Exploring Adam 5 - Sex Stories

Exploring Adam 5

I woke the next morning with a start, feeling like there was something I was forgetting, or something urgent that I needed to do. Then I looked to my left on the bed and saw Adam, and I remembered. I lay there having a few minutes of panicked holy-shit-what-did-I-do, feeling a lot like I did one morning years before after cheating on a girlfriend. The feeling was the same, but I couldn't locate the source of my guilt this time. Was I ashamed of having had sex with a man? Perhaps. I might be a progressively-minded and open and tolerant person, but this was still new territory for me. Or perhaps I felt guilty at having had sex with a good friend's little brother ... in precisely the same way I'd feel about sleeping with a friend's sister. Especially if she was seventeen going on eighteen. Ye gods. As I lay there, memories of the day before came flooding back and washed away much of the guilt and shame, replacing it with a warm, satisfied feeling of desire. I could feel myself getting hard as I called to mind thoughts of sucking Adam, feeling his hard cock, fucking and being fucked by him. Twenty-four hours before I had been a mild-mannered, occasionally bi-curious hetero man. Now I got hard as I thought of another day filled with Adam's cock. Realizing that my mouth was parched, I carefully got up and padded naked to the kitchen. It was unseasonably warm for May, but still a bit of gooseflesh pleasantly prickled my skin as I poured myself a glass of water and busied myself ...

... with putting on coffee. I looked at the time—just after seven in the morning. Early for me on a Saturday; almost certainly early for someone like Adam, and when I went back to the bedroom and leaned on the doorjamb, looking down at him, he hadn't stirred at all. I stood there for a long while, drinking him in. He lay sprawled on his back, his left arm behind his head, the other resting on his chest. His mouth was slightly open, his hair adorably mussed. He was long and lean, with well-defined shoulders and chest, nice abs, and a torso that narrowed to slim hips. A swimmer's body, to be certain. The comforter lay teasingly across his waist, as if he'd been posed by some coy cameraman; his left leg splayed out from under it, bent at the knee, his foot disappearing back under the sheets. He was beautiful. I stepped forward and lightly twitched away the comforter to reveal what lay beneath. He still did not stir. Looking down at his cock, which flopped flaccidly to the right, I reflected that I had not seen it soft since he had been here. It had softened somewhat during our play on the couch the night before, and between sexual sessions, but only about halfway. It was always quick to rise as soon as I kissed him or touched it. Even soft, his cock was aesthetically pleasing ... perhaps it was because I was circumcised too, but I far preferred that look to the skin-covered head. Soft, his shaft shrunk back on itself, resting on the pillow of his testicles and flopped over to the side. ...