While I Was Sleeping

I was in bed with another guy. Our college student group had just finished a two-month tour and on our last night before returning home, we stayed in a motel. Two beds and four guys to a room, so an old roomie and I took one bed.

When we had roomed together, nothing ever happened between us. He'd make some comments on occasion, but nothing terribly far out of the ordinary for a guy. But this night turned out differently.

I slept deeply, more so than usual, since I was exhausted from the tour. In the middle of the night, I awoke to a strange hand in my underwear stroking my cock, which was already hard and pulsing to his touch.

At first, I was scared. Never had anybody touched my cock but me. I had no warning, no preparation. Here I was in bed suddenly with a hand on my cock, and two other guys in a bed beside us who'd likely not approve of what was happening.

The sensation of having someone else do what I'd always done was exquisite. The feeling of being desired, and that by a masculine friend, was heady. But the invasion of my shorts, the intrusion into my sexuality, left me in shock, threw me in a state of heightened awareness, once my awakened brain took stock.

At first, wanting but not wanting, I turned away from him, as if I were still asleep, my mind not believing that this was happening to me. My heart beat wildly. What to do? The question was answered for me as shortly his hand came again, seeking my cock. Deftly, he bypassed my short's waistband, skimmed my modest pubic hair, and massaged the base of my shaft.

The pleasure overwhelmed me. My loins betrayed me. I was now his plaything, awaiting his next move, excited by his daring and his mastery. And play he did, as his hand gently felt each bulging vein, combed my groin with his fingers, flattened his hand against my scrotum, stretched my extended sac, and electrified my balls.

He already knew what my lonely cock desired. His fingers twisted ever so gently, stroked long and tenderly, circled my engorged head, which I knew, from my own wanking, was purple with need for release. Slowly, he spread my emerging precum around my aching bulb, the wetness making every nerve a thirsty throat. As one hand caressed me and felt my throbbing cock, his other hand edged down my shorts to my knees. He slid his body behind me to close the space between us. His nakedness, hot from desire, pressed against my back, his own raging erection imprinting itself into my buttocks.

Feeling his own hard cock humping against my ass, pushing apart my buttocks with his insistence, my cock got the signal and gathered all the body's energies in a single spot, behind the scrotum, for a white explosion of such intensity that my body's muscles froze to allow for ultimate pleasure. My buttocks clench around his shaft, and as he felt my strings of cum erupt from within, my release squirting into his hand again and again, bathing my groin and the bed with spreading warmth, his own cock was triggered by my convulsions. Quietly, robbed of breath by bodies in ecstasy, we both ejaculated as I was surrounded by cum, my own filling my lap, and his heat depositing copious puddles on my lower back and buttocks.

For minutes we remained suspended together, back to front, joined by his hand's still incessant movement between my cock and balls, spreading my cum over every part, and cemented by his cum between us. Slowly our bodies relaxed, but neither of us moved. We slept, two men in wet dreams, and my unconscious dealing with the forbidden pleasure I'd just been introduced to.

In the morning, we stirred before the two in the other bed, they apparently oblivious to all that had gone on during the night. We stole into the shower before them, covered the soaked sheets with the bedspread, and sprayed more deodorant and cologne than we usually used. My ex-roomie had just graduated from college, so after we parted that day at the tour's end, I never saw him again.

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