Matt and the Dungeon

By John Brett

Published on Nov 10, 2019

Gay

Matt and Allie had transformed the downstairs area. There used to be a bedroom and a "playroom" down here, separated by a wood-paneled partition from an unfinished area that held the furnace and water heater, the washer and dryer, and a toilet that sat out in the open, next to the washer, with no privacy. They had ripped everything out, moved the washer and dryer upstairs near the bedrooms, and created a small furnace room, a large rec room (large flat-screen TV on the wall, comfortable chairs and a couch, etc.), and a good-sized bathroom.

I'd had the tour of the renovated space a couple of weeks ago, so I knew where the bathroom was.

The bathroom was sleek: white wall tile and fixtures, and a glass shower stall that filled the back wall of the bathroom. The floors throughout this lower floor were large square tiles that looked like dark gray slate, and the same tile ran up the back wall of the shower. The placement of the shower head and controls made it unnecessary to have a door at all; the one glass wall that separated the shower from the rest of the room was just open on one side.

Matt stepped up behind me, put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around to face him. He started kissing my face, my neck, my shoulders and chest. He stopped for a second, flicked his thumbs and forefingers across the engorged flesh of my nipples, and then pinched them.

"Oh!" I whispered.

"Very nice," he countered.

He bent down again, and started sucking my left nipple, while his fingers raked down my abs and found the waistband of my pants again. This time, he had to open only the top button -- that was all I'd fastened before moving into the house -- and when he did so, he encountered the head of my erect cock sticking out from the top of my boxer briefs. He slipped his hands into my briefs, ran his open hands around my hips from front to back, and easily forced my pants and underwear down to my knees.

His hands were now behind me, so he put one hand on the small of my back and the other on my ass, and he pulled my torso up against his. He started kissing me again, first my chest, then my stomach, and then, kneeling before me, my cock. He circled the head of my cock with his lips, and took the length of it into his mouth.

"No," I said, pulling away.

"Don't you want to ...?"

"Yes!" I said, looking into his eyes and pulling him to a standing position, "but it's been a LONG time for me, and I don't want to rush this."

He smiled. "Got it," he said. He stepped around me, reached into the shower and started the water. "Cool is OK, right?" he asked, looking at me. I nodded.

He opened his shorts and pushed them down to the floor. For a second, his fully erect cock caught on the waistband of his shorts, but it sprang back up and actually slapped against his lower abdomen, it stood so proudly.

Looking at me the whole time, he stepped backwards under the running water, grabbed the bottle of body wash, squeezed some into his hand and started soaping himself up.

"Come 'ere," he said, motioning with his head. I stepped over the low threshold of the shower stall, and went into his outstretched arms.

We kissed, as he used his soapy hands to explore my body, and did the same to his. At one point, he squirted more soap on his palm and worked his fingers between my ass cheeks and up into my sphincter. I moaned and held him tighter.

He grabbed my shoulders, spun me around and pinned me against the textured tile at the back of the shower. He pulled the shower head off its clamp -- it was fed through a flexible chrome hose -- and rinsed the soap off my body and his own. That done, he hung the shower head back up -- which left the cool stream of water running down our bodies -- took my wrists and lifted them so that they were against the back wall of the shower, over my head.

He started kissing and nibbling at my chest and nipples again. I just stood, back against the wall, and enjoyed it. When he left my chest and starting concentrating on my stomach again, I took my hands down and grabbed handfuls of his hair.

"No," he said, standing up. He took hold of my wrists again and pinned them against the wall as before. "Don't move your hands."

It was a command: gentle, but firm. There was a slight smile on his face that told me I could object, but that I was going to enjoy myself more if I didn't.

I smiled back. "Yes, Sir," I whispered.

He raised his eyebrows slightly, in acknowledgement that his "command" had been accepted in the spirit in which it had been given. "Good boy," he said.

He went back to my body, bending as he moved lower, until he was on his knees. Instead of going down on me this time, he used his tongue and teeth and lips to explore my balls and the full length of my cock. This lasted a LONG time, with me reacting with moans and groans throughout. Then, suddenly, he stood beck up, used his tongue on both of my nipples, and then grabbed my wrists, took them down off the wall, released them, turned me around, pushed my chest against the wall and held my wrists, crossed, at the small of my back.

My right cheek was against the wall. He moved his face in close and whispered in my left ear: "Don't move."

"Yes, Sir."

He sent his hands roaming all over my body -- around in front to brush against my nipples, down to my cock to edge me, up and down my arms, up the inside and outside of my thighs, and onto my ass and into my ass crack. He pressed the tips of one finger into my sphincter, and then two, and then three. He grouped the four fingers of his right hand together tightly, and then gently but firmly pushed them into me, widening the opening as they penetrated my ass. I moaned.

Again, in my ear, a whisper: "Can I fuck you?"

"Yes. God, yes." Then, starting to pull away from the wall, and turning toward him slightly, I said, "Should we ...?"

"I'll get a condom," he replied, pushing me gently back against the wall. "Don't move."

He stepped out of the shower, picked up his shorts, and fished a foil packet out of the pocket. "So, he was planning this all along," I thought. "It wasn't just me imagining ...."

He had the condom on already as he stepped back into the shower.

"Move to the left a little," he said, adjusting the direction of the water stream toward the right. "I don't want to wash off the lube."

I moved slightly to my left. He worked his fingers back into my butt hole, opening me up again. Then he placed the head of his cock against my sphincter and pressed in on me.

"I'm not ..."

"Are you a virgin?" he asked.

"No," I said, releived that he knew where I'd been headed, "But it's been a VERY long time."

"Relax," he said, and kissed me on the shoulder.

He pressed in. I moaned, and then gasped, and then cried "Oh!" as the head of his cock entered me. He continued the pressure, and his cock, not exceptionally wide, but more than long enough for me, eased inward. His balls were tight up against his body, but eventualy I felt them nestle in behind my own.

One hand on my waist, but the other holding my wrists in place at the small of my back, he asked "You OK?" I nodded, and he began withdrawing slowly until only the head of his cock was still in me. Although I was unable to see, I could feel him shift his pelvis smoothly, athletically, and begin driving himself into me again. He kept up this slow rhythm untii he was sure I was able to take him, and then he started to move faster. I pictured his hips shifting forward and back at the top and bottom of each stroke, and his tight lower abs (he had, not a six-pack, but, like, a twelve-pack) working.

Even faster now. Both he and I were shifting our pelvises in unison. Even in the cool shower, I felt sweat on my back, and he must have been sweating, too, because he reached over and redirected the stream of water to run down between us.

He started pounding me. I could feel his balls slapping into mine. His staying power was amazing, but soon, he started to grunt at the top of each stroke, and eventually, he cried out, finishing with 10 (!) powerful strokes of his lower body that lifted me off my heels and almost off my toes.

He collapsed with his chest on my back and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. He held me like that for a while, kissing me lightly on my shoulders and neck. Then, he pulled himself away from me, carefully pulled his still-semi-erect cock from my ass, making sure the condom stayed in place.

He removed the condom, and then dropped it on the tile just outside the shower. Looking back at me, he turned me around to face him, knelt in front of me again, and took my cock in his mouth. This time, he gave me the full treatment -- cock completely consumed, lips rigid to provide the fullest sensation along the length of my shaft, tongue licking at the head when he reached it. He didn't object when I moved my hands onto his head and grabbed handfuls of his curls in my fingers.

I was shouting "I'm gonna cum!" in minutes, and I emptied my load into his mouth in three strong pulses, jerking involuntarily as he sucked the last of my cum. He stood up, pulled me to him, which put us directly under the stream of water from the shower head. With water running down our bodies, he kissed me full on the mouth, and I reciprocated, our tongues exploring each others mouths.

Finally, when we broke the kiss, he said "Let's get cleaned up," and he soaped both of us up with a bath sponge and cleaned us both carefully.

He stepped out of the shower, grabbed two big white towels off a chrome rack and tossed one to me. Without drying himself, he sinched his towel around his waist.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Yes."

Still up for pizza?"

"Yep."

"What do you like on your pizza?"

"Anything," and then, thinking better about it, I added "Anything but pineapple."

He laughed. "Man after my own heart."

Dry now, I stepped out of the shower as I pulled the towel around my waist.

"I doubt my clothes will fit you," he said, but I'm sure I have a robe around here somewhere you could put on."

"No," I said, "I think I'll duck back over to my house, put on some clothes and grab a bottle of wine."

He put his hand on my upper arm. "Hey," he said, "are you OK?" He was looking directly into my eyes, and it was less "I'd didn't hurt you, did I?" than it was "We just took a giant leap here, and I need to make sure we're both on solid footing."

I put both my hands on his chest. "Matt, I'm great." I paused a second, and then broke the intensity of the look between us. "Of course, we should talk about what just happened."

"Yeah," he said. "we should."


A half hour later, we were standing in Matt's kitchen. He had poured me a glass of wine, and he was opening his second beer of the day. I was wearing khaki shorts, a polo shirt and sandals; he, of course, was wearing lightweight running shorts, and nothing else.

"So," he said. "You wanted to talk."

"Well," I answered, "I'm wondering what just happened."

"Let me take a crack at it," he said. "I think two married guys, two friends ..." (He emphasized that last word slightly.) "... two guys who are committed to their relationships with their wives, just realized that they can get something out of their relationship that they can't get from their wives."

"I'll buy that," I said. "A one-time thing, or the start of an ongoing thing?"

"My take," he said, "is that they just started something they both could enjoy for a good long time, as long as they're discreet." He was looking for agreement in my face.

"I'm with you," I said. "As long as these guys are careful."

"Agreed," he said, motioning with his beer nottle to toast my comment.

"One other thing we should talk about," I said, after a long pause. "It appeared that the bigger guy enjoyed physically domimeering the little guy."

He raised an eyebrow. "Too much?" And then real concern showed in his face. "I went too far. Look, I'm sorry if ...."

"No," I said. "You misunderstand. I don't think you went far enough."

He stopped, silent for a second, digesting what he'd just heard. Finally, he smiled slightly and shifted gears: "Say more about that."

It was my turn to pause, as I figured out how to put my thoughts into words. I opened my mouth, but before I could utter a word, I was cut off by the doorbell.

"Hold that thought," Matt said, using his beer bottle to point at me. He put the beer down, grabbed his phone, and headed for the front door.

Next: Chapter 3


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