Matt and Jason

I rolled Matt over onto his belly. After blasting a huge wad down my throat, I don't think he had the wherewithal to resist, even if he wanted to. And I was right.

Fuck yeah. His ass. Fucking hotter than hot. Primed and ready. Waiting for me. I made a growling sound of pure excitement.

He heard me. He could feel me. He knew. He fucking KNEW.

He slightly shifted his position, almost unconsciously raising it up, giving it to me. Asking.

Fuck. In so many ways, this was fucking unbelievable. So fucking weird, my brain could barely process it. I mean, a man's butt is his last, forbidden, private part of his body. We can't even see our butts unless we grab a mirror and do some yoga. And like nearly every other straight guy I knew, I used to have this weird... like

phobia

... about my butt. About any guy's butt. That it was nasty. It smelled. Fat. Ugly. Something you only talked about in jokes or yucking it up with your friends. The very mention of it was a slam. And a hairy ass was even worse.

But holy shit... look at it. At this thing splayed and open in front of me.

Matt's ass wasn't ugly, it was the fucking hottest thing in the fucking universe. Strong. Raw. Powerful. Fucking masculine. Masculine beyond masculine. And here Matt was, sharing it with me! This deeply private part of him. Deeply personal. Trusting. Knowing. Goddamn.

Fuck. I had to worship it. To do it right. To reward this ultimate of trusts.

To make it fucking mine.

I gripped him. Moved my face down and rubbed against him. My scruffy cheek against his hairy buttcheek. Feeling the light bristle of his fur against my face. Giving a light breath of a kiss, then rolling in a wide circle to do the same on the other side. Feel the drag of my stubble against him, knowing it was sending sparks across his body. Hearing Matt's satisfied grumble. Fuck. So fucking hot. So fucking taut. I leaned in harder, massaging him with my face, scouring him with my scruff. His glutes were strong, but yielding to the pressure, his skin hot beneath my touch. Rolling him. Feeling the strength of his muscles.

I dragged my face to the small of his back, then pressed my nose lightly into his asscrack. Slowly running down. Breathing. As I went, his butt funk started filling my nose. Primal. Musky. Earthy. Raw. Rich and strong from a long day and all its exertions. Smelling like man. Smelling like fucking sex. Fuuuuuck. It was flooding my reptile-brain. Throwing switches inside me I didn't know I had.

My dick was throbbing. So hard it hurt. I could feel my precum flowing like a river, running down my rock-hard shaft. Matting my man-bush.

His scent darkened as I drove down deeper, which just made me crazier. I forced my nose in deep. A hint of sweat. Down. Down to his hairy hole. Fuck. FUCK. I heavily dragged my face through his hairy trench. Breathing in so hard I thought I'd hyperventilate. Fucking high on his musk. Wanting it. Wanting his scent on me. Up... then back down. Roughly. My stubble no doubt shredding his tender skin as I went. I didn't fucking care. Somewhere above, Matt was moaning like a two-dollar-whore, but with the deep rumble of manly need. Loving it, but needing more. MUCH more.

I pulled back, moving up again and lodging my tongue in, juuuuuust where his asscrack started. Making small circles. Making sure I had his attention. And then I let loose with a long, vulgar lick deep in his crack, running down. Down. Slowly. Down. Matt raised his butt up to meet me as I went. Knowing. Needing. Fucking panting in raw need.

Down. Down. Through the forest of man-hair holding his scent.

Down.

Finally. I flicked my tongue across his hole. A flick.

Matt's whole body convulsed. I had to hold him down.

Flick.

Another shudder. A whining growl, more like a groan. Pinned, he tried to flex his butt toward my face. Trying to kiss me with his hole.

Flick. FlickFlick. FllickFlickFlick.

Then, a long, sinner's drag down across his hole. Then long, languid circles around the rim. It was quivering. Matt's sounds dissolved into open whines. His whole being focused on his hairy hole. And my tongue that wasn't fully giving him what he so desperately needed. FlickFlickFlick.

And then I fucking RAMMED my face in.

The suddenness of my attack got Matt to shout. I fucking ground my mouth against him, locking my lips around his pucker and sucking as hard as I could. Opening him. Readying him. I rammed my tongue in as deep as it could go, and Matt shook to his core. I let loose. Wildly. Unleashed. Fucking making out with his bunghole with the same intensity of kissing his mouth. Teeth raking his butt hair. Chewing him. Sucking. Slurping.

And then I got

really

serious.

I rammed in hard. Fucking raping his ass with my face. Running wild. Attacking. Slurping. Hard. Smashing into him again and again. Swinging my face from side to side. Then at him again hard. Driving him forward on the bed from the power. HARD. My mouth everywhere. Matt bucking back at me, wailing like a jungle cat in heat.

I swung my hand down hard against his hairy ass. CRACK!

Matt jumped and made an inhuman sound.

I smacked his other side. CRACK!

A pair of matching, fire-red handprints. And I mouth fucked him. HARD. Obscene dog laps up and down. Throwing my head from side to side. Sucking. His ass hair drenched from my spit. Tongue-raping him. Again and again.

While my tongue was deep inside him, I fished out the lube and greased my dick up. My mouth came free of him with an audible pop. No time for pleasantries. No time for consent. Or a discussion of our feelings. I lined my cockhead against him, and fucking drove in all the way to my balls.

Matt knew what he signed up for.

We let out matching howls of desperate need. And I fucked him. Raw and hard.

Emotion would come later. I needed to fucking rut. Like a rabid dog. Slamming into him. Grinding my man-bush against his hairy ass.

Matt was right there with me. Pushing back hard; as hard against me as I was slamming into him. His hands clawing into my sheets, twisting them into unholy patterns. Burying his face into my bedding and letting loose with animal screams. Mine drowned his out.

Slamming into him. Again and again. SLAMMING. Feeling the raw pressure of his ass muscles as they bit down on my cock. His ass was alive. Fucking alive. More alive than any pussy I'd ever fucked. Pressure enough to crush coal into diamonds.

I kept slamming. SLAMMING. The bed bucked and heaved with us. I heard my headboard crack somewhere from the punishment we were inflicting on it. That just fueled my fire. SLAMMING. SLAMMING. Pure male aggression. Pure male pleasure. The kind no woman could ever inspire or unleash. SLAMMING. Skin on skin, sweat running with sweat. Muscles tortured and twisted, roaring against each other.

I wanted to draw it out... I really did. To draw it out just like how I had worshiped his body. But being inside him like that, I had no control. I slammed again and again, roaring with each blow. Building. Building. FUCKING BUILDING.

Matt came first. I could feel his body tighten. Hear the change in his screams. And suddenly, his ass bit down on my cock so hard I almost screamed myself. That did it. With one final slam I fucking exploded, unloading a gallon of spunk inside him. Shooting so hard I expected to see my cum start shooting out his mouth.

I filled him. Marking Matt as mine.

Damn. I was fucking wiped... but had successfully set the pace for the weekend.

In many ways, the rest of the night was a blur. Matt wanted to repay the favor, and fucking ripped my ass to shreds. Again and again, deep into the night. It occurred to me, here was another way that maybe male-male partners had the advantage over male-female partners. Applied science. Matt took his experiences as a bottom, and he fucking used them to his advantage, turning himself into a fucking brilliant top. Understanding male sex in a way no woman possibly could.

And holy fuck, could he push my buttons. I mean, we were still pretty green when it came to things, but he knew exactly what to do to fucking blow my world apart. And that night he gave me a masterclass. Having already dropped a couple of loads earlier that evening, the motherfucker had stamina. Fucking control. He made it a twisted game to fuck me juuuuuuust to the edge of blowing, then pull back juuuuuuust enough to block actual ignition. Repeatedly. Riding me soooo close to the line that I thought I was going to fucking go insane from the inhuman pressure of it all. And when he finally let me shoot, I shot so hard I could have blasted paint off the ceiling.

Just for a moment, I thought I could see through time.

And Saturday was even better. It wasn't just the sex--although, OH MY GOD the sex!--but there were other times, quiet times, where despite sitting around naked and drenched in all kinds of drying, unmentionable body fluids, we were just like a couple of old friends hanging out. it was like when we first started hanging out a few months back. Easy. Easy to the point of almost being careless... or maybe carefree. Like we had the whole world at our fingers, and all the time in the world to make use of it.

It was so weird. I'd been surrounded by guy friends--my buddies--my entire life. I was surrounded by my buddies still. But there had never been any thought, never any interest, in taking any other steps with them before. Why now? What was different? It was hard to wrap my head around it. Weird.

Finally, in a quiet moment while we were stuffing our faces with leftover pizza, I broached the subject with Matt. Thinking out loud, really.

"Hey Matt... I've just been turning something over in my mind. I... we... well, what are we doing?" He cocked his head curiously. "Don't get me wrong, I fucking LOVE what we're doing and this has been the best weekend of my life. But... are we like... buds? More? Can you be buds and more? Are we like... lovers? I mean, shit... that sounds like something out of a shit-romance novel or something."

Matt paused, opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, paused, opened his mouth wider as if he was going to say something, and paused again.

Finally, he put his pizza down and very deliberately started to speak. "Well. That's a question. Thing is, I don't do labels all that well, just on principle. Putting a label on something usually makes me want to rip it off. And this is something that I really hesitate to label...." And he basically trailed off.

I countered. "Yeah, I'm not really looking to label anything, and... this," I said while gesturing between us, "is something I don't even know if know what the possible labels even are. It's just, every time I'm with you, it feels like were moving further and further into uncharted territory. That's cool! I mean, I'm not freaking out or anything, but I'm just... trying to process everything."

"Yeah," Matt said quietly. "I know what you mean. It doesn't help that... well... shit. I don't know how to say it without sounding like a total loser, but... well, the whole breakup with Alicia really fucked with me. I tried to just, you know, carry on and everything, but it... it really messed me up. And sometimes I... well... shit. I feel like... I don't know what I want and I'm fucking things up. Like... everything."

"What?" I said, sitting up straight.

"Shit. No, this doesn't have anything to do with you... us. What we're doing. Shit. Maybe it does."

"No really, what are you trying to say?" I asked with rising alarm.

"No! It's not... it's not.... Oh, fuck, I don't know. You said you had been cheated on, right? So you remember. Those first few months was the worst moment of my life. Total humiliation. Feeling less than as a man. Feeling stupid. Feeling like you're totally damaged goods and you'll never be in another relationship again. Feeling like you can't trust yourself to ever be in a relationship again."

"Matt. Bud. You are not fucking 'damaged goods.' You're fucking incredible. Jesus Christ. Do not let that fucking bitch live in your mind rent-free. She's the damaged goods. Seriously."

Matt gave a weak smile, but didn't say anything.

I went on, emotions rising. "And yeah, I know all about being cheated on. That kind of pain just fucks with you bad, the insecurities and trust issues that form from it are some of the hardest things to get over. But you can't let it eat at you. I'm serious here: you are a better guy, a better

man

than me and everyone in my crew together. And I don't say that as a guy trying to get into your pants, I'm saying this as your bud. As a friend. As a friend who got to know you at your worst moment, and is in awe of you. Who looks forward to seeing all your best moments. Whatever else, I'm fucking thankful for those two bitches. Without them, I'd never have gotten to spend time with you. Sex or not."

He was watching me. A curious look on his face. He finally looked down and murmured, "I know. I do, too. I just don't want to fuck things up. I mean, I'm scared that I'm fucking rebounding off a trainwreck of a relationship and I have no business...."

Fuck that shit. Fuck whatever bullshit he was thinking, whatever bullshit he was going to say. I was a guy who usually let actions speak louder than words. So, I leaned in, and cut him off by throwing my arms around him into a ferocious hug. Just holding him. Letting him feel the warmth of my skin against his. Letting him breathe in my scent. Hear my pulse. No other agenda. Just letting my feelings for him seep unfiltered through his senses, feeding directly to his brain.

Well, and giving me a chance to hold him, too.

We just stayed that way for a while. It was... different... just holding another guy like that. Guys felt so different. Matt felt so different.

"You know," he ventured softly, "You're always complimenting me. Guys don't usually get compliments." There was nothing really to say to that, so I just ran my hand up the back of his neck. Cradling his head as it rested against me. Letting his hair slide through my fingers.

Finally, he pulled back. He looked at me with a devilish glint in his eye. "Hold on a minute. Did you really just say you loved spending time with me... 'sex or not'?"

"Well... I mean, I certainly have a preference...."

Matt leaned in and kissed me. Like, fucking

kissed

me.

And then did something with his tongue. Something that gets me rock-hard just thinking about....

*

The week that followed was all over the map. Matt was still in town through the weekend; but after that, his work was sending him on a week-long training workshop with a pair of colleagues. The lucky bastard was going to New Mexico. When things were first being planned, his work buds had made plans to spend the rest of the weekend after the workshop hiking through Bandelier National Monument, and they had talked Matt into joining them. Part of me wanted to go along with them--I mean, that sounded awesome!--and I was going to miss having him around for 10 days or so. But there was no way I could integrate myself into their plans without significant questions... and what the hell, Matt was certainly allowed to have other friends and to do things with them.

In kinda sucked--being out of the office that long meant that Matt was pretty much incommunicado for the rest of the week, so there was little chance of us hanging out this week either. We decided to get together Friday night, for one big hurrah before he headed out.

The thing was, there was a history documentary premiering on Friday night... and whoo boy, was Matt excited. Part of me could only shake my head. The man loved watching a history documentary more than a pig loved rolling around in shit, and he had been waiting for this particular one more anxiously than most guys wait for the next "Star Wars" flick. So, we agreed that we would bypass the usual Friday night carousing at Town Hall, and have a private viewing at my place. Followed by some post-premiere fun.

Matt was stoked.

With the extra free time on my hands during the week, I had an idea for Friday night, and worked to put everything into place.

Friday came, and Matt showed up right on cue. His eyes were... bright, you know? Flashing. More excited than a little kid on Christmas. And he had that damn half-smile going that always knocked me to my knees. He came in hard for a sloppy kiss. I obliged, but he was surprised when I knocked his pawing hands away and said, "Hold on there, cowboy. I'm getting ready to put dinner on the table, and I don't want it to get cold."

"Aw c'mon," Matt whined. "It's been a rough week, and I've been thinking about you all day. Don't make a man beg!"

"No! Seriously, sit your ass down. I made dinner, and I don't want it to get cold!"

"Dinner? You made... dinner?" Matt asked, curiously. "I didn't think you liked to cook."

"SIT! If this gets cold, I will kick your scrawny ass!"

Genuinely intrigued, Matt sat his (very-much-NOT-scrawny) ass down. "Cool man. I'm on board... so what are we having?"

"Tonight, we're having Greek!"

"Wow, are you serious?"

"Yeah," I said while bringing forth a pair of steaming plates. "I'm never going to remember its real name, but what we have here is oregano chicken, roasted Greek potatoes, and some veggies... with some homemade tzatziki. With all the garlic, we're both gonna have some fire-breath, but at least we won't have to worry about vampires for the rest of the night."

"Hmmohlee shmidt, ehs es fuhkn auhmuzun," Matt responded, mouth full. He had pretty much been stuffing his face the minute the plate touched the table. It didn't turn out quite perfectly, but it was damn good... and it was cool watching him wolf it down with such obvious pleasure. He barely stopped to take a breath.

It was only when his dinner was about half-gone that Matt finally slowed down long enough to say something coherent. "Oh, seriously man, this is fucking incredible! Sorry--I had no idea you could cook like this!"

"Thanks," I beamed. "Glad you like it!"

"So, what prompted this?"

"Well... no, it's just... nothing. Just leave it, it will sound stupid."

Matt laugh-scoffed. "Dude. C'mon. Tell me."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Just don't... you know, laugh. Well. Since you're all hepped up for the Ancient Greek documentary, I thought I'd make us some Greek food. The problem is, I'm okay in the kitchen, but no chef. And I've never made anything Greek, or know much about the food. And, there's really no one to ask. So, I--again, don't laugh--I went to the library down the street. And, you know... asked the reference librarian. An older lady who kinda reminded me of my mom. Told her I was trying to impress a date. And she..." at this part, I was feeling embarrassed and started fidgeting. "Well, looked me up and down, and decide she was going to make me her mission. Went through a whole bunch of cookbooks with me to find the perfect meal idea, and set me up with a library card so I could check them out. And she kept giving me all these pointers. I knew I couldn't remember them all, so I grabbed a Post-It pad from her desk and started writing everything down. I just kinda... wanted it to be, you know, special. For you. You've been talking about this documentary like forever, and I didn't want to fuck things up."

Matt just sat there. Looking at me. Not even blinking. I started to think that I messed up somehow. Maybe made something he was allergic to... I don't know. He looked over into my kitchen, seeing a cookbook propped open. Dishes everywhere. And a blizzard of Post-It notes hanging all over my cupboards.

He looked back at me. Then just looked down.

I worried I had gone over the top. "Sorry man, God this all sounds so lame now that I've said it. I just thought...."

"Alicia never so much as made me a birthday cake," he cut me off quietly.