(Confession)
My one and only personal experience of fellatio (guy-on-guy) is so weird that it's hard to believe it ever really happened. It was over twenty years ago (I'm now happily married with two children) while at Plymouth University where I was studying Art and Design. I'd made quite a few friends by the second year and four of us shared a rented house in a suburb of Plymouth -- student accommodation, not great, but serviceable and bearable. The first year, as usual at Uni, had been spent on-campus so it was nice having the facilities of a proper house.
We got on really well - two girls, both from Manchester, Bibi and Alex; and two boys, Phil, a black Canadian who looked and was a fantastic athlete, and yours truly, Kevin hailing from Sussex.
Quite often on weekends if we had nothing better to do we'd sit around chatting and sometimes getting high on a little dope if there was any going. I think this one particular Saturday evening we'd overdone it because we all seemed to shed our inhibitions at the same time. We'd been chatting about studies, relationships, future careers, etc. and the girls had gotten through a couple of bottles of wine, while Phil and I had cracked our way through quite a few cans of Bud, so along with a few joints between us we were quite high by the middle of the evening.
It was inevitable the topic of conversation would eventually come round to sex. It always did, although none of us had been promiscuous with each other.
There was the usual ribald banter and laughter, just good friends getting along and enjoying each other's company really, nothing offensive. Because none of us were in a relationship with each other, it made for a neutral playing field with nobody taking offence or getting the old green-eye. The subject gradually centred on the male of the species, and in particular -- the male genitalia. It was also inevitable that black men would be discussed owing to their awesome reputation in this department and the presence of our Phil. Of course we had a few jokes with the Canadian and he took it all in good part, but it didn't escape anyone's notice that he was getting increasingly fidgety, shifting around in his seat like he was sitting on a sprig of holly or something, adjusting the crotch of his pants, and looking quite hot and prickly. Somebody made a remark about it, as the outline of his cock was becoming more and more prominent down the left leg of his pants and the root of his problem obvious.
One of the girls (amidst some playful banter and giggling) suggested that he take a few seconds to sort himself out. Of course this created great merriment and there were hoots of laughter. Phil was laughing too, as he got to his feet and heeded the advice. And then I said:
"You're a lucky so-and-so, Phil... I bet it comes up to your belly button." Cue more laughter.
"Higher probably," said Bibi.
"Shut up," said the big, amiable man. "You're making me blush."
Given Phil's native colouring, this was also met with hysterics.
"I bet you could suck yourself off," said Alex, and that really did it. We all fell about, paralytic with laughter. "Come on, Phil," I said, when we'd just about recovered. "Give us a private showing. You're among friends. We won't tell anyone."
"Yeah, come on Philip," said Bibi. "Let's have a look at it."
"No."
"Be a sport," said Alex.
And then for some unearthly reason, I blurted out: "If you show us, Phil... I'll..."
"You'll what, brother?"
And as if I had been forced into a corner and had to think of something quick, I said: "I'll go down on you... give you a blow-job!" I felt myself go red, and that did show on my fair skin. I took another swig from the can. What the hell did I say that for? I was really out of my head by now.
"Yes, that'd be good," said Alex.
"Hilarious," said Bibi, "and positively hot."
