I had always kept those urges locked away, buried under layers of straight dating apps and awkward hookups with women that never quite scratched the itch. At twenty-three, I was still a virgin in the way that mattered most to me.
Then came Alex. We met at the gym, both spotting each other on the bench, and the way his eyes lingered on my chest a second too long made my cock twitch in my shorts. We exchanged numbers, and after a few beers at his place, the air between us thickened.
"I want to suck your cock," he said plainly, his voice low and steady. My heart hammered as I nodded, unable to speak. He dropped to his knees right there in the living room, tugging my jeans down. My dick sprang free, already half-hard from nerves and need. Alex wrapped his warm hand around the base and licked the head in one slow, wet stripe. I groaned, the sound raw and unfamiliar even to me. His tongue swirled around the tip, tasting the bead of precum that had leaked out, then he took me deeper, lips stretching around my shaft.
It felt nothing like the hesitant blowjobs I'd gotten before. Alex knew exactly how to work me, sucking with steady pressure while his hand twisted at the base. My hips bucked involuntarily, pushing more of my length into his throat. He hummed around me, the vibration shooting straight to my balls. I gripped the back of the couch, legs shaking, watching his head bob as spit ran down my balls. "Fuck, that's good," I managed, the words spilling out in a confession I couldn't hold back. He pulled off for a second, strings of saliva connecting his lips to my glistening cock, and looked up at me with dark eyes.
"You taste better than I imagined," he said, then swallowed me again, deeper this time, nose brushing my trimmed pubes. My first time with a man was already better than anything I'd pictured. Pleasure built fast, too fast, and I warned him with a shaky "I'm close." He didn't pull away. Instead he sucked harder, one hand cupping my balls, rolling them gently. I came with a strangled moan, shooting thick ropes down his throat. He swallowed every pulse, milking me until I was oversensitive and twitching.
After, he stood and kissed me, letting me taste myself on his tongue. It was salty, intimate, and it made my spent cock twitch again. We moved to his bedroom, stripping the rest of the way. His body was lean and hard, cock curving upward, thick and flushed. I reached for it without thinking, wrapping my fist around him the way I'd always wanted to touch another guy. He was hot and heavy in my palm, leaking steadily. I stroked him slowly at first, learning the feel, the way his foreskin slid under my thumb. Alex groaned and thrust into my hand, guiding me with soft instructions. "Tighter. Yeah, just like that."
I wanted more. "Show me how to fuck," I whispered, the confession burning my face. He smiled, handed me lube, and bent over the bed, ass up. I slicked my fingers and pressed one against his hole, circling the tight ring. It gave way slowly, letting me sink inside. He was hot and smooth inside, clenching around my finger. I added a second, scissoring gently, watching his cock drip onto the sheets. When he was ready, I rolled on a condom and lined up. The head of my cock nudged his entrance, and I pushed forward carefully. The tight heat gripped me inch by inch until my hips met his ass. We both moaned at the same time.
I started moving, slow thrusts that turned deeper as he pushed back against me. Every slide felt electric, his body milking my cock in ways nothing else ever had. I reached around and stroked him in time with my thrusts, feeling him throb in my fist. "Harder," he urged, and I gave it to him, hips snapping, skin slapping. The room filled with the wet sounds of fucking and our ragged breathing. My second orgasm built slower but hit harder, crashing through me as I buried myself deep and came again. Alex followed seconds later, pulsing over my hand and the sheets.
We collapsed together, sweaty and breathing hard. I confessed everything that night, every hidden fantasy, every time I'd jerked off thinking about men. He listened, touched me gently, and we did it again in the morning, slower, with me on my back so I could watch his face while he rode me. That first time didn't just scratch an itch. It opened something I knew I'd never close again.
