If it is ok with you, I would like to crash with you Friday night.

Originally I didn’t plan to go to Hot House.  It was scheduled for a Saturday evening, typically a night I work.  In fact, I had scheduled a ten hour shift for that very night.  But more than one friend said they were going.  And Doug was coming down from New Jersey.  And LyricL asked me, as a title holder, to attend the party.  Thus, under the influence of peer pressure, I dropped my shift and RSVP’ed yes to the event.

So it was with more than a little glee that I received a message from Doug asking for a place to stay Friday night.

He arrived at my house around 9pm.  We hugged at my front door, holding each other for a long moment, grateful for this random opportunity for a visit.

I suggested we head out for dinner, my treat.  He objected, the memory of my Waffle House gesture still somewhat fresh.  Instead, he was the one who paid for dinner, sushi at a local hole-in-the-wall.

As we walked back to my car, he pulled out his cloves and smoked.  From the vantage point of the parking garage, I showed him our downtown.  We spent about half an hour chatting, his tobacco scenting the air around us.

When we arrived back at my home, the rest of the house was in bed.  We walked to my bedroom.  I stripped down to a comfy t-shirt.  He used the restroom, got ready.  When he climbed into my bed, I asked him if he minded if I slept naked; he didn’t.

And then, randomly, he asked me where I was during 9/11.

Okay, I thought.  Guess we’re not having sex.  That’s cool; it’s nice to see him either way.

We chatted for a long time about a whole range of topics: politics, healthcare, religion (or lack there of).  All of it weighty, heavy stuff.  I adjusted this way and that on my bed, sometimes snuggling with a pillow, sometimes sitting up and animated.

About an hour or more into our conversation, he finally noticed I wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“I asked you if it was okay if I slept naked.”

“Okay.”

He stood up on his knees, took of his remaining clothing, leaned over, and kissed me.

I pulled off my shirt.  We leaned back on my bed, onto my pillows, and made out with Tessie over my shoulder.

He kissed me, teased me.  Sucked on my nipples.  Bit my neck.  I pushed him over.  Teased him with my lips.  Bit his neck hard.  Traced my tongue down to his nipples.  And then farther.

He stopped me.  Explained he hadn’t been tested in a while.

I introduced him to the second drawer of the storage container next to my bed.  Pulled out a condom.  Rolled it over his cock.  Wrapped my lips around his dick.

The fun pivoted.  I pulled out an under pad, gloves, lube.  He went into his things; pulled out his butt plug.

He laid back down on my bed, his hips on the pad.  I sat just off of the pad, lube bottle at the ready.  As I lubed my hand, I mentioned that I’d had a few lessons recently in anal play.

I lubed up his hole, pressed my middle finger, and invited myself in.  My digit eased inside of him.  He removed his condom and began stroking his cock.  Later, I inserted a second finger.  He rode the wave of his pleasure.  I closed my eyes.  Felt myself inside him.  Relaxed into the fun of sticking my fingers up a cute boy’s butt.

When he asked for the plug, he switched positions.  On his hands and knees, he pressed back onto the plug, then rested forward.  Back and forward.  I kept my pressure constant and in place.  Within a few minutes, his plug was in.

“I’d love to suck your cock,” he said.
“I’ve got another idea.”

I pulled out my own plug.  Pulled out more gloves.  Got on all fours on my bed.

He lubed up his hand.  Slipped his first finger in.  Then his second.  And, quicker than I anticipated, quicker than I knew I was capable of or would enjoy so greatly, my butt plug was in.

I laid down on my back, the sensations a bit overwhelming.  He laid down beside me, more relaxed than my demeanor.  I tried to emulate his calm, but he had another idea.

Changing gloves, he pulled out another bottle of lube, stroked my lips, and easily inserted his fist into my pussy.  I bit my wrist trying to quiet my screams.  It felt so good, so right, to be that full.  And yet, I started moaning.

“More.  More.”
“My full fist is in.  I can’t give you anymore.”
“I know.  I know.  I’m a greedy pig is all.”

I held my plug in my ass as he fist fucked me to an orgasm.

I was high off my cum; he needed a cigarette.  We removed our plugs, cleaned up, and headed downstairs.

As we sat, me drinking water and him smoking, he came to a realization.  Our hour plus conversation about religion and politics and healthcare had been a turn on for him.

“Well, yes.  I get that.  I am also a sapiosexual.”
“That’s what that means?”

Shortly after, we went to bed.

The next day we ate diner breakfast before he had to depart.  He was a part of the party setup.

I was happy for my sixteen hours with my friend all the same, a most unexpected but highly appreciated quite enjoyable visit.

Categorised as: Anal | D3 | Fisting | Friends

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