I was nineteen, living in a shitty off-campus apartment with two other guys, when I finally stopped pretending. Mark was twenty, the quiet one from my psych class who always sat two rows over. We started hanging out after a late study session, just beers and talking shit about professors. One night the talk turned to sex. He admitted he’d never been with a guy. Neither had I. We both got hard right there on the couch.
I leaned over and kissed him first. His mouth was hot and he tasted like cheap beer. We didn’t waste time. I shoved my hand down his jeans and wrapped my fingers around his cock. It was thick, already leaking at the tip. He groaned and pushed his hips up, fucking my fist.
“Fuck, that feels good,” he said, voice low. I yanked his jeans down to his knees and got on my knees between his legs. His cock slapped against my cheek, heavy and veined. I licked the head, tasting salt, then took him deep. He was big enough that my jaw ached fast, but I didn’t stop. I sucked hard, bobbing my head, spit running down his shaft. Mark grabbed my hair and thrust into my mouth, fucking my throat until I gagged.
He pulled me up and we stripped fast. Naked, we stared at each other for a second, both breathing hard. His body was lean, smooth chest, a thin trail of hair down to his cock. Mine was the same. We moved to my bedroom and I pushed him onto the bed on his back. I climbed on top, grinding our cocks together. The friction was slick with precome. We kissed rough, teeth clicking, tongues deep.
Mark rolled us over so he was on top. He spit in his hand and reached between us, stroking both our cocks together. “I want to fuck you,” he said. I nodded. I’d fingered myself before but never taken a real cock. He grabbed lube from my drawer, slicked his fingers, and worked one inside me. It burned at first, then felt good. He added a second, scissoring them open, stretching me while he sucked on my nipples.
When he lined up his cock, I was shaking. He pushed in slow. The head popped past my ring and I gasped. It hurt, a deep stretch, but I wanted it. He kept going, inch by inch, until his balls were against me. We stayed still, breathing. Then he started moving.
Long, steady thrusts that made my hole clench around him. Every time he bottomed out, pleasure shot through me.
I jerked my own cock while he fucked me. The bed creaked. Sweat dripped off him onto my chest. He picked up speed, pounding harder, grunting every time he slammed in. “Your ass is so tight,” he said. I moaned and begged him not to stop. He flipped me onto my stomach, pulled my hips up, and drove back in. Doggy style let him go deeper. His balls slapped against me with every thrust. I reached under and stroked myself faster.
He came first, buried deep, cock pulsing as he filled the condom. The feeling pushed me over. I shot onto the sheets, hole squeezing him while I came. We stayed like that, shaking, until he pulled out slow. We lay side by side, catching our breath, cum and lube everywhere.
After a few minutes we started again. This time I fucked him. He got on all fours and I worked my cock into his ass the same way. It was just as tight, just as hot. We kept going until the sun came up, switching positions, sucking each other, coming again and again. By morning we knew we weren’t stopping there.
That first night turned into weeks. Every time we got rougher, dirtier, learning exactly what the other liked. Mark loved when I held him down and pounded him. I loved when he made me beg for his load. We were young, horny, and finally honest about what we wanted. No more pretending. Just raw, sweaty sex whenever we could get it.
