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I didn’t wake up with a hangover; I woke up with a raging hard-on.
I blinked my eyes, tried to focus. Oh yeah, I’d crashed at my buddy’s place after an all-night poker session. I hadn’t been drinking much, but Todd had insisted that I sleep what little I had off at his place. He let me use the bedroom belonging to his roommate, who was supposedly away on business.
I was lying on the guy’s bed in just my Jockeys, cock stiff as an ace-high straight, tenting the thin underwear like a tall stack of chips. Todd’s roommate, Kurt, was sitting on the edge of the bed, very much at home, his warm, brown hand riding my bare, muscled thigh.
‘What the …!’ I gargled in shock, scrambling up onto my elbows.
‘Morning, Brent,’ Kurt said.
‘Uh, yeah … Morning,’ I replied, glancing from my wood to the guy’s manicured hand, back again. There seemed to be a direct relationship between the two. My face lit up like a Budweiser sign and what little spit I had evaporated in my open mouth. I was more than a bit confused.
Kurt smiled, his mouth warm and wet and friendly. Then he moved his left hand further up the charged, peach-fuzzed skin on my left thigh, causing my cock to jump right out of its foreskin.
I didn’t have a clue what to do. I’d never had a sexual encounter with anyone in my entire 18-year life, and I didn’t know how to react. But my dick sure did; it went so hard it vibrated, as Kurt moved his delicate hand up and down my thigh, caressing me.
The guy was dressed in only a pair of tight, white Jockeys himself, his smooth, lean, golden-brown body blazing at me, his blond hair tousled, green eyes soft and sensitive and staring into my wide, blue ones. He was a year older than me, but that’s about all I knew about the guy. But I was finding out more and more as the seconds dragged by on crutches – about him, and myself.
‘Have a good sleep?’ he asked, soft palm gliding back and forth on my rigid upper leg.
‘G-good s-sleep,’ I gulped, goosebumps flaring up all over my pale, overexposed body.
Kurt looked down at my raging dong, his long fingers digging in and squeezing my tensed thigh muscles. ‘Maybe ready to play a little – stud poker?’
I swallowed my Adam’s apple, my elbows shaking beyond my control. I could smell the sweet, tangy scent of the guy, feel the incredible heat of him through his supple hand, see the long, hard outline of his own arousal in his briefs.
His hand moved higher, and the polished tips of his fingers brushed against the shaft of my cotton-stretched cock. I jerked like a total amateur, which is exactly what I was. His smooth fingers slid up and over my throbbing erection, tightening around my shaft. I gasped for air, my body flooding with a wicked, sensual heat, my head going dizzy. Kurt gently rubbed my pulsing cock, sparking my latent desire into open flame.
Then he suddenly released my prick and gripped the elasticised band of my underwear, said, ‘It’s your first time, huh, Brent?’
It was more of a statement than a question. I nodded, more to what he was doing than in response to what he’d said. Kurt pulled down.
I arched my bum off the bed and he skinned my Jockeys off, and we both gazed at my crotch, at my straining, naked, needful hard-on, my bare want revealed. Kurt grasped my rod skin on skin, and I yelped, ‘Fuck!’