In 2015 I was 24, recently single, depressed, and on the rebound. It was the latest breakup in what was already (and would continue to be) a violently toxic, on-again/ off-again relationship that would haunt me for years to come.
My friends, Bill and George, had invited me over to their place for the weekend. Plan so far was to bar hop Friday night, then hang around by their pool, or go to the beach, and just drink and party for a few days because why not. A group of us met up at their place, pregamed, and then hailed a couple cars and were off into the night. I had a good time out on the town, but I struggled with being in the moment. I knew I was just trying to distract myself, and I didn’t want to get too fucked up before we got back to the house. I was painfully lucid for most of the evening out.
We Ubered back to Bill’s after the bars closed – luckily his home was fully stocked with booze, so the fun did not end here. Also, Bill had a nice place and I wasn’t the only friend over, there were about 5 or 6 of us and we were headed out to the pool. It was a good vibe for a couple hours and some change, but by about 0500, everyone had dropped off and gone inside and gone to bed. Everyone except George and I.
We’re still in the pool, just a couple of belligerent degenerates having a good time. I’ve known George for a few years now, but we’ve only ever chilled on our own a handful of times. We rehash funny moments from the night out, something something about the drag queens at the bar, George tells me about how school is going, I probably vented about my ex maybe. “Hey, do you need another beer?”, “Yeah, but poor me a shot too.” Yada yada and so on.
Things get a little spicy when George says something along the lines of “*Man, I hate when I get a boner in board shorts.*”
-Let me tell you about George. George is hot. George was about 6’5 or 6’6, with a healthy and hairy, full frame. His face was handsome and broad, but it was also softened by his bright blue, almond-shaped eyes and thick, long lashes. He kept his golden-brown hair militantly buzzed down, and his full beard was short and neat. His voice was deep, but he had an aloof and disarming way of speaking. At different levels of excitement, or sobriety, he sometimes spoke with his father’s southern drawl. He was confident, but not conceded. Sometimes he was sensitive and shy, but he was always friendly. I first met George in 2012, when Bill introduced him to me as the guy he was seeing. George also had a reputation for fucking around.
-“*Man, I hate when I get a boner in board shorts.*”
Honestly what a stupid and transparent thing to say. Yes, I have always had a thing for George, but I’m not unique in this. Everyone; men, women, bed, bath & beyond, dilates at the very sight of him. Yes, I was feeling sorry for myself, and I had been drinking, and maybe I was just hanging around in the pool so late to fuck around and find out, but how could I be a good friend and also respond to something like that. What if he really only means that he’s uncomfortable in his shorts and that’s all? Or, what if he does want to fool around, or worse even, what if he’s testing me? Maybe it wasn’t that transparent of a thing to say after all … Several months before this night, Bill and I had gone to the gym together and swam laps. Bill apparently didn’t get the okay from George or something, I don’t know, relationships are weird, and it was kind of an issue with them for a day. Nothing happened between Bill and me though, I don’t like him like that, but what if George is doing some weird, insecure, petty, paranoid shit? What if I’m overthinking it? I drink my beer and try to relax.
“*Yeah, man. You’re probably gonna run out of room in there,*” I say with a slightly forced laugh, glancing his way from the deep end of the pool.
George laughs too and grabs his crotch, gesturing toward me. He’s sitting across from me, leaning back on the steps leading out of the shallow end, the lower half of his body underwater.
“*I hear you’re pretty big too,*” he says.
Jesus, what is it about being in the water that always makes people so fucking horny? Our friend group is catty and vapid, and they do talk about things like our dick sizes, but also George has seen me in wet trunks enough times to already damn well have an idea of what I’m working with.
“*I don’t get complaints,*” I say back.
Imagine me now, mentally kicking myself for saying something so cringeworthy. I hate humble brag bullshit, but I still really don’t know where this is gonna go. Also, this sudden shift into boy talk is getting me hard. The thought of George also being hard right now is also getting me hard. He laughs a little and then I laugh too as he shrugs in agreement. Neither of us says anything for a moment. We just stare at each other, and I notice how loud the bugs and frogs are tonight.
“*Can you float on your back?*” George asks.
“*Kinda. I have to move my arms and legs a little or I’ll sink,*” I reply.
“*Try to now,*” he tells me.
For a moment, I thought he was trying to change the subject. Before I begin shifting onto my back, I discretely adjust my hard dick so that it’s pointing down, and resting along my inner thigh. I did not want to roll over at full mast. I turn onto my back and spread my arms and legs and start to float, raising the top of my chest, my stomach, and my crotch to the surface. I can feel myself beginning to sink, so I gently tread the water with my arms and legs, just like I said I’d have to. Then I feel George stir through the water behind my head. He lowers his arms under me and places his hands on the center of my back, between my shoulders.
He lifts me up just a little so that my head and neck are now resting on his forearms and then says “*You won’t need to use your arms and legs now.*”
And he’s right, I don’t. I close my eyes and lay back for a moment. Then he shifts to my side so that I’m positioned sideways to his front and he lifts me out of the water, now holding me in his arms.
“*Whoa.*”
“*See, I knew you were hard too,*” he says as he begins to lower me back into the water.
As he sets me down, my face goes under and I can’t see or hear anything going on above, but I feel him grab my dick and get a couple of squeezes in as I sink.
“*What was that for?*” I say as I rise back up, spitting out, and wiping water from my face.
“*Uhh-uhhhh,*” he says with a shrug and a laugh as he walks towards the steps in the shallow end and then sits back down.
I’ve got nothing to say, so we just stare at each other while I think about how loud the frogs and bugs are tonight.
“*So, can I see it?*” he asks.
“*Damn, dude. You just copped a feel and now you wanna see it too?*” I say back.
“*Yeah, why not?*” he replies, with a pearly grin.
“*What do I get out of it?*” I ask.
“*I dunno, I’ll let you see mine too. If you want, I mean,*” he says.
“*‘Show you mine and you show me yours?’*” I say back to him.
“*Yeah, why not?*” he says, repeating himself, with an even pearlier grin.
A lot is racing through my mind, but mostly I’m hard as hell and I just want to see George’s dick. Like bad. I love these kinds of schoolyard, curious antics. Just two guys about to whip ‘em out and compare and see what happens.
“*‘Boys will be boys,’*” I say with a shrug as I start to walk towards him while undoing the pull strings to my swim trunks. He laughs almost a giddy sort of laugh.
I reach the steps leading out of the shallow end where George is seated, but he’s sitting straight up now instead of leaning back. He’s excited. I can see the outline of his dick through his board shorts in the pool light. It’s big. I’m excited, and I’m nervous. I’ve got butterflies in my stomach and my head feels light. Nothing has made me feel this way in a while. I pause and try to really, truly commit this moment to my memory; I’m gonna do this. I walk forward enough into the shallow end so that my crotch is above water, and then I open the velcro of my fly and reach in. I’m not small, and I get caught on the inside of my trunks, so I have to put just an attractive amount of visible effort into fitting my dick through the open fly. My dick swings out, hitting the surface of the water, and George’s face lights up like Christmas on the 4th of July.
“*Nice man, that’s pretty big,*” he says leaning forward to get an eyeful. “*How big?*” he asks.
“*I dunno, I haven’t measured since I was a kid,*” I reply.
“*Guess?*” he commands.
“*About 8.5, maybe 9, I think,*” I tell him.
“*Nice,*” he replies.
Neither of us says anything while he continues gazing down at my dick. The way he’s looking at me makes me feel empowered and high. I tighten my pelvic muscles to make my dick flex and then I stroke it a couple times. I smack it against the surface of the water and then I bend it upwards towards my belly button and then let go, so it flings back down with a splash.
“*Alright then, your turn. Whip it out,*” I demand.
He nods in agreement, leans back, and begins undoing his shorts. While he’s opening his fly, I start to get a view of his golden-brown pubes and the thick base of his hard-on. I’ve never seen this much of him before; I can feel my heart throbbing in my dick. He straightens out and then arches his body up slightly to pull his shorts down. Not all the way off, but just enough for his dick to swing up and smack his stomach, making a wet thud sound, before returning to its resting at attention position. He relaxes his body, returning his lower half underwater, but this doesn’t stop me from getting an eyeful of my own. His dick was thick and pale from the base to about a little over halfway through the shaft, but from the other half on and to his bulbous head, it was bright red and pink. I wanted a better look at it, and by look, I mean with my hands, so I reached out and grabbed it at the base. I have big hands, but there was still so much of his dick that was free from my grasp. I tilted it in different directions, admiring how vascular his shaft was, and how straight forward from his body it was pointing. I then slid my hand up towards his head, which felt swollen and engorged with blood. I kept moving my hand up until his tip was now between my thumb and forefinger. I rubbed the rounded and broad tip of his head with my thumb, while also slightly squeezing it between my forefinger. His breathing deepened just enough to make my dick twitch. He was into it.
“*I didn’t say nothing about touching it,*” he says. Shit, maybe he wasn’t into it.
“*Fuck off. You grabbed mine first!*” I say back to him playfully.
“*Yeah, but you still had your shorts on. Not the same,*” he says with a laugh. Is he teasing me, or for real?
“*Whatever, dude. And yours is still underwater, so..?*” I say back to him.
“*True,*” he replies.He leans forward again and then grabs hold of my dick. I feel a familiar squeeze around the length of my shaft, and then he loosens his grip and starts to stroke me from the base to my head. Fuck it feels good to be in his hand. Long slow strokes. Now that we’re mutually touching each other, I start to stroke him too. I squeeze him when I reach the base of his shaft and also when I come back to his head; I feel it throbbing against the palm of my hand. At this point, I’d say that my oral fixation feels about as subtle as a gun pointed at my face. This is a man’s cock, and one worth sucking. One worth worshiping.
“*Here, stand up,*” he says while gesturing with his upper body. “*I wanna compare ‘em. Side to side.*”
He stands up first and starts out of the pool. I watch as his dick sway as he walks. I follow him out and stand across from him, and lean forward, somewhat clumsily pressing my dick into his pelvis; I feel his coarse pubic hair against my dick head. He reaches down and grips our dicks by their bases, pressing their sides together. His unfastened board shorts begin to slide down, slowly at first, but end in free-fall, landing on the ground and around his ankles. He might as well be naked at this point, and he’s holding my dick against his and now studying them. I never would have imagined this happening, even in my wildest dreams. I take a moment to really regard what’s going on. I am being here now.
“*Hmm, yours is pretty big,*” he begins. “*I mean, I knew it was, but I didn’t think you’d be as big as me,*” he continues. “*Especially for a little guy,*” he says with a laugh.
“*I’m not little, you’re weirdly tall,*” I playfully retort, and we both laugh. “*But there’s no way we’re the same size. Yours is bigger,*” I tell him. “*Just look at your head.*”
“*I dunno. I think mine looks bigger because it sticks out straight, and yours has a curve. Er, like it curves down kinda,*” he says thoughtfully as if he has been studying our two cocks for a graded exam. “*My head is bigger though.*”
“*Right, mine doesn’t stick out straight like yours,*” I agree.
He takes a small step to the side, now centering us from across each other, and then places my dick on top of his. And he’s being handsy about it too. He’s pressing his dick upward into the underside of mine, and he’s pressing his thumb down on my topside, effectively straitening my shaft. And he’s right, we’re almost the same size, but he is a bit longer than me. We both make remarks on this, and then his arms fall to his side, all but verbally telling me it was my turn to play with them again. I haven’t given his balls any attention yet, but they’re big too, like a couple of goose eggs, and they look full. I cup them with one hand and apply some pressure, and I wrap my other hand around his shaft. I stroke him some more, while also playing with his balls, which start to tighten up. I’m so turned on, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be, but also I want more. I want to taste him. I want to see if I can squeeze any precum out of him, and lick it up from the tap. The bugs and frogs are not loud. I can’t hear any animals at all.
“*Now what?*” I ask hoping he’s wanting more as well.
“*I dunno man. It’s getting pretty late, and I’m gonna be in enough trouble as is. I think I’m gonna head inside,*” he replies.
*(Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck. Seriously, dude. What in the fuck.)*
“*Yeah, you’re right. It’s getting light out already.. Don’t wanna turn into a pumpkin er somethin’,*” I say back to him. “*I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble..,*” I lie.
“*No worries. Not your fault. I started it.. and once you said ‘boys will be boys’ and all. I couldn’t back down.*”
“*You liked that, huh?*”
“*Haha, yeah I did,*” he says with a wink and a smile.
We gather up a few things that need to be taken back inside, and then we say our goodnights to each other. George heads towards a pair of sliding glass doors that connect the back patio to their bedroom. He’s completely naked at this point, his hard cock and bubble butt now bouncing with every step. I get a good look at his pale ass and notice that he has a lot of dark, flat moles on his body. I think that’s pretty common for a lot of fair-skinned people of European descent. He looks back and sees me watching, and gives another wink, and a smile, and this time a chuckle as he opens and closes the door, disappearing into the darkness of their bedroom.
I walk down the central path of the patio to the door that leads to their kitchen. It’s riddled with empty bottles and cans, to-go food boxes, and dirty dishes, but it isn’t my problem. And the inside of the house is dry and cold. I’m staying in their office tonight, which is on the opposite side of the house, so I tiptoe my way, going so far as even holding my breath as I pass the doors of other occupied rooms. I make it to the office, silently closing the door behind me, and then I strip down and dry off. There’s a private, half bath in the office, so I brush my teeth and rinse my face with tap water. I splash a bit on my body too, giving myself a whore’s bath in the sink. Because that’s what I am, a dumb whore.
I finally start to process the choices that I made tonight. What the fuck was I thinking? I am not a very good friend. I lay down on my back and stare up at the ceiling, replaying what happened, and of course, my guilt immediately gives way to arousal. I start to pump my cock while I think about George, and his body, and his big fucking dick. My mind is running wild, swimming in those moments. Honestly, this is so recent, I can easily envision us back in the pool, my hand firmly wrapped around his cock. I remember grasping his balls with my left hand, so I bring it to my face and cup my nose and mouth. I imagine that I can smell him on my hand and that my fingers will taste like him. I start to lick my hand and suck on my fingers. Even if I can’t really smell or taste him, his cock and balls were in this hand. And that’s hot. Fuck, I want to suck on him. I want to take him into my throat and swallow him. I want to ingest his load and make it part of me. My hips start to tighten and my toes begin to curl; I’m getting close. I bring my left hand down to my dick, now wet from my mouth, and I start to pump myself with both hands. And this does the trick, just a couple of wet strokes over my head and I bust. I point my dick up and look down and shoot myself just over my left eye. Then another shot gets my nose. I open my mouth at this point and catch one more shot before the rest is blown out over my chest and stomach in 3 or 4 more shots.
I relax my body and catch my breath, now afraid that maybe I was making too much noise. I go back to the bathroom and wash my load off in the sink and then lay down again. My feelings of guilt return, but I’m also relishing in my post-ejaculate bliss, thinking about George, and drifting off. I can hear birds beginning to chirp and sing, and now I am truly regretting my poor choices. I plug my earbuds into my phone, and then into my skull, and put on a sleepy classical playlist. Not too loud, but just loud enough to block out the sounds of the rest of the world waking up.
By 1100, I’m stirred back to life by a knocking at the office door.
“*Yeah,*” I say aloud. One eye open.
The door cracks just enough for Bill’s face to peer in. He sees that I’m decent (ha ha yeah right) and that I’m looking back at him, albeit barely, and then the rest of his upper body passes through the threshold.
“*Good morning, how are you feeling?*” he asks.
“*Tired, but fine,*” I reply. I’m maybe almost a year into experimenting with alcohol, at this point in my life. I don’t get hangovers yet.
“*I’m gonna run out for coffee and donuts. I’m putting a to-go order in for Starbucks right now. I know you don’t like coffee, or caffeine, or whatever.. but you do like uhm… the frozen chocolate milk thing?*” he asks, trailing off while peering down into his phone.
“*Yeah, $5 milkshake,*” I reply with a smug smile.
“*Yeah.. right…*” he says, glancing up from his phone for a moment. “*I feel like you’re referencing something. Something stupid that you would like,*” he remarks with an unenthused laugh. “*Anyways, you’re coming with me so we can talk about last night. Sound good?*”
“*Right, yep. I’ll get up then. I’ll be ready in 5,*” I tell him. “*Also.. I’m sorry, Bill..*”
“*Yeah, uh-huh,*” he says back as he closes the door.
I brush my teeth, rinse my face, and get dressed, and then I leave the office and head to the kitchen, where I find Bill and George waiting for me. The room has been cleaned. Bill is standing by the sink, facing the window, but focused on his phone. Probably checking his pickup order, or maybe going over his itinerary for the day. He’s organized like that. George is sitting at the bar counter, also looking at his phone, but he notices me from across the way and watches as I approach. He brandishes his simple smile and greets me. We exchange a few words about the morning and then the three of us file into their car and head off. Bill starts asking questions about what happened after everyone else went to bed last night, how it started, who instigated what, who touched who first, how far did it go, and so on. George answers nonchalantly, and I downplay how into it I was; I’m trying to reply honestly, but I’m reading the room too. George repeats my “boys will be boys” comment, and it all sounds like a pretty innocent, curious game. Bill is being surprisingly approachable and understanding as well. I definitely received a verbal slap on the wrist though. And I do feel bad still. In past instances where George had fooled around behind Bill’s back, I had been there for Bill as his friend. Now I felt like one of those other guys. After we cleared the air, the mood in the car was lightened, almost like it didn’t even happen. Sort of Twilight Zone-esque in a way. We made it back to their place, rallied the rest of the guys and the party continued. Relationships are weird, but I felt lucky to still be their friend.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/rgqyj0/almost_a_sex_story_gay