Intimacy

INTIMACY (Part 3) by Sebastian Wallace

I walked back into the bedroom and got into my bed. I lay on my back, gently playing with my cock under the duvet. Then I looked over at Gould; he was still lying with his face turned away from me so I couldn't tell if he was asleep. His breathing was slow and deep and sounded like he was.

I heard Simon finish off and rinsing the sink with the tap. Then he came out of the bathroom and walked over to his bed. He checked his alarm clock and looked over at me, staring at the mound in my duvet at crotch level. I made a few gentle jerks. He looked away, but smiled to himself.

Then he went to turn the light off and walked back over to get into bed. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I started to make out shapes in the room, dimly illuminated from the security light at the front of the building. Simon lying in his bed. A mound in his duvet at crotch level like mine. Gould still facing away from us.

We lay like that for a few minutes. I wondered if Simon had lost his nerve. I desperately needed to masturbate to relieve the arousal I felt from the conversation we'd had, but I wanted Simon to start it off. Apart from the fact he'd said he would, it seemed more natural to wait for him to feel comfortable enough to instigate things seeing as he'd had the problem with it earlier.

After about ten minutes, I heard a slow beating coming from the direction of Simon's bed. I glanced towards it and saw the mound at his crotch twitching in time with it. My eyes were now accustomed to the gloom of the room and I could see his outline clearly. The rising and falling of his chest started to get faster; his feet moved apart to opposite sides of the bed.

I took the opportunity to listen to him for a while before I joined in. I could hear his quick, rapid breaths as he started to enjoy the feelings of his hand; I could hear the rhythm of his fist against the duvet starting to increase. His bed started to rock slightly, the springs squeaking intermittently. I had never thought of male masturbation as particularly interesting until I heard Simon's solitary pleasuring of himself. It had always seemed like something juvenile: a pale imitation of sex; an inferior prelude to more sophisticated pleasures which would follow. Like a child's milk teeth, I had supposed that its significance lay in its loss and the progression from it.

But hearing Simon, despite still being fairly tense and self-aware, gleaning pleasure from the simple motion of his fist against his cock, and sensing his body responding to it, relaxing and succumbing to it, captivated me. His breathing grew faster, the beating of his hand stronger, until the whole room was filled with sounds of his self-enjoyment.

His bed rocked, the springs underneath it creaking in rhythm to his fist, and above that was the sound of his soft gasping.

I heard Gould turn over gently in his bed, obviously wanting to better hear the sounds that Simon normally kept private. The beating of Simon's hand on his foreskin was heavy and distinct like a pulse; the rocking of the bed, the gasping of his breath, the squeaking of the springs all superfluous to that. I wondered if Gould was feeling excited to hear this younger guy's rhythm.

By now my own cock was straining for release and so I pushed my briefs down to my thighs and started rubbing myself to a slower beat than Simon. My bed started creaking, like his but an octave lower, and I allowed my soft gasps for breath to be heard as his were. We continued like that for a few minutes, two young lads masturbating while our teacher listened from his own bed, each at our own pace, each making our different sounds of pleasure.

I realised that Simon was gasping "Ah ah ah" in time with the rhythm of his bed. It was low and breathless but distinct. A masculine serenade to the simple, pulsing pleasure he was deriving from his cock. The beatings of his hand became faster still, the creakings of the bed more frenzied and I realised he was thrusting his hips upwards on the mattress to intensify his enjoyment.

I gasped, "Oh yeah" and started beating my own cock more quickly, sweeping my hand up and down its length and relishing the banging sound my fist was making against the inside of the duvet. I loved the feelings that were coursing through me: the waves of pleasure from the intensity of masturbating like this, two of us together, unashamed by our self-gratification in front of an older observer.

Then I heard a third rhythm and realised Gould was masturbating too. Not as loud as Simon and I, his rhythm was slower and more sedate, his hand relaxed and experienced. The sounds from his bed were unmistakable, though: his hand was pumping at his cock, beating against his duvet, just as ours were. His bed creaked as ours did: a low, sullen creaking adding its own beat to ours. I looked over to it and could see that his duvet, like Simon's and mine, was rising and falling in a mound over his cock. His head was flat against his pillow: looking up to the ceiling.

The three of us lay there for a while, each enjoying his own hand but having his enjoyment exaggerated by the sounds from the others' beds. Simon gasping, his hand beating rapidly, his bed a fury of noise. Me slower, panting and with my hand banging against my duvet. Gould more leisurely, the thumping of his fist firm like he was making slow, deliberate strokes up and down his long cock. Our three rhythms distinct, our three hands sweeping our cocks at their own paces.

The atmosphere was overpoweringly masculine - the noise and pulse within the room focussed exclusively around our cocks and our wrists - but was nevertheless erotic and exciting. We were deriving our pleasure in a uniquely male way; Gould as a man enjoying the same sensations from his cock as Simon and I were from ours. I couldn't help thinking of Gould's cock, large and thick, and his hand around it, sweeping up and down its length. It really appealed to me that, even as a married man and a teacher, he was so uninhibited about masturbating in front of the two of us.

Then Simon stopped and he fell silent. Now mine became the dominant rhythm: the beating of my hand became the loudest in the room; the gasping of my breath became obvious to the others. I speeded up, enjoying being the focus of attention. Further excited that the Gould was now hearing my sounds of pleasure and that he'd be unable to stop himself imagining my cock and my fist around it as he beat at his own.

I was aware of Simon standing up and walking across the room. His silhouette was clear against the light from the window, his erect cock sticking upwards out of the front of briefs.

At first I assumed he was going to the bathroom, thinking that perhaps having orgasmed he was going to clean himself up, but he came over to my bed, pulled the duvet back slightly and started getting in with me.

I stopped wanking and moved over on the mattress to let him in. Now Gould's rhythm was loudest: unlike Simon and I, with our more frantic and impatient noises, Gould beat himself with a slow and confident rhythm. His fist was unhurried and experienced and his bed creaked gently to his more mature technique. His breathing sounded slow and relaxed, like he was just lying back and enjoying the feelings from his cock, without any shame or embarrassment that we were listening.

Simon whispered, "You wanna do this?"

I rolled over so that we faced each other and said, "Yeah."

I reached down and found his cock. It felt hot and stiff, shorter than my own but probably slightly thicker. I gripped it tightly within my fist, squeezing it, and Simon gasped gently. His breath was in my face, smelling of his minty toothpaste. I started jerking him, slowly but firmly, and the squeaky springs of the bed responded immediately. Gould kept to his own mellow rhythm in his own bed, but he must have been aware from the sounds from mine, that his two younger roommates were sharing a bit of intimacy together.

Simon gasped, "Yeah!" It sounded loud and breathless in the dark room: Gould could now be in no doubt that something was going on between us; that we were having our first taste of reciprocal sex. Thoughts kept flashing through my mind telling me that I shouldn't be doing this; not with Simon, not in front of Gould, not like this. I kept thinking "He'll tell everyone that I'm gay," first about Gould, then about Simon, and then about Gould again. But I kept reminding myself of our conversation: how Gould had been so cool with guys 'setting up arrangements together' as he'd put it, and how Simon had been so fascinated by the stories Gould had told.

Simon's hand fumbled around the folds of my tee-shirt and the front of my briefs, eventually wrapping itself around my protruding cock. He started wanking me quickly and the squeaking of the bed became louder and more frantic. His hand on my cock was much faster than mine on his and I struggled to keep up with his urgent rhythm. It felt strange to have another hand around me but, because his technique was so different from the grip I was familiar with, it felt novel and exciting.

Simon started panting again, making "Ah ah ah" noises over the furious rocking sounds of the bed. I started gasping too: Simon's hand was really squeezing and pumping at my cock, his technique far less patient and sensual than that of my own hand. The feelings from my cock were intense and overwhelming: his wrist pounded up and down its length almost aggressively and his fingers gripped it in a way that I'd never experienced.

Simon's breathing and gasping increased without shame: his body kept tensing up with the pleasure he was getting from the working of my hand, no doubt finding my motions as unfamiliar and powerful as I was finding his. For my part, I was more reticent about expressing my pleasure - I was still too aware that we were sharing a room with a guy who, for all his openness and easy-going views, was our teacher and someone we'd see regularly in the months and years to come.

I looked over Simon's shoulder and saw, in the dim half-light, that Gould had pulled his duvet off his body and was masturbating his long, curved dick in the open. His fist was still slow and self-controlled, but he obviously felt comfortable enough to expose himself to us while pleasuring himself in the way that he probably would if he were alone. His face was directed towards us; I could imagine him grinning to himself at the contrast between his own, assured, stroking and the frantic, adolescent fury of his students in the bed opposite him. I wondered if he was thinking about his wife or some other woman while he masturbated and whether the noise in the room of us two boys experimenting with each others' cocks was distracting him or was intensifying his pleasure.

Simon pulled back from me, panting like a dog. He took his hand away from my cock and pushed mine away from his. The rocking noise of the bed subsided and died. Recovering his breath slightly, he whispered, "If I suck you, Seb, will you suck me?"

I felt a new wave of excitement. My cock throbbed, aching for attention.

I said, still breathing heavily from my own exertions, "Yeah. Yeah that'd be good."

Simon ducked beneath the duvet and worked his way down my body. I felt his breath against my throbbing member and then the warmth and wetness of his tongue encircling its head as he took it into his mouth. I let out a loud, involuntary sigh. He started devouring my the head of my cock, taking it into his mouth, licking like a lollipop and then drawing back from it. I could feel that he was masturbating its stem between his finger and thumb, more gently and sensitively than before, but my main tingling pleasure was from my bell end, sucked and licked by Simon's mouth with so much enthusiasm that I wondered how good it must taste.

Now the noise from our bed was that of Simon's mouth around my engorged bell-end. His slurping and sucking sounded loud to me: it was inevitable that Gould could also hear it. I looked back over towards him. He was still turning towards us, still watching whatever he could see of our outlines in the dim light. I noticed that his hand was beating faster along the arc of his cock and noticed that the creaking sounds from his bed were becoming louder.

Simon's mouth became more daring, exploring further down the stem and gaining enough confidence for his hand to leave it alone, perhaps to return to his own cock. I grabbed onto his head and started pushing myself in and out of his mouth, using him to wank but with his lips and his tongue instead of his hand. I tried to push more of my cock into him than just the head, but he kept pulling back - I guess its length was too scary for him to contemplate.

The bed started rocking again as I slid myself in and out of his face beneath the duvet. The noise from his mouth grew even louder - every time my cock bobbed out from his mouth he'd make a wet slurping noise. I was loving the feeling from it, and by now the fact that Gould could hear us and that our oral sex would be blindingly obvious to him, was no longer bothering me.

We lay like that for a couple of minutes: Simon underneath the duvet, sucking and slobbering on my bell end, me pushing into his mouth and holding his head to receive me. My breathing grew faster and I felt myself edging towards orgasm. I started thrusting more insistently into him and he seemed willing to take about three inches of my stem into his mouth. The bed rocked and creaked to our rhythm. Sweat dampened my teeshirt and made the crack of my arse feel wet and hot inside my briefs.

I noticed that Gould had thrown his duvet to the floor and was now wanking himself rapidly and noisily. His legs were bent at the knees and splayed wide open as one hand swept frantically against his cock and the other hand reached further down, perhaps to his balls, perhaps to his arsehole. He was still watching us, apparently fascinated by the movements of my duvet concealing Simon feasting on my cock. I guess whatever a guys' sexuality, it's not every day that he gets the chance to watch two lads experiencing their first blow jobs together.

Simon pulled off me and moved back up the bed, leaving my cock feeling wet and cold and throbbing under the duvet. His head pushed out, in front of me, and I smelled the odour of my cock on his breath.

He whispered, "Do me, Seb."

I felt down to his crotch and gripped his cock, thick and stiff and poking out of his briefs. Then I worked down beneath the duvet, moving my face underneath it and towards his crotch. I felt interested by the prospect of having Simon's cock in my mouth; how it would taste and what it would feel like to stimulate this part of him with my mouth. He was a close friend and yet I'd never thought of him in this way: now that I was on the threshold of sucking his cock, I wondered why doing something so natural had never occurred to me.

The air beneath the duvet was thick and moist. The smell was powerfully masculine: of our sweat, of our cocks and of our precum. Plus, behind that, the more pungent odour of our briefs, the smell of material which had spent the day cupping our cocks, balls and arses. I could hardly breathe but I was intoxicated.

I dived lower, homing in on Simon's cock, relishing the cloying atmosphere under here and its thick odour of our sex. I pressed my face up against it, not yet tasting it; just inhaling and relishing its rich, sharp smell. I moved it to one side and pressed my face into his pubic hair. The smell here was stronger and more musky, intensified by the dampness of his sweat clinging to his wiry hairs, but it also smelled familiar - evocative of my own sexual odours but enticingly different.

I moved downwards to his balls and found that his briefs still covered them, the material cupping his large rounded scrotum with his cock sticking out above the waistband. The powerful smell of his briefs hit me: the smell of his cock and of its sweat and piss on the material, dried throughout the day beneath his trousers and now moistened, like dew, by his excitement. I ran my nose around his scrotum, sniffing at his briefs like a dog, feeling his balls move around inside of him and hearing myself almost hyperventilating with the thrill of smelling my friend in such a deeply personal place.

I thought of us standing side by side at the urinals in a museum that afternoon; rushing to finish pissing to get back to the coach, but at the same time trying to hide our cocks from one another as boys do. I remembered that I'd glanced at Simon urgently tucking himself back inside his briefs, never thinking that my face would soon be pressed up against the same briefs with his balls inside them; never dreaming that my mouth would be watering from the sharpness of their odour, and from the anticipation of tasting his cock.

Simon surprised me by pulling my head away from his balls and towards his cock. Perhaps he was conscious that I was smelling one of his most intimate smells, worried that I might be disgusted by his natural odours, or perhaps he was just eager to have me return the favour he'd paid me.

He directed my face into his cock so that its hot, moist tip was pushing against my lips. I licked it and tasted Simon's sticky, slightly salty, precum. I heard him gasp as I swirled my tongue around his piss slit and then moan as I licked its underside, teasing the sensitive area where his foreskin joined his bell-end.

Then I felt him pushing my head towards it, forcing me to eat it.

It felt like he urgently needed this. I opened my lips further and he slid into me; his entire six inches pushing its way into my mouth and slapping against the back of my throat. I gagged automatically and pulled back from him but he forced my head back against him, spearing my face on his thick cock.

For a lad who had been so shy about masturbating with other guys, Simon was pretty uninhibited in expressing how he liked his cock to be sucked. His grip around my head was tight and he started thrusting his hips rapidly towards me so that he could best pleasure himself inside my mouth. The urge to gag soon subsided and I just lay there submissively, feeling his cock, now seeming enormous, ramming in and out me as I spluttered and gasped for breath.

The feeling of it was overwhelming: for those brief few minutes, Simon's cock became my whole world. The taste of the sticky drips coming from it and the feel of it ramming in and out of my mouth, demanding pleasure from me, was surprisingly exciting. His damp bush of pubic hair kept slamming into my nose, overpowering me with his sharp, musky scent, and his brief-clad balls kept pushing against my chin. The fact that this was gentle, quiet Simon fucking my mouth in such a demanding and mechanical way made it even more intense: this was a totally carnal moment for him and I relished his enjoyment of it.

I was aware that the noise we were making was louder than ever. Simon was totally unashamed and uninhibited in expressing the satisfaction he was getting from my mouth. He gasped and panted like an animal and kept making grunting "Ah" sounds, over and over. The whole bed rocked from the thrusting of his hips: the creaking was so loud and fast that it sounded almost as if we were doing it deliberately for a laugh. But I really think Simon was out of control for those few minutes: I guess that this was, like it had been for me, his first experience of oral sex, and that he'd just discovered that he had a bit of liking for it.

I moved my hand around to Simon's arse: I remember that my intention wasn't to try and grope it; I just wanted to hold it as he pushed in and out of me. I cupped one of his cheeks with my fingers pressing into his cleft, feeling its heat and dampness through the thin material of his briefs. At that moment my fixation with my servicing of his cock abated and I became suddenly aware of how fascinating his arse was.

His cock still slamming into me with increasing pace, I pushed my fingers inside the back of his briefs and drove them into his arse-crack. It was wet from his sweat and hot from his excitement; its deep crevices lined with his coarse, wiry hair. I went straight for his hole, sliding my fingers around in this intensely secret area of him, until I found it. I ran them around it, feeling the ridges of puckered skin encircling his anus, and then pushed my finger into the centre, gently coaxing him open.

From then on I was oblivious to his cock. I was dimly aware that he might cum at any minute and could feel that his thrusting was becoming shorter and faster, but my main focus was on his arsehole. It was tight and resisted my gentle prodding, but my fingertip was slick and sticky with the moistness of his crack and managed to push its way into him.

I was consumed by my own excitement. His cock was pummelling my mouth in a frenzy and I could hardly breathe, and the added sensation of fingering his arse was almost too much: I was getting dizzy. I kept thinking of Gould's story of the two sixth formers who had been fucking each other. Now instead of feeling intrigued but mildly disgusted by the thought of my cock inside another man, I was totally captivated by it. I wanted so much to slam my cock into that tight, wet hole and to treat his arse with the same passionless urgency that he was showing to my mouth. It didn't matter to me that I hadn't even lost my virginity with a girl yet: this was different and totally irrelevant to that. It was an act of mutual need between two friends; something natural and masculine; an expression of trust rather than of love.

I started sliding my finger in and out of his hole and his breathless grunting noises became even louder. His insides felt hot and soft and the muscular ring of his anus gripped my finger like a clamp. I became aware of the pungent smell of Simon's arsehole from my finger and was instantly drawn to it, fascinated by the idea that that I was penetrating this guy and that his arsehole was, for all its baseness, a male equivalent to a girl's pussy. I knew that I should find the smell and the idea of Simon's arse disgusting and sordid, but that knowledge just served to make it even more alluring.

The furious rhythm of his hips increased yet more and then I felt hot, thick liquid erupting from of his cock and hitting the back of my throat. My instinct was to pull away from him but his hands held my head firmly and I had no choice but to accept and to swallow his spewing orgasm. He kept thrusting himself into my mouth as what seemed like an impossible amount of his gooey semen pumped out of his cock and filled me. I was unable to gulp it down quickly enough. I felt it running down my lips and splatter over my cheeks as his cock slid in and out of my mouth.

While he emptied his balls into my mouth, I felt his arsehole clamp around my finger so tightly that I was unable to maintain my rhythm of fingering him. It gripped around my knuckle and held me there, half of my finger inside his bowels as he orgasmed.

Then, abruptly, Simon stopped ramming himself into me and gripped my head firmly in front of him, preventing further movement from me. As I struggled to swallow the last few spurts from his cock, I heard that Gould was saying something, his voice muffled by the duvet.

I opened my eyes and realised that the light was on: it's glow was filtering through the material of the duvet. I heard Gould laugh and say something like, "I've got to see this..." and then the duvet was pulled off the bed.

I felt quite embarrassed, lying there with my head in Simon's crotch and drinking from his cock; my hand inside the back of his briefs. I pulled away from him quickly, aware of an obvious slurp from my finger as I pulled it out of his arse. The smells of our sweat, and of Simon's cum and his arse were heavy in the air.

Gould laughed and said, "Sorry you guys! I couldn't resist it!"

I looked up at him, feeling self-conscious about having Simon's semen around my mouth and running down my chin. I guess I must have unintentionally wiped my mouth with my hand because Gould laughed again and said, "Bit of a messy, eater, aren't you?"

Gould's vest was sticking to his chest with his sweat and on the front of it, across his belly, were drops and splashes of his translucent white cum. The front of his briefs were tucked underneath his balls so that his large, still impressively hard cock rose upwards in front of him. His foreskin was bright pink from the action of his hand and his round bell-end was a deep, smouldering purple with a string of his semen hanging and swaying from it. Compared to Simon's, now softening in front of me, Gould's cock looked massive: thick and straight, it rose up confidently, unashamedly flaunting the remnants of his orgasm.

He smiled broadly and said, "Don't be freaked out you guys, it's no big deal."

Simon seemed a bit traumatised. He pushed my face further away from his oozing cock and said, "Sorry, sir. We were just sort of... messing around..."

Gould laughed. "Hey, I told you. It's nothing. I'd be following your lead if one of my hiking mates were here..."

I looked at Gould's cock again and imagined what it would have been like to have sucked it. Contrasting his more developed organ with the one I'd just feasted on. I thought of how his swollen bell end would fill my mouth, how only the first few inches of his thick stem would be able to enter me, and wondering if his copious gushes of thick, white semen would taste different from Simon's.

Then he walked towards the bathroom and said, "I'm gonna need some tissue... what about you guys...?"

I called out, "Yeah..." Simon grunted. He still looked a bit shocked; I don't know why he was so bothered, it seemed that I had more to be embarrassed about since I'd been the one who'd been caught gulping down another boy's cum.

I got up from the bed and looked down at Simon lying there, his eyes closed; still breathing heavily from his climax.

Gould came out from out the bathroom and passed me some tissue. He looked down at my cock, sticking out from the front of my teeshirt and briefs, still hard and curving upwards. He said, "You didn't finish yourself off, Seb?"

I started wiping Simon's cum from around my mouth. "I guess not."

Gould peeled off his vest, rolled it up into a ball and threw it over to his rucksack. Then he pulled off his briefs and did the same with them. His cock was now starting to soften but still stood outwards from his balls and still looked thick and heavy.

He said, looking down at Simon, "Well maybe you should return the favour, Simes?"

Simon opened his eyes slightly and looked over at me. He said, "Sorry Seb. I'm so fucking tired... oh er... sorry sir." His cock was now fully limp and lay against his stomach, the last traces of his cum lying in a trail on his smooth skin.

Gould wiped the gobs of thick white semen from the stem of his cock and then cleaned his bush of pubic hair. The light fuzz of hair on his chest was matted with sweat and he idly rubbed it with the cum-smeared tissue. He laughed again and said, "C'mon Simon. You've just got to turn over and stick your arse in the air. I reckon the state Seb's in, any hole would do." I laughed too.

Simon opened his eyes again. He muttered, with irritation, "No way. Goodnight." Then he pulled the duvet back onto the bed and over him, rolled away from us and lay there, motionless, facing the wall.

Gould took another look at my arching cock and turned around. He bent forwards and opened the cheeks of his arse with his hands. He said, laughing, "You'll have to make do with this then, mate."

He turned to look at me, grinning, still exposing his hairy cleft to me. I stared at it, getting brief glimpses of his pink rosebud hole through the matted dark hair inside his arse crack. Just as when I'd fingered Simon, the urge to penetrate another guy's arse rose up suddenly and forcefully inside me. I struggled to hide it from him and laughed.

I said, "I'd split you in two..."

He parted his cheeks further, so that the moist ring of his pink, tight anus was clearly visible. He goaded, "Bring it on, mate... I've had guys bigger than you for breakfast..."

I gripped my cock and stepped towards him. The urge to slam my cock into him was growing in its impatience. From never having seriously contemplated anal sex with another male, the idea now seemed not only natural but almost irresistible to me.

I chuckled. "You'll need to be sewn up when I'm finished..." Then I pressed the head of my cock into his crack, lining it up against his hole.

He laughed and then pulled forwards. He stood up and turned to face me, looking at me for a few seconds as if considering how to proceed. He looked down at my cock and then, smiling, said, "I think it's going to have to be you and your wrist tonight. I'm bushed."

I laughed, holding my stiff cock in my fist and pointing it towards him like a gun. "Chickening out, Brendon...?"

He kept smiling. "Seriously. I'm knackered. I'm going to bed."

I took the hint and didn't pursue it. I guess he had a boundary which he wasn't prepared to cross. At least not with his own students. I felt disappointed but realised that, back at school and in the classroom, things would have been a bit weird between us if things had gone any further.

Gould got back onto his bed and pulled his duvet over him.

I looked at my own bed and at Simon, now fast asleep and pressing up against the wall.

I said, "He's nicked me bed!"

I looked over at Simon's bed, the duvet thrown back.

Gould said, "Don't be daft, Seb. Get in with him. After what you did together tonight, you can't really object to sleeping next to him..."

I looked over at Gould. His face was serious. I shrugged.

"Okay."

"Put the light off, mate."

I switched off the light and found my way back to my bed in the darkness. Simon groaned as I got in behind him. I pressed my chest into his back and my cock, still hard as hell, against his arse. He sighed and moved back slightly, pressing his body against mine.

I put my arm over him and held him next to me. It felt cosy and soothing to be like this with him; totally ordinary and sincere to be together in bed as friends.

He sighed again and pushed his arse outwards against my hard cock. It pressed between his cheeks, pushing the material of his briefs into his crack.

Holding him like that, and gently rubbing my cock up and down between his buttocks, I drifted off to sleep.

Will be continued

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