“Gustav!” a warm and familiar voice called and I turned to find a fellow student smiling at me, hands buried deep in his coat pockets to stave off the chilly April breeze.
“Ah, Christian!” I called back, returning the smile as he approached me and shook my hand. After the customary comments on the weather he asked where I was going, and when I replied that I was on my way to look at a flat, he stopped me.
“Moving?” he asked. “Whatever do you mean?”
Torn between a genuine desire to be polite and not wishing to be late for my appointment with a potential landlord, I quickly filled him in on how my flatmate had, without warning, vacated his room and how I now found myself either forced to pay for a double room or to seek out new accommodation. He listened intently, a sympathetic look on his face.
Christian and I met in my first year at the conservatory and we hit it off immediately. Despite the fact that he was exceptionally gifted at playing the piano and the violin, he was not conceited and had a way of making people always feel welcome. He was also charming, easy to talk to and a colourful character to be around.
I had often suspected that there was something different about him, but only because he was so nonverbal when the rest of us were conversing about the fairer sex. To all outward appearances he was a healthy, normal young man. He was by far the most handsome of all the students I knew and certainly one of the most confident, and yet he never spoke of the inevitable success everyone was certain he enjoyed with the young women in the city.
It wasn’t until about half a year later that I first entertained the thought that my friend might be—the word was practically foreign to me then— a homosexual
. A couple of mutual acquaintances had been discussing him one day and commented on his sexual preferences in no uncertain terms. There was no malice in their words. In fact they mentioned it rather casually, with a hint of sympathy as one would report a colleague having come down with the flu. I had been appalled by their accusations and stood up for my friend, retorting that it was absurd and uncalled for to defame a young man’s character in such a way. Still I couldn’t shake the feeling that what they were saying was true.
As an adolescent I had done my share of dabbling in the homoerotic realms which are part and parcel of every man’s youth, but it remained an alien concept to me that any man should be so inclined toward buggery as to practice it exclusively as a way of life. Still, of all the chaps from the conservatory Christian was the one I felt I could relate to the most, and our differences were far outweighed by our similarities, our shared love of music and our fondness for one another.
At first I thought Christian was just being polite when he offered to let me stay at his place. I thanked him and insisted it was not necessary, but he wouldn’t hear of it.
“So it’s settled then?” he asked, putting it more as a statement than a question.
Though I hated the thought of imposing on him, he made it clear that this was far from being the case and after his insisting we say no more about it I reluctantly accepted. And a few weeks later as I packed my things in preparation for the move, I found myself looking forward to spending the summer with him.
I had never seen such a luxurious apartment in all my time as a student. Not only was it spacious, with characteristic Viennese high ceilings and double doors, but it was tastefully decorated in the most modern style as well. My friend was obviously from a well-to-do family; another of his dirty little secrets.
He put me in the guest room, which held the biggest bed I had ever seen. I had never slept on satin sheets before, and as my eyes traversed the dark outlines of the great room that night I felt a sense of awe at the luxury I was going to be living in over the next few months.
After only a few days we had settled into a comfortable routine of setting off for our lectures together, visiting an opera or a concert every other night and going out to socialise at parties on the rest.
One Friday evening in early July we were stuck in on account of the miserable weather. Somewhat perturbed that we couldn't go out, we settled into the grand living room, I on the settee and Christian sat at the piano playing Beethoven as the rain pelted the windowpanes. Fortunately my friend was never short of interesting conversation material, and what started off as a drab evening quickly evolved into one filled with lively and captivating discussion.
Having shared a flat for the past six weeks, we had got to know each other so well that he no longer tried to hide his true nature. Without either of us directly saying it, it was obvious that his secret was out. He was now more forthright in the remarks he made about men and sex than I had previously known him to be. And to my surprise, I found the real Christian behind the facade of social decency even more delightful and charming, and I was not at all put out about the prospect of spending a rainy evening in his company.
We were discussing another of our mutual acquaintances who was studying to become a tenor, when Christian commented --somewhat exaggeratedly-- on how the young man was the embodiment of male perfection.
“Stop” I retorted playfully. “You’re hurting my feelings.”
At this, Christian laughed warmly.
“My dear Gustav, surely you do not need me to tell you how perfect you are.”
It could have been dismissed as a light-hearted comment if the way he said it had not been so filled with significance. Silence fell between us. Neither of us dared utter a word.
Christian had a way of speaking that sometimes made it impossible to discern when he was joking and when he was being serious. A faint smile graced his lips, though it was clear that now he was serious. Suddenly so was I.
“You… you don't really mean that, surely,” I managed to say.
Christian looked at me intently, then answered with sincerity.
“Could I have lost my heart to anything short of utter perfection?”
Our light conversation had taken an abrupt turn. For the longest time I was at a loss for words. Never before had I been paid a more beautiful compliment, but that it had come from another man--from the Adonis Christian, no less -- was disturbing to me. I was baffled, but my curiosity eventually got the better of me and I had to ask.
“Surely you’re not saying you have feelings for me.”
Christian’s expression was one of slight discomfort. He broke eye contact, but his voice was firm.
“’Feelings for you?’ That’s putting it mildly.”
A flood of different emotions hit me all at once. Shock, disbelief, confusion, fear…
A heavy silence descended. Neither of us looked at the other. I was too wrapped up in my own reaction to wonder what was going through my friend’s mind.
Finally I spoke.
“How long?” was all I could say. I still couldn’t bring myself to look at him.
Christian paused a moment before replying. “Since the day we met.”
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” I demanded in a voice that betrayed how weak a handle I had on this news. I realised it was a stupid question the moment I’d asked it. He didn’t answer. My pulse raced with emotion and I struggled to keep my voice steady although I was deeply unsettled.
“What sort of feelings, exactly?”
Christian looked at me tenderly before lowering his eyes. “Not the sort one talks about in polite society.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t expect you to understand, Gustav.” He suddenly sounded much older than his twenty years.
“Help me to understand,” I countered quietly. More silence followed. Then Christian heaved a loud sigh.
“Have you ever wanted something you knew you couldn’t have?” he asked, though it sounded more like he was talking to himself.
I let the question settle in the air. Of course I had. Hasn’t everyone?
“What is it that you want, Christian?” I asked seriously.
He shook his head gently. “I can’t tell you,” he replied in a condescending tone that made me feel about five years old. This I found too provoking to dismiss. The words tumbled out of my mouth before I’d had time to think them through.
I had never seen my friend caught off guard before, but with those two little words I had actually managed to render him speechless. How far are you willing to take this?
his eyes seemed to ask. I was asking myself the same thing, all the while attempting to appear cool, composed.
“Are you serious?” Christian asked, his voice almost a whisper. All his characteristic playfulness had long since gone, replaced by a sober earnestness. I did not answer. I could not find the words to do so.
Finally he moved closer and leaned in toward me. For a second I wondered if he was going to kiss me and I didn’t know how I felt about that. But the kiss never came. Instead I followed his eyes as they fell to my lap, where his hands began calmly unfastening my trousers. I did not stir, but simply remained sat in the same position. Not because I was too shocked to stop him, but because I could think of no reason to do so.
I felt a stirring inside. Not quite one of arousal, but more of curiosity as I watched Christian in silence. His movements were composed but concentrated. He undid the top button, again pausing to check my reaction. This time I nodded ever so slightly and gave him a little smile to signal my willingness. Male or not, Christian’s eagerness intrigued me. That he was so attracted to me really played on my vanity, and the fact that he himself was attractive did not hurt his cause either. In addition to welcoming this curious new development, I now found myself growing steadily more excited by it. By him
Emboldened, he then set about gracefully undoing the rest of my trouser buttons, one at a time, exposing my shirttails tucked inside. His gaze fell upon the soft outline of my loins beneath the thin layer of fabric, and he hesitated before moving on, revelling in the anticipation as one would before tearing the wrapping paper off a gift. This was his favourite bit, I could tell. I felt a bit of a thrill myself.
Slowly and more determinedly Christian pulled my my shirt to the side, exposing me completely and taking a good look at the hidden piece I had to offer. By now my growing excitement had manifested itself physically and my friend looked pleased with what he saw.
Releasing a small sigh of excitement, he undid the top button of his shirt, loosening the tie which held his collar in place. And looking quite sexy while doing so, I couldn’t help but notice. Then he placed his hand on my cock and began to slowly rub it, his eyes alternating between intently studying every inch of my sex, and traversing up to my eyes, which were in turn studying him.
Strangely, I didn’t feel the least bit uncomfortable at having him touch me so intimately. It was the first time in years that I had felt another man’s hand and it felt good. Very good, in fact.
His touch was gentle but firm, rhythmically sliding my foreskin up and down, making me grow stiffer and randier with each passing second. There was a patience to his touch which communicated that he was in no rush to bring me to climax; that he was content to take his time. All I had to do was lye back and let it happen.
I inhaled audibly as Christian’s fingertips flirted with my now exposed cock head, causing me to twitch in response.
Wet and swollen now, he took my shaft properly in his hand and began to stroke it more confidently. I was surprised indeed at what a beautiful sight it was to behold my handsome young friend manually pleasuring me, and he made no attempt to hide how much he approved of the sight of my engorged erection at full mast.
Feeling flushed and hot, I settled further back into the settee, moving my lower half a little closer to him. He eagerly pulled my trousers down a few centimetres over my hips. Just enough to expose my arse and free up my swollen testicles, which he took firmly in his left hand and fondled skilfully before he resumed masturbating me slowly. I closed my eyes and sighed in ecstasy. My erection throbbed madly now as my juices seeped from the slit of my crown, wetting the head and slowly dribbling down my shaft, making it glisten.
Gradually he slowed and then stopped his movements, holding me in his hand a moment before releasing me and seating himself back on the floor between my legs. Still fully clothed, he looked perfectly at ease. Propping himself on his arms he leaned back. His legs were parted slightly and bent at the knees and he wore a satisfied look on his face.
My eyes drifted to the visible bulge in his trousers. I noticed that he was slightly flushed himself and could hear his breathing over the sounds of the wind and rain outside. His right leg swayed restlessly from side to side as he sat there wrapt in contemplation over his next move, lust and anticipation written across his face.
It was plainly obvious what would happen next. We had already started down this path. May as well follow it and see where it leads.
He spoke first.
“Would you like me to…?” he began in earnest, but with no intention of finishing the question. Perhaps he was too bashful to say it, or maybe it was so obvious what he meant that he found uttering the last few words unnecessary.
The question hung in the air for a few seconds. I let the silence draw out a moment or two, savouring how good it felt as I looked deeply into my handsome friend’s eyes. It dawned on me that there was nothing in the world I wanted more than for him to…well…to do whatever he wanted to do to me. I badly wanted to get off, regardless of how.
“Would you?” I whispered almost inaudibly, my eyes still on his.
I caught a flicker of relief in his expression, quickly partnered with a coy little grin.
“Ask me,” he countered flatly, inching closer.
Our eyes remained locked as we mutually tried to take in each other’s every move; interpret every little tremor, facial expression and hesitation. We could have been two expert chess players locked in a battle of wits. I had been challenged and now it was my move.
“Please…” I felt my mouth form the appeal, though I scarcely recognised the trembling, breathless voice that uttered the word as my own. I was overwhelmed by an immense desire I didn’t know what to do with, and as Christian’s eyes bored into mine, they left no doubt that he could see right through me; could read my every thought.
He shifted around to kneel between my legs and glanced at my exposed erection, still throbbing insistently, still gleaming with lust and burning for release. God, I felt so naked, so exposed before him. But I did not feel shame. Closing my eyes tightly I waited, every nerve of my body on fire as the pounding of my heart filled my ears.
The warmth of his hand enclosed the base of my cock, directing it away from my body and out toward him, his breath cool and sharp on its soaked and swollen tip. Then at once the smooth, wet warmth of his mouth engulfed the head and I nearly recoiled at how wonderful it felt. My back arched impulsively and my pelvis thrust upward, making him take me further into his mouth. My moans of pleasure immediately entwined with each laboured breath as Christian began to suck me expertly, lovingly. His mouth was heaven. Sheer heaven. Immediately I surrendered myself to the sheer ecstasy of what was being done to me.
He took his time as he worked up and down the length of my rigid shaft, spoiling me with his mouth and tongue in ways no girl ever had. His hand caressed my scrotum, brushing it lightly with his fingertips before grabbing it more firmly, but rather than hurt me it only increased the pleasure I was feeling. Either Christian knew exactly where the line between pleasure and pain lay, or he had aroused me beyond the point where any discomfort registered. I didn’t care. I could only feel.
The first sensation was then replaced by a second, even more pleasurable one as his fingers cautiously made contact with my anus and began rubbing it gently. This elicited a more guttural groan from my throat and my body automatically responded to his touch. My bottom scooted further off the edge of the seat and my legs opened wider, independent of any conscious thought. Sprawled out almost horizontally now, I laid myself out completely for him and he took the hint, pressing his finger more firmly against my opening. He continued to rub my sphincter in tiny circular motions all the while as he alternated between worshiping my cock and my testicles with his mouth.
I was so caught up in the multiple sensations he was bestowing upon me that I didn’t even feel his finger penetrate me, but presently I became aware of the feeling of it moving slowly in and out of my anus. This sent me over the edge and I felt the tension of a fast-approaching orgasm grip my body.
It was so animalistic, so shamelessly uninhibited.This is wrong,
I thought as wave after wave of physical gratification washed over me and I gave in, letting myself come endlessly into my friend’s exquisite mouth, which he kept upon my cock, taking in every last drop until I was spent.
* * * *
Night had fallen. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the humid summer heat still hung over the city.
I had stripped my clothes off and opened all the windows in a feeble attempt to cool down, but all that came into the room was a warm breeze. Christian was in the bath and I lay there in the dark trying hard to gather my thoughts. My pulse was still fluttering as images of what had just happened replayed before my mind’s eye, and for a moment I wondered whether it was possible for the heart to become worn out from exhaustion. My own had been racing non-stop for the better part of the evening.
Alone in my room now I lay back on the large bed, a thin sheet covering my nude body. The silky fabric felt cool against my skin. My thoughts meandered back to a hot summer night the previous year. It was back when my former flatmate Friedrich and I were still as thick as thieves and sharing a cramped room.I had awoken from a recurring dream; one that visited me often, though the details varied. I had dreamt of the two of them. My friend and my girl. Together.
Wide awake, with a familiar feeling of envy in the pit of my stomach and an uncomfortably nagging erection, I looked over across the small, dark room at the outline of Friedrich sleeping peacefully in his bed.
I listened to the soft sound of his breathing, and immediately caught myself wondering how his breathing sounded when he was making love to her. To my Ilse. This only evoked another, stronger pang of envy-arousal deep within me, coupled with a feeling of guilt.
I could not hate him. He was practically a brother to me.
And yet a part of me so yearned to hate him for taking her from me.
A part I was able to suppress most of the time, but which I struggled with that night as I watched him sleep.
I lay there observing him in silence for a minute or two, waiting for my anger to subside. Then, satisfying myself that he really was asleep, my hand slipped beneath the sheets and I began to masturbate as quietly as I possibly could.
I thought of the two of them as I did it.
Of him fucking her the way I so badly wanted to fuck her.
The ugly feeling of jealousy in my chest steadily lifted, giving way to the animal lust this image provoked in my nether regions. My hand compulsively tightened its grip around my swollen cock and I let out a small cry of pleasure.
My heart stopped.
Had he heard that?
I turned to check, relieved to find him still fast asleep. Returning to my self-play I willed myself to slow down, consciously controlled my breathing and stroked myself at a calmer, steadier pace.
The pace with which I was making love to her in my mind.
A warm wave of pleasure rose up within me at this thought as my hand continued its rhythmic movements. I shuddered to think what Friedrich would do if he were to catch me pleasuring myself, yet at the same time it turned me on to know that there was a chance he might wake up and do just that.
Throwing caution to the wind I threw back the sheets with my free hand and my gaze returned to my slumbering friend, defying him to wake up as I continued my right-handed assault.
It was not without a renewed twinge of Catholic guilt that I lay there, wanking myself off openly to the fantasy of fucking my best friend's girl in front of him.
The thought of him watching the two of us together so aroused me that I had to bite my lip hard to keep myself from climaxing there and then…
Christian appeared at the open door of my room, bringing my thoughts back to the present.
“Come in” I said in a subdued tone, slowly sitting up. His timing could not have been more perfect.
He was naked except for the towel draped around his hips which he held closed at the side. There was a hint of timidity in both of us, now we’d had time to think about what we had done.
“Can we talk?” Christian asked, his old confident self re-emerging.
I shook my head. “Afterwards.”
I was already hard and clutching my erection in my hand. Christian didn’t need much coaxing and was soon devouring me with renewed dedication.
He sucked me long and deep, taking his time just as he had before. As I had already come earlier in the evening I was able to enjoy it much longer this time round. His moist skin shimmered in the veiled moonlight as his soft lips moved up and down over my cock. It was a gorgeous sight to behold.
Outside the storm intensified, as if reflecting the passion within these walls. Thunder rolled in the distance and the wind picked up, getting gradually louder and more violent.
Now his hands were under my arse, moving my hips upward and I felt the warmth and silky wetness of his mouth trailing south, pausing to pleasure my testicles again before continuing further downward. A lustful sigh escaped my lips as I felt the firmness of his tongue exploring my back passage, cautiously at first, then more boldly. The heat of his breath and his skilled mouth was so intense as he licked me. All at once, every intimacy I had ever known up to that point was as nothing.
Probing my anus forcefully with his tongue as though intent upon penetrating it fully, he dug his fingernails into my thighs and I inhaled sharply, not wanting to come just yet. I didn't want it to end. The feeling was so powerful I grabbed the bars in the headboard behind me to brace myself.
Eventually his mouth travelled back up to my cock, which was dripping wet now with precum and saliva. I gave in to my lust. It had free reign over me now.
“Christian?” I cried, out of breath, reaching down to stroke the side of his face. He pulled back and glanced up at me.
I spoke in a low voice, as though I feared I would be overheard by the outside world.
“Can I fuck you?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he replied with a little sigh.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.