Learning the Ropes

Category: Gay - Adult Friends

Author's Notes: This is a work of erotic fiction featuring graphic descriptions of gay sex acts between consenting adults. If such acts disturb you, or if you are not of legal age to read stories intended for adults only, please stop reading immediately.

All characters engaging in any funny business are over the age of 18, as well as the age of consent in the (fictional) areas in which they reside. The characters are human beings and do not, therefore, always act with the highest moral integrity; this does not reflect my own views, nor do I personally endorse any of their actions. On the contrary, I may privately outright disagree with them, but the following is their story as they have told it to me -- over coffee. This is, after all, a work of fiction but also their collective autobiographies. Exercise your own good judgment when out in the world. And, for goodness' sake, play nice with others.

This work is presented free to you, the reader, at the Nifty Archive. It cannot be distributed, modified, or otherwise used without express written permission of the author.

Please consider donating to Nifty.org at http://donate.nifty.org as the site continues provide a safe, free space for creative endeavors for the enjoyment of those who wish to explore their fantasies and enjoy their sexual expression.

If you enjoy this work, I would love to hear from you. Send me your thoughts, impressions, comments, fantasies, and anything else you'd like to share: pilcrow.alinea@gmail.com I love hearing from you!! Thanks to all the readers who've emailed me. I try to reply to every note. Rest assured I've read each and every one of your wonderful notes. Much obliged.

P. Alinea

--

Learning the Ropes: Chapter 2

I swallow. My mind goes white: completely blank. No excuse, no plausible story can even begin to explain the two studs rutting on screen or the hand I have thrust into the crotch of the boxers I borrowed from Mark. Should've left well enough alone. Should've been more careful. Should've at least waited until the middle of the night, when I could be sure he wasn't going to catch me in the act.

Neither of us says a thing. I ease my hand out of the fly of the boxers. The lump in my throat will not seem to budge, my eyes weighted down with hot, stinging shame. My mind is racing now. Where there was nothing but blank space a moment ago, dozens of thoughts collide.

I know he has more to answer for than I do: it was his video, after all. That hardly seems to matter. It doesn't change facts. The fact that I care so much about him, about our ties. The fact that I was snooping in his private business. The fact that I was overcome with lust for the men on the screen.

"I-I'm sorry," I stammer. With my head in my hands, I stoop over, rocking back and forth now. "Mark, I'm sorry."

I feel his hand on my left shoulder. He squeezes it, and I realize just how tightly I've been tensing the muscles there without even noticing. A sigh of relief escapes my lungs. I cover my eyes with my hands and rub them a few times for good measure.

"How about that pho?" he asks, picking up the remote and banishing the images of the two young men.

I can't imagine how I'll possibly get myself to eat just yet but nod and look up at him, searching for some way to understand his casual tone. His warm brown eyes are peering at me. Through me. To the very core of me.

I clear my throat. "Yeah, how about that pho?"

We prepare the meal in silence; it's like a ceremony or something. He slips a large packet of noodles into boiling water. I tip whiskey into two glasses. The alcohol already coursing through me keeps me a little heavy-handed with the stuff, and I try to make up for it with a generous splash of soda water.

I hand Mark his drink and set about helping him snip up coriander. He slices limes and chops up a bunch of lime leaves. Out come spicy red and green peppers. The longer we go without exchanging words, the more hopeless it feels that we'll be able to strike up casual conversation after the pornographic fiasco earlier.

It's not until we sit down and Mark takes a few tentative sips of the broth from his bowl, tossing over some cilantro, that he says something.

"You're probably wondering about what you saw..." He's donned a black tank that matches the one he lent me, the towel still draped around his shoulders. "And even if you're not, I don't know that I'm gonna feel right about the whole thing if I don't try and explain."

I say nothing, instead scattering coriander over the noodles in my bowl and look up at him, waiting.

"I don't know exactly when, but I started having doubts." He clears his throat but never makes a move to look away, his eyes locked on me. "How do you get to where I was and not know, you know? I mean, I had a career, this place, a wife, a marriage. I still have my career and this place, but I don't have a wife anymore. It's been nearly a year already, a year since we went our separate ways. Now she's just someone I send a check to."

I nod. There is nothing else to do. Is he saying he had doubts about the marriage, about his sexuality? That would explain the hot and heavy video from earlier, at least.

"She wanted kids. She's a few years younger than me, so we took things slow at first. Still, we were getting to that stage where you have to make decisions about the big issues: a mortgage, kids, where we were going to grow old together.

"She was so sure about everything. And why wouldn't she be? We'd been married almost five years. I thought I was just as sure when we started off down the road together. We'd talked about it. At the time, I couldn't wait to get started with her."

He drains half his glass of whiskey and soda, grimacing. "Shit, kid. Who taught you to mix? These could take paint off the pavement."

"Nobody taught me. I think that's the problem."

He smiles. "For us, the problems started when she decided we were going to try for kids. She was ready to be a mother. She'll be an amazing one. Her talking about it made me realize I wasn't sure I was ready to be a father. I didn't doubt how ready I was before that, not until she started telling me all about her ideas for the future, I mean.

"The more I heard, the less sure I was. And then, in a flash, I knew without a doubt I wasn't ready. I couldn't guarantee my kid a good life, couldn't say for sure whether I was going to do right by her. For me, that was a deal breaker. I couldn't, in good conscience, bring a beautiful baby into the family when I didn't even know for sure who I was.

"I wasn't intentionally deceitful, you know..."

"But how do you get married when you're not even sure about..."

Your sexuality? Your interest in men?

Even starting to ask these questions makes me feel like a dick. I mean, aren't I facing the same doubts in my own relationship? Sure, we aren't married, but that's just splitting hairs.

"You'd be surprised. Happens more often than you might think. My upbringing didn't leave much room for questioning. I never thought of myself as one to have hangups about my sexuality. In fact, I always thought I was pretty sure of myself and what I liked.

"That all changed when a guy from work came on to me one night after we'd had too much to drink. One thing led to another..."

"You had sex with him?"

"Nah, just some heavy petting." He laughs, but it sounds hollow, half-hearted. "In all seriousness, though, it was enough to be kissed like that and realize that I liked it. I won't go into all the gory details, but I was happier to see him than I could remember being to see my wife in quite a while, if you know what I mean..."

I nod. I do know what he means. I've been dealing with the same problem for weeks now. Brushing a guy's hand can give me a stiffy, but making out with Sharla doesn't seem to be fanning the same flames as of late.

"I couldn't bring myself to tell her, though..." He swallows his drink in one go, eyes falling to the empty glass.

"You didn't tell her you were having doubts, or that you kissed a guy and you liked it?"

"What good could telling her do either of us? It would just hurt her pride and confuse her." He pokes at his bowl of noodles. "Instead of going into that whole mess of unresolved feelings and unspoken emotion, I just played the asshole.

"It was the last role I wanted to step into, and not because it would make me look absolutely horrible, which it did, believe me. It's more because I'm pretty sure it broke her heart a little. Something went out in her eyes when she looked at me.

"I don't mean love for yours truly. I'm not that narcissistic. I mean something more basic. Trust. Belief that people are basically good. I hurt something in her when I chose to keep this to myself."

He looks up at me.

"But I'd do it again. I know the truth would have hurt her far worse. Would've damaged her self-respect. Everything she believed about us and about what we built over five years. It's better she believe I'm a cold-hearted asshole than worry about what my sudden affinity for men might mean."

I'm not entirely convinced that lying, or selectively withholding the truth, I guess, is the best policy, but then I'm being hypocritical again.

Mark stands from his place huddled at the coffee table.

"Care for another drink?"

I've barely made a dent in the one I have, but this doesn't seem like any time to refuse, so I drain the glass in one gulp, screwing up my face at the bitter aftertaste, and return my glass in hand.

"Make it a double."

He smiles and tousles my hair before taking the glass and heading for the kitchen.

"How about a mojito with honey and whiskey instead of sugar and rum? We've got the lemons and mint."

Without waiting for my blessing, Mark rustles through the cabinet for the ingredients. Just as well. I'm starting to feel lighter, less inhibited; I'd drink just about anything if he promised it'd keep the buzz going.

"And how about you? You said there was a reason you didn't stay at home even though you're out at the college..."

I nod. "Yeah. My dad."

"Your dad?"

"I don't get along with him. At all."

"Really? John's a good man, but then you know that," he offers, bruising the mint with the back of a wooden spoon and depositing half in each glass.

"He's a good man when you don't have to live with him. You don't want to know who he is behind closed doors. I learned from having my arms all bruised up and my teammate's nose all bloodied up."

"I wish I'd have known."

"I was so embarrassed when it happened. Mortified after. He stopped coming to my sports meets after that. Stopped asking me how school was that day. It was like a different person."

He nods. "And that's why you asked for a ride all those times?"

"I'll never be able to repay you for the gas money."

"Or the damned five o' clock wake-up calls every single time your team was up to win anything at all. How many times did we end up eating convenience store breakfasts while you were carb loading?"

I laugh. "Come on, that was fun, right?"

He snorts, pouring honey into my glass. "Not hardly. Remember those toaster waffles we tried warming up in the microwave at the Mini-Stop?"

"The ones that turned into frisbees?"

Now it is Mark's turn to laugh. "Wait, wasn't that the time you went to State? We had to take off at, what, four?"

"Yup."

"You were wearing those tiny track shorts and a tank, and had to be freezing, it was so late in the season."

"Freezing my nuts off."

"You shoulda brought sweats--I did! So, I had this bright idea we'd buy something and warm it up--"

"And I thought the microwave at the truck stop would be perfect. Little did I know that it would turn those waffles back into plastic."

"Didn't you fling one out the window?"

"Yeah, I think I almost hit someone jogging past with their dog."

"That's right!"

I look down at the chest and stop speaking. A glass touches down in front of me and suddenly I feel a warm embrace.

"Mark?"

He says nothing but holds me tighter still.

"Remember when I had to go to my grandparents', how you put me up when my parents left to figure out how to deal with that kiss?"

He says not a word, instead squeezing me tighter still and tousling my hair again.

"You were so cool about it. It was the only reason I didn't go over the edge. I knew I had someone to look up to, to talk to... I know I haven't been around since going off and getting my own place. I missed you, Mark..."

Here, I wrap my arms around him and return the embrace.

He strokes my back and I feel myself getting hard again. At this, I push away just slightly. He takes the hint and releases me.

"Drink up before the ice all melts," he says, clearing his throat and taking a drink from his own glass.

We sit in silence for a spell. There's so much I want to ask, so much I want to say to him. Instead, I slurp some noodles up. While I'm making headway in the drinks department, I can't seem to find my appetite in spite of my run earlier.

"It's really good." I grin.

He smiles back at me and picks up his chopsticks again. "How about you?" he asks a second time.

"How about me what?"

"You're seeing somebody, right? You mentioned you've got a special someone..."

"Yeah, I do..." My eyes drop to the chest. "Or I think I do. I'm having about the same problem you seemed to be..."

I look up at him. He wears a look I can't immediately place. He seems to be searching my eyes now. If it were anybody else, I think I'd have dropped my eyes, but I find it easy to hold his gaze. Comfortable, even.

"I just wish I wasn't having this problem, you know? It's scary... Yeah, that's the word: downright scary. I don't like not knowing. I never asked to have these doubts. But I feel awful about it. She doesn't deserve to have a boyfriend who isn't all right for her..."

"Why do you think you're not all right for her?"

I hold my breath and then exhale. "I thought you got what I meant. I guess I'm finding myself worked up around guys. I got worked up when we wrestled earlier. And I'm not so worked up around her. And it's got me pretty psyched out."

"Hey, listen up, kid. There's nothing wrong with not being sure about stuff. You don't wanna end up on a ride you weren't sure about signing up for just because people pushed you to buy a ticket. That's what I did. There's no shame in being unsure. Heck, take all the time you need to keep being unsure. This is your time to figure stuff out. And try having some fun while you do it, eh?"

"But my parents, you know, they'd never understand. I mean, my dad..."

"I know. I know, and it breaks me up inside to see you conflicted like this. I know there's stuff about you you think you need to change. But the truth is: some of it, you can't. You can't change who you love any more than your fingerprints.

"And you shouldn't feel like you need to. Nobody has the right to make you feel like you're not good enough because you don't fit their idea of normal or good or valuable. OK?"

I look at him and immediately there are tears.

"Goddamn it!" I shout, and then I'm sobbing. "This was supposed to be a chill evening, you know? I was supposed to forget about all the pressure of trying to put myself through school and working so much and trying not to screw up.

"But the one thing I wanted to forget more than anything was this... This attraction I didn't even ask for. And I was supposed to be spending it with somebody I know I can trust to be cool with me because he was cool with me even when my Dad wouldn't be. Even when he couldn't be."

"You don't need to go burying anything to spend time with me, kid. You can just be whatever, you know? And I'll just keep loving whoever shows up. Because that's what we're supposed to do. All of us. We just need to get reminded sometimes."

I lunge forward and press my lips to his. I put my hand on his knee. He presses his hands into my chest and I'm almost sure he's going to move things forward when I feel him pressing away with a feather touch.

"I--I'm sorry," I stammer. "I thought... Shit, I don't know what I thought. I'm just... You know, I'm gonna take off. I can sleep off the highballs at my parents and I've gotta do a bunch of work for these summer classes I'm taking."

I push off the ground with one hand and ready to stand myself up when I feel him pull on one wrist.

"Stay."

I look down at him. He pulls me close and holds me again. He smells like the mojito and lime leaves and the shampoo we've both used. And he's warm and solid. He pulls me closer somehow and strokes my damp hair. "Stay."

So I do.

My eyes open to black. I feel parched and half-dead. The room spins a bit, reminding me I ate too little and ran too much to have drunk anything, much less the clumsy concoctions I served up. I yawn and reach for the water bottle on the nightstand. Three hearty swigs later and I'm beginning to slightly less like I've been washed up on shore and then baked in the sun.

I turn over to see Mark. That's right. I climbed into his bed. He tried to get me to go to the guest room, but I insisted I couldn't sleep alone. I think I could have slept about anywhere, though, as drunk as I was. The thought strikes me as funny, so I chuckle a little and close my eyes.

When my eyes open again, I'm aware first of Mark's soft but steady breathing. My head feels a lot clearer. No throbbing, no cobwebs. Maybe still a little tipsy, but I'm feeling good. Another glance at the clock radio confirms it's still early morning, a quarter to five.

"Mark?" I venture, not whispering but not wanting to startle him, either. I almost give up and roll back over when I hear him respond.

"Hmm?"

"Can I... Can I Come closer?"

Not moving, he mutters, "Mm-hmm."

I pull myself over to his side, heart thumping all the while. At first, those last few inches feel like a chasm between us. "Just move..." I scold myself. And then, gulping in a lungful of air and courage, I pull myself to him and feel him let out a sigh. His arm flops over my chest, and again, he is asleep.

I reach out and rub his back in large, slow circles. He sighs and I can make out a smile creeping over his face even as he drifts off again. This time I can't help letting my dick press into his thigh. I press myself to him as my hand dips lower into the small of his back.

Lower and lower my hand goes until it's resting on the ridge just above his ass. He has a pretty high set of cheeks, and they're firm and slightly rounded. I stroke them and let my hand dip down to cover them through the silky shorts he's wearing. I try grasping the globes of flesh and then rubbing them. Something about it makes me feel like everything is new. Like I'm touching another person for the first time. I'm harder than I've ever been.

He groans but doesn't stir or open his eyes, so I continue.

I let my hands move upward and turn him over slightly. He makes no move to stop me, turning over exactly as I wanted. On his back now, he turns his face slightly away and sighs, his arm rising to slip behind the pillow beneath his head. I rub my hands down his chest to his tummy and rub his abdomen. He's relaxed here and I take the chance to stroke his belly and touch the ridges of muscle on the side. I also stroke the softness here and gasp at how smooth it is.

My eyes can just make out where his cock slumbers in his underwear. I want to touch it so bad, but I remember my attempt at kissing him from the night before and stop. Instead, my hand trails upward to rub his pectorals. They must be sore from the wrestling match the night before and the reps on the bench I spotted him on.

His pectorals, I stroke in slow circles. And then, without thinking, I bring my fingers around his right nipple and stroke it back and forth.

He lets out a sigh that gives way into a moan. I flick my fingers, feather light on his hard right bud, back and forth. I feel a sinking feeling in my stomach: I'm not supposed to be doing this. He hasn't given consent. I'm molesting him in his sleep.

Entranced by my own perverse exploration of uncharted territory and the hot aching need to be opened wide to this man and let him see the side of me I have been so careful to hide even from myself, I continue to touch Mark's slumbering figure.

He gasps out a puff of air and his breathing is ragged now. I can't tell whether he's fully awake but can't stop myself from putting my other hand over his left nipple and giving it decidedly harsher treatment. I tug gently at it and push my fingertip into it before backing off and flicking at both of them so gently.

His hand goes to his boxers and he fishes out the head of his cock, rolling his fingers around the dripping head. His eyes are still closed, but there is a labor to it, like he's on the fence between pleasure and pain. The work of my hands has him pent up, begging to be able to relax and revel in the homoeroticism. I watch him hold his cock still with one hand and trace a gentle ring around the head with the other.

He opens his eyes to look at me. There, I see a harsh warmth. Desire? No, more than that. Need. This is what it looks like to need touch, to need someone to make you feel. "Will," he strains out, "We... We shouldn't be doing this... We need to stop before things get out of hand."

"You're not doing anything wrong," I reassure him. "I'm the one who started feeling you up in your sleep. Your body responded, and now you're just doing what comes natural. It's what comes natural to any guy, Mark... We know how to touch ourselves and feel good. I just wanna watch you. I wanna see you touching yourself so you can feel good. I wanna watch you enjoying yourself. That's all..."

"Oh my god..." he chokes out and a new streak of wetness pours from his cockhead. He pumps his man muscle up and down a few times but never takes his eyes off of me. They go to my hands playing at his nipples and then to my eyes and back again. He rolls his cock back and forth across his palm.

I'm grinding my hips into his thigh now. It's a low place on his thigh, nearer to his knee than his groin, but it feels so forbidden and so good. My rod is aching for the stimulation.

"That feels good," he confesses, finally dropping his head back into the pillow and closing his eyes. He is panting and now arches his back, giving me unrestricted access to his nips and practically crushing himself into my greeting fingertips.

I continue gently touching one nipple and start tugging at the other, pinching it and strumming at it with my fingertips.

He lets out a burst of air and puts one of his hands over mine. I can feel the wetness from his precum on his fingertips. The thought alone almost makes me come in my boxers. He flattens my hand so my palm is rolling over his nipple. He nods in encouragement as I adopt this technique and really begin tugging at the other side. The combination of sensations is getting him worked up.

He lifts his other hand away from his straining cock and a dewy strand of thick precum dangles from his fingertip. My hand darts out, and I have my lips on his fingers before he can react.

"Will..." he pants. Seems the perverse boldness has shocked him awake. "What are you... What are we doing? We gotta stop before I lose it."

"I don't wanna stop." I whisper, my tongue rolling around his index finger to catch the last traces of him. "I wanna see you lose it. I wanna lose it, too."

"This isn't right."

I slip my hand under the waistband of the boxers he leant me, the boxers I've stained with my precum and desire for him. I stand before him, naked. But somehow, I'm even less ashamed, less timid, less unsure standing here in front of him so wide-open now.

"It feels right to me. And I think you feel it, too. You said I didn't need to go burying parts of me to spend time with you..."

I climb back into bed and my hands go back to find the warmth and hardness of him.

"This was -ah- not what I meant..." One of my hands is busy rubbing his sensitive cockhead now, catching the wet tip between the pad of my thumb and forefinger. I knead the spongy head softly, letting it spill out more precum onto my fingertips.

He begins to whimper. "You gotta stop, kid. I'm getting close..." he moans out and his hand goes to my wrist.

I stop caring for his cock and my mouth closes down on his sensitive nip. First I touch it tenderly with my teeth and then suck at it as hard as I can.

"Oh jeez, kid... What are you trying to do to me?" He releases his grip on my wrist and I content myself playing with his rod again, this time pulling his foreskin up and down and smiling around his nipple as I am rewarded with more precum. He's so sensitive to every move I make.

"Seriously, kid, what do you want from me? You're driving me nuts... Fucking a..."

I have switched to pinching his nipple with one hand while I tongue the other and run my hand up and down the underside of his cock.

Without another thought, I mount him, climbing up so my cock is just above his, and I begin pressing myself up and down the length of his rod. I grind our sex together and gasp at how perfectly we fit together. My skin rubs against his, pulling our hoods back in unison. Precum drools from his slit. Mark's a driller. So fucking hot to see him so out of control with pleasure.

"Oh, yeah..." he moans. I wipe the precum from his weeping slit and push my finger into his mouth. He shakes his head in protest, but I can feel his tongue lapping at my digit. I press my mouth over his and lap at the traces of salty precum on his tongue.

"Oh, fuck... Where'd you get that idea, kid?" he gasps out when I drop away and really start grinding my cock into his.

"Mark..." I whisper. It is a request. It is a plea.

"Yeah?" He gazes into my eyes.

"Mark, I wanna go all the way... Take me. I want you to. Please go there with me."

"Hey, now..." he begins. And then he stops, his eyes dancing as he studies my eyes and how tightly my jaw is set. "You know that's not right, kid. I'm almost twice your age..."

"So what? I love you like family, Mark. You said I was confused, but I'd figure it out... You told me it was OK to look for answers, to enjoy figuring it out. I wanna find out. I wanna find out with you. Right here, right now."

"I just don't want you to regret it. We got something special, you and me. You don't know how doing something like this might change things."

"Neither do you."

"Exactly." He smiles. "Exactly, kid." He strokes my cheek. I feel a streak of wet precum and saliva on my skin where he's touched me. Even his attempts to calm me down are stoking the flames of lust and infatuation and a deep fraternal love I harbor in my belly.

He raises my chin so I'm facing his eyes again. "I don't want things to get weird, to let things go bad. It's gonna get complicated if we go on doing this."

"I'm already at complicated. I've been stuck there a while. I need this to figure it out... And you've been in just about the same place as me, right? Or are you still there? I need it to be you. For me, it's you."

I press my erection into his softening penis and feel it harden again. My own cock is finally beginning to let go of some precum. I rub my wet, sensitive head into the underside of Mark's hard cock and kiss him hard. It's our first proper one.

All of a sudden, he's kissing me back. Short little tugs at my lips at first, his kisses become deeper and more intense until he's diving into my mouth and forcing his tongue all over mine. He begins to eat my mouth, orally dominating me. I moan into the kiss. I let him fuck my mouth with his tongue, allow him to demonstrate dominance. I can hear myself moaning, "Mm-hmm... Mm-hmm..." into our shared kiss. I bring his beautiful hands to my chest and help him massage at my sensitive nips. He rests his index fingers below them and strums them with his thumbs, tugging a whimper from me into our kiss.

I pull away and gasp for air. He's breathing heavy, too. My hands are trembling. I pull at his shoulders and hold myself to him.

He strokes my cheek again. "I don't want to do anything you don't wanna do, anything that's gonna make you sad you did it later, Will."

"I want this. I'm gonna keep wanting this. After we come, I'm still gonna want this. It's not gonna be some regret I try to bury inside after my hormones calm down. It's something I feel about you. It's something I feel for you. And me. You helped me see it can be OK for me to feel whatever it is I feel."

I take his hand and squeeze it before bringing it to rest on my cock. His other hand, I bring around to rest on my ass while my mouth covers his again. He rubs my dick in slow circles before I feel both his hands reaching around to my ass. He begins working my sore muscles with his fingers. I moan out and writhe against his cock.

Between messy kisses, I pant, "Yeah, grab my ass..." He obliges, massaging the taut flesh there. I feel him pulling my asscheeks apart and then pressing them together. All of a sudden, drunk on the sensation and forgetting who this is I'm with in bed, I moan, "Mark, slap my ass... Slap my fucking ass."

Mark's attentions to my ass falter and his lips loosen. I swallow. I've gone to far. It's too perverted for him.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I just got carried away. You don't have to..."

Crack! My eyes jump open as I feel his open palm make contact. The sound is terrifically arousing. It sounds much harder than it feels. Again and again, he slaps my ass, rubbing my skin in tender circles after each strike. Every strike is harder, needier. He isn't doing this to own me; he is doing it because he is desperate to please me, to fill a need deep in his belly.

"Fuck, Mark. Yeah, that's it... Fucking smack it." I moan, grinding against him and feeling the tender abuse to my cheeks. I bring one of his hands to my nip and squeeze his fingertips around the tip. "Make me feel you..."

He obliges, tugging at my nipple and slapping my ass with his other hand. I'm grinding my cock into his again. We're both hopelessly wet, our slippery fuck rods gliding back and forth. I rock into him and groan more profanity.

I can't seem to get close enough. I'm closer than I've ever been to anyone, and it's too far away. He's rough, and I only want him to be rougher with me.

"Mark, fuck my ass..." I whisper between kisses. "Fuck me. Make me come with your cock up my ass..."

He moans at the vulgar proposition. I wrap a hand around his dick and begin tugging at it before he has a chance to say no or give me any reasons why it's not a good idea. I pull the ridge of taut skin back and forth over the head, his tip getting wetter and wetter.

"Ah..." he moans out and nods. "OK, OK... But, this is your first time. It's not like in the movies..."

"What movies do you think I'm watching?"

He smacks my ass playfully. "You know what I mean. It can hurt the first time. It's not all romantic or sexy or hot, usually..."

I hug myself to his torso and bury my head in his neck. "I wanna get closer to you. Let me come closer..."

He nods. "Come closer, then," he offers, pulling me tighter against his body. "You can come in closer to me, then..."

I look up into his eyes from my place on his chest. Is he offering what I think he is?

"Do you mean..."

He nods and kisses me. "Be gentle, eh? I'm not very experienced myself. You gotta remember I'm just figuring all this stuff out myself. I'm only about two steps ahead of you."

I feel a heady rush of adrenaline course through my body. Kissing my way down his chest, I lick both of Mark's nipples before running my tongue down his abs and dipping into his belly button.

He chortles and pushes my head away. I smile and dive onto his sensitive dick, taking the head into my mouth. This brings a moan from him, so I bob up and down, curling my tongue and raking it back and forth on the sensitive underside. I cup his balls in one hand and rub the sensitive area just beneath them, pressing here with the pads of my fingers.

"Will..." he whispers. His hands go to my hair and rake through them. I snake my index finger further back and trace a line to the new place he has opened up to me.

I ease my tongue around his crown while my finger works in soft circles around his hole. It clenches and opens, urging me on. I press the blunt of my finger across it and hold it there. My tongue, I stiffen and begin running the length of it along the underside of his cock.

"Right there," he confesses. "It's right there, kid..." I know I've hit home for him. I run my tongue around his swollen head, tasting him.

"Mark, do you have..."

He smiles and kisses me before reaching over to rifle the drawer of the nightstand. Slipping the bottle into my hand, he kisses me again.

"I can't believe this is happening," I whisper. If I say it too loud, I'm liable to break the spell. I hold my hand over the spout of the bottle and warm the cool liquid up with my fingers before setting it down on the nightstand and leaning in to kiss him again.

I kiss him first on the lips and then bring my lips to his cheek. My wet fingers go his tight opening, never slipping in to push against the taut flesh but only tracing around the outline. I continue kissing his cheek and then kiss him just next to his eye.

He laughs a little. "That tickles. What's gotten into you, stud?" Mark wraps his arms around my neck and returns the kisses my cheek. He then flicks his tongue and touches my cheek in a move that feels playful at first blush and then completely smoldering the next moment.

"It's not just about this..." I say, finally. He begins to reply and then jerks his head back into the pillow and whimpers. My fingers have dipped beneath the surface of him now. The pad of my middle finger slides just below the surface. "Mark, I swear it's not..." I whisper.

His hand goes instinctively to his cock. I plunge my middle finger, sopping wet with lube, into his tender butthole. Mark's beautiful cock is dribbling now. It's dribbling onto the sheets and onto his splayed fingers and onto his bare thigh.

"Fuck..." whispers. "Fuck, Will..." His breath catches in his chest. He grinds back against my finger. I ease it all the way down to the hilt in him.

"How's that feel, hmm?" I ask, knowing full well. "That good for you, Mark?"

He says nothing, screwing his eyes shut and nodding.

"You like having my finger up your asshole?"

He whimpers. I begin stroking against the inside of him in the way I guess I'm supposed to from stolen glances at websites I had little business reading and hidden searches for information. His body is responding, and I know I've hit home when I feel my finger rub up against a little bump now.

His hand grasps my bicep now.

"Slow, Will..." He squeezes my arm and holds one hand up again his eyes, a whimper escaping his lips. He is writhing against the pillow, precum dribbling from his rock-hard member. I adjust the speed of my strumming against the delicate part of him, barely flitting across it now. He nods and shudders.

"That's it... Nice and slow, stud..."

I smile at the new nickname. Better than Slim, I decide, and reach down to kiss him. He slides his tongue into my mouth right away, throwing both arms around my neck and moaning into our kiss.

"How's that, hmm?" I ask.

He nods.

"You like that, hmm?"

"Yeah... Feels good," he confesses. "Don't stop, Will. Keep touching me there."

I smile and kiss him. He gazes at me, eyes slightly out of focus, glazed over with pleasure and, I hope, desire for me. I take his prick into my hand and roll it back and forth in my other hand, rubbing it against my palm.

"Look how wet you are..." I whisper. "It feel that good? Hmm?"

He whimpers and nods.

"You like having someone play with your tight ass?"

Mark turns his head away. I begin assaulting the underside of him with the pad of one finger. His cock drools more precum, and this I use to lube him up.

My fingers slide from his cock. I bring my lips up to his and then feed him his own precum. There is something so erotic about watching him suckle at my fingers coated in it. I lick at his tongue and then at his cheek.

More lube, and then I am assaulting his opening with my index finger.

"Yeah..." he coos.

"You ready for more, stud?" I ask him. He nods, and I slide the tops of two fingers into him, just under the very surface. I pause, feeling his inner muscles contracting and pulsing. Once the pulsating begins to subside, I know instinctively I can pleasure him without fear of going too fast.

My fingers bob in and out of the most tender part of him. I feel so close to him, somehow; he's made himself so vulnerable to me, without reservation.

I look at this man writhing in pleasure next to me. He holds the heel of his palm over his eye, seized by a fit of whimpers when I curve the two fingers inside his tight opening and feel them catching on his little gem. A sob rises from his chest, and then he's clinging to me and kissing me with frenzied swipes of the mouth.

"Will... Fuck, Will... Fuck me, baby..."

I need no further coaxing. I ease my fingers from Mark and thrust my tongue into his mouth. He clings to me, eyes closed, tongue draped out. He is in ecstasy, here and a thousand miles away.

"I wanna make you feel good, Mark..." I confess. "Tell me, okay? Tell me what feels good for you." I sheathe and slick up my cock with lube from the bottle, pumping more onto my fingers to take care of him.

"Mark..." I whisper. His eyes are closed, a hint of a smile on his lips. His cock is still hard and wet. I marvel at the perfection of him, the taut strength of his chest and arms, the slim abdomen with the softness I love to stroke. And my eyes drop to his erect manhood.

I feel a stinging pressure behind my eyes. It throws me at first. I'm happy. Ecstatic. Horny as hell. All I can think of is sliding into his warm, tight ass. And yet, another me within myself wants nothing but to take him into my arms and never let go. All the sorrow, all the loneliness and confusion--I want to bury it in our warmth and stay so wrapped up in him I never have to worry about any of it again.

I want him. Maybe this is more than fraternal and erotic. I let go of this thought and press my lips to his. Again, he lolls out his tongue and licks at mine, his arms lying outward, limp. He's helpless, drunk and drowning in sexual ecstasy.

"Fuck me, Will... Fuck me up the ass and come with me..."

I feel my sensibilities melting away. I feel a primal urge to rip off the condom and plunge into him bare, fucking him until I erupt and spill out into him. This, I shake away and go to him. I spread his legs and bring them up to bare his beautiful derrière.

This man with his knees resting on his chest, legs splayed out and rosebud exposed to my eyes, is Mark. My Mark. The man who used to let me sneak ice cream before dinner, the man who let me have my first beer when I was shaken up, the man who helped me with my math homework and took me to and from sports meets when I didn't have a ride. This is the guy who was waiting with a water bottle and a towel when I came back from running and couldn't walk another step.

"Will... Please... Make love to me."

I feel the pressure of him. Gingerly, I press my hips forward and feel it give way. And suddenly, there is somewhere new to be. There is somewhere that was secret and locked away, hidden. And now, I'm there.

His eyes open; his mouth falls slack. Mark's eyebrows rise as he realizes that my dick is sliding into place, pressing against him from the inside as I inch along. His eyes widen in shock. His breathing is heavy. He doesn't even blink, eyes locked on mine. He grasps both my biceps and squeezes just above my elbows.

My hungry prick slides upward, inching toward the root of me. And then, I am there. My abdomen bumps against his ass. He gasps out and throws his arms around my neck, pulling me into his breast, his hands stroking my hair.

"Don't move..." he whispers. "S-stay..." A tremor rips through him. Trembling, he strokes my hair and nods against my head. "Will... You're here..."

I nod, the pressure behind my eyes nearly unbearable. "I am... I'm here..."

I reach out for him and hold him tighter. Soft tendrils of pleasure unfurl from the root of me, spreading through my abdomen and all around us. Unable to resist, I move within him. The delicious friction against the most sensitive part of me has me seeing stars. I shudder against him. He nods against my cheek.

"Fuck, stud... Fuck me... Yeah, like that. Long and slow."

I am rocking against him, coaxing coos and little yelps of pleasure from his lips. He's so tight, his opening a velvet sleeve enveloping me. Our kisses are messier now, Mark's eyes gazing up at me with a flame I have never seen but cannot gaze at long enough. There's so much I want to say. So much I want him to hear. I move against him, letting my body speak in tender verse. Maybe no words could do justice to what I feel. Maybe only being with him like this can carry my emotion to his heart. I press one hand into his breast, feeling his fluttering heart against his ribs.

"I feel you... God, Mark, I can feel you all around me." I hook my arms under his armpits and roll him over, his legs dropping to either side of me. He moans when our hips collide, driving him down onto my rod. His cock drools precum that glistens down the length of him. Mark leans down to press his lips to mine, a frenetic kiss that speaks everything neither of us can say.

What happens next, I will never forget as long as I live. Mark reaches down to massage my pecs, squeezing my nipples and grinding his hips down, jerking my cock back and forth in his ass.

I cry out in pleasure and surprise. He's fucking me with his ass, I realize. I don't even know who's on top anymore; I don't fucking care. His fingers are pinching at my engorged nips now, his hips bucking back and forth along the ridges of my abdomen.

"You're so hard," he tells me. He reaches out for my stomach. "Your cock... These abs... Will, I--"

I thrust upward to meet his movements, silencing him and reaching up to return the treatment of my nipples. He nods, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. I marvel at the beauty of his exposed neck. I stroke his chest and along his neck, rubbing his shoulder and then reaching out for his rod. He thrusts forward to meet my hand now.

"Why do you always know where to touch me?"

I smile. "I just know. Mark, I..." I stop, unsure how to continue. He opens his eyes, the same warm flame still there.

He reaches down and presses his hand to my chest, over my heart. "I know. Now--do me good, OK?"

I slide out of him, kissing him all the while, and turn him over. I push his hips down into the mattress so that his cock and belly are flush with it and begin inching my cock between his tight asscheeks. If his ass was tight before, this position makes things decidedly difficult to keep a hold on. His vice grip on my fuckstick has me on the brink. I move forward and back, coaxing whimpers from Mark. I reach out to turn his cheek and in to claim his lips in a frantic kiss.

"I feel you... I think--I think I love you, Mark..."

He smiles into our kiss and pulls away. "Shh... I've just got you all worked up. Now, fuck me, stud."

My breath seizes in my chest a few times, and then I am able to resume rocking. My hips have a mind of their own, and soon I am thrusting in and out, back and forth across Mark's taut inside.

He moans and pushes back against me. I reach with one hand to press his ass down, grinding his cock into the mattress. I ride him, bucking my hips back and forth and demonstrating the same dominance he showed while on top. I swivel my hips now, twisting slightly left and then right as I pump in and out. Every thrust tugs at my cock from a deliciously different angle.

"Fuck, Will... You've got me so wet, stud. Fuck that ass. Yeah, right there..." He pulls me toward him and kisses me, his tongue lolling its way into my mouth. "So fuckin' good. Make that ass yours, Will..."

I nod and begin thrusting downward into the mattress. The wet hotness welcomes me with tight tugging and then pushing against me. I'm not going to last much longer. I smack his ass, and Mark moans and arches his back, twisting my cock upward from inside. I gasp and spank his cheeks again, rubbing his ass with all the tenderness I can muster. Crack! Crack! Like a man possessed, I continue to fuck his ass, spanking and then rubbing at his taut skin.

"Fuck, Will... Fuck my ass. Yeah, stud: Bust it up."

That vulgar plea--that's what does it for me. With a shudder, I feel something inside my abdomen snap, and the tendrils of pleasure that have built up splay out from my center of gravity, across my belly, and to out to my fingertips, my toes, my temples. I can feel myself melting into him.

Frantic to help him come up to where I can feel myself going, I thrust into Mark, pulling upward and then down along his beautiful crack. I reach around to grasp his cock. My hand slides between the mattress and his abdomen to grip him. "Come on, Mark. Come with me..."

I pump him back and forth, swirling my thumb around the head, and then I feel his abdomen tense in telltale fashion even as my own frantic coming begins to slow. I run my cock deep into him when his muscles begin to contract all around me.

"Will... Will... That's it. I'm there, stud."

I kiss him, shuddering with the last spasms. His hand strokes my cheek. He nods into our kiss. His hot cream spills out all over my hand, running over and onto the sheets.

"I love... I love the way you feel..." I whisper.

It's happened. We are so tender helping each other into the shower and then washing each other off. I can't stop reaching out for him and touching him. My hands keep wandering to his stomach. He swats my hand away and mutters something about being embarrassed, but I can't help but feel drawn to that part of him as much as any other. I realize I'll have to figure out some way to convince him. I soap him up and stroke his back before rinsing him off.

Mark throws my towel at me. This time, I catch it. He smiles and pulls a set of sheets from the linen closet in the bathroom. Later, and after changing the bedsheets, he climbs into the bed and sighs. I crawl across the bed and unabashedly curl up next to him. We're practically joined at the hip, I think, and smile at the notion.

"Hey, Mark..."

"Yeah, Will?"

"What's on the ole agenda for Sunday?"

"Sleep. Breakfast..."

"I hope you've made time for another session..."

"Exercise?"

I punch him in the arm. "I'll make sure you get a workout."

He smiles. I kiss him, slipping my tongue between his lips. He sighs.

"What?"

"I just can't believe this..."

I hug his shoulder and yawn. "Let's just get some shut-eye. Nothing complicated now. Nothing heavy. Too early."

"Sure."

"Mark?"

He sighs and then laughs a little.

"Yeah, Will?"

"Promise me?"

"What's that, Will?"

"You'll fuck me, right?"

I look up at him. There is a hint of a smirk on his lips. I feel his cock twitch ever so slightly. Never content to let things lie, I lick his neck. Just a little swipe.

"Will, come on--let a guy have a rest, eh?" he pleads, keeping his eyes closed but catching me in an embrace with both arms.

"Then promise me..."

"I promise. If you're good."

"I was pretty damn good judging from how much you came."

"Good night, Will..." he says, a grin breaking over his face, his eyes never opening.

I yawn and lean over to my vibrating phone. Six missed calls. My mother. A text message, also from her.

"Where r u? @ Sharla's? U'r blocking the garage!"

Damn.

https://pilcrowalinea.tumblr.com