Ah... That Sexy Boy Ben

Ben's a sexy boy, you know. A sexy boy for a straight boy. I like it when he comes over pissed, or off his chops, he's really cute then. Pliable... or is that compliant? He came over last night, late. Those dreamy half closed eyes and that wonky smile on my door step when I swing the door open.

“Amy is working on her PHd thesis.” And she needs lots of time to herself to work on it. That's what Ben believes. So, you know, she sends him over to my place.

"I had to just get out of the house." Smile. Sexy.

"I'm just smoking pot and watching a movie."

"I was hoping you'd be home." Smile. "I'll roll the joints."

The boy has got a beautiful cock, what can I say? Pretty. Really pretty, one of the pettiest I've ever seen. How could I turn him down?

He's really sweet, too? Open, not afraid. Not afraid of intimacy. Not afraid of touch.

He stumbled in the door. "I'm a bit fucked." He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me, he smelt like cigarettes and alcohol. I kissed him on the lips. He puckered automatically.

"Where have you been?"

"Out with buddies."

"Where's Amy?"

"Home working." He smiled and shrugged. "Always working." He raised his eyebrows as though he was trying to open his eyes wide.

"Makes Benny boy boring."

He shrugged like he didn't want to talk about it. "What are you doing?"

"I told you..."

"Watching movies," we both said together.



He lay down next to me on the couch. I was watching The Dreamers. Ben lay down on the couch and lay his head on my thigh as a pillow.



"Is this French? Huh."

"Yeah, babe." I looked down at him. "You want a drink?"

"No, just somewhere warm to lay my head down."

I rubbed his hair. He groaned contentedly and rolled over on to his back. He looked so cute. His t-shirt had ridden up. I don't have many boundaries with Ben, I never really had, I'm not exactly sure why. He says we have a connection. I slid my hand onto his stomach above the waistband of his jeans and rubbed his abs.

He groaned contentedly. "That feels..."

He liked it, even if he didn't finish his sentence. I handed him a joint, he took it enthusiastically. He's got a flat, hard stomach. He puffed on the joint and then handed it back. He seemed to drift off to sleep, or is that pass out, shortly after? He wasn't unconscious, so I presumed it was contentment.

I rubbed my hand on his stomach in a slow circular motion. He was warm and has distinct hard ripples in his stomach.

Such a man, lying there. Masculine. Warm. His breathing was rhythmic. Sexy chest, tight stomach, nice legs. His t-shirt hugged his chest. His jeans fitted to his contours, bulging just right.

I slipped my hand under the waistband of his jeans and rubbed the thick elastic of his jocks with my fingers.

He kind of squirmed a bit and cleared his throat.

I slipped the tip of my middle finger under the elastic of his briefs and rubbed the tip of my finger in his pubes. He had pubes. He needed to clipper. I fingered his hair slowly, as the beautiful French siblings got to know their playmate on the screen.

He moaned softly.

He rubbed his head on my leg and lifted his crotch up at the hips, as if to say he wanted it played with. I just liked the feel of him right there, his warmth, his size, it was nice.

It wasn't long before he was snoring quietly.

I slipped my hand around the base of his thick cock and just held him there as he slept. He was warm and sweaty and his cock curved around over the top of my fingers.