Waking Up

It started in the half state of waking up, with sleep still clinging on and consciousness not yet fully set in.

I was lying next to Simon in his bed - him facing the wall, me on my back against him. The fact that he had only a single bed meant our bodies would never be far apart. We'd gone to sleep like this after a late night of watching movies in his room; his younger brother had had friends over too, and had co-opted all the spare mattresses. Sharing a bed wasn't too big a deal to us. We'd been close friends for two or three years and being at a boys-only school had bred into us a hetero-masculine comfort with physical contact. Not that either of us at nineteen would be described as overly masculine.

There was light outside already, but the house was still quiet. I rolled over onto my side to check if he was awake. His hair was tousled on his pillow, and his breathing was quiet, but heavy. It was comfortable lying next to him, our bodies close but not quite touching, feeling his warmth.

I closed my eyes again, not sure if I'd go back to sleep or just enjoy lying in the quiet for a time. My foot was near to his and I unconsciously began rubbing it against it, tracing its shape with my toe. It took a moment before I realized what I was doing and afterwards I stopped immediately. He seemed none the wiser. Then I felt him move.

His foot inched closer to mine, closing the gap I left between us, seeking mine out. This time it was his turn to rub his sole over the top of my foot - moving ever so slightly.. I reciprocated his touch and nuzzled my chest against his back, but careful to keep my pelvis from pressing up against him - already I could feel a stiffening that I didn't want known.

It was this stiffening that was - together with the warmth of his body, the soft caresses of his foot, the familiar, comfortable smell of his hair so close to me - beginning to take over me. I lifted my arm and draped it over him. Still he was quiet.

We lay like this for some time. On the other side of the house I could hear someone rummaging in the kitchen. Perhaps if it were a different morning, perhaps if I were on his pullout bed where I usually slept, I'd have gotten up and had breakfast. Or switched on the computer and played games until he woke up like we usually did. But this morning I was lying against him, my dick was hard and I had an overwhelming itch I wanted to scratch.

I adjusted my body position slightly, to be more comfortable I could say, but as I did so my draped arm slid down his body and my hand came to rest very near to his crotch. Still his deep breathing continued.

I could feel the heat rising to my face and my heart was pounding in my throat as I reached out very slowly with my little finger until I found the front of his sleep shorts, and the lump of meat underneath. Still with the same finger I grazed up and down his pants, tracing the outline of his dick through the fabric.

He let out a sound then - not quite a snore or a moan, but something in between, that could either mean that he was still asleep or that he was responding to what I was doing. Hoping it was the latter I allowed the rest of my fingers to join the lone pinky wandering over his crotch. I'd known him long enough to know that he was above average length, and with all fingertips engaged I could feel he was stiffening - not as stiff as what was throbbing so close to his back, but it wouldn't be long

Up and down I ran my fingers, leisurely, up and down and around his shaft, from head to base. I was right, with each caress I felt the remaining softness ebb from his dick until it could grow no more. I gripped him between my thumb and fingertips and slowly pulled down on his shaft.

The noise he made this time could only be interpreted as encouragement - a soft, barely audible moan of pleasure. Again I pulled on him and once more a sigh escaped his mouth. Still uncertain what cue I needed from him to continue I determined I'd committed myself already - there was no denying what I was doing and he would either accept or reject it. I let go of him then, felt for the top of shorts, and slipped my hand in under the elastic.

There was already a damp patch as I reached inside, feeling my way around, a small pool of precum collecting near his navel. From my previous tugs on him his foreskin had retracted and his head was bared and smooth. I wished I could have seen as well as felt - seen his pubic hairs parted as he rose up to me, waiting for my touch, seen his pink head blush as it spilled out liquid in anticipation. Instead I circled my thumb around his tip, massaging his fluids into the top of his cock. I felt again the smooth skin of his shaft, now unencumbered by clothing, felt the coarseness of his hair as I came to his base, and the roundness of his balls resting lightly on his thighs. My exploring finished I wrapped my hand around his hard, smooth dick and began to rub.

I began slowly at first - long strokes from top to bottom. By the third stroke he was sighing again, the sigh of someone who'd given himself to the experience. I felt I was over the apprehension I felt when I started and could now enjoy it. Once more I adjusted my body to get a grip, this time less concerned about the space between us. As I moved my own cock, throbbing and dripping in my shorts, came to rest gently against his ass.

It was Simon's turn to move now, reversing into me so that his back was firmly against my chest, then flattened himself against my so that my dick was pressed into him. I don't know if the pressure on me brought some relief or just stoked my desire further, but the speed of my jerking increased. And now he began, slowly at first and then more firmly, to thrust against my movements, driving his cock into my hand with every down thrust and his ass into my dick as I pulled up.

There was no subtlety to either of our actions now as we jerked and grinded, and I was glad his room was out of the way and we were unlikely to be heard or disturbed. His sighs and groans were still muted, but present, and our dance drew occasional squeaks from the mattress. I was engulfed in the moment, my movements becoming steadily quicker. And then Simon went silent - his breath caught in his throat and his body went rigid. I knew what was happening and carried on rubbing, pressing my inflamed member against his ass, burying my shaft between his cheeks as much as I could.

I felt him first underneath the thrust of my hands, felt his cum travel up his shaft until it burst wet and warm onto my hand. I didn't stop - each new spill of fluid only served to further lubricate my thrusts. I felt him release three or four spurts before his breath came back to him and the tension in his body released. I began to slow my hand movements as the force of the orgasm I'd given him diminished and I'd wrung the last of his semen from him.

We lay together quietly again, our breathing heavy, but our bodies still. Inside his shorts I still moved my hand on his dick, but there were no more explosions to be had. After a few minutes like this I released his member and withdrew my hand from his pants, his milky-clear fluid glistening on my skin. I got up from the bed and made my way to the bathroom, hoping I didn't encounter anyone with the very obvious tent protruding from my pants.

It was only a short walk down the corridor and I closed the door behind me safely. I had intended to wash, but looking down at myself I had a different idea. I had a feeling of satisfaction from what I'd done to Simon, but in my own balls was a tension that needed its own release. Using my dry hand I released my throbbing cock, saw it spring up as I pulled it from my drawstrings. My head was a deep purple, and fluid coated my skin.

Grasping my dick I began to jerk myself, my friend's cum making my grip wet and slippery. As I pulled I thought about how he had felt in my hand, how his body had felt against mine, and the sound he had made at the pleasure I gave him. It wasn't very long until my own breath caused and pleasure and release consumed me - my own cum joining his on my hand and splashing into the sink.

In the hot shower I stood in the water and watched my erection subside. I thought about Simon lying in his bed, the sticky mess in his pants. I wondered what he might be thinking about. And I wondered if this was something we'd do again.