by Rachel Kane
“Is it silly that I’m a little excited?” said Nat. “I haven’t been out in forever, just to the diner and quick little places like that.”
“We’ll celebrate finishing our first non-disastrous interview!”
He glanced at the bathroom. “Do we have time for me to take a shower? I really, really hate the gym shower, and it’ll be nice to get back to my own space.”
“Go, clean thyself,” I said. “I’ll dig through my bag and make sure I have something presentable to wear.”
He went into his bedroom, and I heard him opening drawers and going through his closet. His considering what clothes to put on naturally led to me thinking about him taking his clothes off. Such dangerous territory. I couldn’t just sit here fantasizing about him. I didn’t want to scare him off with my grotesque leering!
He came back out. “Okay, I’ve got my stuff for tonight laid out. If you wanted to change in my room while I shower, that’s fine.”
“Privacy, how nice!”
I watched him enter the little bathroom and close the door. I didn’t rush up to the door to put my ear against it, but I did hold pretty still. I could hear it when he kicked off his shoes, could hear when he unzipped his pants. Listened to the soft thump of them hitting the floor. I pictured him lifting his shirt off his body, his back and shoulders gradually becoming exposed. I didn’t hear the shirt fall, but I knew it did. Now he would be in his underwear. Boxers? Briefs? Boxer briefs? Commando? No, not Nat, he’d be wearing something sensible and supportive.
I was starting to feel a little like a pervert, listening to him undress, and was grateful when the water started up. Except instead of getting dressed, I listened just for one more minute, hearing the stream of water change as he got beneath it. I thought I heard a gasp, or a groan, and felt my cock twitch in response.
I was going to have to get control of myself. Nat wasn’t like most of the guys I’d dated. I have to admit, that aside from my terrible relationship with Harris, most of my recent experience with guys had been pretty shallow. Not to psychoanalyze myself, but it had seemed purposely shallow, replacing depth and emotion with sex and jokes. Filling up the void.
I’m not saying I expected more than that with Nat. I knew--again, from the disaster that was my time with Harris--that I could really get hurt rushing into things with high expectations. I had to set aside any visions I had of an actual relationship right now. It was much too soon for that kind of thinking. I had to cool my jets. Just enjoy a night of fun with a cute guy. That wasn’t so hard, was it?
My work shirt was too depressing to go out in, so I stripped it off and shoved it in the bag. I had a better shirt, this really soft linen thing that was perfect for this weather; it sort of draped over me and brought out my throat and collarbones in a pleasing way, with this little design embroidered at the cuffs and hem. But, being linen, it had gotten totally crumpled in my bag, and I thought maybe a light ironing would help. Where would Nat keep an iron? Did he even have one? Someone as buttoned-down as him would certainly have a way to keep his pleats sharp, wouldn’t he?
His shower was still going, and I didn’t want to bother him (except in the sense that I totally wanted to bother him), but I also didn’t feel right about poking around his house without permission. So I was wandering around shirtless, with this poor linen thing in my hands, trying to see if there was an obvious shelf where an iron would live, when suddenly the water shut off, and the condo was silent again.
“Oh hell!” I heard him say, his voice muffled by the bathroom door. “Owen? Hey, are you out there?”
“Yeah!” I called. “What’s wrong?”
“My towel! I think it’s still in my gym bag! Can you grab it for me? It should be on my bed?”
Don’t think about him all naked and wet, I told myself. I set my shirt on the back of the couch and wandered into his bedroom.
It gave me a strange feeling to be in here all alone. There was his bed, with a little stack of books on the bedside table. I was surprised to see he was reading some young adult fantasy novels about dragons. I figured he’d be into some deep literature. His bed was messy; he’d just pulled the blanket up to cover the sheets and pillows. I guess we’d gotten up too early for any real straightening. Wait, was I judging him because his bed wasn’t made? I laughed to myself.
I opened up his gym bag. There was his towel, but on top of it was a pair of robins-egg blue briefs with a black waistband. That answers that question, I thought. I looked at them for a moment longer than absolutely necessary. His cock had been right there.
“Oh come on,” I told myself. “You’re going to be a mess at dinner if you don’t straighten up.”
So I pulled his towel out and walked to the bathroom door.
“Here you go,” I said.
He opened the door slightly. “Thanks,” he said.
If I had any sense at all, here’s how this encounter would have gone: I would have discreetly looked away, or maybe kept my eyes on his, and handed the towel into the small gap between door and jamb. He would’ve closed the door and dried off, and I would’ve gotten dressed, and everything would have been polite and sensible.
Instead, naturally, I glanced in.
He was wet. The room was steamy, and water-drops glistened on him. He looked so different without his shirt. It was like his clothing kept him restrained and safe. Without it, I could see just how broad his shoulders actually were, how well-defined his chest. Surprisingly strong. And yet he kept it all hidden away. I had a sudden vision of him--of us--by the bay, shirtless in the sun, throwing a frisbee and running and breathing in the clean air, and it thrilled me.
I swear I tried to act nonchalant like I wasn’t excited by this view of his body. I swear I didn’t linger over his nipples with my eyes, and never went lower than his abs. Besides, the way he was leaning, the door covered up all his other parts.
But then I did something so stupid, future generations were going to judge me harshly for it. I don’t know whether I meant to do it. Maybe it was my body being more honest than my mind would let me be. When I handed in the towel, my arm nudged the door--by accident, on purpose, I will never know for sure--and it swung open, exposing Nat in all his glory.
“Oh shit!” he said, yanking the towel from my hands, but not before I’d seen the way his dark thatch curled, and his thick cock hung from him.
Now he was seriously blushing, holding the towel in front of him. Not wrapping it around himself.
We seemed to be trapped, ants in amber, frozen in a situation neither of us knew the rules for. I saw him looking at me--not in my eyes, but at my own shirtlessness. I studied his face, trying to understand what he was thinking.
Earlier, when I’d found myself fantasizing about what bedding him would be like, I’d decided it would be tentative and slow, a careful exploration of boundaries. I would have to put on the brakes, over and over, which would add a delicious frustration to the proceedings, but would keep him feeling safe.
What I didn’t expect was this rush I felt at seeing him, at being seen. My heart was beating so fast.
Now or never, I thought, and I stepped into the bathroom. I grabbed his face in my hands and kissed him.
The towel dropped, and his wet body pressed against me. His hands could so easily have come up to push me away, but they didn’t; they wrapped around my waist and pulled me closer until I knew his cock was grinding against me. I kissed him so hard. I’d never felt so much urgency, so much need to touch every inch of someone all at once. His tongue was so sweet against mine. I could hear him breathing heavily, how excited he was that I was in here. He wanted this too, I understood.
His hands left my waist and worked at my belt. I helped him out, we got my pants undone, and they fell to the floor. “Do you need a shower too?” he whispered.
“I do,” I said.
He reached away from me just long enough to get the water turned back on, and the room again filled with steam.
I was surprised
by his strength, the way he pressed me against the shower wall with such force. It was like he had been saving himself for just such a moment. As the water poured down over us, his hands explored me, stroking my pecs, his fingers and thumbs against my nipples, getting them hard. I gasped at the sensation. I’d always had the most sensitive nipples; there were some shirts I just couldn’t wear, because of the way the weave would feel against the delicate skin, and they would get so hard and sore. They were feeling a little hard and sore right now, the way he was tweaking them.
I wanted his cock, I wanted to grab it and suck it and be fucked by it, but I made myself wait. Who am I kidding? I wasn’t in charge here. I was the willing victim of all of Nat’s stored-up hunger. So often in my life, I had been the aggressor, and it was thrilling to let Nat take over that role. His mouth moved to my left nipple, and his tongue played with it. His hands were stroking down my belly, my flanks, my thighs...avoiding my cock. Touching everything but my cock. It drove me wild. I put my head back and closed my eyes, the shower spray playing over my face, my cock thickening as it longed to be touched.
His hands were on my ass now, rubbing and squeezing my cheeks. I tensed them up so he could feel the strong muscles there, and he groaned in approval. I realized that Nat was not much of a talker during sex. Some guys let you know every thought that came into their head. Some made nervous jokes, some overdid the nasty talk, but not a word out of Nat. But I could tell what he was thinking as clearly as if we’d had telepathy. He was interested in my body, he was studying it, kissing it, licking it, making sure he didn’t miss an inch.
His tongue was following the curve of my hip bone. I looked down and watched the water splash against his hair. Watched his lips as they traveled over my belly, kissing my navel. No one had ever paid attention to me like this. His hands had left my ass, and they were touching me, tracing the lines of my abdomen. It was done so quietly, with such serious intent. I listened to him breathe, the sound soft under the hissing of the water. Steam was rising off of us.
The little white scar on the right side of my chest, just over my ribs, caught his attention. He didn’t ask me about it, but he gazed at it, then put the tip of his tongue against it. I shivered. I had the sense that he was learning me. I hoped he would ask about it later. I hoped there would be a time for us to lie down together and tell the stories of our bodies.
Is there such a thing as a slow urgency? The way a storm in the distance builds, growing in momentum and power before it breaks overhead? He didn’t rush with me, but nor was he tentative. He knew exactly what he was doing. Kissing the bones of my hips. Kissing the skin of my thighs. His mouth was so close to my cock. I reached down and grabbed the base of it, lifting it up for his consideration. Please look at it, I silently urged him. Please use it, any way you want to.
It didn’t take much prompting. He brushed my hand aside, replacing it with his own. I was so hard, it hurt. He gave it a single stroke, his hand and my shaft soaking wet. I felt like I was going to come, just from that, just from the friction. My precum began to leak out, and he saw that. He moved towards it, catching it on his tongue. So slowly, the tip of his tongue moved over my slit. It was agonizing, the glacial speed at which he kissed down the length of my shaft, the special attention he paid to the underside, the skin where my cock met my balls. His lips played over my sack, which tightened in response. I felt his teeth on me, so lightly, and shuddered with that little moment of pleasurable fear. He sucked one of my balls into his mouth, then let it go. His hand began to stroke me, as his mouth explored further down. I spread my legs apart, and let him find my ass.
I wanted my whole body in his mouth. Everything, all at once. I wanted to feel his tongue in my ass, but wanted my cock between his lips, and wanted to kiss him, and wanted to run my fingers over the softness of his lips. My mind was wild and undisciplined...but then, I wasn’t the one in control right now. Nat would do whatever he wanted to me.
And what he wanted to do now was to suck my cock, a decision for which I was painfully grateful. He sucked my cockhead into his mouth. I felt his tongue pressing against its underside, felt him gradually work more of its length between his lips. I wanted to fuck his mouth, but I held as still as I could, letting him take charge. He didn’t waste any time, but he didn’t gulp me down, either. His mouth slid down further. I wasn’t sure if he could take the whole thing, not at this angle. But he got so much of it in his mouth, and I could feel my head press against his soft palate, could feel the suction as he began to swallow. I heard him breathing through his nose, heard the wet sound of his mouth trying to get just one more inch of me inside him.
It was all I could do not to just explode right then. My balls were certainly ready, pressing up against me, ready to deliver their load. I tried to take deep, slow breaths, so I could hold on longer. It was so hard, though, feeling his lips work over my shaft, and then looking down to see that he was looking up at me, so hungrily, staring me right in the eye.
I lost it. It was the look in his eyes that did it. So ravenous and innocent at the same time. Knowing yet shy. The way the water tousled his hair and made him look like some wild river creature that had risen to walk among men. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t maintain control over myself, not one second more. My head pressed against the back of the shower wall and my eyes closed and I groaned and shoved my hips forward, getting another precious inch into him, hearing him gasp and swallow as my cum shot into his mouth. I felt like there were sparks inside my closed eyelids, purple lightning that enveloped my whole body, controlled my nerves, made my hips buck as the orgasm tore through me. He couldn’t take it all; there was too much cum, and my cock was just too big for his mouth. He yanked off, and my seed shot at his face. He tried to catch it all in his mouth, but my body was jerking, my cock spurting all over the place, and he let it just hit him wherever, squeezing the base of my cock and licking the head and getting every last drop from me.
I was ready to collapse, but no, he was still in control. His hand still on my cock, he rose, and he kissed me. He shared my cum with me, and I tasted the combination of his tongue and my seed, the salt and the softness.
My need for him was so strong. My hands were already at his cock. Pulling, squeezing it with one hand, the other cupping his balls and reaching back a little further. He looked at me and smiled. I thought he was going to kiss me again, but instead, his hands found my shoulders. I gave him a quizzical look--no words had passed between us all this time--and I realized what he was going to do. Without any fuss, he used his hands to direct me to turn around. I obediently put my hands up on the shower wall, my ass pointed towards him. It was, if you think about it, a strange position, the same that cops use to frisk someone, putting your center of gravity in an awkward place so you are totally at the mercy of another person.
His fingers slid between my ass cheeks. What had happened to the shy boy, the wallflower? Now I was against the wall, my eyes closed so I could pay close attention to the way his fingers played against my hole. I had a moment of fear that he was going to try to go in dry. Should I tell him not to? The idea that he might plunge straight into me was somehow thrilling though, and I didn’t want to stop him from doing anything he wanted to do.
Then his mouth found me. I’d already come, but the feeling of his lips and tongue against my hole made me hard again, and I put a hand around my cock. He kissed and licked. I felt his tongue gently circle my hole. It was so hot, and I wanted him inside me.
“Come with me,” he whispered, rising from behind me. He reached and turned the water off, and took me by the hand. Obediently, without a word, I followed, and we went to his bed.
We were soaked and naked. I fell back onto the bed and pulled him down on top of me, then grabbed him in my arms. We rolled until I was on top, but then he shook his shoulders and chest until he had enough leverage to roll back the other way. He put his hands on either side of my shoulders and looked down at me, so serious. My cock was so hard right now, I couldn
’t believe how quickly it was ready to go again. But Nat hadn’t had his turn yet, and he obviously had some plans for me.
The nightstand, which held his little stack of books, had a drawer, and out of it, he pulled a bottle of lube. I shivered in pleasure and anticipation. We were really doing this. It was crazy, and in some ways, it was totally wrong, ill-conceived, happening way too soon, and our friends would look down on us forever if they knew, but I was totally ready for it. I watched him drizzle the lube onto his fingers, then I moved my legs apart to make it easy for him.
It was so cold! I squeezed tight by reflex. But little by little, as he made tiny circles with the tips of his fingers, I let myself relax, and let him introduce a finger into me. My cock pulsed when I felt it. It felt so good to be entered, and as I slowed my breathing and relaxed further, he had no trouble getting a second finger inside me. It was funny, suddenly I wanted his mouth on me again. I wanted his tongue to fuck me. But I guess that was out of the question now that I was slippery with lube. I found myself thinking maybe next time which made me smile because was I seriously thinking there might be a next time? That was so ridiculous, this might only be a one-night stand, a hook-up between two lonely, horny guys who got caught in an awkward situation together.
When he touched my ass with his cockhead, though, all other thoughts went out the window. Suddenly I was totally focused on what was happening downstairs. His cock was so nice and fat, and it was hot, and it was pushing into me. I lay back and let it happen, my knees up, spread wide, totally at his mercy.
That thickness slid slowly into me. I could feel it against my prostate; as his cock pressed against it, my own cock began leaking so much that it looked like I was coming. He didn’t slam himself into me, none of that macho stuff. He was busy enjoying himself, pulling out excruciatingly slowly, then just before leaving me entirely, sliding right back in.