This story is an original work of fiction. While I always see myself in my stories, all the characters are fictional. I hope you enjoy it.
WHY NOT?
Paul and I first met because we were dating two sisters. He was a couple years older, but we still hit it off right from the start. We would get together as couple, but I think, at least for Paul and me, it was because the two of us wanted to hang out.
That's why, when he broke up with the older sister, and my girl told me I had to choose between her family and my friendship with Paul, I picked Paul.
We both loved football, and newly single we made it a regular thing to hang out and watch the games together. We usually met at his place since it was nicer, and I brought the beer.
We were a couple weeks into this routine, and we had already developed some general habits. For one, he would sit in this big, overstuffed chair that had a direct line to the TV, while I settled for sitting on the floor because I could still get a good view and I could lean back against the arm rest. I was basically sitting at his feet, but I didn't think much of it.
In our usual perches, we were about an hour into the first of two games, and it was a particularly boring case of stagnant offenses kicking the ball back and forth. I don't even think Paul knew he was doing it, but I noticed his hand absent-mindedly scratching at his package. It reminded me that we had both been single for close to a month.
"How long has it been?" I asked.
"How long has..." and then he seemed to become aware of his hand activity. "Oh... that. Um... ever since I split with Sue. How about you?"
I nodded. "Same."
There was a brief pause on the conversation, but then Paul added, "I miss the sex... but I am burned out on dating. I'm not sure I'm up for that again."
I knew what he meant. The regular sex had been nice but, my god, the toil of getting there was torture at times.
"I guess I'd rather just hang out with you." He chuckled, and I quickly agreed.
I'm not sure how much time passed, but the air had shifted in a way I couldn't quite describe. We hadn't moved from our spots, the teams weren't playing any better, and we were just sitting quietly. But something was different. I know I was thinking differently.
I got up on my knees and turned to face my friend. Without saying a word, I set my hand down on his crotch and gently massaged the bulge. Paul didn't say anything. He didn't pull back or push me away. He just spread his legs.
Paul was wearing sweats, which was a typical Sunday uniform, so it was easy to grab the waistband and pull them down below his knees. Especially when he lifted off the chair to let me.
His cock wasn't hard, but it was swollen, and it was really nice. He was a bit bigger than average and perfectly proportioned. I wrapped my fingers around it and then leaned in to take him in my mouth.
I could hear him gasp as my lips slipped over the crown and down his shaft. I even moaned, and it was like a soft vibration in my mouth that made Paul lift to go deeper. It felt so... normal. Like I was always supposed to do this and just hadn't realized it. While I was servicing him, I didn't even think about my own condition, and actually didn't care. I was satisfied with what I was doing.
I don't think I had any serious skill at it, but I was doing everything I could to make it good for him, and it didn't take long before he warned me he was about to cum. Any consideration of pulling off was brief. I kept him in my mouth as he pumped it full of his spooge. I swallowed between pulses and savored the feel of his sperm on my tongue.
When he finished, I held him in my mouth until he began to soften. I lifted off him, wiped my mouth, and pulled his sweats up so he could finish pulling them the rest of the way on. I turned around and sat in my spot on the floor. Then we watched football for the next couple hours, as if nothing had happened.
Well... not exactly. I leaned in against his leg and he had his hand on my shoulder, gently massaging the muscles. It was very relaxing, and it felt really nice.
The next week we watched all of the first game but then he stood and pulled down his sweats, stripping them off completely. I expected we would do the same as the previous week, and I would service him orally, but he pulled me to my feet and then helped me to strip off my own clothes. He then scanned my naked body, and I was surprised to see the lust in his eyes.
He left me there long enough to go to his bedroom and return with a jar of Vaseline. "Can I do this?" He asked, and I didn't even question what 'this' was.
"Yeah. Why not?"
I lay belly down on the carpet while Paul slicked his shaft. He then climbed between my spread legs and rubbed the lubed head of his dick across my butt pucker, teasing my hole before centering on it and beginning to push.
It took a while. He never added much pressure, and my sphincter wasn't sure what to do about this prod trying to force its way in, but eventually the tight muscle relaxed, and the head of his cock slipped inside me.
Right from the start, I loved it. It was so different from anything I had ever done or felt before. Just knowing that my friend was able to use my body for his pleasure was enough for me, but it so much more than that. As his cock slid deeper I felt tremors inside my body and my own cock shot up to full hardness, quickly dripping precum.
That first time Paul went slow, afraid to push me too far. I would have been fine either way, but this was still good. I had time to experience every shift in direction or weight, and there was a different level of excitement that came as the depth of his plunge increased or decreased.
I had been on the verge of cumming the moment he entered my body. While he slowly stroked into me, I shot off. I could feel the warm flood of sperm under my belly, and I knew we would have a mess to clean when we were done. But I wasn't done.
After cumming, Paul upped his speed and fucked me with the goal of reaching his own orgasm. That change of pace was enough to make me cum a second time. This time, while I was shooting, my ass was spastically gripping his shaft and that was enough for Paul. He shoved in balls deep and I could feel his cock pulse as he fired off his own load. He came so much, that some of his sperm dripped past the plug in my ass and dripped down my balls, joining my mess on the floor.
We stayed like that for a long time. I don't think either of us wanted to separate, but eventually he lifted off me, and I lifted off the floor, where he noticed our combined effort. "Damn! I guess you liked it."
I smiled a bit embarrassed. "That's not just mine, buddy. But... yeah."
We cleaned the mess and then shared a shower. It wasn't sexual but it was sensual. We washed each other, mostly to explore each other's bodies. Once clean, we dressed and sat to watch the last hour of the final game that day.
This is how it went for the rest of the season. Sometimes there would be a compelling game and we would watch it all the way through, but there was always a point where I was on my knees, sucking him hard, and then down on the floor, draped over the side of the chair, or even sitting in his lap on the overstuffed chair, while he fucked my ass to mutual orgasm. Sometimes it would be slow and gentle, like the first time. But sometimes he would pound my hole like a battering ram. I got off every time.
The season ended and, without that as an excuse, we could have gone back to our old ways, but without much discussion we packed my stuff and moved it to Paul's house. I gave my notice to my landlord, and we officially became roommates. It was an unusual arrangement. We each had our own room, and we never shared a bed. The rest of the house, however, was our playground, and we played every chance we got.