Matt Blows Aaron

Neither Matt nor Aaron has crossed that line with another man before, but tonight, curiosity pulls them in. They know their looks turn heads—other guys have lingered too long in their gaze—and that self-assured edge steels them for what's coming. Matt's pulse quickens with a spark of thrill. First times whisper promises like that. They peel off their clothes, hands wrapping around their own shafts, coaxing them to full, insistent hardness. A subtle tension flickers in their stances, shoulders tight, eyes darting. Matt steals a glance at Aaron, assessing the air between them. Shyness colors his cheeks as he extends a hand, fingers curling around his friend's thick cock. The touch—firm, unfamiliar—sends a shiver through Aaron; his toes flex and curl, a low sigh escaping his lips like steam from heated skin. Matt bends forward, lips parting to claim the swollen head. He takes it in, bobbing with a steady, unhurried rhythm that belies the newness. No awkward flinch mars his face as his mouth glides over the smooth mushroom tip, then down the veined shaft, pushing deeper with each deliberate swallow. Not bad at all—a tentative rhythm building to something bolder. They end as they began, hands flying over their own lengths in urgent strokes. Aaron comes first, ropes of cum splattering across his chest in hot bursts. Matt watches, a quiet relief washing over him that none of it arcs toward his face or slips down his throat. Not yet, anyway—the night's edges still sharp with possibility.