Bro, can you trim my butt hole?

It began as a small thing—a nuisance I couldn’t be bothered with anymore. The sun was sweltering, and the hair on my ass had turned into this prickly, wet mess. I attempted to shave it myself, but every angle failed, and every mirror couldn’t help.

Finally, I gave up and did something I never thought I would do.

I asked Gopi.

He was my best friend back in the hostel. Only one year older but somehow always so close to me. He was dusky in tone, at my same height (5.10). However, if I were going to trust someone with something as quirky as this, it would have to be him.

“Bro, I want a favour,” I told him, already looking back.

He gazed up at me, one eyebrow quirked. “What kind of favour?”

I paused. “Can you trim my butt hair for me?”

I braced myself for laughter. Or a snort of shame, at least. But all he did was blink, get up, pick up his trimmer, and shrug. “Why suddenly? Okay, then, lie down.”

So I did. Face down on his bed, a towel draped over my back. My hands were separating my butt cheeks slightly apart as I attempted to cool down under the whirring fan. My heart was pounding, though I didn’t know why. Perhaps it was just the exposure. Perhaps it was something else.

The trimmer whirred to life, and I felt it—gentle, cautious strokes moving along my butt cheeks first. Gopi was unexpectedly concentrated. No jokes. No flirting. Just. Quiet, steady fingers. I nearly relaxed.

The whirring trimming came near my butt hole. Then he halted.

“Hair’s too dry. Not coming off clean.”

I didn’t pay much attention. “Use water or something,” I grumbled, eyes shut.

A moment later, I felt it.

Not water.

A tongue.

Warm. Wet. Slow.

My entire body tensed.

I raised my head, looking back. “Gopi… what the heck are you doing?”

He looked at me for a moment—calm, expressionless. “I’m just wetting it, bro. I’m pretty lazy to get and bring water here.”

He said it as if it was no big deal and as if this was the solution that made sense.

And then he licked again.

This time, slower. Intentional. His fingers were strong on my thighs, holding me in position as his tongue swept between my ass cheeks, his tongue rubbing against my butt hole. Each sweep of his tongue made a shiver creep up my spine.

I didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know if I should stop him or let it continue.

But I said, “Bro, you can use water. You don’t have to do this.”

I lay there, heart pounding in my chest, and let it happen. I felt his breath against skin no one had ever touched. Feeling things I didn’t even know existed. I know that I’m not gay, and neither is he, but I enjoyed that feeling.

I had no idea what this was or what he was thinking. What I was. All I knew was something had changed. Then he started trimming my butt hair which he made wet.

When it was finished, I remained there for a second—still, silent, not knowing what to say.

My skin tingled where his tongue touched it. My brain was a whirl of questions I could not ask aloud. Gopi did not say anything, either. He shut off the trimmer and sat back on his heels, looking at me.

“You good now?” he asked nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just licked my ass like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice a little harsher than I’d meant. “Yeah. Thanks, man.”

I went to draw the towel back over me when he spoke again—smooth, almost teasing.

“My turn.”

I froze. “Your… turn?”

He flashed me that smirk—the one that always left me uncertain about whether he was serious or not.

“You asked for a favour. It doesn’t seem right, but I don’t get one back.”

I sat up, wrapping the towel around myself. “What favour?”

Gopi said nothing at first. He stood up, stretched a bit, then began untying the drawstring of his shorts.

My breath caught.

He knelt and bent over to bring his round ass in front of me as if he was ready for a doggy-style banging.

He slid his thumb into his boxer strap and slid it down just enough to show his bare butt. His ass cheeks were dusky in colour. Little tangled hair popping out from his ass crack.

“I have hair too, you know,” he said, pointing down. “May need a little assistance.”

“You’re serious?” I asked, though I already knew.

He shrugged. “Didn’t figure you’d be shy after what went down. But if you don’t want to…”

There was that test in his tone. That bait. And hell—I took it.

I swallowed, got to my feet, and stepped over the small distance between us. My hands trembled slightly, but he didn’t move.

“Show me where,” I said, trying to keep my tone steady.

He parted his ass cheeks. His ass hole is now clearly visible. “Begin there,” he instructed,

I knelt behind him with a trimmer in hand as he had for me. And when I placed my fingers to part him gently, he didn’t react. He leaned into it.

I had never done this before—not even remotely. But as I knelt behind him, my hands on the back of Gopi’s legs, all the rest went away. Trimmer in hand, I paused for a moment. “You sure you want me to do this?”

He didn’t even look around. “Yeah, bro”.

I started trimming his cheeks and then took the trimmer to his sensitive areas as well. While trimming his ass crack, he just pulsed his ass hole. First, I didn’t consider it.

He again clenched his ass hole and slowly released. It was like an invitation to kiss his ass hole. Seeing this, I couldn’t control my desire. I was more curious about feeling his ass hole pulsating in my tongue.

I leaned in gradually, heart thudding. My lips parted. My tongue emerged and caressed his tight star-like ass hole. He breathed out through his nose, low and consistent.

I licked again—slower this time, drawing an ‘O’ with my tongue around his hole. Every lick forced him to adjust just a bit, his breathing accelerating, his rising and falling chest in sync with my motion.

I didn’t say a word. Asked no questions. I continued.

He reached back behind himself and placed a hand on the back of my head—not pushing, not leading—just… there. A quiet recognition of what was occurring. Of what we were becoming.

Then I stopped licking his opening and started to shave the hair around it.

When I finished shaving, I didn’t step back. I remained there, hands on his hips, breath warm against his skin. And at last, he glanced over his shoulder.

His eyes met mine. No teasing. No jokes. Just a look that said everything I hadn’t been able to admit to myself.

“This… okay?” I whispered.

He nodded slightly. “Yeah. More than okay.”

Gopi did not move for a moment, his back rising and falling with regular breaths beneath my hands. But then he shifted. He rolled over slowly, still not pulling his boxers up to his hips.

He lay down on his back, his 6 inches semi-hard cock resting on his lower tummy. Instead of pulling his boxers back, he just slid it down and kicked it from his legs. Then he spread his legs just a little, just enough.

“Can you shave down here, too?” he asked, his voice gentle now. No flirting. Just direct. Trusting.

I blinked. My gaze dropped down between his legs—his cock hanging heavy, soft but responsive, and beneath it, a swatch of dark hair.

For a moment, I dithered.

I nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got you.”

I shifted between his legs, readjusting the trimmer. The heat of his skin. The way his eyes refused to leave me, even as I reached for him. I began slow, cautious. One hand eased him up off the floor, the other working the trimmer around his balls.

It was fiddly work, and he didn’t stir—merely lay there, chest lifting and falling, trusting me utterly. As I leaned forward to ease things out—my breath caressing his skin—I saw it: how his cock jerked minimally. Not hard, not yet. But sensitive. Conscious. Just as I was.

“I have to wet it a bit,” I whispered, not sure if I was requesting or threatening.

He didn’t say anything. He just nodded. So I leaned forward. And licked. His flavour was unfamiliar, unusual, and not bad. I let my tongue follow the shape of his sack, dampening the hair and smoothing the skin before the next pass with the trimmer.

He took a breath in, his hips moving ever so slightly, his fingers tensing into the bedsheet. I wasn’t doing it for him, either. I wanted to be doing this.

His cock was stiffening now, swelling between us as I worked—growing thicker with every lick of my tongue, every stroke of the blade. And I knew I wasn’t nervous anymore.

I was curious. Excited.

His cock was hard now—thick and heavy, lying against his belly as I worked around it. My fingers brushed against it once, perhaps twice, by accident. Or perhaps not.

But Gopi didn’t speak. He just breathed. Watched me. Let me have my way.

I had completed trimming his balls—every inch of him was now shaved and smooth. I sat back slightly on my knees, wiping sweat from my brow, attempting to slow the pulse racing through my chest.

He gazed at me differently now.

Softly. Intently.

“You’re good at that,” he whispered.

I let out a breathless laugh. “Learned from a master.”

He smiled. Then reached for me—his fingers brushing against my thigh. “You want me to return the favour?”

My heart skipped. I knew what he was talking about. Not only shaving. The way he phrased it—quiet, sure, but kind—it didn’t seem like pressure. It seemed like permission.

I swallowed, heat rising in my chest. “Yeah,” I said, barely above a whisper. “If you want to.”

He slowly sat up, then gestured for me to come closer. “Lie back.”

I did. Back against his bed, his legs slowly opening, the towel falling away. My 5-inch dick is now exposed.

His hands were warm and confident. He placed the trimmer aside and leaned down instead, his lips close to my lower stomach and brushing lower still. His breath skimmed my skin.

“Let me first wet it.”

He started with his mouth. Not his hands. Not a blade.

His tongue followed the crease of my shaft, slow, wet, and intentional. Teased along where thigh and pelvis met, then lower—touching with measured care, as if he wanted to touch it rather than look.

And at my balls, he stopped. Then, he licked them. Then, he took my whole sack in his mouth- in the name of wetting.

His mouth was working over every place I’d ever been ashamed of, making it something that felt holy. He licked everywhere. Not just to moisten the hair—but because he wanted to.

And I knew, at that moment, I didn’t want him to stop. Not now. Not after this. And I wasn’t just allowing it to happen. I needed it.

His tongue slid back and forth in a slow, deliberate beat, wet and soft against the skin that had never known touch like this. The moment he completed the final stroke of his tongue, Gopi leaned back far enough to look down at me. His gaze darted to my cock—now standing tall.

My breath stalled. He leaned forward again—this time closer, his lips parting with that same unshakeable composure. I knew what was gonna happen now,
As I expected, a nip.

A teasing, gentle nip at the tip of my cock. Enough to hurt. Just enough to shock every nerve to life.

“Shit…” I breathed, hips bucking upward.

He smiled, lips skimming the delicate tip, and then kissed it again—more slowly this time. A lash of his tongue.

And then…

He took my rock-hard cock into his mouth. It was electric—a warm, wet, deep feeling. His lips closed around the head and then glided down, taking inch by inch. His tongue pulsed around my cock head.

I held on to the bedsheet. He sucked deliberately, beat for beat—eyes half-lidded. Each swipe of his tongue, each movement of his lips, drew me toward the brink. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Just breathe—and feel.

He started stroking in rhythm with the motion of his mouth—one hand working me from the base while his mouth concentrated on the head, lips closed, tongue swirling. He moaned quietly around me, and the throb sent a jolt through my spine.

“Gopi…” I stammered, my voice trembling. “I’m gonna…”

But he didn’t let up. Didn’t decelerate. If anything, he embraced it. I groaned, low and broken, as my body arched. I grabbed his head and pulled him onto my cock, thrusting my cock deep into his throat.

And then I cum.

My climax flooded his mouth in wave after wave. Warm jets of my sperm surged through his mouth for nearly half a minute. And he swallowed every last drop. His lips were still locked in my dick, his mouth still stroking my cock softly, and his tongue playing around the tip.

He sucked it all out until I was trembling beneath him. Only then did he withdraw. Licking his lips slowly, deliberately, as if tasting every hint. I was lying there, panting, heart pounding, unable to move or even talk.

Gopi smiled at me, smiling softly.

“Guess I did okay,” he said softly.

I could only nod. Something had shifted between us—something we couldn’t ignore. We grew much closer; even though we were straight, we couldn’t deny the pleasure we shared.

How we ended up fucking his mom… will be continued in the next part.