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Heating Up Our Friendship
He's stopped by my house after work that evening, promising to bring a bottle of wine to go with the steaks I'd offered to cook. I was in the kitchen, chopping up some veggies for a salad, when I heard the strong rapping at the door.
Keith burst in, all excited to be here, the wine in one hand, and a fresh pie from the bakery in the other. A handsome guy, his golf shirt clinging to his thick muscled shoulders and his strong pecs, and a few tufts of hair poking out of the unbuttoned opening. He'd changed into a pair of jeans and the shirt after our Friday at work.
I'd taken a liking to Keith the first time I'd seen him a few months ago, when he joined the company. We'd hit it off pretty quick and he joined the softball team I'd been playing on, so we'd been out for a few beers with the boys after a game a few times. He hadn't mentioned any woman in his life and he didn't wear a wedding ring. Most everyone at work knew I was gay, and, around the company, that was no big deal. The owner of the company was gay and who you slept with wasn't expected to carry any weight around the water cooler or be a hot topic among the folks who liked to gossip.
Still, I'd been excited when Keith mentioned he'd like to get together with me sometime for dinner, so I thought I'd take him up on it and tempt him with a fresh cooked steak.
I'd already opened a bottle of light white wine, and had sipped a half glass already. Keith was eager to join me and soon we were toasting our glasses to the end of the work week and an evening to relax. I finished up the salad and Keith helped me marinate the steaks. We needed to wait a bit before throwing them on the grill, and I led him out on the deck to admire the view of the lake and enjoy the evening, one of our first decent evenings this spring.
We stood at the deck railing, admiring the view, when Keith turned the conversation from work and the softball team and my plans for the garden.
"I'm really glad you invited me over, John," he said, stammering a bit. "I've wanted to ask you something.
"What is it?" I asked, turning to him, watching him fiddle nervously with the stem of his now empty wine glass.
He looked away, and then down, his cheeks flushing a bit.
"Oh, God, this is getting' hard," he whispered. "I thought I could come right out and say it, but...."
"Say what?" I replied, moving closer to him, watching a drop of sweat run down from his temple across his cheek, and drip off his jaw onto his shirt.
"I'm.... I'm really attracted to you," he sighed, his cheeks now into a full blush.
"Why, thank you. And, I'm attracted to you, too," I replied, trying to put a little lightness in my voice, to set him at ease.
Keith looked down again, another drop of sweat running down his cheek, his chest tight, his breath held, as his face reddened even more.
I moved closer still, and took him in my arms, wrapping my arms around his thick shoulders, pulling him into my chest, feeling the heat rise from him, smelling the dampness of his nervous sweat and the faint odor of the wine on his breath.
"I'm really attracted to you, Keith. Been thinking a lot about you today, knowing that you'd be coming over, and we could have some time together, just the two of us. You're a real handsome guy, you know."
His head fell onto my shoulder, and he began to sob, his breath heaving and gasping, pushing his chest harder into me, my arms absorbing his shaking, and his sobs. The stubble of his cheeks and jaw scraped softly against my face, as fresh tears ran out of his eyes, wetting my shirt.
"This is so hard for me," he cried, the words interrupted by more sobs and gasps and a few more tears.
"What do you want from me?" I asked.
"I want....oh, God, ....I want you to make love...to me," he stuttered, the words jagged, coming from deep in his chest.
With that statement, his chest shook again, and more tears and sobs poured out of him, sweat now soaking the armpits and chest of his shirt. I held him tightly, inhaling his sweat, mixed with soap and his fear and embarrassment. His hard chest was tight against me, his nipples taut, pushing against my shirt and into my skin.
"Only if you want me to," I said. "But, it's got to be right for you. It's gotta be the right time for you, to be with a man."
Keith nodded, pulling back away from me a bit, wiping his face with the shoulder of his shirt, sniffling a bit, and finally looking me in the eyes.
"Yeah, I'm ready, John. Been thinking about this, about you...about us for a couple of weeks now, and...well, here I am. I think I'm really ready for ... this."
"This? What would you like to do? What do you want tonight, you and me?"
"Ah,...I've never..... and... well,... I want you to show me...what to do.... How to be with...another man."
I pulled him back into me, hugging him tight, drawing him into my shoulders, my chest, pulling his hips close to me, so we were tight against each other, so I could feel his heart beat loudly against me. He wrapped his arms tight against me, holding me, his breath warm and sweet in my face. Finally, he let out a deep sigh and I could feel his shoulders relax, his belly drop a bit as he exhaled.
His stomach grumbled, then grumbled again, deeper. My stomach answered back, with a bigger, deeper growl. We both burst out laughing.
"We better eat first; seems our stomachs are wanting some attention," I chuckled. "Besides, if we're gonna spend the evening screwing, we need to fuel up first. I want my lover to have lots of energy as I suck your big fat cock."
Keith blushed again, deeply.
I pulled him tight against me, again, and kissed him softly on his lips, lingering as I tasted him, my moustache pushing into his still-sweaty upper lip.
"Yeah, we're gonna do a lot of stuff tonight, big fella. And, I better get some grub in my belly so I can keep up with you," I chuckled.
Keith laughed, too, the tension broken, and his serious look of concern and modesty was wiped away by a big toothy grin.
I grabbed his big, strong hand and pulled him back into the kitchen, putting him in charge of cooking the steaks on the grill while I set the table and finished up the salad, and sliced the bread that had been warming in the oven.
As Keith brought the sizzling steaks to the table, I opened up the bottle of wine he had brought and filled fresh glasses.
"Here's to us," I said, clinking our glasses.
"And, here's to trying something new," he added.
We dove into the steaks and the rest of the dinner, chatting about our past romances and dating, and how we had both been eyeing each other the last few weeks. The wine flowed, and we emptied the last of the bottle about the time we finished our pie. I finished telling my story about my best friend from high school at my brother's wedding, and noticed Keith fidgeting with his napkin, twisting it into a tight knot.
"Hey, partner, take it easy," I said. "Just let me take the lead a little bit now. We'll take it slow and easy."
Keith nodded, that look of worry and stress back in his eyes.
"I'll help you with the dishes," he whispered.
"Hell, they can wait. I've wanted to take you to bed for quite a while, and I'm not waiting for any dishwashing," I chuckled.
I moved over to the bar, and poured us both a tall shot of scotch.
"We may need this in a few minutes, and I like to be prepared," I joked, taking the glasses into my bedroom, where I pulled off the comforter and lit a few candles.
I left Keith standing in the kitchen, looking at the last of the sunset, his shoulders hunched, his lips trembling a bit. When I came back, he was still there, still staring.
"Come, my lover," I whispered, taking his hand and pulling him, reluctant now, to my bedroom, closing the door softly behind me.
"I'm yours, tonight, Keith. I'm cooking your breakfast tomorrow, so we have all the time we want. And, what we do and say and feel here tonight is ours and no one else's."
I slipped off my watch and set it on the dresser, and reached over to unbuckle Keith's watch, sliding it tenderly off of his thick wrist and over his calloused, thick fingers. Then, I slipped off my sandals, and kicked them into the corner, and knelt down to until the laces of Keith's sneakers, slipping off his shoes and then his socks, all the while running my hands and fingers over his feet, feeling the silky hair growing on top of his foot and along his calves and ankles.
And, then, I stood next to him, close enough to feel the heat from his chest, watching his chest rise and fall with his breath, watching his eyes watch me, looking at me with hesitation.
"Your turn," I whispered.
He moved against me, kissing me softly on my lips, running his hand along my jaw and against my goatee and moustache, his fingers touching the whiskers. He lingered there, his hand warm against my face, and kissed me again.
Silently, he reached down, pulling up the tail of my shirt, and slowly lifted it, until he pulled the cloth against my arms, until the shirt finally pulled over my chest, my head, and finally, my arms, until I stood before him, bare chested. He brought my shirt up to his face, inhaling my scent in the cloth, and sighing.
"Hmmmm, you smell so good," he signed.
Keith ran his hand down my face again, rubbing the whiskers of my goatee between his thumb and finger, and then, down to my chest, against my skin, and the fur of my chest. He rubbed my chest hair curls between his thumb and finger and then moved to my nipple, feeling it harden under his touch, pulling on it tenderly. He leaned over to take one of the hard nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking on it until I moaned with pleasure. As he sucked and pulled on me, one hand moved into my arm pit, and he felt the damp hairs of my pit, exploring the contours and the muscles in my chest and across my shoulder.
I ached now, with lust. With every touch, he sent waves of pleasure all over my body. His tenderness, his hunger evident with every pull of cloth, every touch, every caress of my skin, my hair, my beard, my nipples. He felt my need, my rhythm, and played my song as he began to know me, in every way. My cock lusted for his touch, his kiss. With every touch of my skin, he told my cock he wanted it, hard, wet, and knowing. And, time ended then, that night, as we slow danced our way into each other, not wanting it to end, yet wanting more of each other, with every taste, every touch.
His hands moved down my belly, across the trail of hair leading to my now hardening cock, until he found my belt buckle. Slowly, he began to undo the belt, looking deep into my eyes, a grin spreading across his face, as the belt gave way, and he looked down to unbutton the button on my jeans, and slowly moved the zipper down, opening my pants, exposing my boxers, and my hard, throbbing cock that now pushed hard against the cloth, damp with the first of my pre-cum that had begun oozing from the red hot tip of my cock.
My balls filled, rising in their furry sack, rising against my hard cock, hungry for his caress, his touch, when he had, at last, stripped my shorts from me, giving air to my sweaty, aching groin, wanting him, wanting him now.
His strong hands pulled my jeans down my thighs, then my calves, and finally, over my feet, until he tossed the cloth against the wall, next to my shirt. He looked again into my eyes, running his wet, strong tongue over his lips, a bit of saliva glinting in the candlelight.
"Now, it's time to get a good look at what I came for tonight," he chuckled. "What I've been wanting for a long, long time."
He knelt down, his face now close to the damp cloth of my boxers; the growing wet spot holding the head of my cock soaking, hot against my cockhead. My manhood stood stiff, thrust away from my crotch, pulsing slightly with the beat of my heart, as my blood pooled into my cock. Yes, I thought. Yes, I want this. So bad. Sweat pooled in my armpits and ran down my sides, and I could smell my aroma, my sweat, hot and ready for him. My heart hammered in my chest, my breath now coming in shorter gasps and pants, ready for him. Now.
He opened him lips, taking my boxer-covered cock into his hot, wet mouth, running his tongue across the cloth, rubbing it against the electric wires of my cockhead, sending a spasm of pleasure deep into my balls, nearly making me cum. I clenched my ass cheeks, trying to hold myself back, trying to keep from cumming, trying to make it last, but wanting it now. Balanced, on the edge, wanting it both ways yet not wanting this to end.
He sucked me, soft, tender, and slow. So slow. My boxers were soaked now, soaked with his saliva and my pre-cum and the sweat that had pooled in the hair of my balls, as he slowly pulled back, nipping and grabbing at the wet cloth, pulling my boxers down my hips, away from my hard cock, until my cock stood hard, rampant, naked in the soft candlelight, close to the lips of my lover, my man.
With both hands, he pulled my boxers down my legs, pulling the wadded cloth off of first one and then my other foot, and tossed them into the pile of my discarded clothes, as I stood naked and erect before him.
I looked down, seeing his strong shoulders ripple under the cloth of his shirt, my eye wondering how he would look, naked and hard in my arms, his hard cock deep inside of me. I could feel his hard thrusts against me, as he pummeled hard, his balls bouncing against my ass, his cock hard and horny, moving in and out of my hole, as he reached his point of no return and shot long ropes of pearly white cum into my ass, crying out in joy and release, his sweat slippery and rank against my chest.
He leaned forward again, taking my cock deep into his mouth, again, until I could feel his lips, his chin hard against the thick fur around my cock, until his chin pushed against my hard, aching balls, until I could feel the breath from his nose against my damp, sweaty skin, each time he moved forward, taking me all the way to the back of his mouth, his tongue hot and wet against every bit of the stalk of my manhood.
His hand moved up my leg, feeling the hair, feeling the tight muscles, until he cupped my balls in his hot, sweaty hand, feeling the curly hairs, the sweat, the firmness of each of my balls, rubbing his thumb against the wrinkled, hairy skin around each ball, and the thick curls of hair nesting my cock.
Keith pulled away, catching his breath, and I watched his chest rise and fall under his shirt, a long strand of saliva and my cock juice connecting my cock and his lips, as he rose and took me in his arms, holding me tight against him. My cock pushed hard against his jeans and his belly, and I could feel the heat and the stiffness of his own cock, and his own lustful breath, his face flushed now with excitement, with lust.
"My turn, now," I whispered, as I leaned into him to kiss him, to lick his lip, to suck a bit at his tongue, my hand moving slow down his damp shirt to find his cock, pushing hard against the cloth, hot and damp, and aching, like mine, wanting to be free, wanting to be sucked and tasted and touched, wanting to be taken and licked, again and again, until there could be no more waiting, until he could find his own release and fill my mouth with his seed.
"Not until we've had a taste of that Scotch," Keith whispered, leading me over to the dresser, and handing me my glass of the caramel gold liquid. The sides of the glass were coated with the liquor, a delicate sheen forming against the glass with every swirl of my hand. It was great Scotch, and I was with a great lover, and life was good.
"To getting to know each other a bit better," he toasted, clinking our glasses, chuckling.
I joined in his laughter, enjoying seeing him relaxed, being himself, watching him take pleasure in the simple joy of being with another man, of tasting and sucking on flesh, and savoring real sex with another man.
The Scotch slid down nicely, adding a new kind of fire to the one that burned in my chest and in my cock, for this strong, muscular man, waiting for me to slowly strip him of his clothes, to fondle and taste his cock, and finger his balls and to lead him into my bed, where I would pull him against me, until he took me, and made me his lover, until he would cum and cum again, hard and sweaty, deep inside of me.
We sipped the Scotch, feeling the warmth of the liquor, tasting the peaty earth flavors and the bit of the oak casks where the liquor had aged for many years. Like good Scotch, I could grow to love this man, who had slowly stripped and tasted nearly every inch of me, who had sucked and fondled my cock, raising me and pleasuring me almost to my climax, who had caressed and held my balls and held my very manhood in his strong, meaty hands.
And, here was the man that I would now slowly strip, slowly undo each button, and pull down his zipper, freeing his own hot, needy manhood, until he, too, was naked and hard before me, until he, too, could feel another man's hot, wet lips take his cock, and taste his cock head, and hold his balls, until his own jism rose and exploded, releasing him and taking him on his own journey of lust and fulfillment and release.
He was ready for me, standing there, his meaty arms and hands at his sides, a grin across his handsome, tanned face, his skin damp and flushed with his own lust, his own excitement of this time together, this meeting of lovers, this time for tension and release, for truly being a man, for being free from all that binds us, and to finally find his release and his climax with another.
And, so I began. And, Keith began his own journey, of being taken care of, of being honored, of being loved. Of being the lover, the receiver, where the only thing required of him was to feel and to experience and to take in, and to have. It was a time for him to be held, to be worshipped, to be rid of what no longer mattered.
We danced, and we danced, and we laughed and we touched, and we held. And, when the music kept playing, we were soon both naked in each other's arms, with fingers and hands and thighs and cocks exploring and feeling and touching and being explored, and being felt and being explored.
Keith moaned and sweated and panted, and thrust and pulled away and grabbed me closer, as we rolled and touched and pushed against each other, until there was no end to what one could feel and the other could touch. Keith moaned and sighed some more, and sweated and laughed and grinned and thrust and sucked, until he was ready to finally come to his end and find the end of his dance.
And, he took me slow and tender and deep, until he was all of the way inside of me, just like I had wanted, and what he had wanted, deep inside of him. And, as he pushed into me, he laughed, and he cried a bit, and moaned that this was his first time inside of a man, and that he had wanted this forever. And that I was the one he had wanted to be with and to be together with, his first time. And, he knew that this was right and this was good and this was everything he had ever wanted.
We danced and we moaned and we sweated and when we came to the end of the dance, we both erupted with each other, and long ropes of jism spurted and exploded, again and again, and the room was filled with our moans and our shouts and our names. Our nostrils were filled with the stench of our sweat and our cum and our lust and the slippery wetness of each other against each other as we moaned and writhed and gripped and released, until we could do it no more, until we lay spent in each other's arms, spent and released.
And, as we held each other close, with Keith's cock still warm and slippery inside of me, he kissed me again on my lips.
"I could do this the rest of my life."
Copyright 2009. Oregon Bear