Several evenings later, I was strolling to Greg's home.  

Every few weeks or so Greg and I would have a simple bachelor's night that almost always included ordering pizzas, drinking bourbon, and then beating me off beside each other while we watched one of the adult channels on his cable television service.  We were two lonely guys, each relatively newly single from losing our wives, and I didn't think either one of us had much interest in playing the dating game.  It was just nice hanging out with a friend, getting buzzed and stuffed with deep dish bread full of tomatoes and olives, and shooting a load before heading home and going to sleep.  Greg and I had not kissed or done anything besides just stroking near each other in the same room.

On this particular evening, Greg already had our pizzas delivered by the time I showed up at his front door with an unopened bottle of traditional bourbon.  I immediately sensed that something was a bit different with Greg.  We skipped the small talk and went right to his theater room to begin eating and drinking.  The room was part man cave, with a billiards table and air hockey table, while the other half was devoted to watching the enormous 75-inch television that dominated his otherwise blank wall.  In front of the screen were two plush reclining loungers, side by side, each with dual cup holders, headrests, and settings for vibrations and temperature control.  

Greg and I each ate about half of our individual pizzas, saving the remainders for lunch or dinner the following day, while catching the final innings of a professional baseball game.  Besides the cheering and jeering to the game, our time together had mostly been in silence.  That was until Greg turned toward me and rested his hand on my shoulder.  It was not like him to touch me at all, but I didn't react or attempt to move his hand away.

"Mike, I'd like to switch it up tonight, if that's okay with you."

"What does switching it up entail?" I asked.

Greg's blue eyes, glistening with a rascality I had not seen before, searched my face.  But I was expressionless.  I had no idea what he was up to at that moment.  Greg ran a hand over his shaved head, perhaps a nervous habit, and gave me a crooked grin.

I took a guess.  "You have a new type of movie in mind for us tonight?  Something kinkier than usual?"

"Naw, that's not it."  Greg flipped the channel from the post-game show to one of those softcore movies with the simulated sex, exaggerated seductions, and vacuous music.  It's the type of thing we typically watched for mindless fun and a temporary escape.  Greg turned the volume down two notches and set the remote control in one of his cupholders.  "I hope you'll be a good sport and let me try something with you.  That's all."  

"You don't want to tell me what it is?" I asked, chuckling and kicking off my shoes.  My body language was already suggesting to him that I might be open to whatever he had in mind.  I didn't expect anything much different than our usual routine, despite his bit of anxiety.

"You know me, Mike.  I like things left unsaid.  It's just the two of us here.  Like always.  No big deal.  And I want to try something that you might like."

"All right, what do I have to do."

"Just hold still, right there, and let your inhibitions go."

"Easy."

When Greg got up to turn off the lights, leaving only the silver and blue glare of the television glowing in the dark and windowless room, I took off my jeans and boxer shorts.  Greg placed a towel over my seat and guided me back onto the chair.  He crawled between my spread legs and set a couple of items on the floor beside his knees, just out of my view.  Greg looked up at me.  There was an innocence and vulnerability in his face.  He wanted my permission to get started.  I put my hands behind the back of my head, scooted my hips down closer to his chest, and nodded.

Greg lifted a large jar of coconut oil and dipped in for a handful of it.  It looked like congealed lotion, but as he worked it onto my dick it melted as I engorged.  He stroked me to full length and my erection arched upward with a sharp curve.  His fingers and palms slid up and down with ease, as the melted oil provided more than ample lubrication.  I closed my eyes and submitted to his touch.  

Greg repeatedly edged me to the brink of ejaculation, but let go every time he felt me throb, delaying my release.  I pulled my knees onto the seat so that my feet were at his shoulders, giving him full access.  Greg knew I wanted to burst.  But he slowed the tempo of his hand, adding a twist to his wrist near the top of my crown, then let go, waited a second or two, grabbed the base of my root and started the climb upward again.  I groaned, nearly begging him to finish me off.  

But Greg liked having the control over my pleasure.  I could sense that by the way he was so in tune with my desire to climax.  

"Please, Greg," I finally said.  My voice was low, pleading, breathless.   

Greg put a red toy shaped like a donut on my tip and then streamed it down around me.  It felt like oozing jelly engulfing me in a ring.  Greg wrapped his fist around the base of my manhood with a firm grip and used his other hand to coast the toy up and down my arched shaft.  Greg brought me to the edge.  I grabbed his hands and held them so he could not release his grip.  I demanded that he go harder.  He obeyed.  I grasped the edge of the chair and cried out as I rocketed out loads onto my chest and stomach.  

Blown away, I relaxed my elbows on the armrests and lowered my feet to the floor.  I thought we were done, but that's when Greg shocked me into a such a state of stupefaction it knocked the wind out of my lungs.  He bent over my body and hungrily licked up all of my seed.

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