A Friendly Offer

"What do you mean you can't find a date?" I asked Steve as we wrapped up our workout. "You are a good-looking guy, in decent shape and make good money. Are you hung like a goldfish?"

Steve grimaced as he re-racked the bar, allowing me to step away from my spotter's position. "I don't know what it is, man. Everything is app-based today, and on the rare occasion I do meet someone, it just doesn't work. I don't know if it's me or them, but it's something."

My friend sat up, taking the towel from his leg and wiping sweat from his face and around his neck. The gesture showed aggravation, more with the topic of conversation than the workout.

Steve and I had been friends for 15 years, married around the same time, with kids the same age, and led parallel existences for the most part.

The significant difference was that Steve and his wife, Mariah, had divorced two years ago. Mariah became involved with a coworker and decided that this relationship was more important than her marriage and kids. Before long, they divorced.

Steve was hurt, of course, but not surprised. Things with him and Mariah hadn't been good for years. They wanted different things, and one of those things, at least in Mariah's case, was her coworker's dick.

So, after being married for 15 years, Steve was back on the dating market. He started slowly, prioritizing his kids and their new reality. After some time, though, he decided to give it a shot.

He was involved in various community groups and met a couple of women through them. Those meetings never developed into anything serious.

Steve then dipped his toe into the world of app-based dating. He took the time to craft a profile that accurately reflected his personality. He was careful about the pictures he posted, ensuring that he looked open and engaging.

Less than a month after registering on the apps, Steve had a fantastic weekend with a visiting stewardess. Their activities wouldn't have been out of place in a porn movie from the description I received.

This roaring start gave my good friend optimism about how easy dating would be. That optimism was unfounded, as the following matches didn't result in any connection.

Steve is 44, 6'0 and 215 lbs. He has lighter-colored hair, almost blonde. Blue eyes and a perpetual 5 o'clock shadow complete the visual. Years in the gym have given him an athletic physique. By any standard measure, he is a good-looking guy who should do well in the dating game.

Steve has a great personality. We have been friends for so long that I can't remember a time before I met him. He has helped me through many tough times and has been there to celebrate great times. He is one of my dearest friends and someone I am grateful for regularly.

My name is Tom. I'm 45, 6'2 and about 280 lbs. I have dark brown hair that is highlighted by silver distinction as I age. I have a thick, dark beard that is similarly colored. My build is that of a powerlifter, not a bodybuilder. I don't have a great deal of muscle definition, but years of working out have given me a solid physique all over. I am broad everywhere and quite hairy.

Steve and I finished in the gym and grabbed our bags before heading to the parking lot. We continued to debate his tale of woe, and the only advice I could offer was to keep trying. I hadn't dated in 25 years, long before dating apps existed. I didn't have anything relevant to contribute.

We parted ways in the parking lot. I went home and ate a late dinner before crashing out and watching the ball game. My wife was out of town for work, and the kids were at camp. I had three glorious days with the house to myself.

The next morning, I woke at my usual 5:30. I threw the blanket back, swung my legs over the side and stood up, naked as always. Today, however, I would stay that way.

July 14 is World Nude Day. I never took much encouragement to get or stay naked. When the opportunity presented itself to be naked as part of a global movement, how could I say no?

I padded to the washroom, relieved myself, and headed to the kitchen. I filled my water bottle, grabbed my yogurt and granola mix, and sat down in my office to answer some emails. I was officially on vacation, but duty never really took a break. Plus, if I can earn brownie points by answering emails before the recipient gets out of bed, why wouldn't I?

With the emails handled, I typed a notice for my front door.

"Today is July 14, 2025, World Nude Day. This notice advises that the occupants of this house will be naked all day. If you are more comfortable visiting when they are clothed, come back tomorrow. If you are comfortable with the human body, come on in."

I printed the notice and then applied it to the front door. I wasn't expecting any visitors, but this would be a good way to ensure I didn't have any.

As the clock struck 7 am, I grabbed my yoga mat and began my routine. As I age, I realize that being flexible is more important than being strong. Years in the gym have helped with my strength, but yoga has been a revelation for me. It's even helped with my state of mind, which is a great side benefit.

An hour later, I was toast. I was by no means a yogi, but I had settled on a routine that challenged me without hurting me. It did, though, leave me exhausted every time. I packed up my mat and guzzled some water to begin replenishing what I had lost during my routine.

The next stop was the shower. I set it to ice cold and took my time cleaning up. I loved cold showers and the invigorating impact they had on me. Now clean, I got out and dried off, combed my hair and straightened my beard. I was content with the image looking back at me in the mirror.

I grabbed the book I was working through and made my way to the back deck, where I lay out on a lounge chair. Our subdivision was a new development and nowhere near capacity. That, and the high fence encircling my backyard, ensured that no one would be checking out my naked sunbathing.

An hour or so later, I realized I must have dozed off. I could hear someone calling to me, and as I got my bearings, I realized it was Steve.

"Hey, Steve, I am back here on the deck," I called out.

Shortly thereafter, I looked over my shoulder to see Steve coming through the sliding doors.

"Jesus, you are naked." were his first words to me, an amused look on his face.

I shrugged and smiled and said, "Well, I posted the sign for a reason. You know I don't need encouragement to be naked, and today, I have a reason. So here I am, as God intended. In fairness, the sign did say if you were anti-naked, you could come back tomorrow."

Steve sat down in the opposite lounge chair. He laughed and muttered something about a crazy bastard.

I stood up and said, "I may be naked, but I am still a good host. Can I get you something to drink?"

Steve declined, and I went inside to get some more water. My soft cock was hanging thickly, and Steve's eyes betrayed him. I smiled to myself as I went to get refreshment.

I returned to the deck and sat down opposite Steve, legs spread slightly more than necessary so that my cock and balls were on display. Being bisexual and an evolving exhibitionist, I enjoyed being naked around other men. Even when I knew it would lead nowhere, there was something liberating and exciting about having my cock out around other guys. Communal showers, saunas, and locker rooms had become favorite places to frequent, as they had led to meeting some interesting, like-minded individuals.

As Steve restarted his tales of dating trouble, a thought occurred to me.

While I was not someone to broadcast my sexual orientation, I was open with anyone I deemed important enough to know. Steve had known of my interest in men for well over a decade. He was nothing but supportive and had even spoken up in conversations where gay/bisexual people were being spoken about negatively. I always remembered and appreciated him for that.

I am not someone who can repeatedly hear about the same issue without offering a solution for it. The solution might be good or bad, but at least it's an attempt at moving forward to resolve the issue. That, and I am not an overly patient person by nature. Hearing the same complaint repeatedly is a recipe for aggravation, and I prefer not to be aggravated.

When Steve took a break from his recitation of rejection, I responded.

"Steve, I hear what you are saying. While I have not dated in the modern world, I know how frustrating it is to get rejected and how a lack of sex can play with a guy's mind. If you're really frustrated, I'd love to help you out. Sexually."

I said that last word with some force to convey that I was serious. My motivation wasn't straightforward. I did love Steve as a friend and hated seeing him unhappy. I knew what the last months of his marriage did to his confidence, and to see his lack of success in his early days of singledom was only compounding that.

It didn't hurt that Steve is an attractive guy and, sexually, I am a giver.

Steve looked at me like I had kicked his grandmother. "What did you say?"

I took a long pull from my water bottle before responding.

"Look, man. I have listened to your dating problems for quite a while now. I have given you advice, tried to encourage you, and reminded you that you are a catch for anyone lucky enough to give you a chance. I know how great you are. There is an element of self-sabotage at play here because, regardless of what I or anyone else says, you don't believe you are a catch. As a result, it impacts the way you show up to potential dating partners, and the one thing I know in this dating world is that women do not want anything to do with a guy they perceive as being insecure."

I let that hang in the air for a minute. Steve had been looking directly at me when I started my response. Now, he was looking beyond me.

I continued. "What I am suggesting is that I can help you let off some steam; you can clear your head(s) and realize exactly who the fuck you are. By the way, who the fuck you are is an innovative, well-respected businessman who has two great kids and has everything to offer the right person."

Steve was now back to focusing on me. I wasn't sure where his mind was, but he did have the start of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

He replied, "Tom, I appreciate the offer and the kind words. I never thought I would see "Tom the Salesman" talking me up and trying to improve my sex life. I'm desperate. I am not desperate enough to fuck my bi friend. No offence".

Steve raised his hands in the universal symbol designed to convey a lack of offence.

It was my turn to smirk. "Hey, cowboy, who said anything about fucking? I was offering you a blowjob. I have very high standards for the men I fuck, and that fuck me. To be honest, I am not sure if you even meet them."

Steve laughed at that response. "Tom, please. I know some of the guys you have fucked, and while they are all good guys, none of them would I consider top-flight. I, however, am top-flight."

It was my turn to laugh. I pointed forcefully at Steve from my chair and said, "See, that is the thinking that needs to come back. This insecure, whiny guy is not someone I recognize. I understand that divorce sucks and that Mariah's activities at the end didn't help. But she's gone. It's time to move the fuck on, man."

Steve chuckled to himself but didn't respond. I decided to lay out the parameters and see if he was interested. If not, I tried.

"Look, it's a blowjob. You've had more than you can count, I know. But as a friend, I can promise it's guilt-free relief. I would never tell anyone; it's just something between friends. And before you suggest it, it's not a pity blow either. With men or women, I am a giver. I derive more enjoyment from giving pleasure than receiving it. I expect nothing in return. Never to be spoken of again unless you want to."

Steve's face was hard to gauge.

"I'm not sure I have had more blowjobs than I can count. The last year with Mariah was dead, sex wise. What would Lisa say?"

I was surprised at his response. Now, we were negotiating details.

"I am sorry to hear about the dead bedroom. I have been there, and it sucks in every way it shouldn't. As for Lisa, trust me when I say she would be perfectly fine with it. She would much rather watch than hear about it afterward, but, as I said, I would tell no one, not even her. If you wanted to tell her or ask her before, that is your prerogative."

Steve reached down and adjusted his cock in his shorts. I wasn't positive, but the thought of getting a blowjob appeared to be making my friend hard.

"Seriously? If I texted her right now and said that you had offered to blow me, she is going to be ok with it?"

I smiled. "Steve, Lisa and I have an active sex life that has become broader in the last few years. I promise you she would be totally in favor and likely ask for pictures and/or video. My wife has specific kinks that are fed by my being bisexual. It's worked out incredibly well for both of us."

Steve shook his head in surprise. "You are over here with your broad sex life and kinky wife, and I can't get laid. I married the wrong woman."

I stood up, my thick cock now at half-mast, shiny at the slit from some early pre-cum.

"While I always liked Mariah, I never thought she was good enough for you. It just took her longer to prove it. However, that is the past. You need to create your future. Come on in. It looks like it's going to rain."

Steve stood and followed me through the dining room and then into the family room. We sat a cushion apart on the couch.

After a minute of silence, Steve spoke.

"Ok."

The phrase confused me as it wasn't in response to anything. I responded in my usual eloquent manner.

"Huh?"

Steve repeated himself, this time with context.

"Ok. I want a blowjob."

I looked at his face for clues, but there were none.

I replied, "Are you sure? This blowjob only works if it works for you and you want it. I want to help you, not hurt you or drive you further into your head. This blowjob is one friend helping another friend out with absolutely nothing wanted or expected in return. It also isn't a referendum on your sexuality or manliness."

I could see Steve was thinking about it. Unfortunately, sex is often a signpost on the road to manliness, and any deviation from the straight path causes difficulty.

"Look, man, it's a no-strings-attached blowjob. Not quantum physics." I offered.

Steve again adjusted his crotch, moving slightly on the couch. He looked like he was going to say no, but then his demeanor changed.

"You know what? Fuck it. Yes. I would love a blowjob. It's been too goddamn long, and if I don't blow my load from something other than my hand soon, I might go blind."

With that declaration, he stood up, undid his belt and unbuttoned his shorts. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pushed them, along with his boxers, to the floor before stepping out of them and kicking them away.

Steve and I have seen each other naked so many times that it should not have been any different this time. But it was.

The context was completely new, and for the first time, I looked at my friend's cock. I realized that he was packing a gorgeous prick, hanging loosely at around 6" and thick. It occurred to me I had never seen him hard, and that I was soon going to change that. It sent a jolt to my cock, which was at least half hard.

Remaining enthusiastic, I said, "Great. How would you like this to proceed? Do you want to sit, stand, or European squat?"

Steve was standing, still wearing his shirt, and his hand was around his cock.

He shrugged and said, "Standing is fine, I guess? I have never had blowjob options before."

I laughed. "Well, this is one of the benefits of getting blown by a guy. We know how it feels and know what works best. Additionally, most of us are goal oriented. No courtesy taps or warnings needed. When you are ready to blow, blow. I will take care of the rest."

Steve was lightly stroking his now-growing cock. I could see some precum forming at his slit, licking my lips in anticipation.

Steve looked at me, surprised. "You swallow? I haven't had my load swallowed in probably 5 years."

I reached over and cupped his heavy balls, running a crooked finger from the front of his taint to the base of his shaft. He sidestepped to get between my wide-spread legs. Now eye to eye with his growing cock, I could certify that Steve had a beautiful prick.

His head was prominent, topping a thick, veiny shaft that was now maxing out at around 8" long. His thickness would present a slight challenge for my jaw, but nothing impossible.

"Man, your cock is gorgeous. Like, seriously, perfect. I cannot wait to get this in my throat."

Steve's cock jumped at my observation, and I took the opportunity to wrap my softened, warm lips around his leaking crown. I swiped my tongue lightly under his head, getting some of his pre-seed in the effort. I then dragged my tongue under his shaft before massaging his slit with my upturned tongue.

A soft moan escaped his lips in acknowledgement.

My mouth slick with spit and anticipation, I worked my way down the length of my friend's cock. Halfway to the base, I moaned in appreciation. As far as public service goes, this was pretty good.

I drew my lips up his shaft, stopping at his head, before diving past where I previously stopped. My lips on new skin caused Steve to moan, and I repeated the motion. I was fucking horny and could feel my excitement leaking from my now rock-hard cock as I worked on Steve's.

One more trip to his head, then I buried my nose in his curly, dark brown pubes. His head found its home in my very welcoming throat. I welcomed it with a tight hug.

"Oh fuck, that's good. I'm not going to last long if you keep sucking like this, Tom."

I smiled to myself. Steve was now focusing on the blowjob, not the fact that he was getting it from a long-time bi guy friend, exactly what I wanted.

I picked up my pace, hungry for Steve's explosion. I needed him to empty his balls in my throat and get the relief that comes from finally, totally emptying your balls after a long, dry spell. I wanted every drop of his seed.

I fucked my face onto his gorgeous cock, obscene slurping noises filling the room.

Steve's breathing was becoming more ragged, and I felt his hand lightly go to the back of my head. He was now guiding my attention on his straining prick.

"Fuck yes, suck that cock. I'm going to fill your fucking mouth. You better be ready."

I offered an "mhm" of acknowledgement on his shaft, his cock pistoning into my mouth. My right hand came up and, again, cupped his heaving nuts, massaging them to give up every drop they held.

Steve's other hand went to the back of my head, and now he was fucking my mouth as opposed to me sucking his cock. I was perfectly fine with it as I wanted him to get maximum enjoyment from my efforts.

"Fuck, fuck....ahhh...fuck. Here it comes. I'm going to fill your mouth slut."

The use of the word slut amused me while making my prick jump. I prepared for the impending release of Steve's load, yet was surprised at both the force and the volume.

Steve let out a guttural cry as the first blast from his cock went directly down my throat, the second following quickly thereafter. Both felt like thick, hot ropes of seed as his cock contracted and continued to give up its contents.

I pulled back on Steve's shaft, his head now in my mouth as he continued to shoot his load. I relished in the feeling of his hot, thick cum covering my tongue and filling my mouth. I swallowed some and used my wide tongue on the underside of his shaft to coax the rest out.

With all of Steve's load now safely in my belly, I carefully cleaned every inch of his cock with my lips and tongue before wrapping my hand tightly around the base of his shaft and bringing it tightly to his head. I greedily licked the large pearl of cum from his slit before releasing his shaft completely.