't comment. He just breathed through his teeth and tensed his abdominal muscles.
I started rubbing through the fabric, slowly at first, then harder. For a moment, I just looked at him, how he was silent, how he was breathing, how his whole body was ready, and his lips were slightly parted.
“Don't say anything yet,” I whispered, then slid his boxers down in one decisive movement.
His cock sprang out, hard, heavy, slightly trembling. It was right in front of my face. I took it in my hand and looked at Jake. He opened his eyes and looked at me as if in a trance, unable to believe that this was really happening.
“Fuck, Matt...” he murmured. But it wasn't a protest.
I leaned down and touched the tip with my tongue. A moist, salty drop on top, the first sign of how excited he was. He groaned softly, hollowly, and slid his hand into my hair. Not aggressively, as if asking me not to stop.
I took him deeper. Slowly. Provocatively. With my tongue moving along the shaft. Jake hissed through his teeth and leaned his head against the wall with a dull thud. His hips moved forward slightly. Unconsciously. His body was taking control.
I started moving rhythmically, up, down, deeper and deeper, with my tongue, sucking, making a slight slurping sound. I could feel his whole body stiffen. His thighs tensed under my hands, his hips trying to keep up with the rhythm. Meanwhile, he moaned louder and louder, shaking his head as if trying to defend himself against what he was feeling.
“Fuck...” he moaned. “This is sick... why is it so good?”
I didn't answer. My mouth was busy.
I didn't stop. The rhythm I had set was slow but steady. I wanted every movement to be felt. Every thrust deeper, every contact of my tongue with his skin. His hand clenched my hair tighter and tighter, but not to stop me, quite the opposite. He pushed me forward slightly, as if he wanted me to take him even more.
His breathing was ragged, uneven. Panting through clenched teeth, he tried to control himself, but he couldn't. I could hear him muttering under his breath, almost silently, as if not to me, but to himself: “This is impossible... it shouldn't work like this...” But it did. The body didn't lie.
I started using more saliva, allowed myself a little more noise, moist sucking, the sound of his hips hitting my lips, wet, obscene sounds. I knew it was working on him even more. He moaned deeper, longer, as if something was breaking inside him.
“Matt... fuck... I'm gonna... I can't hold it...”
In response, I just held his hips and pulled him in even harder. When I felt his fingers tugging at my hair, I knew it was coming. He twitched, tensed, and then his body shook violently in my hands.
The ejaculation was intense, deep. It pulsed in my mouth, hot and salty. I didn't pull back. I swallowed everything, grabbing his thighs to keep him from collapsing. His whole body was tense as a string until he finally fell heavily against the wall, panting and trembling.
I held him for a moment longer until his cock stopped throbbing. Only then did I pull back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I looked up. He was staring at me, dazed, his mouth slightly open, disbelief in his eyes.
“What... did you just do?” he asked, more in shock than reproach.
I smiled slightly, still kneeling between his legs.
“You let me. And I just did it right.”
He didn't answer. He just closed his eyes as if he had to process everything. But he didn't look angry. Quite the opposite.
The room fell silent. Jake gasped deeply a few more times, then rubbed his face with his hand. He didn't look at me right away. He just sat there, his boxers down, sweaty, shaken.
Finally, he looked up. Long. Uncertainly.
“This... doesn't count, right?” he asked quietly.
I didn't answer right away. I got up slowly, stood in front of him, and leaned toward his ear.
“It'll count when you ask for more tomorrow.”
He looked away, but he didn't deny it.
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