Drunken Desires

by Small Penis


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This story contains adult sexual content and should not be read by those under 18, or considered minors in their country or locale. If you are under 18: CLICK HERE

These stories are the artistic expression of the authors who wrote them. The Small Dick Club strongly believes in freedom of speech, and the right of artists to be heard, especially if what they say pushes the boundaries of what is acceptable in society. If you think you won’t like the content of this post, then don’t read it. It’s that simple. The Small Dick Club wishes to advise readers that any similarities in these stories to actual or real people or events is purely coincidental and unintended. That any story marked as a ‘true story’ shouldn’t be taken literally, as we have no way to verify if stories submitted to us are true. The Small Dick Club takes no responsibility for the imaginations and literary creations of authors who post their stories here.
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By anon.

Paul had made it to the bed, but not into it. Instead, most of his slender six-foot frame was sprawled across it, with his legs hanging over the side as he lay face first on the bedding. His tangled underwear was down to his knees and the only clothing left on him were his white athletic socks.

We had been drinking, like we did every Saturday night, and just like always we had consumed a bit too much. Paul was far more wasted than I was, which was always the case as well, which was why he always passed out by the time we got back to my place.

In truth, I wasn’t drunk at all, although I had pretended to be. Now I was going to do what I did every Saturday night – take care of my friend. I started by slipping Paul’s socks off of his feet, letting my hands slide over the coarse black hair that coated his slender calves.

I placed his socks on the dresser and began to undress myself, all the while staring at the wiry body of my closest friend. A friend that I had known almost all of my 18 years, and had shared just about every kind of experience with. We had no secrets from each other – except what I was about to do to him.

I was now naked except for my underwear, which I left on just in case Paul suddenly stirred from his beer-induced state. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I wondered which would be more humiliating for me – to have Paul see me standing here with my boner making a little tent in my briefs, or for him to see me naked? Neither way had any appeal for me.

With Paul’s underwear at half-mast, it was much easier to remove them than if they were on him. Ideally, it would have been ideal if he had managed to get them all the way off before passing out, but I had become quite adept at taking his underwear off without having him come to.

This time was no exception, and after I got the briefs off of my friend, I held the underwear up to my face. The crotch of the white cotton briefs were a bit damp, and as I inhaled deeply a shiver went down my spine while savouring the manly, musky aroma that the underwear held.

Now Paul was naked. His legs had parted after his underwear came off, exposing some of his treasures. From where I stood, the underside of his brown wrinkled sac was visible, but my eyes went higher, and when I saw the crevice between his pale, firm buttocks parted slightly, my plans altered slightly.

I tugged my underwear off and taking the tube of lubricant out of the drawer, I put a little on my finger and climbed onto the bed. I spread Paul’s ass cheeks apart a little more and rubbed my lubed finger on his puckered ring. When I dipped the tip of my finger inside the balloon knot, Paul’s body shivered only slightly.

Because my dick is so slender, I doubted whether even that slight lubricating was necessary, my penis is barely four-inches long fully erect, I was lucky if I could get much more than the acorn head of it into Paul’s ass.

No wonder he never stirs, I thought while I crouched over Paul’s rear end and brought the tip of my dick to his opening, he probably can’t even feel me. I could feel him though, and after easing my body down the head of my dick slipped in effortlessly.

A couple of short thrusts later I came, spurting my seed into his rectum until my tiny pecker fell out of him. As I tried not to shake the bed any more than necessary while climbing off of him, the milky semen gurgled out of Paul’s wrinkled orifice and down the inside of his crotch.

Now it was time to take care of Paul. Rolling him over was surprisingly easy despite him being six-foot tall, and as Paul rolled onto his back, his arms and legs akimbo, my heart started beating faster.

What was it about Paul that excited me so? I had been with a couple other guys, one of them a much older and experienced man, but I was never excited looking at them. Not like I was when I was with Paul.

His upper torso was lean and toned, hairless except for modest sprays of jet black hair under his arms. His stomach was flat, leading to the small tuft of pubic hair above his cock. And what a cock it was, I thought as my hand moved over to the dusky brown tube that hung over towards his right hip.

Paul’s cock was a thing of beauty. Not just because of the size of his manhood, which was impressive indeed, but because it was flawless from the thick base to the cone-like glans. As I lifted it up, I gently pulled on the flaccid penis enjoying the elastic feel of his gelatinous organ in my hand.

I bowed my head and let my tongue roll along the entire length of Paul’s cock, which soft was as big as my own erect, and much thicker. Now I could see his cock getting longer and thicker with each stroke of my tongue, so after licking my lips I took his cock into my mouth.

I could still manage to take all of him into my mouth now, my nose tickling his pubic hair, but would not be able to soon as he got harder and longer. His balls – how badly I wanted to take those bronze orbs in my mouth and savour them – to run my fingers through his pubic hair, but I didn’t dare.

This was dangerous enough. Many times I thought that he had woken up. What would I do if I saw him staring down at me, with his cock in my mouth? I would die of embarrassment. A friendship destroyed – for what? This? Then why was I risking it? Taking advantage of him like this?

Laying next to Paul, my own dick was already hard again, rubbing on his calf. The prickly leg hairs against the underside of my dick were guaranteed to make me cum once more, and I did nothing to discourage that, grinding gently against him while I sucked on him.

Now he was erect, with most of Paul’s eight-inches of throbbing manhood glistening with my saliva. Sometimes, depending on how much he had drunk, I assumed, he didn’t get a full erection, but even so I always made sure he came, and tonight was no exception.

My mouth could detect the semen surge through his cock just before he began spurting. Three of four jets of his cum splattered into my mouth and down my throat, and even after the cum stopped shooting and just oozed out of his member, I kept him in my mouth while he went limp once more, just savouring the taste of his hot seed.

Getting off of the bed without incident, I wiped my cum off of Paul’s leg before pulling the bed sheet over his naked body and going out to the living room to crash on the couch. I didn’t stay in bed with Paul, because I didn’t trust myself alone with him.

As it was most times, I would wake up in the middle of the night my dick hard from replaying what has occurred earlier, and would end up in the bedroom. I would pull the sheet down and masturbate while looking at Paul’s naked body, before going back to the couch.

I would fall back asleep then, dreaming about a day when I would find enough courage to tell Paul how I felt about him.

……

Many years down the road, I did tell Paul what I had done to him during those college days, going into detail about how I had taken advantage of his drunken condition, and when I had finished, I didn’t know what to expect. A punch in the mouth maybe?

“You’re kidding?” Paul said, after I had finished.

“No, really,” I admitted to doing it probably thirty to forty times.

“Closer to fifty times,” Paul said with a laugh.

“Huh?”

“It had to be closer to 50 times,” Paul said, shaking his head at my confusion. “What? You really thought that I was passed out?”

“You weren’t?”

“Hell no. How in the world could I sleep through you sucking my cock? I figured you knew I was faking. I even started taking my underwear off for you to make it easier.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked.

“We were young, and did a lot of wild stuff back then. Plus, I guess I must have liked it,” Paul confessed. “I thought all along that you were gay, or at least bisexual. I might have been groggy the first time, but after that it was me pretending I was drunk, just like you were. As long as you didn’t make me suck your dick, I was fine with it, because you were a great cocksucker.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but had to admit that it was pretty funny. It had only gone on for a couple of years, until I ended up with a girlfriend, and after my infatuation with Paul ended I never experienced a man again, but to think that I was so naive to have fallen for Paul’s acting, was humbling.

“But what about what I did to you?” I asked.

“I guess that I must be a little bi myself,” Paul said with a shrug. “But to be honest – don’t take this wrong – but I could hardly feel it, and I did like the sensation when you would come.

“Does your wife know about what we did?” I asked.

“No, and let’s keep it that way. If I told her, then you know who she would tell?”

“Her sister,” I said, who happens to be my wife.

“So it’s our secret,” Paul said.

“Agreed.”

The End.

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