A gay story: Olaf It was another Friday night. Usually, on such nights, I camp out in front of the flat-screen, watching smut through my smart TV’s connection to my computer.
Sometimes Olaf comes by. He’s a guy I met at the local coffee place. He happened to be reading a book on sexual response — looked like kind of a heavy read, but it had to be interesting. I asked him about it, and we just kind of hit it off — that “click” factor thing that’s hard to find in large cities. And when he’s not otherwise occupied, we meet up at each others’ apartments. Tonight, Olaf will be coming by — it’s my turn to play host.
He’s always known I’m gay. I’ve always been comfortable with it, but I’ve never been a walking stereotype. It’s for others, and we need such folks, but it’s not for me. I’m more of a nerdy gay myself. I’ve never really been quite sure about him, but it hasn’t mattered. We’ve mainly been social partners, not hookups.
And I have this sexual “thing” that very few other gays have — at least I haven’t met any that have it. There is just something about the sight of a cute guy with his bellybutton showing that I could just come to, almost in the moment. I love guys that sport croptops so their navels are showing on their nice, relatively flat stomachs.
When I’m masturbating, I’m almost always looking at shirtless guys, guys in croptops, or guys in buttoned-down shirts. Sometimes I get online and I’m lucky to find adult sites where guys aren’t just showing their navels, they’re coming all over them, or a partner is. Many a moment of the day or night finds me musing about nuzzling up to a guy’s bared stomach.
And when I come to such visions of the stomach, nothing makes me come harder. I’ve shot semen so hard I’ve hit myself on my stomach, my upper chest, even my chin. Even though I’ve done it many times, it’s always a bit of a surprise when that explosion of gray-white syrup happens.
There was a gentle knock at the door. “Come in,” I call out. The door opens. It’s Olaf. Olaf is a nice-looking guy. He has dark brown, almost black hair, short but not a crew-cut, the bangs are visible. His eyes are brown and have a touch of playfulness about them. They’re framed by fairly thick eyebrows. No facial hair of any kind.
His build is sturdy, but not especially tall. I’d say he stands about 5-9. By build, he could be a wrestler, but not an especially thick one. His arms are sort of ample but not bulging with muscles. There’s not much dark hair on his forearms or the back of his hands — the only dark hair on him is really on his head.
“Hey,” Olaf greets me.
“Hey, guy.”
“Whatcha watchin’?”
“A special about gay sexual response. I found a video online and I’m streaming it through my computer. It’s been pretty interesting. Cop a squat.”
“Sure. Can I grab a drink? My throat’s parched.”
“Yeah, sure, you know where everything is.”
My region of the country was in the midst of a relentless heat wave. There wasn’t much to do outside during the day because, well, it was risky. In recent days I pretty much stayed inside, enjoying the AC in my ranch-style one-bedroom. Not the way I prefer to spend vacation days, but better that than collapse on a sidewalk.
Olaf came and sat next to me on my couch in front of the TV.
“So who produced this?” Olaf asked.
“Some university somewhere,” I replied. I didn’t check the listing closely. Just saw “gay sexual response” and that was good enough for me.
“Logical,” Olaf said with a nod.
The part of the show I was watching was about male sexual response in general, but was moving into how gay men are a little different. It was pretty accurate — it certainly matched my experience, largely.
“You identify with this?” Olaf said.
“Pretty much. I mean, I’m not off-the-leash out of control or anything, but I like a good orgasm like anyone else.”
“Ditto.”
“Do you, um…” I started cautiously, “get off often? Do you have anyone?”
“No,” Olaf said, almost quietly, “I’ve never been able to attract anyone, for some reason. Maybe I’m sending signals wrong or something.”
“Nah,” I said back. “People are complicated. With all the things that make us different, it’s a miracle anyone gets together at all.”
“True, that.”
The show segued into a section on sexual fetishes. It mentioned many of the ones common in the gay community — feet, leather, femboys, otters, jocks, and many more. Olaf and I sat, taking it all in, in a mellow sort of way.
“That’s a lot of fetishes,” Olaf ventured after the end of the segment.
“Humanity has always had such variety,” I offered. “It’s just that mainstream entertainment — even the adult video industry — tends to focus on the most popular stuff, the stuff that moves. Niche stuff, you have to look hard for. But it’s there.”
We watched some more of the series as it progressed to another segment. Olaf spoke next.
“You, uh…have a fetish?”
I thought to myself, Do I admit this and risk freaking him out? Or do I mention it and hope his chill vibe makes him shrug?
“Yep,” I ventured with a bit of confidence.
“Hm,” Olaf softly grunted. “Is it, like, one of the ones the show mentioned?” No mailce in his voice at all, he just seemed genuinely curious.
“Actually, no,” I said. I swallowed, took a beat, and then said, “I have a…thing for bellybuttons.”
“Really?” Olaf replied. “I’ve not heard of that, that’s interesting.”
“I like it.”
“So, like, how does it work?”
I thought for a moment. “How does it ‘work’? Hmmm…well, it’s kinda different for different guys, just like any other fetish — no two fetishists are quite identical in their tastes. I happen to love it when a guy is wearing a shirt that shows off his bellybutton, like a croptop.”
“A what?” Olaf asked.
“A croptop. It’s a short-sleeve shirt — kinda like a sports practice jersey or T-shirt — that’s cut horizontally, about halfway down. The lower part of the shirt isn’t there. So when a guy has one on, his stomach and bellybutton are showing.”
“I think I’ve seen those around, like on guys that go running,” Olaf said.
“Exactly. You probably haven’t seen many of the other styles and what not beause they’re also popular with gay guys at night clubs. You don’t really do those, right?”
“No, clubs have too much bullshit. I’ve never been able to be that pretentious.”
“Well, we definitely agree on that,” I said.
The show had ended. My computer and the TV sat silent. And Olaf and I were quietly sitting there also, silently, also. I think each of us was processing what we’d just heard from the other.
“Can we…try something?” Olaf said a bit cautiously.
“Yeah, sure, bud. What did you have in mind?”
Olaf got up from the couch and switched off the flat-screen. Then he came back to me, standing in front of me where I was still sitting on the couch. He paused for a few seconds, then reached down and pulled up his short-sleeve T-shirt, tying it up so it would stay up. He was crafting a makeshift croptop.
And what appeared when the lower edge of his shirt was hiked up was a wonderfully flat stomach — hairless, no moles, no rippled musculature, no tattoos — just a perfectly simple stomach, the middle of which sat a quite large, very smooth, outie navel, which had to be the size of a dollar coin, close to an inch in diameter. It was a perfectly round orb of flesh, sticking out perhaps a quarter of an inch, clean and beautiful to my lustful eyes.
The last time I saw an outie navel this large was when I was in college. A hot guy was standing on a street corner, apparently waiting on someone. He had a full denim outfit on, with a white tee, cut very low to a navel similar to Olaf’s in front of me. I sexually hungered for that guy in the past and never thought I’d be presented with the opportunity to play with one…until now.
“Do whatever you want,” Olaf invited.
I looked up at his face. “You mean it?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Olaf almost grunted.
After a brief pause, and a silent muttering of thanks to the universe for presenting me with such an amazing opportunity, I leaned forward, feeling the heat of his stomach as my face got close to it. I reached for his hips as I steadied myself and brought my face up to his navel.
Ordinarily, in sexual encounters, this would be the point at which I would shut my eyes and just savor the moment, the sensations. But since the sight of Olaf’s outie bellybutton made me so horny, I didn’t want to miss a moment, so I kept them open.
I paused before allowing my right cheek to graze his navel. I had thought it might be firm, like a muscle tendon. It had some firmness to it on the surface, but it was delightfully soft. I felt the similar warmth and softness on the stomach surrounding it.
Olaf hadn’t moved. He was standing there, allowing me to nuzzle his midsection.
I left a flurry of short, brief kisses on Olaf’s bellybutton, feeling his warm nub on my lips, and feeling my penis get stiffer and stiffer as I got hornier and hornier. I kissed the middle of it, and then planted more kisses in a clockwise circle. I wasn’t sure if pheromones were at play this close to his body, but if they were, I was inhaling them fully.
It was then that I felt Olaf gently hold the back of my head against his stomach — not in any kind of pushy way; it seemed he wanted to make sure my mouth could fully engage with his stomach. It felt good having his hands almost stroking the back of my head, fondly. I didn’t know what was going on, and I didn’t want to risk breaking the mood of the moment by saying anything.
I nuzzled my right side of my face, feeling his outie brush my right cheek and just loving how it felt. I was still steadying myself with my hands on his sides, feeling the ampleness of his trunk.
With my tongue I began to lick his outie navel. I moistened the top of it, the part that stuck out the most, loving how smooth his navel skin felt to the tip of my tongue. Olaf was still quiet as I was enjoying his midsection, his hands still gently holding the back of my head.
Slowly, I began to encircle his navel with my tongue, starting at the top of it, then going clockwise, feeling the base of it with my tongue. I encircled his navel several times. A grunt of pleasure escaped me involuntarily.
I had never had the experience of sucking on an outie. It was absolutely the most erotic thing I’d ever experienced. After having moistened the surface of his navel completely, I placed my tongue under the lower part of his outie, and drew his navel skin between my lips, salivating heavily as I did. I began to suck slower and deeper, feeling his skin in my mouth, and loving it. I didn’t “taste” anything with his navel in my mouth; it was just wonderfully soft skin texture, shape, and warmth.
I sucked Olaf’s bellybutton firmly, deeply, fondly, pulling it into my mouth and releasing it over and over again. Olaf continued to gently stroke the back of my head. My shaft was throbbing and I was getting to the point of inevitability even though I hadn’t touched my penis, and Olaf hadn’t either. And I was breathing heavily now.
“I’m gonna come,” I whispered.
Continuing to tongue and suck on his navel, I felt my penis give way, with spurts of semen filling my briefs…strong, firm, explosive. I couldn’t help but moan a bit, but tried to stifle myself from being too loud.
After the last of my ejaculate had ebbed out into my pants — creating a wet spot in the crotch area — I paused, gently panting. I looked up at Olaf, and he looked down at me, almost expressionlessly.
“So…what’d that feel like for you?” I quietly queried him.
“I’m not sure,” Olaf said thoughtfully. “I felt you sucking on my bellybutton, but I didn’t, like, come or anything.”
Inwardly, I was a bit disappointed, but not entirely surprised. After all, he said he wanted to “try something”. Maybe he was purely curious about having a gay guy go down on him.
“Mine was…amazing…” I said back. “I absolutely love your bellybutton.”
“Cool,” Olaf said back.
Another short pause.
“Well, hey, I said, I need to get these wet pants off, and then I’ve got someone I need to call. Thanks for coming by, it was a blast for me.”
“Sure,” Olaf said matter-of-factly, with a nod.
He headed to the door. I was still sitting on the couch, wondering what had just happened here. Before he opened the door, Olaf spoke again.
“Let’s do this again soon, at my place. And if you want to suck on my bellybutton again, you can…anytime. I liked it. I don’t know why, but I liked it.”
He had a slight smile on his face. I returned a sheepish smile and a wave, still amazed at my good luck.
“Yeah, you bet,” I replied.
And then he left.