StoriesByMatt
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My Curious Straight Friend | E6
🕑 Added 2026-01-26 15:30:02 +0000 UTCAll characters in this story are over 18 years of age.
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He Learned What One Finger Can Do and Today, He Gave Me That Same Pleasure.
There was a pleasant silence in the room. The kind where you don't need to say anything because your body has already said it all. Kyle was lying on his side, breathing calmly, and I was sitting leaning against the wall, watching him surreptitiously. His body was still pulsing slightly, the tension not quite gone yet. But there was something new in his eyes.
He was looking at me. Carefully. Not the way you look at someone who has just given you a new sensation. Only... as if he wanted something. Something more.
"I think now... I want to try it too," he said quietly.
I raise my eyebrows, but don't move.
"Try what?"
"On you."
He leaned on his elbow, looking me straight in the face.
"I want to know how it's done. How it feels... to give. I want to do it well for you."
I blinked. Part of me was surprised. But most of me was damn excited.
I smiled slightly.
"You want to... finger me?"
He nodded.
"I want to try. If you'll let me."
The silence lasted a second too long. But only because I needed a moment to stop the shiver that ran down my spine.
"Okay," I replied calmly.
"Show me what you've learned."
I stood up slowly. I could feel his gaze on me, as if every part of my body was new territory for him.
Inside, I had only one thought:
I didn't think he would dare to do it. But I can see in his eyes that he really wants to. For me.
And I was ready to let him.
I undressed slowly, deliberately, as if exposing my body to his new gaze. Not just the gaze of a curious boy, but of a man who had just realized that he could give pleasure, not only with his tongue or mouth. I felt his gaze on every exposed part of my skin, as if each piece of clothing I removed revealed something deeper.
I stood naked by the bed, and he sat on the edge, quiet, focused. He looked at me with something between admiration and impatience. There was more than shyness in his eyes now, there was fascination. And hunger.
I turned around and got on the bed.
I got on all fours, sticking my ass out slowly, confidently. I knew how I looked from this perspective. And I knew what it did to a guy who was just discovering the power of touch.
"Lube first," I said quietly, not looking at him. "A lot."
I heard the click of the bottle. Then his movements, careful but decisive.
"Spread it slowly around the entrance. Use your fingers. Let me feel your hand before you go inside."
I felt his fingers, cold from the gel, touch my ass. He moved them slowly along the entrance, rubbing in the lube as I had instructed.
My breathing quickened. I felt my cock begin to rise, grow, harden from the very fact that he was the one touching me this way now.
"Take your time," I murmured. "Listen to my breathing. It will tell you if you're doing it right."
I could feel him kneeling behind me, leaning over, focused.
He gently placed his finger around my entrance, then pressed lightly, trying to slide inside.
I moaned softly.
Oh, fuck. He's really doing this. And... he's doing it well.
He slid into me slowly, with gentle resistance. I felt every millimeter. His finger, slightly trembling but determined, passed through my ring of muscles and stayed there, submerged, as if asking my body if it could go further.
I breathed deeply. Not just to relax. For him. So he could hear my body accepting him.
"Deeper," I whispered, pushing my hips back. "Feel me tighten."
I felt his finger move inside me. Not rhythmically yet, it wasn't routine. It was searching, exploring. But he felt. Intuitively.
"Bend your finger slightly. Toward my stomach. Where you felt the body pulsing."
He did it.
And he hit the spot.
My whole body reacted. I groaned deeply, my hips tensed violently, my hands dug into the pillow. I felt his finger perfectly where it needed to be, touching my prostate with such precision that I began to lose control.
"Fuck..." I whispered through clenched teeth. "Right there."
He had already learned this. He moved rhythmically, listening to my breathing, my voice, the micro-tremors of my body. He saw what worked and repeated it.
When he added a second finger, I froze for a second, shocked by the intensity, the stretching, the tension. But he didn't stop. He worked slowly, stretching me confidently, with concentration, as if he felt that every movement mattered.
My body was throbbing. My cock was hard, heavy, full. It was already starting to tremble, as if it knew that it was about to let go.
And Kyle?
He worked inside me as if he had been doing it for a long time.
Without hesitation.
Without fear.
Only with the desire to do it right.
And he did.
Kyle moved his finger rhythmically, deeply, exactly where he should. He hit the spot perfectly, time after time, as if he knew my body better than I did. His hand was steady, strong, yet gentle, and I felt... guided. Stretched. Emotionally stripped bare from the inside.
Each of his movements pressed into me like an impulse.
Every pressure on my prostate lit me up from the inside.
I was breathing loudly, heavily, panting into the pillow. My cock was so hard it hurt. It was throbbing. I could feel my balls rising. I was just about to explode.
"Don't stop..." I moaned. "Fuck, no... stop..."
Kyle sped up. His finger gained confidence, picking up the pace. He pushed deeper, faster.
And then it happened.
My whole body stiffened, my back arched in a tense arc, and a deep, wild moan escaped my throat. I came. My cum hit the sheet, hot, thick, in waves. And I... I trembled. Wave after wave. All over.
And then... he pulled his finger out.
Silence. Only breathing. Me, kneeling, arched, completely disarmed. Him, behind me, silent for a few seconds, as if he still couldn't believe it.
Until finally he said with that new, damn cheeky smirk of his:
"Hehe. You came with me. I guess I was better than you."
I turned my head and looked at him. And in that look was the whole truth.
He really was better. And he just found out.
Only one thought came to my mind:
What else will Kyle want to be better at than me?
