I never planned on it happening. At twenty-four I had only ever been with women, and even that felt more like habit than hunger. Then one humid Friday night after too many beers, my buddy Derek and I ended up back at his apartment instead of our usual bar. We had been circling something unspoken for months, the kind of loaded glances that last a beat too long. When he kissed me it was rough, sudden, tasting like whiskey and salt. I froze for half a second, then kissed him back harder.
My hands shook as I pulled his shirt off. His chest was broader than I expected, warm under my palms. He shoved me onto the couch and dropped between my knees, yanking my jeans open. The first time his mouth closed around my cock I nearly came on the spot. It was wetter, hotter, more insistent than anything I had felt before. I grabbed his hair and fucked up into his throat, watching the way his lips stretched around me. He pulled off with a filthy pop and looked up at me, spit shining on his chin.
Your turn, he said, voice low and certain.
I slid to the floor. His cock was thick, already leaking, the head flushed dark. I had never touched another man like this. The weight of it in my hand felt strange and right at the same time. I licked once, tentative, tasting the sharp salt of his pre-cum. Derek groaned and pushed forward. I opened wider, letting him slide over my tongue. The stretch at the corners of my mouth burned in a way that made my own dick twitch untouched.
I gagged the first time he hit the back of my throat, eyes watering, but I didnt pull away. I wanted the taste, the heat, the way his thighs tensed under my hands. I bobbed faster, learning the rhythm from the way his hips jerked. Spit ran down my chin onto his balls. Every time I swallowed around him he cursed and told me how good my mouth felt. That praise lit something raw inside me.
When he warned me he was close I didnt stop. I wanted it. The first pulse hit the roof of my mouth, thick and bitter-salty. I swallowed without thinking, then another spurt followed, flooding my tongue. I kept sucking through it, greedy now, letting every drop slide down my throat. The taste stayed on my tongue even after he pulled out, warm and musky. I licked my lips, chasing it, and Derek watched me with dark, hungry eyes.
He hauled me up and bent me over the arm of the couch. His fingers, slick with lube from somewhere, opened me fast and rough. The burn turned into a deep, aching fullness when he pushed inside. Every thrust knocked the breath out of me. I reached down and stroked myself, the wet sound of his cock sliding into me mixing with my own ragged moans. He came again, pulsing deep, and the knowledge that his load was inside me now made me shoot hard across the couch cushions.
We stayed like that for a minute, breathing hard. Then he eased out and turned me around, kissing me slow and deep. I could taste myself on his tongue and him on mine. My legs were shaky, but I felt wide open in a way I never had before.
Later, lying on his bed, he fed me his cock again, softer this time, letting me take my time. I swallowed the second load even slower, savoring the way it coated my throat. After that night we met a few more times, each one dirtier than the last. I learned how to relax my jaw, how to take him deeper, how to beg for his cum on my tongue instead of inside me. Every time I swallowed I felt that same electric shock of doing something I had never let myself want.
The first time stayed the clearest. The surprise of the taste, the heat, the way my body answered without hesitation once I started. I still think about it when Im alone, hand around my cock, remembering the exact moment his cum hit my tongue and I decided I wanted every drop. That night turned a door I had only glanced at into one I walked through and kept walking.
