Gay for Moments Straight for Life

Straight Brian and gay Mark continue their evening from Part 3

"Mind if I hang for a while?" he asked.

"Nah, absolutely. Unless you need to go home and take care of this," I joked, grabbing and shaking the bulge in Mark's shorts. He looked surprised, but I needed to smooth tensions after my stupid freak-out. I threw on my sweats and suggested we get some pizza.

"Do you think you'll have another round in you?"

I chuckled. "I'd be surprised. But anything's possible."

Anything was possible.

Mark and I ordered pizza per usual. We talked about the last date he went on, how it seemed promising. I talked about the last date I went on and how I never heard from her again. We had the same conversation every week with various success rates.

"Remember your friend Josh? The one you jacked off with? The skinny one?" he asked cautiously.

He knew it embarrassed me to talk about it, but this was the first time he brought it up since I first told him.

I blushed. "Yeah."

"What did he look like again?"

Puzzled, I found Josh's profile picture on my phone. I found a clear picture of his face. His wide smile revealed perfect white teeth just below his bony nose, upon which rested his dark-framed glasses. We saw each other every couple of years when he visited from our home town. We hadn't talked as much as we used to. He was in his parents' basement, working remotely for some tech company. I found a clear picture of his face. He never trimmed the quasi-unibrow but buzzed his head. At the bottom of the frame was his large Adam's apple. We called him Goiter in high school.

"Here he is," I said, I handing my phone to Mark.

"Oh my god," he gasped.

"What?"

Mark pulled out his phone, frantically searching for something.

"What?" I demanded.

"This," he said, shoving his phone in my face.

The screen showed a grid of thumbnails of men in various stages of undress. I recoiled but took a closer look. I knew Mark wasn't flaunting pictures of naked men. I squinted. In the middle of the grid was an image of a huge dick held at the base by a huge hand with long fingers and stubby fingernails. The handle under it read "ULuvJoshCock".

"No," I exclaimed in disbelief.

I clicked on the image. Below his offline status read the location: my hometown. No stranger to the women's section of the site, I scrolled down to find thumbnails...and Josh. Bright light above the camera lit his face and otherworldly cock. He had won popularity awards.

"That's him."

"I knew it," Mark said, giddy and in disbelief. "Josh. From your hometown. Super skinny. Huge dick. Really outgoing. Who else was it going to be?"

We exchanged phones. "He's really popular. Jacks off for everybody every Wednesday night and occasionally on the weekends. He loves women but says he has a duty to share his cock with dudes sometimes too. Whenever he tastes his cum or plays with his ass he gets a ton of tips," Mark said with such enthusiasm that I had to hold back laughter.

"Honestly, I'm not surprised he does it," I said, reaching for the pipe on the coffee table. "Want a hit?" I asked, bringing the piece to my lips. I glanced at Mark. He has a boner in his short shorts again. I held my breath and tried not to laugh at the head poking out of his shorts.

Mark followed my eyes down to his shorts.

"If it ever bothers you," he said, shrugging his shoulders, defeated, "let me know." He took the pipe from my hand.

I ignored him. What bothered me was the idea that he might get the wrong impression, that he thinks that I enjoy seeing his cock. It didn't gross me out, but I didn't want him to think that I was drawn to him physically

Exhaling a plume of smoke, I said, "I can see why Josh wouldn't mind playing with his ass. I always thought it was a gay thing, even though I know it really doesn't matter. But after what," I paused, searching for the right words, "you just did, I can see why guys are into it. It makes sense now."

"Yeah, you seemed pretty into it."

He smiled slyly.

"You even called me a bad word."

I felt my face turn red.

"I feel pretty bad about that," I admitted. "I never use that word. I'm really sorry."

"No, I love being called names," he insisted.

His eyes grew under his arched eyebrows.

"I love to be called a bitch, slut, whore."

Mark noticed my relief and pleasant surprise.

"Gay dudes never call me a faggot. They feel too uncomfortable. They can call my asshole a cunt or a bussy, but somehow don't have the courage to shove their cocks down my throat and call me a faggot."

"I won't be using your asshole so I will never have a reason to call it a cunt," I teased, "but I'm relieved to know that I don't really have to worry about what I say when, you know," I suggest, tilting my head a bit.

Mark's cock peaked out of his shorts a little further. He was a sad puppy.

"You want some more, faggot?" I sneered, gripping my cock through my sweats.

I didn't need another round. But knowing he wanted my cock so bad that he couldn't keep his cock in his pants inspired me. A few months prior to this interaction would have felt awkward. Familiar and trusting, my lack of attraction to Mark doesn't factor in. These moments exist separately from the rest of reality.

In one smooth movement, Mark sprung off the couch and moved the coffee table to the side of the room. He laid down on the floor, face-up, most of his cock now exposed and tightly pinned against his leg by the hem of his short shorts.

"I'm not 69ing you," I said, shaking my head.

"No, it's not like that. I want you to ride my tongue."

At first, I was unsure what he meant. But I recalled all the times I said the same thing to girls. Duty calls.

I left my tank top on but removed my sweats quickly. I admit I wanted him to play with my ass again. It felt illegal.

Mark and I happily skipped foreplay. There wasn't any romance between us. So I jumped right in and winged it.

I placed my feet on either side of Mark's head and squatted. I used the edge of the couch to steady myself. I looked at my growing cock beginning its curve upward. I saw Mark's face just beneath my cock and balls. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and strained to stick out his red tongue, the strongest muscle in the human body.

I steadily lowered my asshole over his mouth until it found the part of his mouth that would be inside me. He flicked and drew circles around it. My cock at full mast, my balls hovered above his nose. He tongued my hole lightly for a while, but my legs grew tired. His hands on each of my calves, he felt my legs shaking.

"Sit," he muffled.

I hesitated. Though not bodybuilding, I did enough strength training to know my weight might be of some concern. But I strained, so I sat right on his tongue.

Mark's tongue went in and out of my hole again. Heavenly. I put my entire weight on Mark's face and he didn't care. My hole relaxed. My asscheeks engulfed his jaw. I felt his chin at the top of my hairy crack. My balls went up to his eyes. My skin melded with his. He breathed in through his nose, where I rested my taint.

In the midst of the heat and sweat and new sensations, I took time to appreciate the situation. When I'm with a girl, I like to please her as much I as I like to be pleased. But Mark is a man, and I just wasn't interested in pleasing him. I felt sympathy for him, having to hold in that load until he got home. But I enjoyed not having to concern myself with someone else's pleasure. I could do whatever I wanted, and if I had gone too far, Mark would tell me.

I gyrated around Mark's tongue in small movements. My ass felt amazing but my cock, which had dripped pre-cum onto Mark's forehead, needed attention. I lifted my ass off his tongue and into the air. I pushed my cock down between my legs with one hand, aimed, and shoved my cock into his mouth.

"Eat my pre-cum, faggot," I commanded, trying to shove my cock further down his throat. The upward curve of my cock prevented him from swallowing it whole. I pulled my cock in and out of his mouth, rocking my hips up and down, my balls hitting his chin in rhythm.

Mark put his hands on my thighs. "Wait," he interrupted, "Turn around."

I turned my back to the couch and put each foot on either side of his face again. I positioned my cock to be sucked again. Without the couch to steady me, I leaned over Mark's torso. His cock, (still stuck to his thigh but steadily flowing pre-cum) was now less than a foot away from my face.

Before I could overthink his dick's proximity, my cock passed the barrier and made it all the way down his throat. Between our torsos, I saw his chin nesting in my pubes. He gently pressed his thumb against my hole, adding to the sensations.

I pushed my crotch further into his mouth, expecting Mark to motion me to stop as his head pressed further into the carpet. The only resistance I encountered were his attempts to press his face further into my body. I started my rhythmic face-pounding again. I let him get some air before each round.

I lifted my head, dizzy from hanging upside down. Mark jacked the length of his cock. I somehow missed his hand moving from my asshole to the base of his cock; the other, from my fuzzy asscheek to grip and tug at his cock. The tip of the head was nearly two inches from my nose.

Although I spent months avoiding this very moment, deep down I knew it would come. I knew I would get closer to him than I ever intended. I had traded seeing a dude's face in between my legs for a cock in my own face. I wasn't aroused at the proximity of his cock, but part of me felt like he deserved to pleasure himself. He had given me what I wanted so many times. Besides, the ultimate test was whether or not the sight of Mark jacking off in front of me would make me lose my boner. It had no effect on me either way. It came with the territory.

Ready for more rimming, pulled my cock out of Mark's mouth and sat back on my ankles. I couldn't see his face at all. My balls hung over his chin. His tongue was back where it belonged. Although I could still see Mark jack his pre-cum-covered dick, I was now at a safe distance.

I threw my head up. I closed my eyes. When Mark takes one step forward, I take two. I gyrated my hips some more. I moved my hole from his nose to his chin, up and down. His tongue lay flat, a runway for my ass crack. I ran my hole across it with abandon.

I didn't last much longer. Mark's tongue, his face, the way I got to use them however I wanted: it was gloriously too much. Rarely, I would tell Mark when I was going to cum, and this was one of those times.

Only once I came on Mark, not in him. He had given a great Sunday blow job, as expected, and asked me to jack off on his face. He stuck his tongue out flat, with his mouth wide open, ready to be fed. He closed his eyes and I gave him what he wanted. I came on his tongue. One spurt went into a nostril, two more landed on his forehead and hair, and on his chin. However, we both decided later that night, before round two, that it was more pragmatic for him to swallow it.

This time I wasn't going to cum anywhere near his face. This position was great and I was going to ride it out until the end. When I felt the rumbling of an eruption I stopped moving my hips. I lost all control and sat on his face, expecting him to move me if it hurt. He kept his hands on his cock, jerking it more intensely.

I came. I came everywhere. When I cum, I shoot. But this time I sprayed...everywhere. Some landed on the carpet. Like fireworks dot the sky, I splattered his stomach with cum. I saw it land on his hands and his cock, in his bellybutton, and the last few drops fell on his chest. Instinctively I lifted myself up to put my cock in his mouth so he could clean the cum off it. I regretted that.

Mark jacked himself furiously. I, still delirious from my orgasm, shaking a bit from my sensitive cock being sucked now, found myself facing his cock again. But this time it was exploding.

During one of my many moans echoing the ripple effects of my orgasm, Mark came. A clear shot landed in my mouth. Without thinking, I closed my lips. I tasted the sweetness of it on my tongue. I quickly stood up, then the bitterness set in. I never told Mark that he got cum in my mouth that night. I certainly never told him that I swallowed it. Maybe I swallowed it to even the playing field. Or quell the imaginary dialogue in my head. "You never returned the favor," I imagined him saying. Well, I had.

After stealthily swallowing Mark's cum, I looked down at him. He panted, soaked in our cum. I grabbed a towel from the kitchen, but he had already gotten dressed. His gray tee clearly bore the cum plaster he had just received.

"I'm just going to go home and cum on myself again, so it doesn't matter," he shrugged.

He gathered his stuff. We barely mustered words. Something, something, next week, something-something, bye.

But before Mark closed the front door behind him, he turned to me, tired and soaked, and said, "You should let me know if Josh ever decides to visit you."

Mark winked before he closed the door.

I found my phone on the couch. Before I took a second step towards the bathroom for a much-needed shower, I froze. A notification on my phone.

Josh.

"Hey man, good! How are you? I was just thinking the other day about coming down to visit you. What's your schedule like?"

Mark must have texted Josh when I handed him my phone.

Goddamnit, Mark.

In Part 5 we meet Josh, Brian's straight high school friend with whom he once jacked off.