We sat side-by-side on his couch wearing only our gym shorts. Without air conditioning his apartment was uncomfortably hot and it made sense when he said we'd be cooler if we took off our shirts.
I wasn't naïve, I knew he was trying to seduce me but I figured I'd put a stop to it once I felt it had gone too far. Besides, ever since we met he showered me with praise and attention and I liked it.
He put his arm around me and stroked my shoulders. He had a soft touch and his hand had a soothing effect on me. When he began caressing my breasts and pinching my nipples I felt my penis begin to respond, and wondered if it was time to stop him.
Then he began stroking the flesh on my thighs and my penis became fully erect.
"Ah, Tim...I don't think we should go any further...." I said softly, and reluctantly.
His hand never stopped moving. He ran it under the wide leg band of my shorts all the way up to my bikini briefs. He furtively squeezed my cock through my briefs then removed his hand from me altogether.
Suddenly, he took hold of my hand and guided it to his crotch and pressed it against his erection. He held it there; I felt incredible heat coming from his groin. My breath caught in my throat. His cock was definitely longer than mine, and thicker, too.
"Johnny," he whispered in my ear. "Play with it for me...do for me what you did for that stranger you told me about."
The night before, Tim had taken me to a bar and bought me shots of tequila. We had a great time but I lost count of how many shots we'd had. Then we got to talking personal stuff and he asked me if I'd ever had sex with a guy before. That's when I broke down and told him about my one and only gay experience.
I said about a year ago I became curious and after the bars closed, I went to a park where guys went to meet other guys, if you know what I mean.
Well, I met someone and we went to his apartment. After a glass of wine and a few tokes from a joint, he got me out of my clothes and had me kneeling on the end of his bed. I knew what he wanted to do and I didn't stop him.
I felt him pour oil between my asscheeks and his fingers gently worked it into my flesh. When his oily finger pressed against my anus I started, but said nothing, and he pushed it further inside me. His wet finger felt pretty good inside my rectum.
I held my breath when I felt him press his cockhead against me. He slowly pushed it past my sphincter and had about two inches of his hard cock inside me when I asked him to stop.
"I can't do this," I said. "It's too big—I can't take it." There wasn't any pain, just a feeling of pressure, of being incredibly full.
He pulled out of me and swore, "Why the fuck did you come here if you weren't going to go through with it?"
That was a good question, I thought. Why did I do this?
He was angry as he collapsed on the sofa and wrapped a towel around his still-hard prick.
"Are you going to leave me like this?" he asked incredulously, looking down at the bulge in the towell. "You could at least give me a handjob."
I had to admit he was right. I didn't want to be a prick-tease and leave him in that condition so I sat next to him, and with the towel still draped around his cock, I stroked his cock until he came in the towel.
I think about that night quite a bit: I would have masturbated him without the towel, if he'd wanted me to, and, well, if he had been more aggressive and had told me to take his cock in my mouth--I think I would have done that, too.
"I'll make it easier for you," Tim said then leaned over and turned off the lamp.
In total darkness, Tim put his arm around me and pulled me close to him. I felt his hot breath in my ear then his tongue. My body jerked as he tongued my ear. Then his hand gripped my hard prick through my shorts.
"I know you love this," he said.
He shifted on the sofa; I felt his weight lift then settle again. It sounded like he'd removed his shorts. Then his impatient hands hooked into the waistband of my shorts and briefs and he tugged them down. I lifted my hips to help him.
Our naked thighs were now touching and I groaned out loud when he wrapped his fingers around my shaft.
He took my hand in his and pressed it to his cock.
"Just do what I do," he whispered in my ear.
I held his cock and began a slow stroking motion like his hand was doing to me. It felt wonderful; not only his hand on my prick, but my hand on his, as well. It had been a long, long time since someone besides me touched my cock.
He kissed my cheek then turned my head and we pressed our lips together. His lips were soft and warm. I liked kissing him. We were both good kissers.
His open hand caressed my balls then traveled upward over the length of my cock. I did the same for him. I loved his smooth, soft warmth.
When he took hold of my shaft and began pumping it in earnest—I did the same for him.
Soon, we gave off constant moans of pleasure; our kissing became more frantic, our tongues searched deeply into each others' mouths.
My head was floating in the clouds as I stroked his stiff cock.
Suddenly, his hand moved faster and I followed his lead. We grunted and groaned then cried out in unison when our balls erupted and cum flowed out of our cocks. Our thighs and hands were soaked with semen.
I had lost my breath—it was one of the most fantastic orgasms I'd ever experienced, and it was only a handjob. I began to think that moving to this town may have been the best decision I ever made.
Tim turned on the lamp and we surveyed the mess we made. Thick pools of cum coated our thighs.
"C'mon," he said, taking me by the hand. "Let's go clean up."
On the way to his bathroom I finally felt free. Moving a thousand miles from my home town was the right thing to do. I'd only been here a couple weeks and already I had friendly new co-workers and I met Tim, my neighbor, who as it turned out, is gay.
My family and friends back home were perplexed and distressed that I wanted to leave there.
