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The friction sets my nerves on fire. I want more. I need more.

I slide my hand underneath his shirt. His skin is wonderfully warm and his muscles undeniably firm underneath my palm. The feel of him takes my breath away once again. I release our kiss to catch it.

“Should have taken these off before we got down here,” he says as he attempts to pull my sweater over my head.

“Definitely,” I say, rising and pulling my sweater off at the same time. I toss it to the side then get off him so that he can do the same. As he tosses his shirt to the side I can’t stop staring at his pecs. They’re perfect. Developed. Round. Firm.

He doesn’t stop at his shirt. He starts unbuttoning his pants as well. It surprises me how willing and eager he seems to be about this. I’ve spent so many years denying this side of me, it’s interesting watching someone else, who as far as I can tell only recently discovered this about himself, be so open to everything that comes with it.

“I’m gonna need you to move if I’m going to get these all the way off,” he says, grinning from ear to ear. He points at me. I’m still resting my body weight on his thighs.

“Yes. Sorry,” I say, hopping back off the bed in my excitement to join him. I practically fall onto the air mattress as there’s hardly any room beside the bed. But I manage to catch my balance and loosen my pants enough that I can step out of them and rejoin Ander on the bed.

Once I’m hovering over him again, holding myself up with my arms and keeping my body from pressing down on his, he looks up at me. “Have you ever done this before?” he asks me.

“Yes, and no,” I say.

His brow furrows in confusion.

“I have messed around with men before,” I say, then dip down and begin to kiss up his neck, nibbling along his jaw. “But never like this.”

“Like what?” he asks with a hitch in his breath as I concentrate my attention on his pulse point.

I pull away from his neck to help collect my thoughts. We probably should have discussed this before diving all the way in. But right now, I’m also so horny I don’t particularly feel like wasting a lot of time explaining my past to him.

“I have”—I pause, trying to find the right word in English—“experimented with men before. But it was never much. No kissing.” I press our lips together for emphasis. “Just got off beside each other.”

“Oh.” He smiles. It’s a bit shy. “I’ve never done this either. I mean, I’ve been with women before but…”

“This is different,” I fill in for him.

“Yeah,” he says, looking up at me with so much heat and want in his eyes I could come right here, right now, by only looking at him. “It’s better.”

I huff out a laugh. “That is high praise considering we have not finished yet.”

He reaches down and slips his hand underneath the elastic waistband of my boxer briefs. His hand lingers on my ass, giving my muscles a squeeze before he pulls my underwear down, freeing my erection.

Now is when I see the hesitation wash over his face as he bites his bottom lip. He keeps his gaze on my cock, hard and pointing up at the both of us, but doesn’t bring his hand to it right away. I wish he would. For weeks now I have been imagining what his fingers would feel like wrapped around my cock, jerking me off to completion.

But the other part of that fantasy for me has included me wrapping my fingers around his as well. Helping bring him to bliss is perhaps an even bigger part of the fantasy for me than my own release.

I reach between us and tug his underwear down. He lifts his hips off the bed to help me. When his cock comes free, I admire it for a second before bringing my hand to it. It’s long, thick, and has a prominent head. He’s cut, unlike myself, and when I finally touch it, I’m struck by how soft and silky his skin around it is.

He hums his approval as I loosely glide my hand up and down his shaft. He also takes this as his cue to do the same. He keeps his grip loose and gives me slow, easy strokes that cause the head of my cock to come out of my foreskin before covering it again, over and over. His gaze remains locked down there like he’s mesmerized by what he’s seeing.

I get it. I’m mesmerized by his face. The way his lips are parted and his tongue pokes out each time I run my hand over the head of his cock. The way his cheeks are flushed pink. The way his eyes are hooded as they look down, staring at our dicks as we work each other over.

“Fuck, this feels good,” he says.

And now I can’t help but look down and see what he’s seeing. A bead of precum has formed in his slit. I swipe at it with my thumb and rub it across the underside of the delicate head of his dick.

A rumbling breath rolls through him. It causes me to buck my hips into his fist. He begins to quicken his pace with his hand, causing heat to course through my body as I chase after my orgasm that is building quickly within me.

My balls are getting tight and my dick is straining in his hand. I start to match the pace of his fist with my own as I work him over as well. I want to see him come.

But also, I’m conscious of the fact that in this position, me hovering over him, we are both about to blow our loads all over his torso. For someone who’s never done this before, that might be a little too much to ask of him.

“Is this alright?” I ask, drawing his attention to look up at me above him.