Only One Bed

Sam burst out laughing, his chest shaking. “You didn’t! Oh my god. When?”

It was embarrassing, but this was Sam. He knew almost everything about me. Now maybe everything since we were hard and touching and it felt so right. So natural.

“I was fifteen. Incredibly curious, but I wasn’t ready for anything with another guy.” And I wanted you too much. “It had brown spots and was getting soft, but was still hard enough. I thought maybe a dick would be like that. And I wanted to know, so…”

He still laughed, his fingers now circling my back seemingly unconsciously. “No way. You just stuck it in?”

“Covered it with a condom and lubed it up first with Vaseline. The internet taught me well.”

“Wow.” His laughter faded. “Did it feel good?”

“Not at first. It hurt. But I went slow.”

Sam swallowed thickly. “Right. You must have been so, um, tight.”

My throat was so dry. “Yeah. It was a little scary, but I kept going. Stretched myself.”

“Did you get horny every time you saw a banana?”

Laughing, I nodded. “Lunch at school was a minefield for a few weeks.”

It was so strange to be talking like this. Like we had a million times over the years—that was normal. But we were doing it in bed with our bodies pressed together and our lips puffy from kisses. And we were talking about my hole and stuff going in it.

“I really want your cock inside me.” As Sam’s eyes bugged out, I quickly added, “If you want to. No pressure. We can just do this. We can do whatever. I’m sorry. That was too much. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Sam smoothed his palms up and down my sides. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not too much. I… Can I… Do you have lube?”

As much as I hated moving off him, I forced myself up. I rooted around in my suitcase and yanked out a small bottle of lube and a few foil-wrapped condoms in a strip. Then I nervously chugged a small glass of water and refilled it for Sam. He drank half, and I returned the glass to the little kitchenette sink, almost dropping it.

Sam sat up on the bed, toying with the bottle of lube. I stood there, hesitating. I waited until he looked up at me to strip off my T-shirt. He licked his lips, watching as I stepped out of my PJ bottoms—and almost tripped as one leg got caught on my foot. I stumbled and landed on the bed, hitting Sam’s legs under the duvet.

He laughed. “I thought ice dancers were supposed to be graceful?”

I put on a skating smile and hit a finishing pose, puffing out my chest. Sam golf clapped. “Nine for transitions.”

I was naked and still hard, and we were laughing in bed, and somehow, I wasn’t embarrassed. Then I was. Because I’d thought about it, and I shivered with anticipation and nerves, and I didn’t even know what.

The duvet was bunched around Sam’s waist, and he pulled it back for me, motioning me under. “Too cold.” I crawled back to my side of the bed.

He seemed to think about it a moment before taking a deep breath and peeling off his T-shirt. Under the duvet, he squirmed, pulling off his boxers and tossing them to the floor. We sat up, naked with the duvet around our hips.

Right. Okay. I picked up the lube, fidgeting with the bottle. “So.”

“So.”

I was afraid if we sat too long thinking, it would get too awkward, and everything would be ruined. I leaned in and kissed him, figuring we could start there. Yes, good plan. Sam kissed me back, and we made our way down to the mattress, stretching out on our sides. Our tongues touched with soft, smacking spit sounds.

Soft smacking spit sounds. Say that three times fast.

I had to laugh, and Sam broke away, panting. He asked, “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just… Excited. Freaking out?”

He smiled tentatively. “Yeah. Me too. Is this nuts?”

“No! We should keep going.” Please don’t stop.

“Right. Okay.” He groped for the lube and popped the top. “So, if you like it, can I try…”

“Yes. Whatever you want to do.” I nodded. “Uh-huh.”

He smiled and squeezed a gob of lube onto his index finger. Watching me, he reached over my hip and poked around. I lifted my leg to help. “A little—there. Yep.”

Biting his lip, Sam prodded my hole with his fingertip. He shifted his arm, trying to get the right angle. It was okay, but kind of awkward. He rubbed and asked, “Like that?”

“Almost. Do you want to… Hold on.” I lifted my top leg and put my foot down by my right ankle on the mattress, making a sort of diamond shape. Holding his wrist, I squeezed lube on his middle finger as well, then guided his hand back to my ass.