The way he touched another guy’s dick

Image by the awesome Stuart F Taylor

“It’s hot when two girls get off, but it doesn’t work the other way round.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know. Like women watching a guy play with another guy’s dick. It doesn’t have the same effect.” 

I’ve had this conversation too many times. Far too many times. There’s a longer blog to post another day about the fact that straight-guy sexuality is so tightly woven into our culture that often dudes struggle to get their heads round the fact that, you know, they can be objects of lust just as easily as they’re subjects. But I’ll bore you about that another day.

For now, in response to the person who said this to me, allow me to describe an interaction so hot it makes my toes clench, even just remembering it.

There are two guys in this picture. Ignore me, or anyone else who might be around. Just focus on them. They’re chatting, occasionally laughing. Making soft, quiet conversation.

While one of them rubs the other guy’s dick.

Not vigorously, you understand – it’s not at that stage yet. It’s exploratory and tentative.

The guy who’s rubbing is fully clothed: black t-shirt just tight enough that I can see the outline of his shoulders. The other is sitting back in a chair, dressing gown open at the front. Dick semi-hard.

He’s watching what the second man does, with a half-expectant smile.

The clothed guy squirts lube into one of his hands, then rubs them together. I can only see him from the side, but I can see that he’s smiling.

Focused.

He raises an eyebrow as if to say ‘may I?’ then – on receiving a nod – he slides both of his hands round the other guy’s cock.

Quick, gentle, and so skilled. He works with such swift precision that just thinking about it makes me grin and bite my lip and rub my thighs together with joy.

Both of these men are straight.

That shouldn’t make a difference, but it does, because so much about sex is in the atmosphere – it’s not always about the act itself, it’s about the motivation.

Not what you do, but the way you do it.

The skill, and the companionship, and the tentative ‘may I?’ are greater than the sum of their parts because this may be the only time that’s happened for them. In exactly that way, at exactly that moment.

That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. That one motion. Lubed-up, sticky hands sliding down another cock with expertise he’d practiced on his own. The slight movement in his shoulders – leaning into the stroke. The tension in his muscles as he gripped.

That moment. There was more, afterwards – every bit almost as beautiful. When he pulled out a couple of toys – a masturbator, I think, and definitely the Pulse from the picture above. He was demonstrating on the other guy’s dick – showing him what went where, and how fast to move it, and which buttons to press to turn it on.

Teaching. Controlling. Holding. Stroking.

Not love, as such. Not lust, really. Just skill, and the desire to share it. Knowledge of exactly how good this toy felt, and the need to impart it. Lube, and hands, and that other guy’s dick.

I’ve written this very badly, and I’m so so sorry.

But when I think about it I can barely think at all. I can just feel and ache and lust and burn up with a need to replay it again in my head.

So when you ask if I enjoy watching two guys … when you ask if it’s ‘the same’ as what you feel when you see two women getting naked and wet together … my answer is: you tell me. Do they make you feel like this?

12 Comments

  • Mrs Fever says:

    No, this is NOT written badly. It’s written in a way that makes me go, “YES! Holy fuck, that’s HOT…”

    BECAUSE IT IS.

    To me, M/M sexual interaction is gut-punchingly delicious. Watching makes my Unf Levels combustibly high, and the idea of two straight* guys exploring is somehow just… MORE. More sweet, more intimate, more vulnerable, more exploratory. More RARE. More of a turn-on than anything else.

    I can picture this scene clearly, and under any number of conditions. The “demo” factor makes it all the more intriguing. I’m sure if I got to participate I’d be like, “Oooh–! Look at his reaction on that little bzzz-zz! Will you show that again please? Maybe with the vibrations on a higher setting?”

    Yes please!

    *I’m not necessarily a lover of the Kinsey scale, but I definitely believe sexuality runs on a spectrum. “Straight” being the culturally acceptable default mode, particularly for males, does not necessarily mean a man is hetero. But I definitely get a rush thinking about two guys who identify as hetero doing something outside of “straight” expectations, as you’ve described here.

  • oh gosh, i think two guys is really, really sexy…*sigh*

  • Mardi says:

    I’ve had that conversation plenty of times too, and I could rant about it for a long long time – but that’s not going to happen, because this post is hot as fuck and I’m just going to soak in its hotness for a little while. THANK YOU FOR THAT

    (The overwhelming majority of my staple wank fantasies are about two or more men having sex – no one’s going to tell me it’s not hot when it’s what gets me off.)

  • SpaceCaptainSmith says:

    When I first discovered about ‘slash fiction’ on the Internet, my reaction was probably similar to most straight guys’. The internal conversation goes something like this:

    “No, women can’t be into that. That’s crazy.”
    “Why?”
    “Because, like, how can they enjoy it when there’s no woman involved?”
    “Is it really any different from the lesbian porn that you enjoy? Which is mostly produced by and for men?”
    “Yes!”
    “Why?”
    “Because… girl on girl is hot! Everyone recognises that!”

    Eventually I accepted it, and started to understand that women and men are not so different from one another as everyone tends to think.

    (What really blew my mind was later discovering that the majority of women who write slash fiction, apparently, identify as bisexual or lesbian rather than straight… but that’s a subject for another time.)

    Eventually I also discovered there is some gay porn that appeals to me, so I probably can’t consider myself entirely straight… yeah, alright. It’s mostly not for me, but guy on guy *can* be hot.

  • Midlands Man says:

    When I was young, I did some gay/bisexual stuff, and this article illustrates for me just how apparently illogical we can be. I don’t read or look at gay porn – if it just happens to be there, I move on – I’ve never been tempted to read further, or follow the links. But in real life there are some men I see, nt often, but when I do….

    A waiter in Wagamama. Tight black T-shirt & jeans, moved like a dancer, when he wanted a drink would drop to his haunches, balanced on the balls of his feet, drink from the water glass left low on the trolley. This seemed like a performance, a show of his muscular control, his flexibility. Face fine cut, floppy blonde hair, and in my mind, I’m standing behind him in his flat, just round the corner after a tiring shift, reaching round, stroking the bulge in his jeans, while he undoes the belt, and slips his cock out. He can’t see me, just feel my breath on his neck, hear my whispers. From behind my hand wraps around him exactly as his does when he wanks – my thumb strokes the head, fingers curled around the thick length of him, I’m not really bringing him off, I’m just getting him hard, really hard, smearing the pre-come over the bulging head.

    My lips are so close to his ear, I could whisper, I could ask, what do you want ? I don’t need anything myself, just to feel his need, to feel his urgency, to let him know I want him in me, to be fucked, to be the agent of his release.

    Now he’s so hard his cock is standing away from his hard belly, throbbing, head engorged, and he turns, kisses me hard, tongue pushing hard into my mouth, stubble grazing, and he steps back, pulls off his T-shirt, and I’m going down to my knees, and there is no way back, no way out, he is fucking my mouth, his pants hanging open, the intense musky smell enveloping me.

    I run my hands up his thighs, feel his dancers buttocks, rock hard, thrusting into me, my eyes watering, my lips bruised, breathing hard, he keeps going, a steady rhythm, speeding up just a little, then he sighs, once, a last slow deep thrust, and he holds his cock there, grabbing my hair, the sigh becoming a long moan as he comes into the back of my throat.

    I swallow the ball of come, feel it in strings on my teeth and gums. I pull slowly back, licking the come off his cock, swallowing, till it flops out of my mouth, and I can sit back, head bowed, while he puts himself away.

    His breathing slows…….. he look at me, still fully dressed, still kneeling, still clearing the gobbets of come from my mouth.
    He crosses to the fridge, takes out a beer, is pushing the door shut when he thinks of me..
    “Want one ?”
    “No, thanks, I’d better be going.”

    There’s nothing to say. This won’t happen again, its in my mind anyway, really I’m just eating noodles, in a dream you cant speak, you cant say anything out loud in a dream. You can’t speak with your mouth full.

    A waitress comes, picks up the empty beer bottle – “Can I get you another ?”
    “Yes, yes please”.

    He brings it, just the bottle, hanging from his fingers, he puts it on the table, to my side – “Your beer”, but I can’t look at him, I’m just head down, picking up the noodles, looking at his fly, his belt, his black t-shirted belly, and I’m thinking to myself “Next time, next time, I’ll have the soup, and you can fuck me in the arse afterwards.”

  • StanW says:

    No thanks.

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