He’s on his back on my bed, but it still feels like he’s trying to run away from me. It&

He’s on his back on my bed, but it still feels like he’s trying to run away from me. It’s the way he’s completely taut and stretched out, making his flat belly concave and his ribs heave when he breathes. His head is tilted back, and he only dares to gaze at me downward, as if it’s polite to avert his eyes. He’s scared of what it might mean if he does look me head-on, unblinking. With one hand on his knee, and the other grabbing the edge of the bed, it’s like he’s holding on for dear life to avoid spinning out untethered, reeling. Poor boy, it’s just an orgasm. Why has society taught you to fear it so much? Probably because the same society told him he was straight by default, that he’d be experimenting with girls instead. He’s wary of being with men, and confused over his feelings for them. Watching him flirt with me was like watching a kid descend the stairs in a laundry basket and flipping halfway through - hilarious and painful, yet somewhat adorable and endearing. It would be me who would have to make the first move, I knew. Kissing him, holding his hand, each repulsed him and baffled him, as if he’d somehow banned himself from participating in homosexual love at all, as if it somehow might override any heterosexual feelings he had left - which was close to 0. He’s a silly boy, but erasing years of programming is not an easy thing. It took a year to get this far, to get him naked, on my bed. His cock is a hot rock in my hand, and I’m dripping buckets as I jerk us off together. I can see the vein in his throat throbbing. His body is enjoying this, his mind is sitting this one out. I smile down at him reassuringly. “You just gotta do what feels good, don’t listen to what anyone else says.” He swallows hard and nods. Easier said than done. “I’m… I’m gonna! I’m close!” his face twists in surprise as if he were expecting the Easter Bunny instead. “Let it happen, don’t hold it back,” I command, but he’s still biting his lip, resisting. God sometimes he can be so stupid, and what for? I press my fingers into the tip of his glans with a smug look on my face, and his balls compress and empty their load in a big burst of cum. He’s gasping like a drowning victim, clutching the bed with white fingers. I lean over and press my weight on top of him, rubbing against him with unbridled bliss as I shoot onto his stomach. I want him to know what it’s like to have a man between your legs. It’s such a wonderful sensation. Warm. Sexy. Secure. I reach between us and pet his twitching cock gently.“How was that?”“Holy shit,” he gasps. I don’t think he expected to enjoy it as an outcome, although it was inevitable. Such a pessimist. I kiss his jaw, even though he tenses. “I can feel you spasming against me.”“Is that weird…?”“No, it’s very good…that was really nice, we should do that again sometime.”He half nods, his eyes blank marbles. He needs time to digest this, to accept the truth. He’s gay, and this is what it’s gonna be like. “Being with a man…it’s not that bad isn’t it?” I pout. He blinks at me, wondering if I read his mind. He takes a deep breath and puts an arm around me, still silent. I freeze, wanting to say something but I don’t want to ruin the moment. I dare say it, but I think we’re moving forward. Agonizing, painstaking progress, but progress none-the-less. _____________________________________Text is fictional. Boys are from Corbin Fisher. -- source link

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