I’d always taken comfort in the fact that if there was one thing I could be certain of in my life it was that I wasn’t gay. Never thought about dudes like that. And while I support my friends who do swing that way, frankly the idea always kind of skeeved me out.

Until now.

Andrew’s tongue sweeps my bottom lip and I feel my stomach drop out, that pleasant rush of blood to my groin sending a hot flash down the back of my neck. My mouth opens in a gasp and his tongue is in my mouth. Another guy’s tongue is in my mouth and I swear to god my dick is getting harder by the second.

His hands are traveling, across the breadth of my shoulders and down my arms, raising goose bumps on my flesh, the calluses on his palms rough against my biceps and forearms. I stiffen when his hands clamp around my wrists and I feel his lashes brush my cheekbones as his eyes open. When I peek back at him I find his brown eyes deep, searching mine and I feel almost as if I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t. A feeling I haven’t had in quite some time.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, the brush of his bottom lip against mine as he speaks sending a shiver through me and I release a shaking breath as he guides my hands to his chest. “You can touch me.”

To be honest I hadn’t realized I’d wanted to until he gave me permission. My hands press against the hard muscle of his chest, fingers curling and he chuckles, his breath blowing into my mouth before he claims it again. I’m vaguely aware that I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve always figured myself a capable lover, knowing how and where to touch a woman but Andrew seems to be missing all of those integral parts. There’s muscle where I’m used to plush curves and light stubble where I’m used to smooth skin.

And when he shifts his weight forward, pressing his front completely to mine there’s something solid pressing against me where there usually isn’t.

I blush when I make the realization that if I can feel him, he can surely feel me too but this doesn’t seem to bother him.  In fact, it boldens him, his lips traveling away from mine, kissing along my jaw as his hands move to my waist, fingertips slipping under the hem of my t-shirt and my stomach trembles under his touch. My breathing hitches when he swirls the hair trailing down from my belly button and I brace myself harder against the hallway wall as his palm presses against my crotch, rubbing me to full hardness inside my jeans.

My mind says that I should stop this. I’m way to old to be doing something like this now and he’s too young to be taken advantage of. But as one of his hands slides up my stomach under my shirt I’m not sure it’s me that’s taking advantage. My hands are just sitting on his waist, clenching the fabric of his shirt every now and then when the pleasure comes in a rush, my legs widened to give him better access. What the hell am I doing?

“Andrew…” I start to say but his lips find mine again kissing me into silence, his hand still working my dick through my jeans.

I wiggle against him, his ministrations pleasuring me but only to the point of frustration. I want to touch him. The thought catches me a little off guard and he takes full advantage, pressing harder against me, rubbing his rigid length against my thigh and I realize my hips are moving against his hand. I bring my hands between us, holding him at his ribs as I kiss him back fully for the first time. I don’t realize how hard I’ve pushed him until his back hits the wall behind him, my mouth bumping his painfully.

But he only laughs, a playful sound, as his hand cups the back of my head, his other closing around the rigid line of my cock in my jeans, working it slow. I’m surprised at myself as I begin to fumble with the hem of his shirt, palms pressing flat against his lower stomach and moving up, his shirt catching on my wrists. He groans low his mouth crushing to mine as his fingers undo my belt-buckle deftly, a wave of heat flashing through me.

He’s slow in lowering my zipper, resting his forehead against mine as we both watch the waist slacken around my hips, exposing the front of my dark gray boxers tented with my want for him inside. My heart is slamming against my chest, my hands hooked around his ribs, thumbs pressing against his sternum. He seems small, almost fragile under my hands and I wonder how I feel to him. I wonder if he’s done this before. His touch is too sure, he has to have done this before.

My mouth drops open as his hand slips under the waistband of my boxers, fingers smoothing around the underside of my shaft as he moves to grip it. Well not really grip it, more like he curls his fingers around it just slightly, letting the weight of my erection rest against his palm, feeling it and I’m suddenly self conscious and curious as to how I measure up but not to past lovers. To him.

In the dim light of the hall I can see the front of his trousers straining and my tongue reaches out to wet my dry lips, brushing his in the process. His nose brushes mine, his fingers closing tighter around my dick as his lips press softly to mine, then again and again and with each kiss his passion grows.

I let my head hang back as he gives me a slow stroke, his other hand pushing my boxers past my hips, exposing me to him fully. My hands tighten on his ribs, seeming to push the air from his lungs as my thumbs brush over his nipples, feeling them harden under my touch. I let my hands smooth down, feeling the hard ripple of his abdomen before fumbling with his belt and the button of his pants. He’s pumping me steady now, the roughness of his palms chaffing in the most delicious way, his thumb brushing over the head of my cock seemingly at the exact moment I want it most.

My fingers wiggle into his boxers, searching for his length and when I find it I’m not exactly sure what to do. I know what to do with my own when it feels like this, hard and hot against my palm but this is... this is something new. I give him a gentle squeeze to test the waters and he gasps, humming softly and returning the gesture, making my knees tremble. I push his pants and boxers down farther, watching them fall to his ankles to mingle with mine and when I look back at him our eyes meet, his pupils ringed in chocolate brown, filled with lust.

His hand fists at the back of my head, jerking my face forward as his tongue shoves its way into my mouth, pleasure rolling through me and I almost lose it when he starts to move his hand in strong steady strokes.

“Oh fuck,” I groan, my own hand beginning to work him clumsily, using my own pleasure to gauge how I’m giving him his.

This seems to work for him, his hips pushing against my hand, his teeth nipping at my lips as his breathing comes in ragged pants. I watch my hand on his dick, mesmerized by the way his skin moves over his shaft, the head disappearing under his foreskin and appearing again when I push it back. He groans deep when my thumb swipes under the head of his cock after its been exposed, whimpering as it’s sheathed again by his own skin and the palm of my hand. I let my other hand wander, fingertips skimming down the front of his thigh, the soft smattering of hair tickling me before I reach under our hands, fingers brushing the downy skin of his balls.

He gasps, muttering an “oh fuck man,” as he braces his shoulder blades against the wall, his hand moving from the back of my head to my shoulder squeezing hard. Encouraged I cup his balls, rolling them gently and his eyes roll back in his head, his hand slowing on my dick which makes my hand pump him faster, wanting my own pleasure back, forgetting for a moment that it’s not my own hand that’s working me.

A whine pulls from the back of my throat, the sound of skin running over skin and our panting breath the only sound in the hallway. I want more, feeling the ache in the pit of my stomach and usually the pleasure is fuller when I work myself this hard, but I realize all too late that it’s not my own body I’m pleasuring as Andrew’s hands fly to my biceps. His body curls in, his eyes snapping shut as his throat closes on a silent scream and I feel him coming before I actually see it, his cock jerking hard as the wetness flows down over my fist. It startles me, my hand stopping in shock and his flies to cover mine, keeping it moving as he groans low in pleasure.

I’m not unaware of my own cock bobbing between us, my balls twitching and pulling, the sight of his release provoking the need for my own. I’m itching for him to resume his steady strokes or at least for me to take over but the thought is unnecessary.

When his eyes flutter open I almost expect them to be sleepy but instead they’re predatory, my own eyes widening in shock as he shoves me back against the wall behind me, both of us tripping over our pants at our ankles. His hand grips my cock firmly, slick from his release and while some part of my brain says that this should disgust me the slickness feels so good I don’t care.

My head falls back against the wall with a thump moaning softly at his rough strokes. He flicks his wrist, twisting his palm around my length and my mouth drops open, feeling my balls tightening and I know the end is close. His mouth is hot on my neck, his short nails scraping lightly down my stomach and it takes me a minute to realize he’s lowering himself to his knees.

“N-n-n-” is all I can manage to get out before his lips close around the head of my cock and a guttural sob of pleasure pulls from my throat as my hands fist in his hair.

His hand is a blur on my shaft, his lips tight around the tip as he sucks methodically, his tongue wiggling against the slit. My hips are moving in rhythm with his strokes, the warmth of his mouth making me crave more but I’m too afraid to ask. I apply the lightest pressure to the back of his head and he obliges faster than any woman ever has, his lips traveling down until his nose is nuzzled in the smattering of hair at the base of my cock.

I’m only acutely aware of the string of explicatives that I let fly as he draws back and then drops his mouth back down again a few times before his hand takes up the work again. I’m about to protest when I feel the slick swipe of his tongue along the dip of my balls before he takes them both in his mouth sucking softly. That’s all it takes for my knees to buckle.

My head falls back, mouth opening but no sound comes out as my dick jerks hard, his hand pumping it furiously as I come in short bursts, his free hand pushing my shirt up to feel my stomach clench through my orgasm.

And the next thing I remember is Andrew’s fingers brushing my jaw, his hand steady on my waist, my body completely spent and drained. My eyes flutter open, looking blearily down the dark hallway before settling on him, his dark eyes warm. He smiles at me, patting the side of my face, a gesture that’s been given to me by other men before but this holds an intimacy that those touches never did.

He bends to pull up his pants and boxers and I awkwardly do the same, looking away as I buckle my belt, feeling a wetness on my boxers and not knowing if it’s mine or his.

“Here ya go, mate,” he says and I look up to find him finishing wiping his hands on a handkerchief before handing it over to me.

“Uh… thanks,” I reply unsurely, wiping the residue of our passion from my hands before offering it back and he just laughs, shoving it back in the pocket of his slacks. “We… we should get back.”

I turn to walk and he falls in next to me, throwing his arm around my shoulders and tugging me closer, the gesture completely devoid of anything but friendship. But when his lips press to my ear, the heat of his breath causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “It’ll be our secret.”