I never expected my best friend to be the one who changed everything. We were two beers in at his place, the game on mute, when Mark leaned back on the couch and said it straight out. "You've been curious for years, haven't you? About what it would feel like with a guy." My face burned, but I didn't deny it. The words hung there, raw and honest, and instead of laughing it off like I always had before, I stayed quiet. That silence was all the invitation he needed.
Mark didn't push hard at first. He just kept talking, low and steady, describing how good it could feel, how different it was from anything with a woman. His voice got under my skin. I shifted on the cushions, already half-hard from the idea alone. When he asked if I wanted to try, just once, just to know, I heard myself say yes before my brain caught up.
We moved to his bedroom without another word. The lights stayed low. Mark stripped first, slow enough that I could watch every inch of skin appear. His cock was already thick and curving up, and the sight made my mouth go dry. I followed, fumbling with my clothes until I stood naked in front of him. He stepped close, not touching yet, just letting me feel the heat coming off his body.
"You sure?" he asked, giving me one last out. I nodded, throat tight. His hand wrapped around my dick then, firm and knowing, and I gasped at how different it felt from my own grip or any woman's. He stroked me slow, thumb circling the head, spreading the slick that was already leaking. "Feels good, right?" I could only grunt in answer.
Mark guided me onto the bed, on my back, legs spread. He knelt between them and took me into his mouth without warning. The wet heat was shocking. His tongue worked the underside while he sucked, one hand rolling my balls. I gripped the sheets and tried not to thrust, but the pleasure built fast and sharp. He pulled off before I could come, smirking up at me.
"Not yet," he said. "I want you inside me first."
He handed me lube and turned around, ass up, presenting himself. I slicked my fingers the way he told me and pressed one inside. He was tight and hot, clenching around the intrusion. I added a second finger, scissoring gently, watching his hole stretch and glisten. Mark pushed back, fucking himself on my hand, moaning low. "More," he demanded. I gave it to him, three fingers now, twisting and stroking until he was panting.
When he was ready, he rolled onto his back and pulled me over him. My cock nudged his entrance, and for a second I froze. Then he reached down, lined me up, and I pushed. The head popped past the ring of muscle and I slid in inch by inch. The grip was incredible, tighter and hotter than anything I'd felt. Mark's eyes stayed locked on mine the whole time, dark and hungry.
"Fuck me," he said. I started moving, slow at first, learning the angle that made him curse and grab my hips. Once I found it, I thrust harder, watching his cock bounce against his stomach with every stroke. Sweat slicked our skin. The room filled with the wet sound of skin meeting skin and our ragged breathing.
Mark reached between us and started jerking himself in time with my thrusts. "Harder," he growled. I gave it to him, pounding deep, balls slapping against his ass. The pressure built at the base of my spine, unstoppable. He came first, shooting thick ropes across his chest and stomach, hole clenching around me like a fist. That was all it took. I buried myself to the hilt and came hard, pulsing inside him, vision whiting out.
We stayed locked together while the aftershocks faded. When I finally pulled out, Mark tugged me down beside him. His fingers traced lazy circles on my chest. "Told you it would be good," he murmured. I didn't argue. My body was still humming, already wondering when we'd do it again.
The next morning I woke up hard again, Mark's hand already stroking me under the sheets. This time I took him on his side, one leg hooked over my hip, the angle letting me go even deeper. We moved slower, more deliberately, learning each other's rhythms. I reached around to jerk him while I fucked him, and when he came he dragged me over the edge with him.
By the third time, I stopped pretending this was just an experiment. Mark had me on all fours, his cock stretching me open for the first time. The burn gave way to a deep, rolling pleasure I hadn't known I could feel. He took his time, whispering filthy encouragement in my ear until I was pushing back to meet every thrust. When I came untouched, just from his dick hitting that spot inside me, I knew I was hooked.
We spent the whole weekend exploring. I sucked my first cock, tasting salt and skin, learning how to relax my throat. Mark returned the favor until I was shaking.
We tried every position the bed would allow, and when we were too sore to keep going we lay tangled together, talking about what we liked, what we wanted to try next. There was no shame in it, only heat and honesty.
A week later, back in my own apartment, I still felt the ghost of him inside me. My phone buzzed with a message from Mark: "Same time next weekend?" I typed back one word. "Yes." The man who had been talked into trying gay sex was gone. In his place was someone who knew exactly what he wanted, and wasn't afraid to take it.
