The Morning I Sucked Cock

By Edward Bancroft

Published on Mar 20, 2004

Gay

Sometimes things don't go exactly as you think they would, if you'd been thinking about it at all. Certainly my morning hadn't started as I would have predicted, if I'd been asked to.

Kenji suddenly snapped into reality and yelled "Oh shit, my brother's papers!" He had promised to deliver the weekend edition for his kid brother when him mom agreed to let him stay home alone, with me. It was 10:45 a.m. I watched Kenji's naked ass retreating as he sprinted out of the room to the bathroom. I heard the splashing of his piss, the taps of the sink, and a furious brushing of teeth. Lounging on his bed, naked, I watched, amused, as Kenji hurried back in, his long dick swinging back and forth with each step. Far from being an instrument of sex anymore, it looked more like a piece of excess tissue being tossed around as Kenji hurried to get dressed. His mind wasn't on what had just happened between us, but for my part, I was getting aroused just watching his muscular body squeeze into his cut-off jean shorts. No underwear. Then a t-shirt pulled over his head. He turned back from the doorway.

"This is gonna take awhile, it's a big route and the papers are sons of bitches with all those fucking sections," he said. "Want help?" I offered, but he shook his head. "Hurry back," I said, naked on the bed, stroking myself. I don't think Kenji noticed me anymore. I heard the door slam as he ran out.

I would have gone back to sleep, but I had to piss like a racehorse.

Sometimes things aren't happening at all the way you think they are.

I strutted across the hall, naked in my friend's house, alone. Standing in front of the toilet, I had a good, long piss. My cock seemed bigger now. Now that I was sexual. Now that I wasn't a little boy anymore. Now that I had had sex with my best friend. Now that he had sucked my cock.

I decided to take a shower. I was just finishing up a leisurely wash under the hot spray, forcing myself not to masturbate as I soaped and cleaned my genitals for my new found relationship that I hoped would continue when Kenji got back home.

I felt the curtain move and a whoosh of cool air, and I knew the bathroom door had opened. Peeking out through a space at the end of the curtain, in the reflection in a space of clear glass at the bottom of the bathroom mirror that hadn't fogged up, I could see Mr. Yoshida, Kenji's father, in his silk robe, standing in front of the toilet. He left the door open and the cool air was starting to clear up the rest of the mirror. My heart was in my mouth. He opened the front of his robe, and I saw he was naked underneath. His long cock hung in front of him, and I had the same reaction I did the first time I saw it. It took my breath away.

When we were nine years old Mr. Yoshida had taken Kenji and I to public swimming one Saturday. Afterwards, getting changed, Kenji and I were naked and aware of each other's tiny, little boy's dicks. Mr. Yoshida took off his swim suit, and I saw what had caused the significant bulge. All little boys had a little nugget in the front, and all men had a great deal more, and I had never given it any thought. But when Kenji's father set free the largest penis I had ever seen, releasing a long, thick snake, I was mesmerized. I was staring, and after a time I looked up and saw Mr. Yoshida looking at me, a little smile on his face.

I stared at the snake of his cock as he finished his piss, as he shook it. I stood mesmerized at the last drop of piss, and then it fell off. When I looked up the mirror my eyes met with Mr. Yoshida's. He had caught me staring at his cock again.

"I'm sorry for having come in," he apologized. I turned off the shower, and opened the curtain. "I was finished anyway, sir." I stood in the tub, naked in front of Kenji's dad. He had tied up his robe and was washing his hands. I didn't flinch as he looked me up and down, and specifically at my lower regions. I wasn't a little boy anymore, and I stood there, proud, maybe even showing off a little. The towels were across the bathroom, and I stepped out the tub. Kenji's dad handed me a towel. I used it to dry off my hair first, showing off my hairy cock a bit more, and then I wrapped it around my waist. He hadn't moved from where he stood, and we faced each other in across the bathroom.

"You've grown into quite a young man Jeff," he said. I felt the blood rush to my penis at his word and the implication.

I suddenly thought about this morning and I tried to remember if we'd closed the bedroom door. We hadn't. I replayed my trip to the showers in my head, and realized Mr. Yoshida's bedroom door at the end of the hall had been open, the curtains closed, the room dull as the morning sun tried to beat into the room. Fuck, he'd come home in the night and gone to bed. Had he been home before we came back from our skinny dip, before we smoked up, before we started talking?

"You are very close to my son," he said. This was going bad. And then the bombshell. "It has been a busy morning for the two of you." Oh fuck, I instantly scrambled for an alibi, some sort of deniability, some way to claim innocence, some way to blame it on Kenji, some way to take the blame off Kenji. But there was no time for conflicting emotions. I stood there, and my scrotum tightened, and I thought I might pass out. I was dizzy.

"Follow me," he ordered. He was angry. I followed him down the hall to his bedroom. The covers were strewn about the bed. He threw a pillow on the floor, and turned to me.

"You are as close to my son as I was to your father." I thought I'd start to cry, but then I caught myself wondering. How close? Mr. Yoshida and my dad had been best friends growing up, so it pleased our families that Kenji and I were best friends, too. "I miss him very much." My dad had left my mom when I was six. I had seen him once since then. My dad had demons. If Kenji's dad was going to shame me in front of the memory of my father, he was going down the wrong path.

Kenji's dad put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down. "Kneel," he said. I did, shocked and obedient. What kind of Japanese punishment was I going to get? He stood in front of me. My towel had slipped loose and was starting to fall off. "Leave it," he ordered when I tried to catch it. Then he opened his robe and put his hands on his hips.

"Do for me what you do for my son," he said. I looked up at him, still not ready to admit anything had happened. His eyes flared in anger at my delay.

"Suck my cock."

He took his robe off and threw it aside. He was standing in front of me, naked, lean, muscular and powerful. I looked at his cock. It was thicker than Kenji's, and darker. He had more pubic hair. His cock was starting to fill up and rise in front of my face. His balls hung low beneath it. He did not rise to the stiffness and rigidity of a teenager, but with the fullness and readiness of a man. I put my hands on his hips. And put my mouth on him. Gradually taking in more, then more. And I sucked his cock.

He rested his hands on either side of my head. He was controlled and experienced, gentle but firm. He slid in and out as I sucked and swallowed and held him in place and let him have his way with me. He didn't make a sound, and gave no warning except for the increasing urgency in his actions.

After a time, it ended as I knew it would. His cock pumped a lesser amount of cum then Kenji's had, slower, and more pungent. He held my jaw in his hand as I looked up from my knees, making sure I swallowed his seed. He dismissed me from his company, and I went to the bathroom to jerk off and clean up. It was noon.

Kenji and I may have had many secret moments to come, but I never told him about his father, and we never had sex at his house again.


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