I'm not exactly sure how big Navid's dick is.
Sorry for starting this off with trashy conversation, but I get asked it all the time.
He's never been interested in me taking a measuring tape to it and usually has bigger things on his mind when it's at attention anyways. He says it is average for Persian men from his culture, men of power, and that I am average for a white boy.
Most times it's bigger than I can handle, but I do my best. He takes it slowly and seems to enjoy my struggle.
But what I think about, is the time we came in his room after school and immediately started kissing.
He slipped off my clothes before lifting me up and tossing me onto his bed just to show he could. He gets a little primal when we get to it, and it had been a long week.
Navid pushed down his shorts and his cock popped out full and hard. I watched as it bounced a few times, almost in slow motion. He gripped it with one hand and thumped it against his open palm with an audible thud like he was testing a baseball bat.
"See how hard you make me, my Noah?" He asked with that confident leer in his eye, as though there was no doubt I craved him.
I nodded hypnotically as a gasp escaped my lips. He came towards me and thumped it against the top of his desk like someone banging on the door, like it was demanding dinner.
I felt it from the bed like a small tremor. I know that's impossible, maybe it was just my body twitching in anticipation.
It was an intimidating noise and something I'd never think of attempting with my own cock. I knew then that it was sturdier, made for taking control. It was meant for me, the only cock I'd ever care about seeing, pleasing, satiating... but we've never measured it.
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"I like song, what it means?" Navid loves singing in the car as he weaves through traffic, but a lot of times he messes up the words to songs.
He likes to ask me what I think a song means and then we debate it. He loves to debate just about anything as though he has something to prove with me.
This one was Ariana Grande's "One Last Time."
"It's about being so in love with someone that even if they don't love you back, you just wish they would pretend one more time. Like you know it's over, or never was going to happen... but you just want to feel like it is working one more time. Like everything is fine," I offered.
"That is sad. Why you want to be with someone who doesn't love you?" Navid asked as he cruised up Ventura and covered my hand with his over the gear shifter.
"I did that in high school. He wasn't gay at all, but I was so into him that I didn't care and I hung on to any shreds of friendship he offered. He was a good friend, but he just wasn't gay at all," I admitted and Navid squeezed my hand over the gear shifter as he accelerated.
"I can't hear about this, Noah... I am too protective for you. I don't like that someone hurt you. If he did not love you then he is fool. But I am happy that he saves you for me and does not sample my peach," Navid assured.
"Me too..." I laid my head against his shoulder.
It was the first time I'd ever said anything about a guy I had liked other than him. I knew he didn't want to talk about his past people, but it kind of stung just a little that he didn't want to hear about mine.
He had always told me that being with me was like starting over for him. But I was getting frustrated at just how little he really listened to me. I was starting to get the feeling he wanted a robot version of me that just sat quietly when not in use.
YOU ARE READING
Noah & Navid
General FictionCollege student Noah Kinney lives a quiet, simple life in Tarzana, California until he meets foreign student Navid [nah-VEED] Naseri. He's instantly taken with the Persian hunk, but is Navid into him or just being friendly? Story was previously publ...