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I met Chris out of college, playing a game of pick up basketball during lunch break at my first job. We were both the jock type, shared the same sense of humor & hit it off immediately. He was blonde, blue eyed from a long line of Norwegians, while I was black haired & green eyed from a wide mix of East Europeans & God knows what else. Despite this people thought we were brothers & I’ve stacks of pictures with us together, arms over each other’s shoulders, always smiling. We chased women, vacationed, got drunk together & shared our dreams with each other. I never thought of him as anything else than as straight as they come.
As time passed we continued following the same course, we both got married about the same time, started families around the same time & did the same Middle Class thing of moving to a respectable suburb & “settling down”. But something strange happened to Chris. While I tried my best to stay in shape, he got fat, looked & often complained of being tired & was slowly less & less fun to be with. Gradually we drifted apart, hearing only from him when the annual birthday & Christmas cards arrived until one year those too stopped.
I never found anyone I could replace him with & I often regretted losing the best friend I’d ever had. Life wasn’t nearly so much fun without him around.
Then one year I came home to a voicemail, Chris left a message saying he wanted to hook up again & sounding cheerful. I couldn’t say no & 2 days later, eager for a Friday night of fun, we met in a sports bar in town. Chris rolled in looking slim, chipper & youthful, if slightly grayer & a bit frayed. I had to admit I probably looked the same to him given all the years that had passed.
We spent hours catching up &, sadly, he spun a sorry tale of unhappiness, separation & divorce.
My own marriage of almost 10 years had also had troubles. After a while, although I love my wife, Anne, somehow our bedroom time lost its sparkle, especially after having kids. We’d get busy only to hear one of them crying or needing a diaper change. As they grew up we got more time to ourselves & I suggested we spice things up a bit on our Date Nights, at first with toys, sexy clothes & fantasies, but then finally bringing in someone else for 3 somes.
At first it was other women which my wife insisted that she would select, but eventually she wanted to try another guy. “It’s only fair!” she insisted. I was uncomfortable, but had to agree & soon after one of our regular female playmates supplied her boyfriend. I didn’t like it, I was straight & didn’t want to go anywhere near him when we got undressed & down to business. And there was one condition, there was no way he was going to fuck Anne.
“That’s fine” he’d said, reaching down to his uncut cock & peeling back the foreskin to reveal a shining head. He’d beckoned Anne to come over & slowly pushed her shoulders down so she was bent over, hands braced against her knees, her ass facing me, her lips parting as they slipped over his now rigid cock. Something in me snapped, broke open & flooded out & I felt something that not only couldn’t I contain, I couldn’t even tell you what it was.
I positioned myself behind Anne, grabbed her hips roughly & fucked her, trying not to look down at her head as my thrusts made it bob up & down that hard shaft & the way her lips formed around that solid cock.
Some time later we had another girl-guy-girl session & it was my turn for clean up duties while the girls wore fluffy robes, lay on the bed, drank wine & talked whatever girly stuff girls talk about after sex. I was at the sink with a bowl of hot, soapy water & a collection of dildos, vibrators & cock rings rinsing off a realistic 8″ dildo with warm water. As it flopped into my hand, warm to the touch after being rinsed in the water, it felt odd as my fingers ran over the balls, up the shaft & around the head. I felt dizzy, a buzzing sound in my ears &, swiftly, furtively I looked round to make sure I wasn’t about to be discovered, I lifted the dildo, curled my fingers around the firm shaft &, forming my lips into an “O” slid it into my mouth.
I felt terrible.
Meeting up with Chris again was, I was convinced, the cure, I was surrounded by too many women, I needed guy time. I was 45, successful in my career, respectable & comfortable. I needed guy time, drinking in bars, trying to get a look down the barmaid’s shirt & swapping dirty jokes. bahis firmaları Which is exactly what we did for many weeks. Anne seemed pleased that I’d got my old friend back & that I was out of the house with a buddy & was a lot happier.
“You back to slaying pussy now you’re single again?” I’d asked. I’d ribbed him about it before & he’d always played along, without ever being specific. Secretly I had hoped he’d hook me up with some of his one night stands or fuck buddies as our bedroom friends were becoming less & less available. When I first met Chris he’d always had a steady stream of really hot women in his life & I had no reason to think he’d changed. But then he dropped a bombshell one night.
We’d finished up at our favorite bar & headed back to his place for more beers & pizza, a one bedroom condo in a part of town that was a tad skanky, but cheap enough for him to afford a comfortable, if somewhat basic, place to live. We were sat on his old couch, cracking open ice cold beers & Chris shook his head, “Nah, man. I got taken to the cleaners in the divorce. It kind of took all of the fight out of me for a while with dealing with all that shit” He sipped his beer, “And…” he shrugged “I dunno, honestly, somewhere along the way I lost the touch.”
I was simply stunned. “Shit man, when was the last time you got laid?” I wasn’t ready for his answer.
“A year…maybe more.” He was just so fucked up from the brutally messy divorce, he explained, that he ended up putting girls off. He’d tried & tried, but sooner or later something would come out, or set him off & say or do something that would put them off he’d get turned down.
“Shit, he said quietly, “what I wouldn’t do to be able to sit back & just relax while some chick blew me. FUCK!” He seemed really down.
“Well, you know what they say?”
“What? ‘There’s plenty more fish in the sea’ or some other feel good crap?” he took a sip of his beer & I pulled my usual shit-head move, timing it right for when he had a mouthful.
“No! Just ‘If you want something done properly, do it yourself’!”
Beer sprayed everywhere, down his t shirt, down his nose, hell out of his ears for all I know. He laughed hard, schwacking me with a discarded shoe & calling me an ass hole. I’d caught him this way so many times, he fell for it every time. We laughed like school boys.
“I’m so hard up I wish I could.” He said, finally calming down
I leaned over & admitted, “I used to be able to do it.” His face changed from laughing to shocked. I nodded when he refused to believe me. “OK, I was 16 & VERY flexible. I only tried it maybe 10 or 12 times.”
“Well?” he prodded
“Umm, well it made my neck hurt & soon after I got beaten to a pulp in a school football game & spent 2 weeks on crutches. I never got my flexibility back.” The next sentence came out without me even thinking about it, “But at least I knew how to do it right & it didn’t cost me a movie & dinner.”
Chris didn’t acknowledge me, so I continued “I mean, do you remember Bridget?” A pained look crossed his face & he rolled his eyes. “Huh! Worst fucking blow job EVER.” He muttered.
Bridget was in a class all of her own & our small town beauty. We’d both chased her, like all the other guys had. She was tall, slim, with long, shapely legs, great body & tits that get a dead man hard. Chris wined & dined her for months, determined that he’d score. It cost him flowers, meals in expensive restaurants & every bit of skill in bedding girls he could muster & she’d played him along for all she could get out of him. But when I asked him if he’d gotten anywhere he had grimaced & shook his head, saying “Terrible!” over & over again. It seems that Bridget gave the worst Blow Jobs in the world.
“Jeez, man!” he’d groaned, “She scraped me with her teeth & she blew me…I mean fucking BLEW me like a fucking kid blowing up a balloon. My dick hurts like bitch right now!” It was something he’d never forgotten.
“Well,” I continued, “how many girls have you heard say that only another girls knows how to lick pussy?” I felt a shiver run through me, like I had in my kitchen, months before with that dildo in my hands. “Same thing with guys, I guess. Plus you get all of the fun without the clingy crap afterwards. I mean, it’s just sex to guys, nothing complex, you get your jollies & move on.” By now half of me wanted to get up & run out of the door. I felt kaçak iddaa I was twisting the tail of a tiger. Girls might slap you across the face or throw a drink on you, but Chris was no girl & I’d seen what he could do when jealous ex-boyfriends had taken a few swings at him over some woman he was talking too. Chris packed a punch & I’d no doubt he still could.
He looked at me sideways, I guess I must have shown something on my face as he looked at me again, puzzled, cautious….dangerous. “What?…what do you mean?”
I looked right at him & suddenly I was saying the words, quite without thinking. “Just some fun, that’s all.” I nervously took some of my beer, realizing that I was shaking inside & that it was making my voice wobble. “I mean, you know, with girls it’s all complicated, but for us…well, it’s just sex, just fun, just….” I shrugged & trailed off.
“Nah, I’m not gay.” He said, shaking his head slightly.
“I know, I know.” I replied, quietly “But I….”
“Holy fucking shit. You’re a FAG you…you….?” he yelled, which made my blood run cold.
Now I knew I’d blown it & I desperately realized that I had no way to walk this back, no escape route, no explanation. I shook my head, I kept saying “No…no…” & reminding him of my wife, the 3 ways we’d had with another woman. Finally he went quiet. He was hunched forward, nursing his beer, he seemed tense, conflicted & avoided looking at me.
I muttered “That came out wrong, shit I’m drunk, I can’t get my head together, I should go, I’ll call a cab…”
I stood up, but Chris waived his hand & relaxed a little. We sat there, tense, quiet, for what seemed like an eternity. Still not looking at me he tipped up the beer & finished it off before rising to get some more out of the fridge. He stood at the end of the couch with 2 beers in his hands & looked at me for a while. I felt ashamed.
“I’m not gay!” he said & I nodded, “And I WILL kick your ass all the way into next year if you tell anyone.” I noticed his voice was quivering too. “And you don’t DARE ever try to…to….” His mouth formed a shape of the next word, but he stopped. I waited a while before saying anything.
“How do you want to..” I started but he cut me off.
“Shut up…I mean, let me think” he snapped. ‘He flicked his thumb at me in the opposite direction, “Just move up there for now. Fuck!”
He went to the light switch & plunged the room into semi darkness, only lit by the flicker of the TV that had been silently sat there while we’d talked. I sat at the end of the couch, guilty as a schoolboy, feeling like a dog that is about to be whipped. Chris walked over to the TV & searched through a stack of DVDs, plucked one out & dropped it into the player. The TV soon showed a porn movie & he used the remote to get to one of the good bits.
Finally he sat down on the couch & in the dim light he handed on beer to me & cracked open the other, eyes glued to the screen. It was a mechanic’s shop in the boonies staffed by 2 guys with ripped bodies & wearing nothing more than Farmer John denims. Just by chance a busload of cheerleaders had broken down outside this shop in the middle of nowhere & didn’t have any money. They were paying the repair bill another way.
I got the message.
Feeling like I was about to explode I sat down & suddenly realized that I didn’t know what to do. Chris still had his shorts on & wasn’t moving a muscle. I thought for a moment, thought about what I’d like someone to do & then slowly extended my hand, nervously glancing up to make sure Chris wasn’t about to tear my head off. He was still resolutely staring at the TV.
My fingers tips touched his warm skin of his thigh, I slowly moved them up, burrowing up the leg of his shorts until I bumped into something soft, very warm & round. Chris seemed to tense & breathe in, but made no move, so I slowly inched forward, my fingertips exploring this warm, unseen place. Slowly I realized that this was his nut sack, I could feel the hair & marvelled at the way they moved around. I carefully moved my hand & stroked them very gently, finding another mystery, something smoother, still round, but not shaped like a ball…..a shaft.
By now I was convinced that everyone for a city block could hear the blood pounding in my ears. I carefully, gingerly explored, it felt so silky soft & smooth, but agonizingly out of reach, his cock lay on the wrong side kaçak bahis of the seam of his boxers. I carefully moved closer & began to reach for his belt buckle, undid the button & slowly unzipped his shorts.
“Stop!” He said the word I feared the most, “I can’t do this. I’m not gay.”
“I know you’re not. Neither am I.”
He snorted a laugh & looked at me. “You’re about to suck another guy’s cock & you’re telling me you’re not gay? What the fuck then?”
I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop, I reached into his boxers & pulled his uncut, semi stiff cock out the head still hidden from my view. I wanted it so badly. “J-just, fun..” I stammered, “..I-I…I can’t explain it.” And with that I slowly bent over, my lips parted, pushing his foreskin back & slid him into my mouth, I heard him gasp as my tongue swirled around his head.
His hands came down on my face, almost pushing me away, “I can’t believe I’m this fucking hard up.” He muttered, I could feel his inner conflict from the way his arms quivered as if the muscles fought to see who was strongest, to push me away or guide me forward. I let my tongue lap the little V under the head of his cock & sucked a little harder, he gasped again & slowly he relaxed, his hands fell away & I took him all the way in, his cock growing & hardening in my mouth.
It was thrilling, far more of a thrill than the surreptitious little sucking I’d given Anne’s dildo. This was a real, live, throbbing, hard cock, warm & wonderful. I bobbed my head up & down, my fingertips searching his groin, listening for his moans of pleasure. But doing it from the side it was uncomfortable, I was all cramped up but I didn’t want to stop in case I broke the spell & he pushed me away. Finally I couldn’t bear it any longer & had to sit up, but I kept my hand on his shaft, stroking it gently as I positioned myself on the floor, directly in front of him. I reached up & grabbed the waistline of his shorts & pulled at them. He responded by lifting his hips & quickly his shorts & boxers were on the floor.
I took a quick look over my shoulder to see the action, 2 girls were tag teaming one of the “mechanics” while the others were either doing girl-girl or whacking off the second mechanic between their tits. “Just watch the movie,” I said softly & slid my hands up the inside of his thighs to spread his legs, his now fully hard cock pointing right at me, inviting me.
Once more I let the tip of his cock part my freshly wetted lips & my tongue just seemed to know what to do. Chris was soon gasping & moaning again, once more his hands came down on me, only this time cradling my head, pushing & pulling…mostly pulling, to match my rhythm, guiding his cock slightly deeper into my mouth until the first sweetness of pre cum tingled over my tongue. I knew he wouldn’t last long so I found his ball sack with one hand & started to wrap my fingers around him.
His hips rocked gently now, his hands were pressing my skull & his breathing was harsh & ragged. He came without warning, a sudden swooshing gush of cum & a jerking, shuddering climax that filled my mouth with salty cream. As he gave his third splash I swirled my tongue around his cock one last time, gently sucking harder & giving his balls a slight squeeze, a deep, seismic “Unnhhh!” was my reward, along with one last splash of cum.
I let him gather his senses, his now deflating cock gradually receding from my greedy mouth. Just as the tip of his cock slipped from my lips & back into a fleshy shell I gave him one last flick of my tongue, then it was there, dangling just in front of my eyes, shrinking away. I watched it in utter amazement, mesmerized. Only after a while did I realize I still had a mouthful of Chris’ cum & I didn’t know what to do. I thought of getting up & spitting it out, but then I swallowed it as simple as that, as if it was the most natural thing in the World to do & that I’d done it all my life.
I’d done it, I’d sucked a cock.
Afterwards it was a bit uncomfortable between us. Chris was pissy with me & didn’t seem to want to talk, but gradually thawed.
“I’m not gay.” He insisted, yet again, “There’s no fucking way I’m ever going to do that for you…or anyone.” I assured him that wasn’t a problem, “So what then? What the fuck was this?” he asked.
I realized that he was confused & I said the first thing that came into my head “Well, I suppose the best way to put it is we’re ‘Friends with benefits’, what do you think?”
He looked at me for a while, the visibly relaxed & chuckled, “Oh, uh, yeah. Well I suppose “Friends with benefits” it is then.”
And that’s the way it has stayed.
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