“Oh God, I’m sorry. I feel terrible.”
“Yes, well, I’m not surprised.” I said, as I looked at him and tried to decide what to do next.
I needed to clean up in the bathroom, so I grabbed a towel and put it under his dribbling face and put a bowl beside the bed, while I went off to tidy up the mess. When I came back into the bedroom with a glass of water for him to drink, he must have shuffled forwards on the top of the bed, because his legs were no longer sticking out over the edge, as I had left him. He was still laying face down, head to one side and mouth open, but now he was snoring gently. The top part of me melted at the sight of him there, while the bit near the middle part of me immediately went rock-hard again! There was something extremely arousing about having a gorgeous young guy, entirely alone, passed out and helpless in front of me.
But then there was the smell; that clinging, penetrating odour of stale vomit and I realized that, somehow, I was going to have to clean him up before sending him home.
“Well,” I sighed to myself, “someone has to do this,” and I proceeded to take his shoes and socks off!
His bare feet were soft and unblemished and his toes were like those of a boy, all beautifully formed and hardly walked-on – unlike my much older, rather worn specimens!
I rolled him over onto his back and confirmed what I expected; his shirt and trousers were stained with sick and dribble. If I was to help him escape the wrath of his father, I was going to have to wash them and I wondered if his trousers were washable – “too bad”, I thought, they’ll have to be!
I climbed onto the bed and knelt next him while I unbuttoned his shirt. Then I sat him up.
“Come-on,” I said, “I’ve got to get this shirt off and in the wash,”
With no help at all from David, I managed to get his shirt off. He was half-awake again now, propped-up against me, so I made him drink the glass of water I had brought back from the bathroom before I let him flop back down again, bare-chested now. His nipples were soft and delicate and there was a little “treasure-trail” of wispy, blond hairs leading down from his belly-button to the waist of his trousers.
I unbuckled his belt, pulled it free and then undid his top buttons, trying not to look too closely. He murmured something I didn’t catch.
Getting off the bed now, I positioned myself at the end of the bed and grabbed the legs of his trousers and pulled. Not a lot happened.
“Give me some help here,” I chastised him, “I need to get these trousers in the wash too.”
I didn’t expect a respose and I didn’t get one. He seemed to have passed out again. Then I realised that I hadn’t undone his flies, so I climbed back onto the bed again and as my hands approached his flies, I hesitated. He had such a beautifully formed crotch, clasped in the black material of his trousers, with just the top buttons undone, revealing the white waist-band of his underpants. My hands were shaking and my heart was racing as I grasped the tongue of his zip and, as I slid it all the way down, I felt it following the rounded form of the bulge in his underpants.
Climbing back off the bed, I returned to grabbing the legs of his trousers. I pulled again and this time, his trousers came off more easily. Now he was laying there, naked but for his underpants – mostly black but with a white waist-band and piping which accentuated the shape of his bulge. Rather smart, I thought. And rather full too, I puzzled. If nothing else, he surely must have a semi in those underpants to be so….
“I suppose you’re going to take advantage of me now, aren’t you,” I suddenly heard him murmur.
Shaken from my reverie and realizing he was awake again, I replied,
“I might – if you don’t behave yourself.”
He was drowsy and seemed only half with-it but he muttered in reply,
“Don’t let me stop you.” And then he added, “You know you want to.”
If there was any doubt in my mind as to the reason he was in my apartment, that remark assured me he knew what was likely to happen. He probably wanted it to but was too shy to engineer it without being drunk! How many other young men, doubtful as to their sexuality, have done the same?
His body was simply beautiful to behold. I couldn’t believe my luck. I had a gorgeous 18 year-old virtually naked on my bed and evidently in no mood to put up a struggle! Nevertheless, practicalities still ruled my head. I had the shirt and trousers to deal with, so I took them through to the kitchen and examined the labels in his trousers; size 28 waist, 30 inside leg, “easicrease”, machine wash 40 degrees – Good! I went through his pockets and removed his wallet, phone and keys and then slung the trousers in the washing machine and set it going. The white shirt would have to be done separately, so I filled the sink with hot water and soap powder, and left it to soak.
I returned to the bedroom and found him still lying on his back in his stylish black underpants (the ones with the white waist-band and piping!), now fast asleep with his mouth open. I just stood there admiring his beauty and wrestling with my conscience. Could I really take advantage of him? Indeed, would I be, or isn’t that what he wanted?
I know you’ll all think me a heel but I couldn’t resist. I gently climbed onto the bed beside him and looked at the bulge in his underpants. I gently stroked it. It was surprisingly firm. Surely, even an 18 year-old doesn’t get a hard-on while drunk and asleep – does he? I clasped his bulge in one hand and gently squeezed. His organ was bunched tightly over the front of his balls but it was definitely at least partially engorged. As I did this, I heard him stir slightly, breathing-in heavily and then out again, accompanied by a long groan. Then silence.
Spreading his legs a little, I moved over in-between them and leant forward to put my face next to his bulge. I inhaled his most intimate scents; a musky sweatiness, mingled with talcum powder and just a hint of pee! My face was pressing against the soft flesh of his groin and I was in heaven. Then I noticed the wet patch. It wasn’t a pee-stain; it was actually wet – and sticky. And it coincided precisely with the engorged head of his penis, up to now still hidden from me by his underpants. Not for long, I decided
.
I took hold of the waist-band of his underpants on either side of him and gently lowered them at the front, over his bulging penis, until it neatly flipped upwards in a nice straight line across his tummy towards his belly-button. He stirred again in his sleep and shifted slightly on his buttocks, enabling me to free his pants a bit from under his bum. But I decided not to remove them completely, as I intended to return him his dignity in a little while.
I gently lifted his penis forwards; if it had been semi-engorged before, it was getting fully hard now. He was not particularly well-endowed, just average, but it was perfect in every beautifully uncut proportion! His balls were covered in tiny pale brown hairs and he had a neat little bush of hair below his tummy. His ball-sack, though, was tight and rounded, his balls clutched together, hard against the base of his tool. He was highly aroused, that’s for sure, and I began to wonder if he was only pretending to be asleep. No matter, I thought. It served my fantasy that he was asleep, and if that was his way of letting me do this, it was fine by me!