Duncans Gentle Touch

Note: This is not a simple story of gay friends fucking. If you are looking for a story with a quick blowjob three paragraphs in, then, my friend, click somewhere else. This part is the foreplay and sometimes that's the best part. Don't get me wrong, we DO fuck several times and in some interesting ways that are worth sticking around for. So if you're in it for the long haul, start here.

*****

"God, you scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry. I wanted to see if you were ready yet."

"I just got in the shower, and I intend to take my time."

"Damn, man, you are just about the slowest person I know."

"You want me to hurry up, do something to help me out."

Duncan didn't have a reply for that. He and I had been very good friends for a long time. We did nearly everything together, and even more so when neither of us had a girlfriend. He had called me out of the blue this Saturday morning and wanted to go golfing. At first I had pushed him off; there were some things I wanted to do around the house, but he wouldn't hear of it.

I told him to come over, but I had to get ready. I had just stepped into the shower when the door to the bathroom had opened unexpectedly. After I got over my initial surprise, we settled into our normal routine of gently poking fun at each other.

Before I go any further, let me explain that even though Duncan and I are good friends, and trust each other implicitly, we were both happily straight. We had both dated women extensively and, to be honest, we hadn't ever thought much about what gay men did. Our relationship was a typical hetero male relationship. Part of that relationship was verbally pushing the limits with each other, challenging the other to move just slightly out of his comfort zone (one more drink, go talk to that girl, jump out of plane...that kind of stuff). So when I verbally challenged him to 'help me out,' I had no particular expectations. We just said things like that when we were together.

"Maybe I will."

"Maybe you should." I challenged him again.

"Maybe I will." This time it sounded a little different. He was calmer. It was more of a statement of fact. I turned around and looked at him, holding the shower door open. He was totally naked.

I don't know what shocked me more in that moment. Certainly the fact that neither of us had been naked in front of the other (whenever we went bike riding or hiking, we always ended up cleaning up at our homes). Or that he was openly and boldly moving our relationship to a new place. Or that what he was doing and the situation we were suddenly in didn't feel nearly as weird as I thought it would (Can you feel shocked at not being shocked?).

In that moment, I felt like most guys feel in a locker room shower. Sure I was naked, but so what? Duncan was my friend. I was comfortable around him and I trusted him. Granted, this was the large shower in my master bathroom and not some YMCA, but it wasn't really all that different. And I figured if Duncan wanted to shower with me, that was ok.

"Hand me the soap." He said. "I'm going to move this along a little."

I wordlessly handed the as-yet unused bar of soap over to him. He stepped into the shower. This shower was built to match the proportions of my large home. It was stone, had two multiple-head 'stations' and a large seat on one side.

Duncan stepped over to me and we looked at each other for a long moment.

"Still want some help, Marty?"

"If you want me to hurry up..."

"Turn around." Our voices were low, hushed to the level people go to in the moments before intimacy. I was glad Duncan had joined me. I was glad we were going to do whatever we were going to do.

I turned my back on him. He stepped in close behind me. He took my arms one at a time and put them up on the wall out of the stream from the shower. 'Assume the position' was the thought that came to mind. I helped him out by spreading my legs a little.

He built up a good lather and then began to soap up my neck and shoulders and upper back. He kept going down my back, my sides and then up my arms. He held a washcloth in one hand and the soap in the other. Soon my back and arms were covered in a thick lather.

He paused for a moment, and with the push of a button, turned on a hand-held sprayer. Still holding the washcloth in one hand, he began carefully rinsing my back off.

When that was done, he lathered up again and without turning me around, began to repeat the process on my chest and stomach. After I was soaped up again, he put down the bar of soap and began using his bare hands, running them across my smooth skin. One hand stayed high and he focused his attention on my chest.

With his other hand, Duncan worked his way slowly down my lightly washboard torso, past my navel and kept going down. I was comfortably excited as his hand very lightly brushed the top of my cock. He rubbed the shaved area there for a bit, then moved both his hands back up to my chest, giving my nipples equal attention.

After a time, he brought the hand-held sprayer around and carefully rinsed me off. In silence, he took one of my arms and moved me to sit down on the bench, facing him. He pulled me towards the edge and spread my legs a little.

For the first time, he and I were facing each other, our bodies fully exposed. My cock had taken on that heavy feeling it gets just before it begins to get hard, but so far, I had not gotten an erection.

I looked at Duncan. Not only was he my best friend, but he was exceptionally good looking. Like me, he had broad shoulders and a hard torso that tapered to a narrow waist. Both of us worked hard and played hard and our bodies reflected it well. Duncan always had a deep tan which made his blonde hair even more striking. In looking him over for the first time, I realized that, like me, he shaved his cock and balls, which at the moment hung heavily. His body was as smooth as could be, and I was anxious to see what came next.

He made sure my legs were both wet and then picked up my legs one at a time and carefully began working the soap in between my toes and massaging the soles. I watched his face the whole time. He was completely at ease bathing me. I was completely at ease with him. He would look at me from time to time, the smallest of grins on his face.

After he finished both feet, he motioned me to stand up again. He faced me towards the wall again and this time spread my legs quite wide. He soaped my legs and with his bare hands began working the soap up towards my thighs and crotch. This was the moment of truth, I thought. I wondered how far he was willing to go. I knew that I would let him do whatever he wanted, but I wasn't about to spoil this by forcing anything.

He stopped when he got to the top of my legs, and I thought that might be it, but it was just an interlude. He rinsed off the soap that was there, and then worked up a fresh lather. I sensed no hesitation in him as he began by soaping the outside of my cheeks and my hips. His hands focused on my ass and he rubbed in whorls and swirls up and down and frankly with a fair bit of force in his hands.

With his foot, he spread my legs even wider and with a gentle pull on my hip, pulled my ass towards him, spreading the cheeks even more. He moved his hands into the crack of my ass matter-of-factly. It was, after all, the next area to be cleaned. With his middle finger tracing the seam of my ass, he worked his hand up and down.

I flinched a little as he rode over the opening to my ass, but he didn't pause. He continued down to the soft spot between my legs before moving back up. He moved both hands around my ass, touching me everywhere. His fingers entered me a little, just enough to make sure I was completely clean. I relaxed a bit to allow him whatever access he wanted.

He brought the sprayer around again, this time adjusted to a high pressure wash, and spreading my cheeks, rinsed my ass very carefully, making sure there was not a bit of soap left anywhere.

"You need a shave." His voice startled me a bit. We hadn't spoken since he had come into the shower.

I nodded and handed him a razor and some shaving cream. He turned the water off and turned the steam on high, keeping the shower plenty warm. He had me sit down again on the bench and this time, he moved me right up to the edge and spread my legs as wide as they would go.

He squirted some shaving cream on his finger tips and carefully began spreading it over my heavy cock and balls, completely covering my entire pubic region. 'This was some kind of trust,' I thought, allowing him to move a razor around my genitals. But I knew I could trust Duncan. He showed no hesitation, no particular concern about touching me wherever he needed to.

My cock began to harden a little at his touch, expanding of its own will. He seemed not to mind. His skill with the razor was incredible. He moved slowly and deliberately, starting with my lower belly and moving down a bit with each stroke. When he got done there, he moved to my balls. He would take one carefully in his hand, rolling the skin this way and that, dragging the razor gently across. He took care to get the soft skin between my balls and my ass. I liked to stay smooth everywhere, but there is a special eroticism to that bit of flesh being silky smooth.

Finally, when everything around my cock was shaved to his liking, he turned his attention to my cock. He gently grabbed the tip with one hand and moved it around to get to each part of it. I was surprised and pleased by how natural this felt. My best friend was shaving me, holding my cock expertly with one hand and making me feel just like I would want to feel.

Despite the intense physical contact, this was not a sexual encounter. It was intimate and erotic, but not sexual. Both of us knew where the boundaries were in the shower. We were both comfortable with them, and relaxed in our intimacy.

When he finally finished with the last bit of shaving, he carefully rinsed me off, checking carefully with his fingertips to ensure that he had done a good job. He moved my hand down and I felt along with him. It was without a doubt the best cock shave I had ever had. When I told him so, he smiled and leaned in and gave the tip of my cock a quick little kiss, just enough to elicit a wicked smile from both of us.

"We're almost there," he said, standing up with me.

He put some water on my face and shaved me there, too. Again, his touch was as sure and gentle as could be. I reveled in our closeness, our uninhibited contact. I know we brushed up against each other time and again, but our focus was elsewhere.

When my face was as smooth as the rest of my body, he leaned me over and washed my hair. His strong fingers rubbed right down to the scalp. He pressed just hard enough to really get the blood flowing in my head.

After shampooing my head twice, Duncan turned on all the spigots on my side of the shower and carefully rinsed me from head to toe, his hands running over my body, re-exploring every inch. Finally, regretfully, it was over. I was clean.

I looked at him. "Thank you." I said quietly, trying to convey all I felt in those simple words.

"No, Marty, thank you. Thank you for letting me wash and shave you."

I put my hand on his shoulder. "You are a good friend," I said. "I'm relaxed with I'm with you."

"Me too." His fingers were still lightly exploring my abs. I pulled him in close and gave him a hug. It wasn't one of those silly man hugs where you try to keep a certain safe distance between the cocks, it was a deep hug, with our cocks pressed comfortably against one another.

I stepped out of the shower and began drying off while Duncan rinsed himself down.

We finally headed out to play golf and had a great round, laughing and joking with each other like we always did, comfortable in our intensely personal relationship.

...MORE TO COME...