"You can touch it," Asher says softly. "However you want."
I reach out, my hand wrapping around his length. The sensation is strange—like touching myself but from a completely different angle, with none of the direct feedback. The skin is soft over hardness, warm and alive under my palm.
I stroke experimentally, a slow up-and-down motion, watching Asher's face for reaction. His breath hitches, eyes darkening, and I feel a surge of satisfaction at having caused that response.
"That's good," Asher encourages, his voice slightly strained. "You can grip a little tighter if you want. I won't break."
I adjust my grip, tightening my fingers slightly, and am rewarded with a soft moan from Asher. The sound goes straight to my own cock, making it strain against my jeans uncomfortably.
"How does it feel?" Asher asks. "Touching another man like this?"
I consider the question, trying to articulate the strange mix of familiarity and novelty. "Weird," I admit. "But good weird. Like... I know the mechanics, but it's completely different when it's not my own."
Asher laughs softly. "That's a pretty accurate description, actually."
I continue my exploration, growing more confident with each stroke. I pay attention to Asher's reactions—the way his breath catches when I run my thumb over the head, the way his hips twitch forward when my grip tightens at the base.
"Now," Asher says, his voice rougher now, "if you're comfortable, try using your mouth. Just the tip at first."
I lean forward, heart racing. This is it—a line I never thought I'd cross, a boundary I never expected to push. But as I part my lips, taking just the head of Asher's cock into my mouth, the strangeness of the act is quickly overshadowed by Asher's reaction.
He makes a sound—half gasp, half moan—that sends a thrill through me. I did that. I caused that reaction. The power of it is intoxicating.
The taste is unfamiliar but not unpleasant—skin and salt and something uniquely Asher. I experiment with my tongue, remembering what feels good when done to me, trying to replicate it. I swirl my tongue around the head, paying special attention to the sensitive spot just under the crown.
"Fuck," Asher breathes, his hand coming to rest lightly on my head, not pushing, just a point of connection. "That's... you're a natural."
The praise sends a wave of warmth through me. I hollow my cheeks, sucking more firmly, and am rewarded with another moan from Asher.
"Try taking a bit more if you can." Asher’s voice is tight with restraint. "But don't push yourself too far. Use your hand for what you can't fit in your mouth."
I follow the advice, taking Asher deeper while wrapping my hand around the base. The combination seems to work well, judging by the way his fingers tighten in my hair.
"That's it. Just like that."
I fall into a rhythm, alternating between using my hand and my mouth, paying attention to Asher's reactions to guide me. When I swirl my tongue around the head, his hips jerk forward slightly. When I use my hand to stroke the base while my mouth works the tip, his breathing becomes more ragged.
It's like learning a new language, decoding what each sound, each movement means. And I find I enjoy the learning process, enjoy the feedback loop of action and reaction.
"You're sure you've never done this before?" Asher asks, his voice strained with pleasure. "Because you're doing things with your tongue that should be illegal."
I pull off for a moment, looking up with a grin. "Beginner's luck?"
"If this is you as a beginner," Asher says, "I can't wait to see what you're like with practice."
The implication that there will be more of this, more opportunities to explore and learn, sends a thrill through me. I return to my task with renewed enthusiasm, taking Asher deeper than before.
"Careful," Asher warns, his hand tightening in my hair. "Don't try to take too much at once. It takes practice to suppress your gag reflex."
I nod, adjusting my approach. I focus on using my tongue and lips on the head and first few inches, while my hand works the rest. The combination seems to be effective, judging by the way Asher's thighs are tensing, the way his breathing has become more erratic.
"Wait," Asher says suddenly, his voice strained. "Stop for a second."
I pull back immediately, concerned. "Did I do something wrong?"
"God, no." He laughs breathlessly. "The opposite. You're doing too well. I don't want to finish yet."
Pride blooms in my chest at the admission. "What do you want instead?"
