I had been talking to him online for a few days, and something about the way he typed—careful, hesitant, a little shy—made me curious. He said he’d never done anything like this before, but there was a spark in his words that told me he was interested. I kept it casual, teasing him lightly, nudging him toward the idea of coming over. Eventually, he agreed, nervously confirming the time.

When the doorbell rang, I was already waiting. He stepped inside, small and tense. I could see his hands fidgeting, the way his brown eyes darted around the room. At 5’6” and thin, he looked almost fragile next to me. I am 6’2”, broad and strong, and I noticed the way his gaze kept looking to the obvious evidence of my size. I smiled, letting him feel a little exposed, but never pushing too hard.

We talked for a few minutes, casual things—the weather, music, nothing heavy. I wanted him to relax a little, to get comfortable. I could see him trying, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, glancing up at me as if waiting for approval.

Finally, I leaned back and watched him carefully. “Why don’t you kneel?” I said casually. He froze for a second, the hesitation visible in every movement. Then, slowly, he lowered himself onto his knees. I could see the flush creeping across his cheeks, and I knew he was nervous. Perfect.

I tugged my shorts down, letting my cock flop free. Even soft, it was thick and long, heavy and strong—a clear reminder of what he was about to experience. I could see his eyes widen slightly, a mix of awe and anxiety. I stepped closer, letting him feel the presence of my body without touching him yet.

“Don’t worry,” I said, keeping my tone easy. “Just do it how you’d like it if you were on the other end. Take your time.” He swallowed nervously, looking up at me for guidance, then back down, finally letting his lips touch the tip.

At first, it was tentative, careful. I could feel him exploring, unsure, his mouth small around me. His breath came in short, nervous gasps, but he kept going. I let him feel the change as I started to stiffen, filling his mouth gradually. He was learning quickly, adjusting, and the way his hands trembled a little at his sides made it clear this was new and exciting for him.

I pushed my hips gently, guiding him without taking over, letting him set the pace. He moved slowly at first, then with more confidence, as if he was starting to understand the rhythm. His eyes flicked up at me occasionally, seeking approval, and I smiled down at him. I could feel myself getting close, the heat building.

“Keep going,” I murmured, holding his head gently, just enough to let him know I was in control. “I’m almost there. I want you to take it all.”

He froze for a second, then adjusted, letting me fill him completely. I moved carefully, pressing slightly against him as he worked, the feeling of his mouth tight and warm around me sending a rush through my body. His nervousness mixed with determination was intoxicating, every movement deliberate yet hesitant, like he was testing the waters of something new and thrilling.

Finally, the moment came. I felt the tension snap, the pressure release, and I came hard, letting him collect every drop. I guided him slightly, keeping him steady as my cock pulsed in his mouth. He swallowed carefully, his throat working, eyes wide with surprise and a little pride.

I pulled back slowly, letting him breathe, my cock still heavy and slick from the encounter. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, shy but smiling, and I could see the nervous energy starting to fade into something more relaxed, almost satisfied.

We stayed there for a few quiet seconds, catching our breath, the room filled with the aftermath of what had just happened. I could see him processing it, still a little flushed, still hesitant, but curious. There was an unspoken acknowledgment that this was the first of many experiences, that boundaries had been tested and trust built.

I leaned back, letting him rise slowly to his feet, and gave him a casual nod. “You did well,” I said. He smiled softly, almost sheepishly, and it was clear that the experience had changed something—a spark of confidence mixed with lingering nervousness, the memory of something intimate and intense.

That night, the tension between us shifted. He was still quiet, still careful, but now there was a shared understanding, an unspoken promise that this was just the beginning. The memory of his first tentative movements, his nervous lips wrapped around me, and the way he obeyed when I guided him would stay vivid. And I knew that when we returned for part two, he’d approach it differently—a little bolder, a little more curious, but still with that same nervous excitement that had made this first encounter so electric.