It had been a few days since that fateful night of the party. The night I finally took my shot at Irina Sommers, the girl I had been pining over for years. But more importantly, the night I discovered one of my best friends, Paul, giving head to a college student named Tony in the woods. It was also the night I didn’t stop watching them while they were at it.

What I had seen that night and the confusing morass of emotions and impressions hadn’t left my mind. As I spent time with my friends, I kept my eyes on Paul. Watching him for signs of irregularity, of guilt or secrecy. But he played it cool, unknowing of my discovery, acting as he always had.

I found myself angry with Paul, although what exactly for, I couldn’t tell you. Maybe it was because he had been keeping such secrets from our group who shared everything with one another. Maybe it was jealousy, but at the time such a concept would have been ludicrous to me. It was probably just a feeling of exclusion, so common at that age.

In any case, I was testy with him as we hung out that week. I would pick little squabbles, always finding fault in insignificant details of him. He seemed perturbed when this animosity persisted, but not enough to say anything. Paul was cool, never rising to the occasion when meaningless arguments cropped up. From his point of view, I was probably just skulking since my long-awaited tryst with Irina had been such a dud. In a way, that was true.

But, truth be told, Irina was far from my mind during those long August days. The experience had left me a little underwhelmed, and my disenchantment with her was overshadowed by this seemingly big mystery surrounding Paul and Tony. I watched him closely as we goofed around at Brandon’s place, or wherever our adventures took us.

He noticed this, pensive as he was. It took five days from the night of the party for him to say something, although it was innocuous enough when he did.

“Hey, Dean, man, you got a minute?”

He had caught me on our bike route home, which intersected until we parted ways on Clemont Drive. I could tell he had been waiting for this, probably to make a quick escape if things turned sour. I stopped abruptly on the corner of Clemont and Perks, ready to unholster all of my dirt on him if he made me any madder than I already was. For whatever reason, I couldn’t say.

“Yeah, what?”

My response was testy and too quick. His expression went from surprise to blank almost immediately. His hands gripped the handlebars of his bike tightly, wringing them as he looked from the ground to my fierce gaze.

“I’ll tell you what, you’ve been ragging on me for days, seemingly out of nowhere. Is there something wrong, dude? Did I do something?”

“What? Nah, man. You’re good.”

I smiled at him. Tried my best to keep from showing how conflicted I felt about him. I guess I did a pretty poor job because his look darkened a bit. Paul smiled weakly back at me.

“Good. I was pretty confused there for a bit. But whatever you say, Dean-o.”

“Yeah man, no worries.”

He suddenly started, mounting his bike and taking it around in small, lazy circles. He circled me as I stood there a couple of times, then started making his way towards home. I saddled up, too. My head was swimming. Not due to the nature of our conversation, but because he seemed to be holding back just as much as I was. Had he seen me that night, in the woods out beyond the torchlight?

“Hey, Dean.”

I almost fell off my Schwinn jerking my head around to look at him, panic running its numbing fingers over my spinal cord.

“Yeah, Paul?”

“If something was wrong, you’d tell me, right?”

“Of course, dude. What’s eating you? You’re normally not such a sap.”

“Nothing, man. Just being paranoid, I guess.”

I thought about his words on my short bike ride home. There was no doubt in my mind that Paul’s actions the night of the party were fully intentional. No amount of boozing and pot-smoke would cause him to go so cock-crazy like that. Right? If it was a random chance act, happening because he was so loopy he didn’t know guy from girl, he wouldn’t remember enough to be guilty about it, would he?

I’m surprised I made it home in one piece that evening. I don’t think I paid a single iota of attention to what was going on around me until I was sitting in my room, bike forgotten in the backyard. I kept ranging back and forth between trying to puzzle out if Paul was a homo and picturing what he’d done with Tony under the cover of night.

After a while of proverbially pacing over those two thoughts, my mind began to wander some. I thought about Irina again, as I always did when left to my own devices. I remembered her clumsy hands underneath my shorts, the minty-cigarette taste of her lips, the frustration as she left me there in the dark to go find her friends.

I let things unfold in the gallery of my mind, then, thinking about what had happened next. Thinking about how it had felt, watching them. They had no idea I had been there, spying on their secret meeting. I wondered what would have happened if they’d found me, shorts around my ankles, jerking off while watching one of my best friends in the world swallow Tony’s cum. Probably kick my ass, or worse… what?

Would that have been bad, whatever worse was? Would I have gone along with it? If Tony had rushed over and grabbed me, pushed me down onto my knees, placed the head of his big college cock at my lips, what would I do? Or would I be the one to rush over and give Paul some more meat to work with… would he like that? Would I?

A whirlwind of what-ifs raced around in my head, and I surfaced for just a moment as I heard the front door open. I shook my head like a cartoon character coming out of an imaginary daze. I looked to my bedroom door, hoping it was closed, locked like I usually left it. It was. But why would I be worried about that?

But I was worried. A thin sheen of sweat broke out over my brow. I realized that the sensation of fear I was feeling right then was shame, fear of being found, as if my mother, home from work, would be able to tell I was imagining Paul subserviently slurping my member in the woods that night.

I looked down slowly, like a horror movie where the distressed damsel realizes that there’s someone else in that dark room with her. My dick was hard, achingly hard, straining at the tight confinement of my jeans. I could feel something warm, slightly wet in my briefs. I shifted my weight onto my elbow, leaning over to turn on the lamp on my bedside table. That simple, subtle movement sent shivers along my midsection as my briefs cradled my cock.

The wet sensation I felt before was precum, more of it than was usual for me. I numbly unbuttoned my jeans, unblinking, unbreathing, feeling the sensations radiating from my core as my manhood moved ever so slightly. As I slid my briefs down, my cock flipped straight up to my stomach with a smack!

Some of my precum flipped from the tip as it flew, spattering up along my shirt, leaving dark stains where it fell. Like before, I noticed how intensely hard it was, like a newfound muscle was working in my pelvis, forcing it upwards, outwards. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, and the incessant pounding of my pulse worked just as strongly in my cock as if I was already cumming.

At that moment -- and I remember vividly now, how much of a fulcrum that afternoon was in my development as a person -- I thought of Paul after he had finished Tony, when he was alone underneath that tree the night of the party. I pictured him working his own cock, then spitting on his fingers and putting them down below, playing with his ass. Then I remembered him cumming onto the grass, his hips pumping in time as he shot his hot cum, and so much of it, too.

My orgasm caught me off guard, not like the time before. I wasn’t prepared. One moment I was rubbing the dribbling precum I had produced all over the slick head of my member, and as I thought about Paul cumming alone in the woods with me watching, I was cumming too.

My vision blurred, my knees locking and my quadriceps tensing so tightly I thought my legs would break. I pumped my hips minutely, thrusting my spasming cock into the lubed press of my tightly closed fist, and I felt that same insane, full-body tingling sensation as I began to shoot. Twice I pumped dry, and as my balls tightened towards my body I shot the first stream of white, hot jizz into the air.

It arced lazily, so much farther than I had ever shot before, and landed on the underside of my chin. My head was thrown back, and as I felt the heat of my own seed soak my exposed throat, more was coming, much more. My breath left me in gasps, as if all the force my body could produce was pumping cum out of me with breakneck abandon.

When it passed, I lay there like a stack of bricks, dead to the world, my cock still pumping up against the hot air of my bedroom, although there was nothing left to shoot. I was spread-eagled on the stained bedspread, cum soaking my sweaty shirt, my lungs working furiously to restore order.

I stayed blank for a while, refusing to think about what had just transpired, for the second time. As the post-orgasmic glow faded, a rush of anxious thoughts assailed me, and that same sweaty fear wound its way back into my mind. I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts racing, trying desperately to figure out how this all worked out.

Was I like them? Like Tony and Paul? Like that guy Lenny Reddinger from my sophomore-year geometry class? Somehow, Paul seemed of a different sort than Lenny Reddinger. Somewhere in my jumbled brain, Paul was granted a higher station of okayness than Lenny. Because he hid what he did, not letting anyone else in on it. But was that really right?

I decided then and there that I wasn’t gay, that Paul probably wasn’t, either. Neither of us were like lilting, effeminate Lenny, who had been openly gay as long as I'd known him. We just got our rocks off when it suited us, and most girls at our school were prudes anyhow, so it just made things easier. I had no clue that I had just subconsciously placed myself with Paul on whatever level of the cocksucking hierarchy he was stationed at.

I slept soon after, dreamlessly. Upon waking, my post-orgasmic clarity about the nature of my sexuality was washed away, and the mild feelings of shame about what I had been up to, returned. I dressed slowly, nothing going on that I needed to hurry towards on that sunny Wednesday morning. As I made my way around the empty house, I resolved to call up the guys, maybe rustle up some adventure. I needed to get my mind off of things, but seeing Paul was a necessary evil for that to happen.

Brandon was out of town for the next few days on a family vacation, so his souped-up garage was out as the hangout spot. It seemed Keller was busy as well, some training day-camp for the local minor league team he had joined after the inter-school league had concluded some weeks prior. That left Jamie and Paul as my potential compatriots against boredom.

I called Jamie first, hoping to secure a safe buffer between the dreaded possibility of hanging out alone with Paul. He answered on the second ring. Apparently, he had the same idea as me when it came to how to spend his day, which was relieving. Some normalcy would do me good, I thought.

“Hey, Dean, how’s it hangin’, my man?” Jamie always answered the phone in a campy New Yorker accent. Usually, it annoyed me because I called him just about every day. Today I welcomed his idiosyncrasy, even played along a little.

“Jaaamie! It’s hangin’, alright, how low I won’t disclose. Need-to-know basis, you unnastand.”

“Ohh, woah, woah, big guy, you misunnastood me, capiche? What’s up, dude? You want to chill?”

“Sure do, brother. You feel like taking a little nature walk with me and Pauly from down the street?” I fidgeted mindlessly as we talked, already anxious to get out of the house. It was barely ten o’clock.

“Amen, let’s get to it. You wanna grab Paul from his place? I called him a little bit ago but he didn’t answer. Probably still asleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll wake the young master from his slumbers. Meet you at the spot in an hour? I gotta eat something first.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

I ate quickly, cold cereal and an orange. A “nature walk” was our particular code for smoking dope and listening to the radio down by the local train tracks, sometimes for hours. It was simple fun, but fun nonetheless. We kept it simple because as soon as we made having fun a complex task, it would stay that way. That’s how I felt, anyhow.

Ten minutes after my phone call with Jamie, I was out of the house, mounted up on my bike. Paul’s place wasn’t far, just short of a mile from my own. He lived in a middling-sized rambler in the nicer corner of Peaks, nicer than my own home by a fair pitch. As I rolled into his driveway, I noticed his mother’s car wasn’t there. Out running errands, I surmised.

Paul’s room was around the back side of the house, on the corner near the back door. I would usually go right up to his window and knock lightly, as Paul’s mother was known for her government-level interrogations when his friends came around. Seeing as she was gone, I went right up to the door. I knocked smartly, hoping to keep this part of the journey short. I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was hanging out with Paul alone for any stretch of time just then.

My knocks went unanswered, so I tried the door. Unlocked. I ditched my bike in the grass, taking care not to ruin Paul’s mother’s potted plants, and let myself in. The tan carpet was just as it always was, dusted with a fair bit of cat hair; Paul’s family owned no less than three of them. I encountered the newest of the three shortly after entering the dim hallway, as she rounded the corner from the kitchen as I wiped off my shoes on the mat. Lambent eyes glaring at me, Penny the cat approached lithely as I bent to offer my hand for smelling.

She wound her way around my knees, purring mildly as I scratched her soft gray ears. I played with her for a moment longer, then stood abruptly as I remembered my plan to quickly grab Paul and scram for our nature walk. Penny stared at me a bit longer, then walked off with a smooth gait when I offered no ongoing comforts. I stared around for the other two cats, wondering where they might be, before walking down the hall towards Paul’s bedroom.

His door was plastered with stickers, as well as a large poster for a big concert involving some of our favorite bands. It was tattered and hanging loosely, as it seemed the cats had been at it. I knocked lightly, wondering if Paul was even home, or if he’d maybe gone off with his mother to run some errands. The door wasn’t latched, and my knock sent it gliding smoothly inwards on its hinges.

Paul was home, asleep as Jamie had guessed. I took a tentative step forward, the idea of waking him up when no one was supposed to be home making me nervous. The floorboards creaked underneath me, and I stood perfectly still, my weight planted on the ball of my foot in front of me. I had no idea why I didn’t just say something and wake him up, and the idea of him waking up and finding me standing over his bed like this was positively mortifying.

But I didn’t move. I stood and stared. I hadn’t really ever paid much attention to the appearance of my friends or their bodies, but in that moment I was curious. The sun was streaming in between the blinds, and Paul’s dark brown hair was illuminated, as were the strong contours of his jaw. As I looked at him, I relaxed a little. He was clearly deeply asleep, his mouth slightly open, his breathing heavy and even.

Paul had kicked the covers off in his sleep and was only wearing a pair of boxers. His body wasn’t amazing or anything, Paul didn’t play sports or work out past biking around town. But he was lean and toned from the summer’s activities. As I watched him sleep, the rise and fall of his chest led my gaze downwards. I resisted internally, telling myself that this was wrong, and if he woke up with my staring at his junk, Paul would think I was gay for sure.

I looked again at his face, searching for any inclination that he would wake. Paul remained as he was, breathing evenly, mouth ajar, a small line of drool running at the corner of his lips. I had never noticed how full they were before. Satisfied that he wouldn’t wake, my eyes trailed their way downwards, past the little trail of hair leading to the waistband of his boxers. As they went lower, my eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. Paul was sporting a hard-on!

His morning wood was obscured by the loose material of his underwear, but I could clearly see the outline of his dick against the red plaid background. As I took it in, admiring the size of it, Paul’s dick moved slightly, straightening out, getting harder! It seemed to palpitate once, then settle back a bit before straightening out fully, pushing the material of his boxers, making them taut.

I stood and stared in wonder at the full length of Paul’s cock, still obscured by his underwear. It seemed to be about the same size as my own, maybe a bit longer, I couldn’t be sure. Every few seconds or so, it would shift and pump slightly. My eyes were glued to it, and I realized that my own member was rock hard in my own underwear. I shifted my weight slightly and adjusted my hardness so it angled down my leg. When I did this, a jolt of pleasure rocked its way up my shaft, and my hand lingered there. I gripped my cock firmly, then slid my palm down its length, relishing the feeling it produced.

I closed my eyes for a moment and exhaled deeply, deciding to go back outside and wait until my hard-on cooled down, then knock on his window to wake him up as if I had never been here. When I opened them again, I was frozen solid where I stood. Paul’s eyes were open, and he was staring directly at me. We made eye contact, and I watched as his gaze dropped down to my crotch, where my cock was making a plainly visible outline in my jeans, fully erect.

“Ehhhmm,” I stammered, breaking away from looking at him, staring at the wall. I could feel the blood rushing to my face as I feverishly thought of some way to explain this, to make it normal. Nothing came up.

“What’s up, dude?” Paul asked casually, his voice heavy with sleep.

“I uhhh, man, came over to get you.” I felt like the dumbest guy in the world in that moment. My brain ran a short circuit, there must have been smoke coming out of my ears.

I looked over at him, then, and the expression on Paul’s face was a confused mess. His cheeks were as red as mine, if not more so. His eyebrows furrowed, his posture defensive. He had pulled the blankets over his midsection, covering his morning wood from view. He looked up at me, and I held his stare. Something clicked, then, and I realized that Paul must have been more embarrassed by far in that moment. He didn’t know what I knew and was probably scared I would make things awkward for both of us. Maybe he hadn’t noticed my erection in his post-sleep daze, too focused on covering his own.

“I saw you in the woods. With Tony Bates.”

Paul’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open and the last traces of sleepiness leaving his posture. I had no idea what had driven me to say that to him, it had just come out.

“What? What are you even talking about?” His face was redder still, an expression of abject fear across it. “I thought you were off with Irina all night, getting smashed.”

“She blue-balled me, you know that, dude. I saw you guys, under that tree. I saw you giving him a blowjob.” My tone of voice was angry, and I had no idea why. What he must have thought in that moment, being confronted by one of his best friends! And outed, to boot.

“What? I didn’t give him a blowjob! Dude you were so drunk, you must have--”

“I know what I saw, Paul.”

Something changed in him then; his eyes narrowed and his expression became inquisitive. My face was burning, my mouth dry, everything in perfect focus.

“What do you mean, you saw? We were way out in the woods, no one was around.”

“I was, not too far away, either. Someone else could have easily found you guys out there. You swallowed, then you jerked off on your knees. I saw everything.”

Paul’s expression went from curious to dumbfounded, and he wrung his blankets in his hands nervously as he looked at me.

“What were you doing out there, watching us? You saw everything? You were still watching that whole time?”

“Are you gay, dude?”

“Answer the question, Dean! What the hell were you doing out there?”

“I went out there to jerk off. Irina blue-balled me, remember? I couldn’t get my hard-on to go away.”

“So, what? You were out in the woods jerking off, saw me and Tony, and just stayed around to watch things unfold? What the fuck, dude?”

“Are you gay!” It was barely a question at this point, I was so worked up. My blood was pumping, and I kept picturing Paul and Tony under that tree hooking up. I tried to calm down, keep my breathing even, but it did no good. I stared at Paul, searching his face for any inclination one way or the other. He gave me nothing.

“So what if I was?” His eyes were fierce, and his gaze didn’t waver from mine.

There it was. Almost undeniable. My pulse calmed, and I stood there thinking for a moment, not looking at him anymore. Paul was silent; I could feel his stare.

“Are you guys a couple? You and Tony? Do you do that often? Blow him, I mean.”

“Fuck off, man.” I looked up again. Paul looked hurt, staring dejectedly down at his bedspread.

“I’m serious. Are you?”

“Who cares! I met him that night, if you must know. What’s it to you? Jealous that I’m getting some and you get to jerk off to guys hooking up in the woods?”

He didn’t know that I had masturbated while watching them, probably was just trying to get a rise out of me. But in that moment I wasn’t thinking straight. I felt caught. I thought he must have seen me after all, or figured it out from the context of our conversation. Or guessed from the obvious erection I still had.

“I’m not… it’s not like I was planning that, okay?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I saw Paul’s look of surprise and realized what had happened. The blush I had felt beginning to recede immediately returned, stronger than ever. My face was blazing, and I looked again towards the wall, fidgeting with my hands and waiting for him to say something. He didn’t make me wait too long, but it felt like forever.

“Dean. Look at me.”

I did look, and regretted it. Paul’s eyes were once more locked with mine, and his expression was serious, his brow once again furrowed as he worked through everything that had been said between us. I stared back, a seething mixture of shame, fear and adrenaline coursing through me. I had no idea what to expect, or if I should expect anything at all. If it were me in Paul’s place, I would try as hard as I could to make this disappear, and allow everything to go back to normal between us. I wished I hadn’t said anything in the first place.

Paul kept his gaze glued to mine, his expression mostly blank. I studied the hazel-green sheen of his eyes and suddenly, I thought I saw something change. Paul didn’t seem angry or surprised anymore. He seemed a little nervous, to be sure, but for the most part, he was as cool as ever. He stood up, the mass of blankets he had been holding before forgotten on the surface of the bed. I couldn’t help myself, I was far enough already. I looked down.

Paul’s erection was still there, more poignantly visible now that he was standing. He walked towards me, and I could see all of the finite details of him that had never caught my attention before. He had a thin layer of hair around his pelvis, the top ends straying lightly from underneath his boxers. His legs were hairy too, and well toned from our constant biking around town. Suddenly he was a lot closer to me than I had initially realized, and his tented underwear was almost touching me.

My vision slid upwards, but slowly. I was so nervous that my hands were shaking, buried as they were in the pockets of my jeans. I followed the trail of his pubic hair upwards, noting the heightened rise and fall of his bare chest. His abs were just visible, and Paul’s collarbones were distinct on his thin frame. After what felt like minutes, I got to his face. The strong, stubble-shaded shape of his jaw was first, followed by the full shape of his lips, pursed in anticipation. He released his pressure, and a rosy color flooded into them as the blood began to flow once again.

Finally, I looked past the mild curve of his nose to those same gray-green eyes. Paul’s cheeks were flushed, and he nervously pushed the hair away from his forehead as I looked at him. He didn’t say anything, just looked back at me, serene expression on his face once again. Suddenly, I felt the mounting tension within me break, and I looked at him earnestly for the first time since coming into his room. This was Paul, my friend, my best friend. I smiled at him, quickly exhaling through my nose and trying to muster a nervous laugh.

“What are we going to--”

I stopped his sentence in its tracks, muffling Paul’s question with my lips. As I realized what I had done, I stepped forward, grabbing him around the waist and pulling him closer to me. I felt the warmth of his skin touching mine, the hardness of his cock pressed against the crotch of my jeans. My hands were everywhere, rubbing up the length of his back, feeling the smooth skin there, then travelling upwards, caressing the back of his neck, pulling him in.

Paul seemed to wake up, his arms slipping expertly around my back, his lips opening up to mine, tongues thrashing against one another as we embraced. His hands were like fire; the sensation of his lips against my own, exquisite. Suddenly, Paul’s hands went from the small of my back to my ass. First, he laid them there, testing my reaction. When I made no complaint, he began to feel me up in earnest, kneading the cheeks of my ass with what felt like a practised hand. I suppose it was.

As we kissed, my hard-on grew against my leg, hot and straining. I could feel Paul’s own erection pressing into me; the encompassing feeling of his hands on my ass coupled with the pressing need of his cock was overwhelming. I grew impatient, my curiosity getting the better of me. I slid my hands from their perch around his neck and shoulders, allowing my fingertips to draw lines of heat on his chest as they went.

The smooth feel of his skin, interrupted by the coarse patch of hair on his lower stomach, made my mouth water. I felt the outline of his cock, tentatively at first, barely making contact against the now-damp fabric of his boxers. Then I gave it a small squeeze, reveling in the feeling of his shaft jumping at my attention. This felt like power, one I had never encountered before. I drank it like fine wine, loving the sound of his catching breath every time I applied more pressure.

In the back of my mind, I compared the experience I was having with Paul to that I had shared with Irina some days before. This felt completely different, almost alien in its intensity. Everything with her had been scripted, safe. Our kisses had been small and passionless, the contact between us clumsy. Paul was like an entirely different species. Or was it me that was different? Had I been this excited when I was with Irina in the woods that night, or was it just nerves?

My musings were short-lived, as I suddenly felt the firm grip of Paul’s hand on my cock over the material of my jeans. I moaned into his mouth, my knees weakening at the surprise sensation. I could feel Paul smile against my mouth, and the grip of his left hand on my ass tightened in time with his right on my member. I could feel my cock leaking precum again, his measured rubbing causing it to spread around inside my briefs.

It felt like I was going to cum, the overwhelming sensations I was experiencing heightened by the naughtiness of it all. In my nervousness, I worried that Paul’s parents might come home at any minute, or Jamie might come around to check on us if we weren’t at the meeting place on time. I froze up at that thought, my hands falling limply from Paul’s waist. What would happen if we were caught? I would die of embarrassment; our friends would never talk to me again.

My cock had other ideas. Paul, perhaps sensing my apprehension, stepped back for a moment and looked at me.

“You okay?”

I couldn’t speak. I almost stopped him right there, almost threw away all of the sensations that were driving me crazy, making my cock harder than it had ever been. But something held me back. Maybe it was teenage hormones, maybe I knew somewhere deep inside myself that I wanted this. It all felt so damned good. So good I couldn’t stand it. I nodded at him, biting my lips to keep me from saying something stupid. I didn’t want this to stop.

Paul smiled, his eyes squinting up a little as he did. In that moment, I thought something that had never entered my mind before; Paul was sexy. He looked so mischievous, and I knew that he was having the same thoughts about how bad we were being. About what would happen if we got caught. It occurred to me that this is how being gay must feel, like you were getting away with something that others didn’t want you to. Like we had pulled one over on them. It was stupid, but in that moment I was so excited to commit this sin with him.

Still smiling at me with a sly look in his eyes, Paul placed his hands on my chest, then began bending his knees, sliding his palms over me as he went. I knew what he wanted, and my cock jumped when the thought struck home. Once Paul was fully kneeling before me, he began to massage my bulge with both hands, a hungry look on his face. I kept biting my bottom lip, staring at him, loving the sensations he was bringing with practised movements.

He didn’t make me wait long. Paul reached up, pushing my shirt up my stomach with smooth hands, the feel of their warmth sending shivers up my spine. I took the memo and held the material of my shirt up around my chest, gripping it tighter than was necessary. He fumbled around with the button of my jeans in his haste before finally managing to undo it and reach for the zipper. I had fantasized about this moment for years, always picturing Irina to be the one to first take my cock into her mouth. This was better, better by far.

As he unzipped my jeans with businesslike speed, Paul once again looked up at me, a casual but sultry look across his boyish features. He didn’t say anything, just looked into my eyes, his hunger apparent. I felt him feel around my waist before my jeans were unceremoniously pushed downwards, my briefs still intact. My cock had been pressed to the side in the mash of our bodies earlier, and there was a visible stain of precum against the white cotton where the head pushed outwards.

The bulge of my aching erection looked bigger than usual, something I began to realize was a trend as of late. Paul finally looked down at it, his grin fading into a stare of lust, lips parted as his hot breath wafted over me. He pushed his face into my crotch, inhaling deeply through his nose, his hands running up my thighs as he did so. I found this odd but had no complaints. Any contact was superb, and my hard-on pulsed repeatedly, small pumps of precum darkening the stain in the front of my underwear.

Finally, he lifted the waistband of my briefs, pulling them down my legs. My cock sprang free, slapping into the side of his cheek with a wet smack. Paul groaned low in his throat, his hands sliding over my thighs, taking hold of my shaft and balls. His grip was firm, but not hard enough to hurt. The warmth of his hands felt spectacular and sure. Everything about Paul’s touch was perfect, it seemed. I was lost.

He massaged my balls, tugging on them lightly. Meanwhile, his other hand worked at my shaft, running in smooth succession from the base to the tip, twisting slightly as it went. Every time his cupped fist reached the tip, a small amount of my precum would get picked up, lubricating the following descent. I moaned, the slick sound of his work turning me on even more.

As the amount of precum on my cock increased, he eventually slipped his hands from my ballsack to the base of my shaft. He began to work both hands together, twisting them in unison as he pumped my cock like a professional. I could barely stand, the pleasure was so intense. I knew I couldn’t hold on much longer, but I wanted more. I cleared my throat as best I could, catching his attention.

“Could you… holy shit… mmf, put it in your mouth?”

Paul laughed, his voice husky with lust as he realized how close I was to cumming from just a handjob. He winked at me. I wasn’t able to relax, not really, but I could appreciate what he was doing for me. I decided to just wait it out; he would get to that. I just didn’t know if I could keep my load until he did.

Paul seemed to realize this. He brought his hands back up my shaft, twisting and squeezing lightly as he did. He reached the top, but as he slid his hands back down again, he brought his mouth along with them. The feeling of having all of my cock encased in warmth was unreal, the sensitive tip encompassed by the wet heat of his mouth. His lower hand was replaced to its post on my balls, cupping them comfortably while his hand and mouth worked together on my cock once again.

I was speechless, my knees weakening at the unbelievable feeling I had been aching for, dreaming about, for what felt like a lifetime. It was better than I had imagined it, a mixture of wet pressures and spit-fueled suction. Every time Paul’s mouth found the head of my cock again, his tongue would wrap and flick around my perineum, eliciting groans of ecstasy from me. Then he would plunge downwards again, my cock thrusting deep into his warm mouth as his twisting grip held the base of my shaft.

Suddenly, I felt my balls begin to churn, my anticipated orgasm approaching at last.

“Dude, I’m going to cum. Ohhh-holy shit that feels so good.”

I had barely gotten the words out, but Paul had clearly been ready for this. He increased his speed, the now-sopping grip of his left hand twisting with increased speed and pressure around the base of my cock. His suction tightened, and his tongue went from light and playful flicks to fully circling my tip, the strokes long and laborious. I could hear the wet slurp of air escaping from the sides of his mouth, and he began to hum deep in his throat.

The vibration of his humming was more than enough, and it pushed me over the edge. My balls pulled upwards, I dropped my shirt and grabbed his shoulders for support as he worked my cock with vicious speed. My legs tensed, my knees locking. My core tensed, my stomach doing a backflip as that familiar full-body warmth enveloped me. My legs shook with the force of my release, and I pulled back to keep from flooding his mouth with my load.

But Paul tensed, his right hand wrapping around my waist to grip my bare ass, holding me in place. I was too far gone to care. My cock swelled, thicker and longer than ever before, pumping furiously into Paul’s waiting mouth. I unloaded, spurt after spurt of thick, hot cum shooting onto his tongue, down his throat. The intensity didn’t wane, Paul’s expert hand still pumping in rhythm with my release. I stood there in utter bliss, feeling his tongue hungrily lapping up every shot I let loose.

As Paul milked my manhood, his throat working to take the entirety of my seed, a small stream leaked out of the corner of his mouth. It dripped down his chin, pooling lightly at the edge of his jaw before dripping onto the carpeted floor below. My orgasm had just begun to shift from blissful to oversensitive, and I had to apply firm pressure on his shoulders to get him to let me go. He looked up at me, his eyes full of lust, and smiled. Somehow, the cum-streaked image of his smiling face made the occasion feel casual, like another day hanging out with my good friend. I suppose that’s what we were to each other, even with my cum making its way down into his stomach.

I found words hard to gather, my mind still blank and overwhelmed by the sheer surprise of what had just happened. I breathed heavily, my hands still on Paul’s shoulders, my softening cock drooping right before his wet lips. He kept smiling, looking expectantly up at me before using his thumb to wipe the line of semen from his jawline, then licking it and sucking it lightly into his mouth. That act alone would have been enough to set me off, two days prior. But now it seemed natural that he would want more. I know I did, one way or another.

“Holy shit,” I said again, still panting.

“Holy shit is right,” cooed Paul, eyes locked with mine, “that was a huge load, dude. Your cock is great.”

The nonchalant nature of his comment took me off guard. I hadn’t known what to expect, having just filled my best friend’s mouth with cum, but I suppose it wasn’t this. It was just like before, just two guys shooting the shit. The only difference was Paul was kneeling in front of my dripping cock, an obvious erection still tenting the front of his boxer shorts. Suddenly I realized that Paul might want me to return the favor. The idea of taking his sizeable meat into my mouth caused my own spent cock to jump, and I knew immediately that I would do so without hesitation if he asked.

Paul had gotten up during my post-blow reprieve and was checking his phone in the corner of the room.

“Jamie just texted me, is he expecting us?”

Oh shit, I thought, how long have we been at it? I quickly picked up my jeans from around my ankles, fumbling them around in an attempt to find my cell phone. After removing it from the tangle of denim, I found that only twenty minutes had passed since my arrival at Paul’s house. We still had ample time to make it to the meeting place, if Paul got ready quickly.

“Yeah, he is. I totally forgot. Nature walk today.”

As I considered the now-alien concept of spending the remainder of the day with my friends messing around town, I realized that it would be a welcome change. While the idea of tasting what Paul had just sampled from me was alluring, I could definitely use some time to process what had happened between us. Maybe we could sneak away later to a private place and I could try it out. Sucking cock. What a shift in mindset! What an absolutely crazy idea.

“We should get going, then, huh? Wouldn’t want him thinking something is up.” Paul winked at me as he finished his sentence, and I could feel color rushing to my face.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

I was far too nervous to tell Paul that I wanted to return the favor, but I was confident I would find an opportunity when time allowed. There was a lot of summer left ahead of us.