The Ian & Justin Chronicles Ch. 01

Fuck me, but that was hot to watch.

It was made even more so because I could sense Ian's cock just inches behind me. I could feel his fingers dancing over my hips and squeezing me gently.

Could I touch it? Would that be...weird? Could I just reach behind me and take that dick in my hand? Would that make me gay? Was that already a foregone conclusion given what had just happened? Given that I was rock hard again watching David shoot his load down Daniel's throat with Daniel's finger pushing into him? Who knows?

Not me.

But damned if I didn't want to. I stopped myself. I don't know why, but I did. I regret that still.

David was coming back down to earth, so to speak, even though Daniel was still bobbing up and down on his shaft and gently licking and sucking every last drop from his skin. I couldn't watch it any more so I turned back to Ian. When I did, my cock and his ground together.

"You still got some--stuff-- on your face," I said meekly. I immediately wished I hadn't spoken but Ian just smiled, reached between us to fill his hands with river water and proceeded to scrub his face clean.

"Better?"

I nodded.

And then, I will never know why I did, but I rose onto my toes and pressed my lips to his cheek. Quick as a hummingbird, but

I kissed him.

I kissed another dude.

"Thank you, Ian," I whispered.

I felt my face going bright red. My head was swimming and I just knew if I looked up and opened my eyes I would just lose consciousness and pass out right there. I had to keep my head down. I had to. It wasn't a bad view, really. At least I got to look down at Ian's cock between us. I didn't even see my own really. But I couldn't stop looking at his. I couldn't look up. I just couldn't.

Damn it, I wanted to touch him.

My fingers trembled with the wanting of it.

David, being the consummate gentleman, as I would soon come to realize he always was, wanted to return the favor of release to Daniel. He slid from the rock and wrapped his fingers around Daniel's uncut dick and started to slowly jerk him back and forth. Daniel sighed and settled into the rhythm of it. I will of course admit that I had never seen an uncut cock in action before and it was mesmerizing. The way the skin folded and moved over his dark pink cock head and the way the clear precum made it glisten. The smoothness of the whole thing was somehow less -- violent -- than when I did it to myself.

Well, I decided that I was done with the trembling anxiousness.

Done.

It was right there and I was going to have it.

What would my therapist think about this? He would have to wait till our next session to find out. Right then, I had something more important.

I just did it. I reached forward between us and grabbed his cock. I remain unsure if I did it wrong, or too hard or too soft or what have you. Well, either way, Ian reacted. He sucked in air through his teeth and his hand immediately grabbed my wrist to stop me.

"Justin, you don't gotta..."

"I know," I said quickly.

Where had that iron in my voice come from? How did it not tremble? I was a quivering mess inside. I guessed that some of Ian's surety and strength must be flowing into me from my grip on him. It certainly felt like strength personified as it pulsed between my fingers.

It was so firm. It was harder than I was expecting it to be.

Mine had a certain give to it, I guess you could say. It was a bit spongier. But his...like the rest of him, Ian's cock was rock hard like cold steel in my hand. But it was the farthest thing from cold at the same time. It was heat, life, energy at my finger tips. It moved as I moved my hands. I didn't have the hang of the twisting wrist thing I had felt Ian do -- some kind of flowy wrist action that must have come easy to people who had more coordination in their little finger than I had in my entire body...athletes, what can you do?-- but I tried.

I tired to return the favor.

Well, that's not really true. Holding him in my hand it wasn't just about returning a favor. It was something I wanted to do.

I wanted to make him feel good. Why the hell did I want to make someone else feel anything? That had never happened to me before. I had never really focused on anyone else's feelings because I'd always been too focused on protecting myself. But I wanted-- no, I needed-- to make Ian feel good. He deserved it. I don't know how I knew that -- it wasn't like the way I knew the atomic weight of all the elements on the periodic table or the way I knew how to write a persuasive essay in thirty minutes when others struggled for weeks -- the way I knew Ian deserved this was more primal. It was something I sensed. That terrified me, that I sensed anything at all, but I did. My scientific brain was still enough in place that I knew there was no good to come from denying what I was feeling.

I couldn't stop looking at what my fingers did, the way they moved with his skin, the way his tight balls pulled forward when I did, how his own fingers hovered over my wrist, wanting to stop me but wanting whatever I was doing to continue just a little bit more.

He was the picture of conflict.

I liked that.

I liked that he was a little off his ease. It was a kind of power trip I hadn't ever expected. I pulled and tugged a little more firmly, watching as a little drop of clear liquid oozed from the slit of his cock head. I could hear Daniel moaning and breathing a bit louder than before. Out of the corner of my eye, loath as I was to splinter any attention from my fascination with Ian's prick in the palm of my hand, I saw David squat on his heels.

I had always been a follower, never really the leader type. I knelt in front of Ian and for the first time in my life to that point, I followed my instincts. I dared not look up at Ian. Not yet. If I lost my nerve now I just knew I wouldn't regain it.

I opened my mouth and lead his cock to my tongue with more ease than I expected. It slid inside my mouth. The feel of it was glorious. It was pulsing inside me, my breath coming faster and faster. I could taste the sweat and salt of his skin, the hormones of him, the masculinity. All of it. I tried to do what I had felt him do to me, swirling my tonuge around.

It was easier than I thought.

I brought my hands up and held on to his hips. It just seemed the natural thing to do. It was not lost on me at the time or currently that I finally had figured out what to do with my hands for the first time since removing my clothes nearly an hour ago. Squeezing his hips in my fingers, I felt them slide around him, travel to sides of his buttocks. He flexed them beneath my palms and I moaned. I hadn't moaned involuntarily in ages, it seemed. I grabbed full handfuls of his flesh and felt his cock expanding and pump a little precum onto my tongue.

I was curious.

It wasn't that large, really. It was perfectly shaped for me, but I wondered....

I pushed more of it inside my throat. Before I knew it, my nose rested on his shaven pelvis and I felt his fingers in my curls.

"I...Justin...oh, god...oh fuckin' god....oh shit...I'm gonna..."

And he did.

For such tight compact testicles, he was certainly able to produce a voluminous amount. Not that I would ever complain about that.

It tasted amazing.

The minute his cum blasted into my mouth I felt my own dick spew another load out onto the rocks between my knees. I squealed in pleasure and I drank down all I could of Ian's cum, more and more seeming to empty into me all while I rode the pleasure wave of my own secondary orgasm.

I kept my mouth on his cock until it stopped twitching.

Slowly, when he finally done and his fingers unwound from my head, I released him and stood.

For the first time in what felt like a long time, I looked at him again.

There were so many questions in those eyes. So many questions and so much fear and trepidation, and behind all of it, there was something --innocent. My Mother always told me that she knew I was going to be smart when I was just an infant because she could see all the questions in my eyes. I wondered if what I saw in Ian's gaze now was something like that. Could I see the future -- a future -- in his eyes?

He put his hand on my cheek, more gentle than anyone who saw his size might expect. And he smiled at me.

I put my fingers on his face, felt the muscles work as he smiled down at me.

Without a sound, his lips formed the words: "Thank you."

I nodded.

Whatever this was, whatever Ian was or would be or whatever had just happened, I would have to find a way to tell him.

Tell him that I would always be the one who owed him thanks. Even if we never spoke again after this, if this was all the time we ever spent together, I owed him my thanks. More than he could know.

How do you go about thanking the man who made you feel --alive-- for the first time?

I swore I would figure it out.

He deserved that.

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