Adult Image Library 2/Adult_Image_Library_Volume_2_Disc2.iso/stories/3some.txt

Text File | 1996-08-27 | 11.3 KB | 192 lines

  I take this slowly, at first; as I know that even if he's familiar
with the idea, he isn't yet comfortable with it.  I would have liked
to break the ice with a few videos, but circumstances didn't permit.
I settle for some Kahlua and hardcopy of some erotica I'd written
(not actually with him in mind, but recent circumstances had
encouraged a tend towards genericity...).  The apartment is warm; not
too hot, but as it's freezing outside, it's a welcome contrast.
Cosy.

  I wouldn't have taken it this far, except that he'd confessed (to
our mutual friend) that he'd wondered what it would be like, to have
me up his ass (although, at the moment, that isn't what I have in
mind...).  I suspected that he was trying to impress her... I guess
I'm about to find out.

  ...and, no matter how I look at this, strategically, there's going
to be one point where I make a move that he's going to regard as `the
turning point'.  I may be regarding this too analytically... still,
supposing that I'm right, I then decide to make that first move a
bold one, as a sort of `I'm serious here!' gesture; I move close to
him, practically sitting in his lap, and place my hands between his
legs.  Our eyes meet; we stare at each other, unblinking, for perhaps
ten seconds; I sense that, maybe, he's going to withdraw, so I move
my hand against his crotch, sort of cupping it around his balls
(which I can feel through the material of his jeans) and put my arm
around his shoulders.  Well!  He doesn't run screaming from the
room... on the contrary, he closes his eyes and sinks back into the
couch... and, yes, I believe he has the start of an erection.  Which
is a relief, as I don't think I could go any further if he didn't.  I
press myself against him, my head resting on the front of his
shoulder; I move my hand again, the palm against his stomach, my
fingers pressing into the bulge of his erection, moving it slowly
from side to side.

  She enters, dressed in her usual jeans and pink floyd T-shirt.  I
pause to admire the way the psychedelic design curves around her
breasts, aware that my companion is doing the same thing.  She sits
down on the couch next to him, puts her arms around his shoulders
(over mine) and kisses him.  He rises to the occasion (so to speak
), pressing his mouth eagerly to hers, and yet he doesn't appear to
have forgotten me, as he moves his crotch forward, pressing against
my hand.  We sit there, the three of us, slowly shifting back and
forth, until it proves too much for him and he tries to push her
away.  She makes that snarling sound which I've always translated as
`Oh, no you don't - *I* make the rules around here!' and shoves him
over sideways so that he's forced over the arm of the chair with her
practically lying on top of him, mouths still joined in a kiss.  I
scoot around to his front and position myself between his legs,
thinking that she's a tactical genius.  He's still pushing back as I
press harder against the front of his jeans... he moans quietly as
the heel of my hand rubs the base of his penis, and suddenly he's
trying to undo his jeans with his one free hand.  I help him,
unzipping the fly and tugging at his denims as he lifts his hips (as
much as he can with her holding him down).  His erection had almost
escaped the narrow confines of his underpants, so I help it, tugging
the waistband down ... I'm impressed!  Either the head isn't
noticeably wider than the shaft, or that it's unusually thick (well,
noticeably larger than mine... :-\). I carefully take it in my hand,
squeezing gently, feeling its warmth as it swells even larger.  This
is getting a tad intimidating... as she pushes him further back over
the arm of the chair in what must be a rather uncomfortable position,
his groin is thrust out towards me.  I can't resist the temptation to
touch the end of his penis with my tongue; holding it steady with one
hand (my fingers barely wrap all the way around), I slowly,
tentatively lick the underside of the head, my tongue travelling
around the end, eventually arriving at the tip.  I taste the faint
salt tang of the droplet of clear fluid that my tongue encounters
there; it sets off something inside me, and I have to restrain
myself.  I want to be close to him, closer than just hugging him; I
want him inside me.  Yes.

  This is something that I envy my female companion.  She's
experienced this; I'd seen her tease him for hours on end, bringing
him close to the edge and then withholding herself from him, pushing
him until he'd grown impatient with her games and had taken her,
brutally, as I wished he'd been able to take me.  I think of her,
pressed underneath him, both her hands held above her in one of his,
her head thrown back in sensuous ecstasy, his hips forcing her legs
apart, his other hand darting below to stroke her, to fold her open.
I couldn't help but feel jealous.  Simultaneously, I'd wanted to be
him, and I'd wanted to be her.

  I wanted to be below him, to feel his weight pressing me back into
the bed... to tense my muscles against his, to feel his hot breath
against my neck, but, yes, I wanted to be held down and fucked by
him.  I wanted to feel his cock slide into me, feel the head pressing
apart lips I'd never possessed and had only vaguely dreamed of
possessing.  I wanted to wrap my legs around his waist and feel him
fucking me, slamming into me, his hips against mine.  Shaking my
head, I return to the task at hand -

  I manage to suppress the fact that this is the first time I've even
touched another guy's erection (thinking, if I'm going to be a
cocksucker, I'll be a good one!) as my tongue makes a few more
circuits, my lips touching him, my head making slight forward- and
backward motions as I combine slow hand-massage and kissing.  My lips
settle around the end of the head, and I tease the underside again
with my tongue.  I gather from the sounds he's making, slightly
muffled by our mutual friend's attentions, that he doesn't object to
what I'm doing.

  I'd formed a vague sort of list of things to remember; try to keep
my teeth out of the way, things that turned me on when she was doing
this for me.  It all vanished in the face of this, this object - his
erection - it was getting bigger as I applied suction to the head.  I
closed my eyes and, for a moment, I submerged myself in the feeling
of complete submission, a sense of being reduced to nothing except
that which gives him pleasure.

  I had no idea as to what to do next; he solved this problem (or,
perhaps, our mutual friend's attentions compelled him) by thrusting
forward.  The motion was slight, a matter of a few inches, but it
forced the trunk of his erection past my lips, the head pushing my
tongue flat against the bottom of my mouth.  The section just behind
the head is now -much- wider than before, and I'm glad I'd taken a
deep breath just before he pushed. Coordination!  I squeeze as hard
as I can with my lips and slide back, trapping the head and sucking;
with the fingers of my right hand encircling the base, I can feel the
blood rushing into him as I suck.  With thumb and forefinger, I
tighten my grip gently and draw upwards as my lips move down again.
Prepared, this time, I manage to comfortably encompass the first
three inches (my best guess), my lips sealed tight around the middle,
my tongue tracing the bulging, pulsing veins, flicking over the
channel that runs along the underside, pressing the head against the
roof of my mouth.

  After experimenting with a few different motions, I settle on a
combination of squeezing the base, my hand moving slowly up and down,
with my lips moving over the end, my saliva lubricating the head
(which has grown to the size of a large egg), quickly sweeping down,
taking in as much as I can before fastening my lips and slowly
drawing back.  From the sounds he's making, I can tell this is going
to work.

  My other hand pushes his underpants back further and I reach down
to hesitantly touch his scrotum.  In the warmth of the room (and,
most likely due to the ministrations of our mutual friend and, of
course, my performance!) his balls move loosely within their skin.
The tips of my fingers trace their outline, divide them, gently
squeeze them; while my hand- and mouth-motions continue (increasing
only slightly in pace), I ever-so-carefully encircle the scrotum with
my other hand, his balls held firmly in my grip.  I tug downward; he
moans and bucks his hips with renewed enthusiasm.  The edges of my
mouth, straining around the wrist-sized circumference of his cock,
twitch momentarily in a smile.  Holding his balls in my left hand, I
extend my index finger and press the tip into his perineum.  This is
where his penis joins his body; I can feel its base, and (this is
quite a complicated manoeuvre, in retrospect) I'm sucking on the head,
massaging the middle and rubbing the base, all just enough out of
synchronisation so that he doesn't feel obliged to come.

  I can't tell what our mutual friend is doing, but she must have
done something; he arches his back and lets out a muffled groan. I
draw back with his motion, then I shove my head forward, my lips
meeting my hand as I take (I'm guessing again, but at least) five
inches of his cock in my mouth.  I relinquish my grip on his scrotum,
both hands joined around the base of his penis, pressing together and
pushing; moving my head from side to side with a sinuous motion, I
work my lips even further down, the head pushing towards the opening
of my throat (my gag reflex was there, but not so insistent that I
couldn't ignore it), the sides rubbing against my teeth despite my
jaw being open as far as possible, my lips closing eagerly around the
exposed section of the base above my hands.  I close my eyes and
suck, my tongue flattened along the underside, the insides of my
cheeks pressing in against him, feeling him swell even larger than
before; then, I move my thumbs underneath his balls and press them
into his perineum as hard as I can.  His cries are muffled, but his
reaction is immediate; his hips buck involuntarily, his cock jerks
within my mouth, and he comes.  In a moment of serene detachment, I
can feel the hot fluid coursing down the channel; carefully, I open
my jaws just a bit wider, clamp down harder with my lips and,
ignoring the rapidly growing collection of semen at the back of my
mouth, slowly, sensuously, draw my head back, my lips caressing each
contour, each raised ridge and vein along the way, the bulge behind
the head squeezing its way out, the clearly-defined edges of the head
trapped behind my lips.  I can taste him now; slightly bitter, salty,
and hot.  My hands press into him and surprisingly, he jerks and
comes again, a drawn-out, straining climax that floods my mouth with
warmth. I drink it all down, my tongue massaging the head, darting
out of my mouth to lick the underside again.

  I encircle the base of his penis with my right hand and slowly,
carefully milk the last drops from him.  He's slumped back in the
chair after his second climax, our mutual friend kissing and licking
sweat from his face.  I glance up at her and she winks back at me.
The end of his penis, still rigidly erect, slips from between my lips
and I bury my nose in the wiry pubic hair, nuzzling him, relishing
his scent, his warmth.  I feel his erection pulse against my cheek,
and I smile.  I think he's probably ready for some more...

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