6. Challenging My Limits #2
“I’m not gay,” he told Russell. Himself.
And he wasn’t. From his first crush to the woman he was convinced would be the love of his life, Ian had always been attracted to women.
Men did nothing for him. Even now, with Russell, it had been thoughts of Becca that had brought on his excitement.
Russell himself was nothing but an annoyance, a catalyst for great memories at a very bad time.
And yet, he continued to wonder. Was Russell bigger than him?
Was he circumcised? Did it always lean slightly to the left, or was that just the way it lay in his jeans?
And he was staring again.
“You think every guy that likes cock is gay?” Russell asked, seemingly amused by this.
“That’s the basic definition.”
“Let me ask you something,” Russell said, sitting up and putting complete focus into their conversation. “Have you ever watched porn?” Ian grudgingly nodded. “Have you ever noticed how exceptionally large those guys are? Pretty strange considering you’re meant to focus on the women.”
“I’ve watched lesbian porn.”
“It’s not the same though, is it? Is it because we like to imagine it’s us on the screen, that we have fantasy dicks that make women scream like that?
I’m not buying it. I mean, your cock is good to you, right?
Wet, dry, pussy, mouth, hell, just your hand and a good mental picture and the big guy makes it awesome.
Ever wish you could suck your own dick?” Luckily the question was rhetorical “I do. We all do. We’re all in love with our own… Kinda makes you wonder about the rest.”
Ian wanted to argue, but found he had no idea how. It wasn’t something he’d ever thought about, but it did make a lot of sense.
“Orgies, threesomes, DP… And what about strap-ons,” Russell continued. “Ever used one of those?”
To this Ian was able to gave an honest and emphatic no.
Although one of his college girlfriends had shown him the benefits of a prostate massage, he had never wanted anything larger than a finger up there, and he never would.
Finding himself oddly at ease with Russell—now that he wasn’t touching himself—Ian confessed to his experience.
“So you’re a top.”
“I’m not-”
“I know, I know. You’re not gay, and I believe that. Really, I do. But you have to admit to being curious. You want to know what I got goin’ down there, and I am more than willing to show. All you have to do is ask, Ian. Tell me what you want, I guarantee you’ll get it.”
Ian kept his eyes on Russell’s smirking face and not the bulging seam in his pants.
The guy was attractive—he wasn’t homophobic enough to deny it—but he wasn’t actually attracted.
Nothing even remotely sexual crossed his mind when he looked at that face.
The shoulders and chest in his peripheral vision were well-defined, muscular, angles a woman wouldn’t have.
No breasts, only pecs, and some hair. Women didn’t have hair there.
Ian’s erection began to deflate. No, he didn’t want anything from this man, and he absolutely intended to say so.
All he had to do was convince himself it didn’t interest him that his arm was moving.
Not in the slightest. Whatever Russell was doing with his hand was out of sight, and that suited Ian just fine. Really.
“Russell.”
“Yes, Ian?”
“What I want… is for you to go home.”
“You’re lying, Ian.” Russell’s smile turned evil, the arm on his right sped up.
“Go home, Russell.”
“Not until you look.”
“What?”
“I’m not leaving until you look at what I’m doing.”
“You said I would get what I wanted if I asked you, and right now I’m asking you-”
“You’ll get it, Ian. I’ll keep my word. Look at my hand and tell it what you want it to do.
Stop and go home? Okay. But only after you look at it.
” Russell’s attempt at innocent eyes was almost laughable.
Challenge was written all over his face.
All they were missing was the “triple dog dare you,” and Ian didn’t doubt it would come to that.
He took a deep breath, steeling his resolve for one last glimpse.
What was the worst that could happen? Russell hadn’t unzipped his pants yet, and the rubbing, no matter how vigorous, was something he’d already seen.
Seen. Survived. Lost his hard-on over. He was just going to look down and get this freak out of his- “Oh, shit.”
“You were saying?” Russell’s hand wasn’t where Ian expected it to be, rubbing on the outside of his jeans.
No, instead of relative chastity, Russell had somehow snuck his hand under the waistband and was working himself from within.
Ian didn’t know how though, those jeans were so tight, so full of Russell that he just didn’t fit.
Even as Russell’s flattened palm continued what looked to be a painful mashing, the tip of him peeked out over his belly, a small bead of moisture precariously balanced on top.
As Ian watched, the droplet grew, and with one powerful stroke, it set to rolling down the side of Russell’s length. The moment he lost sight of it, Ian growled. “Take them off.”
“I’m sorry, Ian. Did you-”
“Take them off or get the fuck out of my house.”
Wisely, in Ian’s opinion, Russell help his tongue this time, removing the denim to reveal the bareness beneath.
Devoid of restriction, Russell took himself fully into his fist and set a painfully slow rhythm.
Looking on, it was all too easy for Ian to picture doing this himself.
Russell was longer than him, but not quite as thick.
His garden was better tended, but they both had the same cut, the same lean, the same vein bulging in a spiral to the top.
Like any honest man, Ian loved his penis, and watching one so similar being pleasured so effectively began to take its toll.
Before long, he had a palm over his hard-on, not to cover or deny it, but to stroke it in time with Russell’s.
Though incomplete through the denim, the feeling was incredible.
Ian groaned. In response, Russell sped his hand, giving a twist over the head on every third stroke accompanied by a grunt.
Ian’s cock soon grew envious of Russell’s.
It ached to be handled the same way, to have the same freedom of movement.
Abandoning pretense, Ian quickly removed his own jeans, taking his briefs down with them.
He stood over Russell, staring at his hands, mirroring their every move.
They twisted, he twisted. They cupped, he cupped.
When Ian’s breathing became shallow, the other hands slowed, and his own instinctively followed, bringing about an oddly consensual torture.
These were the unpredictable acts of a stranger in the comfort of his own expert hands. This was something like heaven.
Ian’s eyes never strayed, terrified to look away, as though the moment would be gone if he missed a single stroke.
But when the other hands seemed to pull out their signature move, his own were forced to copy, and the resulting spasm sent a tingle up his spine.
Ian closed his eyes, savoring the feel of his imminent release.
A foreign sensation jolted Ian from his stupor, foreign yet oh so familiar.
The introduction of a warm, wet tongue to his slit almost had him cumming on the spot, but the shock of it held him back.
Then the realization that it must have been Russell’s tongue set in and his arousal took a drastic dive.
“Aww, he doesn’t want to play anymore?” Russell’s teasing voice brought Ian completely back to reality and he rushed to cover his softening erection from view. “Don’t be like that,” Russell continued, tugging at Ian’s hands. “A mouth is a mouth is a mouth. Just feel.”
Ian disagreed, but his traitorous cock had other plans.
Russell had managed to grip him at the base, retaining what hardness remained, and began a teasing assault directly on the head with his tongue.
With a few seconds and some light suction, Ian was back to his former glory.
Unable to watch and unwilling to stop, Ian gave over to the sensation, closing his eyes and going along for the ride. In his mind, Russell could be a woman.
He could be Becca.
Teasing licks turned to assertive swirling and sucking at his tip, a warm hand grasped the rest, pistoning fluidly. He’d only dreamed Becca would be so good at this, so enthusiastic ,and so skilled.
“Oh, that’s it. Deeper. More, please.” Ian heard himself beg, and he couldn’t find the shame. The mouth descended slowly, increasing suction and lightly scraping its teeth on the way up. “Fuuuuck!”
Abruptly the mouth removed itself, a hand taking its place. “You like that, Ian?” A man asked. “Has anyone ever done it like this? Does your girlfriend know how to-”
Ian’s eyes snapped open. A mouth was a mouth, but that voice had to stop. He glared down at Russell, hoped he understood the “shut the fuck up,” grabbed his hair, and shoved himself down the man’s throat.
“You like that?” Ian asked, closing eyes and pulling back, then thrust forward until he felt tonsil.
“You like this big, thick cock filling your mouth. How long have you wanted it, huh? How long have you waited to gag on this dick?” Ian didn’t know who he was thinking of anymore.
Becca? Russell? Did it matter? A mouth was a mouth.
A hole was a hole. He’d passed the point of no return.
“You wanted this, now take it. And maybe, if you’re a good little cocksucker, I’ll let you have it all.
Would you like that?” The mouth hummed around him, sending vibrations to his toes.
“You want it. You want this”-he pushed forward- “buried inside of you, splitting you open like no one ever has. I won’t be gentle.
I’ll ruin you for other men. And you’ll see me everyday, knowing exactly what I can do, but you’ll never have me again.
Is that what you wanted? Is this what you came for? ”