I was three beers deep at the bar when Mike slid onto the stool next to me. Wed played pickup basketball a few times, nothing deep, just guys shooting the shit. He was built solid, same age as me, twenty-eight, and he had this easy grin that made talking feel normal. After the game talk ran out he bought the next round and said his place was around the corner if I wanted to keep drinking without the noise.
His apartment was small and clean. We cracked open more beers and put on some game highlights. The conversation drifted. He asked if Id ever messed around with a guy. I laughed it off at first, said I was straight as they come, but the words came out slower the longer we sat there. Mike didnt push. He just leaned back, legs spread, and told me he gave head better than any girl Id been with. I should have left. Instead I stayed on the couch, heart hammering, while he moved closer.
Youre curious, he said. Nothing wrong with that. His hand landed on my thigh, warm and heavy. I didnt move it. My cock was already half-hard from the talk, pressing against my jeans. Mike noticed and didnt pretend otherwise. He squeezed once, then dropped to his knees right there on the living-room floor.
He opened my fly without asking. My cock sprang out, thick and flushed. Mike wrapped his fingers around the base and gave it a slow stroke. Fuck, youre big, he muttered, then leaned in and dragged his tongue from my balls up the shaft. The wet heat made my hips jerk. He didnt tease long. He opened his mouth and took the head in, sucking hard, cheeks hollowing. The sound was filthy, wet and loud in the quiet room.
I grabbed the couch cushion. Id had plenty of blowjobs from women, but this was different. Mike knew exactly how much pressure to use. He took me deeper, throat working, spit running down my shaft onto his fist. Every time he swallowed around the head I groaned. My straight-guy brain kept trying to label it, but my cock didnt care. It throbbed against his tongue while he bobbed faster, one hand tugging my balls.
Jesus, Mike, I said, voice rough. He pulled off just long enough to say, You want to fuck my mouth or my ass? The question hit me like a punch. My balls tightened. I stood up, kicked my jeans the rest of the way off, and pushed him onto the couch. He stripped fast, ass up, back arched. I spit on my fingers and worked two into him. He was tight and hot, pushing back like he wanted more.
I lined up and pushed in. The first inch made him curse. I kept going, slow and steady, until my hips met his ass. The grip around my cock was insane. I started thrusting, hard and deep, skin slapping. Mike reached under himself and jerked his own dick in time with my strokes. Every time I bottomed out he moaned louder.
I grabbed his hips and fucked him like Id been waiting years to do it. Sweat ran down my chest. My balls slapped his ass with every thrust.
He came first, shooting onto the couch cushion with a broken groan. The way his hole clenched around me pushed me over. I buried myself to the hilt and unloaded, pulse after pulse, filling him while my vision went white at the edges. When I finally pulled out, cum leaked down his thigh. We stayed there catching our breath, both of us wrecked and sticky.
Later we showered together. I ended up on my knees that time, tasting myself on his cock before he came down my throat. It wasnt the last night we spent that way. Turns out straight only gets you so far when a guy knows how to suck cock like that.
