I stood in the doorway, looking at Dexter sitting on the couch. I was nervous and very excited, having never seen a guy play with himself before… never having seen a guy cum before. Dexter appeared to be a bit nervous as well, though outwardly he looked more relaxed than me.
“So, this is a no touch deal, right?” I asked, “You do all the work?”
“Yep, that’s the fantasy.”
He stood up slowly, kind of half heartedly waved his hand at the empty chair across from him and said, “Why not sit down? Relax, let’s have some fun.”
I stepped over to the chair, trying to maintain eye contact (he was using his eyes; looking straight into mine) and sat down on the edge of the chair, not quite relaxing yet. I kept subconsciously looking down at his belt, gauging his package, but then quickly lifting my eyes to his face (Did he see me look down?).
My heart was pounding, palms damp, and my body flushed with beginnings of arousal. I was a little surprised; I didn’t expect my body to react like this.
Dexter had on a snug fitting long sleeve t-shirt tucked into a faded, but still nice, pair of very well fitting Levis. He looked good: sexy as he fingered the buckle to his belt and undid that, pulling it out of the way. He kept his eyes glued to mine, making sure I was still in the game. I was still having trouble maintaining eye contact, I wanted to see him now.
What was he wearing? Boxers? Briefs? Tight? Loose? Was he hard already? Fuck, my heart was pounding.
He unfastened the top button and began to pull down his zipper, holding his pants open as the zipper came down. Red… smooth, aaaah, they looked tight and I could just make out the lump his dick was making in them as his zipper slid past. He was already hard, and God that made it so sexy. He spread the jeans open and began to shimmy out of them, his dick straining at his red boxer briefs. It looked almost uncomfortable, but he made no attempt to adjust himself. Instead, he kind of subtly pushed his hips out, showing me how turned on he was.
I licked my lips.
His gaze still locked on mine, he reached into the waistband with his thumbs to pull the elastic away from himself, so it would clear his erection, and he began to pull them down. As they lowered, his dick came into view. It pointed almost straight up, probably about six-inches long and just about big enough to wrap my hands around (or so I imagined) and looked almost painfully hard. He had to bend to pull off his jeans and underwear, so we lost eye contact for a moment and I was able to recover some of my composure… until he stood back up and, instead of grabbing his dick with a fist, like I thought he would, he simply ran his middle finger up the underside of it, making it jump with the anticipation of a more insistent friction.
I was absolutely captivated. Previously drawn to his eyes, I could not find the strength to make myself look up. I was taking in every detail of his dick: the way the ridge of his head curled around the crown, and the small drop of moisture on the tip of his slit. To the veins and ridges down his shaft, all speaking directly to my sex. I was imagining how it would feel in my hands, in my pussy. I could almost feel it as it spread me open for the first time, yet I felt so empty. I was so wet.