A gay sex stories: Outie
I was in college, probably freshman or sophomore year — can’t recall which, exactly — but I was home for the summer. It was a warm day like any in any large, Midwestern city, and this one was no different.
I had walked down the main street of the shopping district to hit a barber shop, as my hair was getting shaggy. The cut took maybe a half-hour, and I went back into the warm but dry heat of mid-80-degree temperatures.
Coming out of the barber shop, something caught my peripheral vision’s attention. The shop was fairly close to the corner, the cross street of which led to a small and popular courtyard of boutiques and eateries. At the corner was a dark green light pole, much like one sees in this part of the neighborhood. But that wasn’t what got my attention.
What made me pause was a guy who was half-leaning against the light pole. I’m guessing he was probably in his mid- or even late 20’s, probably about 6 feet tall, pretty slender. He had dirty blond hair with waves long enough to nearly reach his shoulders. His eyes appeared to be hazel or blue, with long, pretty lashes — not women’s lashes, but the kind that make a guy’s eyes look a bit kinder.
Were I to describe the vibe his face gave off, it was approachable, maybe even a bit friendly. He might have been speaking with someone else, but I didn’t notice that so much. It was what he was wearing that stirred me.
He had on a fairly pale blue denim outfit — a long-sleeve jacket with pants to match. A black leather belt encircled his waist, above which sat a perfectly white shirt, which appeared to be a turtleneck, but with an interesting variation: the bottom edge of the shirt was cut short on the lower hem by about two inches, revealing a lovely, smooth, hairless stomach…and a round, outie bellybutton easily the size of a quarter, probably larger.
This navel caught my attention because outies, statistically, are pretty rare, and I just hadn’t seen many guys with outies in most places. I certainly didn’t see any guys wearing outfits that so plainly — brazenly, daringly? – shown theirs.
I found myself in an awkward act right there on the street — stealing looks at this nice-looking guy with his navel showing, while trying to act nonchalant and pretend I was waiting for someone to pick me up, or to remember where I was heading next.
I furtively looked at his outie once again, admiring how perfectly soft and bulbous it was, how smooth is was, how the afternoon sun shone on it and his bared stomach. No body hair, no ridges, no features that mark other outies. The size of it alone was enough to fascinate me…and get me hard.
Ordinarily I’d take a picture with my mind’s camera and just walk on, thinking I’d masturbate to it later at home. But something in me said I needed to do something different this time, something a little daring.
So, with zero preparation and with all the hubris I could muster on the spot, I casually made my way over to him.
“Hey,” I offered as a most unoriginal opening to the dirty blond guy.
“Hey!” he replied back, with a pleasant smile.
“I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before,” I said as convincingly as I could.
“Maybe you have,” he responded. “I’m a grad student at the university.”
“Oh, very nice,” I said, nodding. “I’m in college, myself. Undergrad.”
“What major?”
“Mathematics,” I said with a bit of pride.
“Ohhh, you’re one of the smarter guys,” dirty blond guy said. “I’m in grad school for psych. Still thinking of what I’m going to do with it; I just like the course of study so far. The mind is an amazing thing. But outside of classes, I do modeling.”
“Oh, really?” I perked up, interested.
“Yeah, it gives me a little extra funny money and I can schedule shoots around my classes and part-time job.”
I decided to risk a compliment.
“Well, I couldn’t help but notice your outfit. It’s pretty together and you look good in it.”
“Thanks,” he said with some energy, then extended his hand to shake mine. “Oliver.”
I eagerly extended mine to receive his hand, shaking it warmly, giving my own name. “Did you just move here?”
“Yes, actually. I finished my undergrad at American U in D.C. and wanted a change of scenery to the Midwest. So I came here. Good school, and lots of opportunities to show off. What are you up to?”
“Just got my hair cut, it was time.”
“It looks good. They did a good job,” dirty blond guy complimented me.
“Thanks,” I gratefully said. A model complimenting me. How cool is that?
“Umm…I’m on my way to the bistro around the corner,” he added. “Wanna join me?”
“Sure!”
The bistro around the corner was a trendy place. As it was mid-afternoon, it wasn’t especially crowded — usually weekend late mornings it is, for brunches. But when we walked in and got a table, it wasn’t particularly busy at all.
Oliver led the way, taking us to a table in a quieter part of the restaurant, in the back. The booth was cozy and comfy. A waiter promptly appeared and took our drink orders, then silently glided away.
“Do you come here much?” I asked Oliver.
“I’ve only been a couple of times,” he answered. “I like the feel. It’s really chill.”
“Indeed. It’s been here for years,” I added.
The waiter reappeared with our drinks. After a sip and a beat, Oliver said the next words.
“So, my outfit. You liked it,” Oliver started. “Was there anything about it in particular that got your attention?”
My hyper-analytic mind jumped into action, reviewing two dozen possible responses in a split second.
“Um…yes, actually,” I said with a touch of hesitance.
Oliver leaned forward slightly, looking at me with a smile, as if he sensed what I was going to say.
Taking a beat myself, I let loose. Your outfit shows off your…midriff…nicely…very, very nicely.”
Oliver’s face broke into a broad grin.
“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”
“I mean…,” I ventured carefully on, “I happen to be a fan of half-shirts, shirts that bare the stomach, and I couldn’t help noticing your large, lovely bellybutton…”
Oliver gently grabbed my hands and held them warmly. “Go on…”
“Well, this is going to sound a bit odd, and you probably haven’t heard this from a stranger, and you’ll probably never hear this from anyone again, but I have a sexual thing for bellybuttons, and I’m very turned on by guys who show theirs off like you have, especially…especially…”
I paused, dreading I was about to make a fool of myself.
“Especially if it’s an outie…” I trailed off, waiting.
Oliver was still holding my hands in his. He nodded as if to say, Please continue.
“That’s really kind of it,” I half-stammered. “I saw you on the corner, I thought you were handsome, and I loved how confident it was for you to wear an outfit that shows off your large, pretty outie bellybutton,” I finished with a faint, silly smile, feeling quite vulnerable at this point. I rarely outed myself as a navel fetishist and figured my ego would lay in tatters within seconds. But I just had to say what I said.
Oliver looked into the air as he responded.
“You know, I was hoping I’d meet someone like you someday,” he started, then looked back into my face.