Xander Shows Me My Prostate

"She knows!" I manage to hiss at him. 

I'm finding it pretty damn difficult to focus, given it feels like half of Xander's hand is pushed into my ass and each movement there is grinding my cock through his fist, but my brain has still found just enough capacity to inwardly scream over the fact that his girlfriend is watching us from across the room. What I really should be doing, I'm fully aware, is physically moving myself out of his reach. Or, at the very least, pulling his hands out of my sweats where he's slowly been mauling me. 

Problem is, right now my grip on the edge of the kitchen counter feels like the only thing really keeping me upright. 

Xander looks up, glancing around us. "Who knows?" 

He doesn't sound as panicked as he should be, but then again maybe I'm panicking enough for the both of us. 

"Lucy!" It's a hiss, barely audible even to me as I say it, but I'm still worried that she'll somehow know I said her name. 

"Oh." Xander isn't sounding as shocked as I'd expect; as I feel like I would be, if it was my girlfriend that'd just caught me groping some random guy. 

I'm finding it difficult to relax my jaw, unclench my teeth. "You need to stop," I tell him. 

His fingers flex in my hole, and for a moment it doesn't matter who's in the room with us, who else is in the whole damn world. I just need those long, deft fingers to keep stroking across that part of my insides which makes my entire body go to jelly. It takes actual effort to drag my attention back to the shit we're both in.

"Why?" Xander asks, softly. "I know she knows."

I'm not saying it's an act of superhuman achievement, but in the grand scheme of things the fact that I can manage to let go of the countertop with one hand, use it to temporarily still his wrist where it's half-plunged into the front of my pants, still seems like a win for me. "What the fuck do you mean, 'she knows'?"

He dips his head again, as though discovering that it was 'just' his girlfriend that I was worried about means he needn't be alert any longer. Close enough to me, his breath on my ear is a physical thing when he explains. 

"I told her. We have an... agreement."

Even someone who didn't know I was getting finger-fucked and jerked off and generally pushed to my limits would probably see something was seriously twisting my brain right now, just from the expression on my face. "What sort of agreement?" I ask.

Xander shrugs; it means his body slides against mine, his chest pressed into my side as his arms wrap around me, front and back. 

"There are some things girls can give her that I can't, and some things guys can give me that she can't." The casual way that he's speaking makes me want to scream, almost as much as his fingers do. "So we, y'know... play."

I frown. "So you... hook up with guys?" A nod. "And she does it with girls?" Another nod. I take a breath; my distracted brain is still struggling to process anything other than the feelings he's generating in my crotch. Even with the shock and confusion of the situation, I still suspect it would take vanishingly little to make me blow a load in my sweats right now. "But she doesn't with other guys?" 

Xander chuckles, and the sound of it is soft on the side of my face. "You tryin' to fuck my girlfriend, Luka?" 

I mean, I wouldn't argue with that. Wouldn't say no. Lucy is totally hot, and well out of my league, and I can't lie and say the idea of getting with her hasn't inspired more than a couple of jerk-off sessions in the past. 

Right now, though, with her boyfriend rubbing my ass from the inside, and his hand making slow but pointed strokes on my super-slick cock, that seems like a discussion we can have later. I shake my head, to try to focus again.

"I... I still don't understand," I admit.

Xander nuzzles his nose into my cheek. For some reason, with all the people in the room here, it feels like the most intimate thing he's done so far. 

"Don't overthink it," he murmurs. "It's no big deal. We just know what the other likes, is all."

I swallow, throat feeling thick. His fingers are moving again, shifting on both sides of my body, and I really do have the urge to just take his advice and stop thinking about it at all. 

"And wh... what do you like?" I manage to ask. Then feel him squeeze me, pointedly.

"I like this..." He runs his hand down my length, fingers swirling around my slick, swollen tip. "And I like this..." He tugs, fingers pulling up in my hole, sending me teetering back onto my toes again as the sensations in my ass skyrocket. "I don't think too much about it, dude, I just like what feels hot, and what guys think feels hot too. You're liking this, aren't you?"

It's the thing I haven't dared to ask myself, not in so many words. Not so bluntly. Have tried, instead, to separate the addictive feelings from who might happen to be generating them; painfully aware that if I look too close, think too much about it, it's going to bring up questions that I don't think I'm quite ready to answer yet. 

"Yeah," I manage to tell Xander. Even that one word feels dangerous right now. 

"Have you ever done anything with a guy before?" 

The words are forcing me to think about something I really had been trying to avoid. And yet it's like the part of my brain that can only speak the truth has been unlocked - with Xander's sly fingers, his proximity, his heat, his eagerness - so that, even as I recoil from the idea, I can't avoid acknowledging it too. 

I shake my head. He chuckles. "Are you freaking out?" I'm not sure what he reads from my tight expression of uncertainty, but it's enough to make him snort, softly. "Are you about to cum in your sweats?" 

The groan - of excitement, of dismay - escapes me before I can clamp down on it. Xander's hand is basically soaked with my precum, now, fingers roaming across my crotch with an eagerness that suggests he'd be quite happy if I did cum right here, right now. 

"Please..." It's a whimper, barely that. "Not here."

His fist closes around the thick head of my cock; I throb in his grip. Waiting, holding my breath. I'm not sure if he'll reply first, or if I'll blow my load first, and the idea of both is terrifying me. 

"Worried about making a mess?" His question makes me blush, like I'm a kid who can't be trusted to sit among the grown-ups. Too messy, too unpredictable. Not capable of controlling his own body. Another chuckle. "I can take care of that, if you promise you won't freak out."

I don't know what he means, what he's talking about now. Brain struggling to think of anything more than the friction and the embarrassment, and the potential for both to get so much worse. That mortifying walk out of the kitchen, hoping nobody sees the huge, obvious, shameful wet patch as cum soaks through the front of my sweatpants. 

I'd say yes to pretty much anything that let me escape that. Even if the intensity of his warning scares me, too.

Xander smirks at my nod; I can feel the shape of it against my cheek. 

Only for a moment, though, and then I feel him shift against me. The rub as he drops down, chest grazing my side as he falls into a crouch. 

My fingers are white on the edge of the countertop, fighting the nearly-overwhelming urge to grab the waistband of my sweats because he's pulling on those, too. Tugging them down, his fingers are still jammed into my ass, fucking my with his digits as his other hand drags down the front of my pants and my boxers with them. 

I can feel the panic in me surging. Am trying desperately to look around us, to see if anyone is watching, has noticed him dipping from sight. The kitchen counter is blocking any view of him, but that's not going to be much use if someone walks around the corner and discovers him on his knees. 

I'm sweeping my eyes across the room again, too hurried to even take in faces, when my gaze gets snagged on Lucy. 

Xander's girlfriend is staring right at me. That knowing smile still just about creasing her lips. And the knowledge that they have an "agreement" does nothing to make me feel any less horrified, by what she sees and what she clearly knows. 

I would've said I'd stay hooked on that stare forever, but I hadn't counted on Xander pulling my dick out. 

I'm so hard right now, the sort of hard when you're almost in pain; where it feels like your crotch is straining with desperate need. I look down, horror multiplying, at his smug, knowing expression, tinged unmistakably with lust and hunger. He's not the Xander I thought I knew, the cool, laid-back guy I secretly wanted to be friends with. Now it's like he's dangerous and unpredictable, something animal there which I've - wisely or otherwise - now given permission to do as he pleases. 

I stifle my gasp, just about, as his fingers wrap around my cock again. Using that grip to turn me, just a little, so that I'm facing him properly now. Xander licks his lips, that big, knowing grin, and then with one final, long stroke I watch as he pulls my swollen head down to his mouth. 

I may not be strong enough to crush the marble of the counter between my fingers, but fuck, when I feel his tongue swipe across me I give it a try anyway. 

He's not being slow, or teasing. Knows as well as I do that I'm in no fit state for that; that my body was already about ready to erupt, and that was just - "just!" my brain silently exclaims, reeling - from his hands on me. Teetering on the edge of orgasm as he pushed and twisted three fingers into my hole.

Now, that pressure from his hand is forcing my cock into Xander's mouth. 

Not that I need much encouragement. My brain is spinning, sure, but my body has locked onto this new, incredible source of friction and heat and pleasure. Hips driving forward, feeding my hardness between Xander's lips as his tongue swarms around me. 

He's tasting me, I realize, shock making me shudder. Overwhelmed by the knowledge that the precum I've been drooling into my boxers so far is now helping create the wet, sloppy grip that I'm having to hold myself from fucking into. My cock wants to be deep in Xander's throat, as deep as I can drive it; as deep as his fingers are digging into my ass, their tips still grinding at that pleasure nub in there. 

I won't last. Can't last, I'm quickly realizing with a twist of something like frustration in my chest. Not that my body is reacting to our deadline, in the shape of the drunk twenty-somethings all around us, only to the wild rush of what he's doing to me. 

And I'm angry, too, mixed in with that frustration, because this is my first time, he's the first person to suck my dick. And sure, I always thought it would be a girl doing it, fantasized about Lucy, about chicks from school, even just girls I saw on the bus or at the mall, even though the closest I ever got was commiserating with Dan that it still hadn't happened yet. But now it's happening, and sure it's a dude on his knees in front of me, but I can't bring myself to care about that when the feel of Xander's mouth, and lips, and tongue are so fucking incredible, no, the thing that's pissing me off so bad is that I know I can't last and my first time is gonna be over in seconds. 

I can't think too much about it, though, don't even have the capacity for that, because Xander seems determined to get me off. I don't know if he always goes so hard when he's sucking dick - and it still blows my mind that it's even a thing he does, but I definitely don't have the brainpower spare to process that little shock yet - or if he's secretly feeling some of the same pressure I am about this fairly public setting, but either way I can feel the pressure in me rising to the point of no return. 

And now, teeth clamping down on the groan building in the depths of my chest, I finally figured out exactly what he has in mind to stop me making a mess of myself. A realization that coincides with all three of his fingers jabbing hard, suddenly, into my hole, and it's too much, far too much, brain and body overwhelmed and overloaded, and I can feel myself swelling in his mouth as the orgasm wracks through me. 

I can feel Xander swallow around me, gulping down the load I'm feeding him. Each shuddering pulse timed with the rough jab of his fingers into my ass, until suddenly it all flips, pleasure turns into too much sensation, too much friction. My nerves screaming, body trying to flinch away in both directions at once, from mouth and hand, but he isn't letting me. His fist is tight around the base of my shaft, lips brushing with knowing eagerness around my tip.

There isn't any way I can stop him. Not by shouting, or pushing him away, or physically wresting myself from his hands. I just have to stand there, almost toppling down onto him, mouth clamped to the meat of my wrist to hold in the growing squeal. 

As he finally pulls off me, I want to sob with relief. 

I look down, instead, meeting his eyes. Xander looks positively gleeful, his mouth wet and eyes sparkling. I blink at him, still trying to come to terms with what just happened as I tug my sweatpants and boxers back up. They're sticky and it's kinda uncomfortable but, I decide, still a whole lot better than had I dumped a load of cum in them instead. 

That thought reminds me that Xander swallowed it, and my brain boggles some more. 

He's pushing himself to his feet, wiping the back of his hand across his wet lips as he does it. I take a half-step back, not so much afraid of him but, in that split-second, awed by what he's apparently capable of. Like if you suddenly found out someone you knew could fly, or lift cars, or whatever. Some discovery that forces you to change your opinion of them, expand it. 

"You taste pretty good," Xander tells me, smirking, and my instant blush is so fierce I can feel the heat like something physical. 

"You did not just say that," I hiss. Closing my eyes doesn't make him disappear - I'm not a child - but I still do it. Dealing with four senses seems preferable to coping with five. 

Problem is, I can't keep them closed because my attention is irresistibly being drawn to where Xander's girlfriend is sitting across the room. Where, I am fairly confident, she will be staring back at me, at the both of us, and almost certainly fully able to guess that her boyfriend has just given me a blow job. 

A brief blow job, one that ended - from my perspective, at least - far, far too rapidly, but a blow job all the same. And while I believed Xander when he told me that they had an "understanding" about this stuff, it doesn't stop me from feeling seen in a very unsettling way.

My only relief, though it's a big one, is that it seems like Lucy is the only one who caught on to what was happening. The rest of my sister's oddball friends are all too drunk, too distracted, or too unobservant, or a mix of the three, to have caught on. Which means, despite the fact that Xander seemed eager to use me like a glove puppet as he gulped down my load, I think we got away with it. 

"You look like you're about to freak out," Xander says. I tear my eyes away from Lucy's painfully-knowing smirk, and turn back to him. Glare. 

I'd been hoping he'd look at least vaguely chastened. Instead he just laughed. Loud laughter, too, enough to make me fearful it would attract attention even though it's not like there's anything to catch us doing now. 

"I'm not. I just..." I can't think of how that sentence ends. Like, I should be freaking out, because I just got my dick sucked by a dude, but I'm not, and the fact that I'm not is actually more upsetting than the dick-sucking part. Not for the first time, I'm wishing there was a big reset button in my brain.

"And yet you haven't even said thank you," Xander needles. I thump him in the arm. "Damn, Luka," he says, laughing as he rubs the spot I hit. 

I want to get out of the kitchen, and back to my room. Somewhere I can sit down, on my own, and try to get my head around what's fucking happening. Because things keep escalating, and every time it takes me by surprise. 

"Well... thank you," I tell Xander, though from the way he raises his eyebrow I'm not sure he thinks I'm sincere. Which, well, I am, but he's cocky enough as it is. I don't need to fuel that fire. 

He stares at me, and I have to be the first one to break that look. Can't bring myself to glance over at Lucy, to see whether she's still watching us. I back away, instead, until the door handle to the kitchen hits the small of my back and I can escape to the stairs. 

My body isn't quite feeling like my own, any more. It's hitting me just how far Xander took things, and how publicly. How big a risk it was, and how lucky we were not to get caught. 

How far Xander took it, and how far I let him.

It would be easier if I could just blame him for it all. That, and my own horniness, and the fact that I don't seem to have a fucking clue what's going on right now. 

Easier, but not true, I know. Because his fingers in me felt fucking incredible, and his hand on my dick felt equally good, and when he blew me... I wish I had a bigger vocabulary, because that was incredible too. And I didn't want it to be a one-time thing, something I stumbled into because I was turned on and confused, mixed with a little lingering hero-worship. 

And holy fuck, realizing all that was making me feel like I needed a nap. 

I pull my t-shirt off, and then gingerly peel down my sweats and boxers. Not enjoying the way they stuck to my skin as I do it, wet and clinging. Am just tossing them into my laundry hamper when the knock on the door comes. 

"Uh, wait a..." I start. Then jerk in horror, any clothes entirely out of my desperate reach, as the door swings open without pause. 

Xander smirks at me. Eyes pointedly flicking down my naked body, the grin spreading as his gaze reached my eyes again. 

"Excuse you," I tell him, pointedly. I've not even thought to cover my crotch, his entrance is so sudden. 

A shrug. "Nothing I haven't seen before, right?" 

I roll my eyes, then - arms held out at my sides - turn on the spot, a sarcastic display that Xander appears quite content to watch unironically. 

"Anyway," he adds, "I think we need to talk."

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This is the seventh part of an ongoing story - thanks for all the great feedback so far! You can find more of my writing at www.alexpendragon.com - appreciate you reading!