I came back from class a little tired, with my backpack slung over my shoulder. I walked into my room and something was different. Troy was standing by my bed. Shirtless. With his perfect body, tense, slightly sweaty, as if he had just finished training. But that wasn't what caught my attention. He was holding my dildo in his hand.
I froze.
My heart was pounding. In a split second, I remembered that I had quickly hidden it under my pillow. Apparently, I hadn't done it properly. It must have been sticking out. And now... he was holding it in his hand. There was no laughter. No joke. Only seriousness.
“What do you need this for?” he asked suddenly.
I froze. I didn't know if he was joking or serious. But his face was completely calm. Confused. As if he had never seen anything like it before. I felt ashamed. I mumbled something about it being for stimulation. That I use it sometimes. That it helps.
But he didn't look convinced. Or maybe he just didn't understand.
“How does it work?” he asked.
I looked him in the eyes and replied, “I can show you. But you might not like it.”
He shrugged. “Show me.”
At that moment, I realized that this was no joke. And that I had just been given permission I hadn't even dared to dream of.
I looked at him for a few seconds, as if to make sure he really agreed. He wasn't laughing, he didn't look embarrassed. He was still holding the dildo in his hand, as if out of curiosity, not disgust. I moved closer and said quietly but clearly:
“To understand… you have to get naked. And stick your ass out.”
He froze. He furrowed his brow. For a second, I saw surprise in his eyes, maybe even a slight tension.
I thought he would back out, say “okay, never mind” and throw the dildo on the bed. But no. He put it down calmly, grabbed the waistband of his shorts, and slid them down without a word. His boxers followed right after. He stood there, naked. After a moment, he walked over to his bed and knelt down. On all fours. With his back to me.
I was speechless.
I stared at him as if hypnotized. His back was tense, his buttocks were sticking out, his legs were slightly apart. A perfectly soft, firm ass. And that body. He could have been posing for an underwear catalog. But instead, he was sticking his ass out just for me.
“You have to lube it up properly first. Otherwise, it might hurt,” I said.
I opened the drawer and took out the lube. I unscrewed the cap and moved closer. I poured the thick, cool gel between his buttocks. He shivered. He moaned softly, not turning around for a moment. His body reacted as if it already knew what was coming.
I felt my cock harden, pressing against the fabric of my boxers. They were already damp. “I'm getting hot,” I said, half-joking, half-serious. I slipped off my T-shirt, then my pants. I was left in just my boxers. I could feel myself throbbing.
Troy was still on all fours. Still sticking his ass out. Waiting.
I knelt behind him and gently spread his buttocks. The skin between them was slippery with gel, shiny, taut. I put my hand on his hip, he didn't move, didn't flinch. He just breathed a little faster.
I reached with one finger and slowly slid it inside. His body trembled. Harder than before. His muscles tensed and his breathing changed rhythm. I was careful, giving him time.
“It's normal,” I said quietly. “The first touch always feels like that. But it'll get better soon.”
He didn't answer. But he didn't pull away.
I added a second finger. Slowly. I spread it, circling slightly inside, lubricating everything even more thoroughly. His breathing was getting heavier, his hips were trembling, but he didn't run away. He was accepting me. With his body.
“You're doing it right,” I whispered. “You're reacting exactly as you should.”
I felt like I was as hard as I could possibly be. My boxers were sticking to my skin.
“Now... something bigger,” I said, reaching for the dildo. I slowly moved it along his entrance, slippery and open. His body tensed, but he didn't move. I placed the tip and began to slide it in. Inch by inch.
At one point, he let out a short, surprised cry. I stopped immediately, my hand trembling.
“Do you want me to stop?” I asked quietly.
Silence. Then his voice, low, rough, but confident:
“Don't stop. Keep going.”
That was enough.
I started moving the dildo. Slowly, deeply, sensitively. At first, his body reacted with tension, as if it didn't know what to expect. But with every second, I felt him relax. He began to accept it. He moaned. Shortly, nervously. But he didn't run away.
I pulled it out and pushed it back in, once shallow, once deeper. I rotated it slightly inside him. His breathing quickened, his hips sometimes moving slightly towards me. He didn't look. He didn't speak. He just lay there with his ass sticking up, panting quietly. But his body screamed for him.
I could feel myself tense up. My cock trembled with excitement every time Troy moaned through clenched teeth.
I didn't say anything. Neither did he. But his buttocks parted with my movements, his entrance tightening around the dildo with every thrust. And then it dawned on me, it wasn't curiosity. Not entirely. Curiosity doesn't last that long. Curiosity doesn't stick out so consciously, doesn't move to the rhythm of a dildo.
I pulled it out for a moment. I heard him sigh, short and quiet.
I laid it on the bed next to me, looking at his back, at his ass still spread open. He didn't look at me. He didn't say anything. And I didn't need words.
He lay there, breathing heavily, hot, wet with gel, his ass red from friction. And I couldn't help thinking one thing:
If he still claims he's straight, then I must be dreaming.
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