[FM] I (27F) got drunk and accidentally fell in love with my best friend (25M) (Long, wholesome)

Hi! Long-time lurker, first time making an account/submitting. I hope you don’t mind a wholesome sexy story today, because have I got a doozy for you!

**Disclaimer:** Though the names have (obviously) been changed for the story, there is a part of this where it looks like I’ve given my boy an insensitive nickname. The racy intent of the name was his idea, as is the real life equivalent is what he uses in our text conversations.

**Disclaimer 2:** This is a **long** story and the sexy times don’t happen until the very end. But I feel all the background is necessary for how Jay and I got to where we are today. Also I’m just… so in love with this man. It’s kind of sad, but great.

—

Jay and I met each other trying to escape from depression at our respective homes. He was coming out of an emotionally and physically abusive relationship with his ex-boyfriend (his unfortunate first exploration of his bisexuality) and had completely withdrawn from the world. My then-girlfriend, who lived with me and my daughter, admitted to cheating on me because she was no longer attracted to my body. Our respective answers to avoiding our issues was to, as most people do, go to bars. We had both started becoming regulars at this nice place that was almost more a bookstore than an actual bar, and I had noticed him before. Not as a physically attractive specimen or anything, not that he wasn’t unattractive. Just as an intriguing point of interest at the bar.

Jay is 5’7″, Asian, green eyes, clean-shaven with bleached blonde hair that wouldn’t look out of place at Warped Tour in the late aughts. He wasn’t skinny, but he wasn’t fat. I always say he’s pleasantly plump. Jay could comfortably wear size medium shirts, but there was still a little belly on him. He always had layered outfits on that made him seem at home in this cozy place. Button-ups and cardigans. Long-sleeves with a pea coat. Hell, he once found a way to make a poncho look classy. In any case, there was a corner spot he would always sit in, four chairs around a coffee table with a clear view of the entire interior. Any given day, Jay would be reading a book, or typing very intently on a laptop he’d bring, since the bar offered wifi. He didn’t seem very social, and I always had the impression that he hated me. Resting bitch face, I suppose. We had some mutual friends and cursory group conversations went as smooth as they could go, but I took his introvertness as being uncomfortable around me.

This changed the day that I came into the bar and saw that it was PACKED. There was a birthday, apparently, and everyone had come out to have a good time. Which left me nowhere to sit my tired ass except, you guessed it, at Jay’s corner. I immediately walked over to him, gave him a pointed stare, said “Okay, we’re doing this,” and sat down next to him.

Have you ever had one of those friendships where, when it happens, it feels like you should have been friends years ago? That was me and Jay after that night. Finally being able to talk to him one-on-one was like coming out of a dark tunnel into sunlight for the first time. It takes a while to get him warmed to a conversation, but when he’s committed, holy shit. His eyes light up, he’s quick-witted, knowledgeable (and willing to admit when he’s not), and has a dark humor that matches with mine. At the same time though, he has a lot of issues regarding his self-worth and probably hates himself almost as much as I hate MYself. These ugly parts of ourselves are where we really bonded. Shared trauma, am I right? For some reason, I felt very comfortable opening up to him about my troubles, and he reciprocated by telling me about what he was going through. Our situations were so very similar, and here we were, finding each other during this dark time in our lives.

Then we hooked up.

Okay, not really. I don’t think either of us were ready at that point. But having someone to talk to about, well, anything really. It was nice. It was needed. I latched onto him, and he latched onto me. We became inseparable.

The months seemed to fly by now that we had each other. We both work from home, so that turned into working at a nearby Starbucks and talking about random topics over lattes. Oh my God, there were so many lattes. Any time I had a work outing, gym session, or a date, he was the go-to to watch over my daughter. Jay is the only person outside my immediate family who I trust with her, and she ADORES him. In turn, I was there to drive him to therapy sessions, the one he turned to when he would fall into self-loathing and thoughts of suicide. And we would talk to each other about our dating lives. Both of us being bi, we found that we had the same tastes in both men and women and would wingman each other where possible. Hell, we even reached the point where he moved into my house. It just made sense. His lease was up, and my ex had moved out. I could technically afford the mortgage by myself, but having Jay around fixed all of our problems. He took the spare room without issues and everything just… worked.

Jay and I have been friends now for 11 months. He was fresh off a new break-up. Not a BAD one, but the girl had turned out to be racist as shit so he broke it off. I’ve had no luck on my end. It was hard to jump back into a relationship with a girl, as they just reminded me of my ex-girlfriend. So it was just guy after guy who would show interest only because I seemed “easy.” This new guy, who I refuse to give a name, fictional or real, I THOUGHT was the exception until I saw him swiping on Tinder DURING our date. When I confronted him about it, he said, “Look, you’re nice but we’ve been on five dates and you haven’t put out. I have to keep my options open.”

So I did what any normal girl would do. I threw my drink into his face, walked out of the restaurant, walked all the way to our bar, and drank entirely too much whiskey to drown my sadness out. This worked as well as setting a boat on fire to stop it from sinking. Now I was sad AND drunk. My phone vibrates after shot umpteen.

Jay The Silent FOB: Tina is asleep, FINALLY.
Go For Brooke: kk
Jay The Silent FOB: Date going well?
Go For Brooke: no
Go For Brooke: cn u pixk me up pls i wannago homr
Jay The Silent FOB: Be there in 15.

He was here in 8. I counted. I was sitting in his chair in the corner when I saw him rush into the bar. He was wearing grey sweatpants and an old Lady Gaga tour long-sleeve shirt, far from his usual style of button-up and cardigan. Jay zeroed in on me immediately. “Is your tab closed?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

“Paid cash,” I mumbled.

In what felt like 10 seconds, I was in Jay’s car. He was driving, quietly singing along to Glory Box by Portishead. Jay has a gorgeous voice when he isn’t trying, when his anxiety freezes him up. It took half a year for him to sing in the car during our many shared drives, and I’m proud to say that I’m (apparently) the only person he feels comfortable singing around. I think he was doing it to calm me down. It kinda worked.

When we got home, he stopped me from going through the front door. “We’re going to the backyard,” he told me. There in the back, the firepit had been lit, with wood on the side to keep it steady. A bundle of blankets and pillows were sat around it, with a bag of marshmallows and skewers at the ready. My heart leapt.

“You did NOT have this ready for me,” I somewhat slurred in disbelief.

He chuckled. “As much as I’d like to say this was the master plan, you’re right,” he admitted. “Tina wanted to roast marshmallows, so I told her we would if she was okay with skipping dinner. I was planning on putting the fire out before you asked me to get you.” A pause. “Sit down, get bundled up. I’m gonna get you some water.”

By virtue of the frankly stunning dress I was wearing (I actually forgot my jacket at the bar) and me being a skinny bitch who can’t stand even staring at the word “cold,” I was a verifiable burrito of blankets by the time Jay was back out. “Okay fine,” he laughed. “I’ll just make a pillow fort then.” He sat down next to me, taking a sip of his pop. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I did want to talk about it, so I did. For 30 minutes, I poured out all my frustrations. About how everyone I dated only seemed to want one thing. How despite this, I seemed to catch feelings for them only to be let down, and made to feel worthless. I was just eye candy. Not a person with feelings and thoughts and dreams, to them I was just a walking pussy, who was only there to be physically and emotionally fucked. And of the few good guys that I found, all of them were driven away by the fact that I was a mom, somehow jealous that my life wouldn’t ever revolve around them, because my daughter was more important than them.

And all through it, Jay listened. It’s one of the many things I love about him. He never tried to say that not all men are like that, because he’s also had shitty experiences with men. He’s also felt like less than a person, because we live in a fucked up society where Asian men are considered subsexual. He’s had his heart broken as much as I have. More than anyone, he UNDERSTOOD. But he never flaunted that, or pointed out that he did. He just was, and that was enough.

I was coming down from my rant, feeling mostly emotionally spent, when I realized that Jay was shivering. Firepit aside, it was still chilly outside and here I was hogging all the blankets. “Dude, why didn’t you say you were cold?” I asked.

Jay shrugged. “I’m not THAT cold.”

“You’re shivering!”
“I’m jittery from the caffeine.”
“Shut the fuck up and join me in the burrito.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine, I’m good.”

I stood up, fully intent on taking the few steps over and glomping him with the blankets. Unfortunately, I was still drunk and got up a little too fast, so instead I kind of stumbled and fell onto him as he tried to rush to catch me. It was like a scene out of a movie. The girl falling, as the guy rushes to catch her. They both fall to the ground, looking each other face to face as one is on top of the other.

Except what they don’t tell you, is that falling hurts. A lot. So I stumbled, he caught me, and we hit the ground, groaning in pain. Jay immediately grabbed for the back of his head, and I could feel that the skin on the palms of my hand were raw and stinging from the impact of hitting the concrete.

“That,” Jay said in some obvious pain, “was not as smooth as I wanted it to be.” His breath was warm as he exhaled sharply.

That was when I kissed him.

Look. I know I just had this whole diatribe about only being looked at as a sex object, about not being viewed as a person. But the fact of the matter is I WAS planning on sleeping with my asshole date after dinner. He lost that when I saw him swiping on Tinder. But it was going to happen, and I had prepared myself for it. And been deprived. So I was sad, drunk, and the dude had cockblocked himself AND clam jammed me. I needed to feel something, and I’m ashamed to admit that I went in purely planning to use Jay as a rebound. He was there, available, and I was already on top of him.

I could feel him freeze up as I kissed him. He didn’t respond as I slipped my tongue into his mouth, moaning into it with urgency. For what felt like an eternity, it was like I was kissing a dead fish, before finally he relented and began to kiss back. And oh my God, what a kisser Jay is. It certainly helped that he had been drinking pop the whole time, so his kiss was, quite literally, sweet. After a few seconds though, he gently pushed me off of him.

“We can’t do this,” he said.

“Please,” I replied back. “I need you.”

The look on Jay’s face… I don’t know how I’d describe it. There was arousal, sure. But also loneliness. Sadness. Heartbreak.

“No,” he said quietly, “you’re drunk.”

Fellas, I don’t know if you know this or not, but there’s something about you refusing our advances that makes you like, twenty times more desirable. Add in a respect for boundaries? Yum. Consideration of consent? Fucking take me. In that moment, when Jay turned me down, because he KNEW that it was a combination of my emotional turmoil and alcohol, he became the most attractive person I had ever laid eyes on.

This was no longer a rebound thing. It was pure lust.

I had to convince him to change his mind.

“This isn’t the alcohol,” I lied. “I want you. I actually want you. How could I not? You’re my best friend. You listen to me. You’ve seen me at my highest highs and my lowest lows. I’ve poured my heart out to you and instead of walking away like everyone else, you stuck around. Any time I’ve needed you, you’ve been there. Any time you’ve needed me, I’ve been there. You don’t see me as an object. You see me as a person. You’re the only person in the world who knows the real me, flaws and all. I trust you with Tina! I don’t trust anyone with her. I literally cannot imagine my life without you now that you’re in it. Your smile lights up my heart when I’m down. Days when you’re not around make me cold. I… fuck Jay, I love you.”

As I babbled on, trying to convince Jay that we need to fuck, something happened. While I was listing off reasons why this was a good idea, the sane part of my brain was listening. That voice in my head was nodding along and saying, “None of this is actually lying.” And, really? It wasn’t. Though I was just saying what came to the top of my head to change his mind, I realized I was admitting to myself something that my subconscious had figured out a long time ago. I DID love him. How long had that been a thing? Wait. No. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if he did, and I just fucked everything up? Did I just ruin the best friendship, the best possible relationship, the best thing that wasn’t my daughter to have ever happened to me?

This was no longer a lust thing. It was a love thing. And I had just ruined it.

I began to cry, getting up. “Fuck, Jay, I’m sorry. I love you, and I know I just fucked everything up.” I could feel my stomach turning, in pure revulsion of what I had just done. “I’ll leave you alone. I’m sorry for fucking this up.” So I stood up and walked inside, a wave of self-disgust washing over me. Went into my bathroom and looked in the mirror at the piece of shit staring back at me. Makeup all fucked up from crying for hours. This was originally the point. Look, I know I talked a big talk about not being looked at as a sex object. But I personally think I look fucking hot with my makeup smeared from crying. So I had planned for that to happen when my date and I were to fuck tonight. I have my kinks. I can have both. Can’t I? The woman looking back at me looked like a cheap whore. No offense to sex workers, because sex work is real work. All offense to me, the piece of shit that ruins everything good. That turning in my stomach was a tornado now, feeding on my depression and sadness and self-hatred.

The next 20 minutes consisted of me throwing up into the toilet and sobbing. The ten after that were cleaning my face off, brushing my teeth, and gargling mouthwash until I felt clean. When I finally opened the bathroom door, Jay was standing there, with a cup of no-longer-hot chamomile tea, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I know tea isn’t really your thing,” he said, “but you should probably get some sleep and this will help. You’ve had a rough day.”

And… I did. Nothing crazy happened that night. I didn’t even think about it. In hindsight I probably could’ve pulled a “stay with me tonight” or a “can I sleep in your room” and probably had success. But that isn’t my story. My story involves not being able to look the man I love in the face, not even saying thank you, and going into my room to sulk and cry myself to sleep. The tea was horrible, but I slept so well.

In my dreams, we’re married. Life is perfect. Chores around the house are so easy. The dynamic duo, picking up perfectly where the other left off. Not even having to communicate, just operating in perfect sync. We sit at the kitchen table and idly hold hands. I look at him to my side and he has a little smirk on his face. I kiss him. Not in a sexual way, just a little peck of affection. “I love you Brooke,” dream Jay says to me. My heart feels like it’s going to explode into fireworks. It just works.

When I wake, two things happen. One, I realize that the only thing different between my dream and reality is that we’re not married in real life. The second thing that happens is I hear a conversation between Jay and my daughter from the kitchen.

“Is mom still asleep?”
“Yes, she had a very long day yesterday and needs her rest.”
“So who’s taking us (my daughter and the neighbor’s son) to school today?”
“Me of course. Unless you want to take the bus.”
“No no no you can take us! Can we choose the Spotify in the car?”
“Sure, as long as it isn’t country.”
“Yay! Hey Casey, my dad’s taking us to school today!”

Dad? Dad?! SHE’S CALLING HIM DAD?! I’m lying in bed reeling. What do I even make of this?

I hear them leave and continue to sit there and stew for a bit. I hear Jay come back into the house, cleaning plates and singing lightly to himself. Soon there’s the unmistakeable sound of coffee brewing and the smell hits me. A knock on my door.

“Brooke? Coffee’s ready.”

I sit up, finally. “I’m decent, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

There’s a pause, and he opens the door and comes in with a mug. “Latte for the lady,” he says in his best food service voice. Then he picks up my half-empty mug of tea from the nightstand and walks out. I look down at the fresh mug of energy. There is foam art… I think. I chuckle and am still doing so by the time Jay gets back, his own latte in his hands.

“Uh, yeah. I was trying to make a leaf I think? I saw a tutorial on tiktok and thought I’d try.”
“Totally looks like a leaf. You did a good job… DAD.”

The color his face took was very new. I wish I had a camera to capture that moment. “So, you heard that.”

I nodded. “When did that start happening?”

“Today, actually. I kinda had a talk about it with her in the car. Which was awkward with Casey there too. I told her that just because I liv-”

“I’m okay with it,” I interrupt.

“…excuse me?”

“I’m okay with it,” I repeat. “I couldn’t think of a better person to be a father to my kid, Jay.”

There was a long pause. “So, it wasn’t the alcohol last night.”

“No. Well, a little. I definitely wouldn’t have tried what I tried last night sober. But…” I take a deep breath. “I do love you, Jay. And I know that this fucks everything up and ruins our friendship and it breaks my heart that I destroyed what we hav-”

“I love you too, Brooke,” he says, cutting me off.

My heart absolutely stops.

“You do?”
“I do.”
“When did THAT start happening?”

Jay takes a sip of his latte, sits on the bed, and ponders. “I think… maybe about a month after I moved in. You were dancing and singing in the kitchen to an Incubus song. I remember thinking to myself, ‘I could wake up to this every day for the rest of my life.’ And I knew. And I also knew that you would never feel the same way about me, so I made myself stop. I tried to make myself stop.” He sighed. “Didn’t do that good of a job, though.”

I scootched closer to him. “So it was my lovely singing voice, huh?”

“Brooke, I love you, but you have a horrible singing voice.”

I got closer. “But you DO love me.”

“I do. And we can work on the singing.”
“We.”

We’re so close now. My heart is racing, and Jay is looking me straight in the face. I can feel his breath. I lean in to kiss him.

“Brooke…” he leans back. I lean forward more. Why isn’t he kissing me? “Brooke!” I’m almost scrambling now. “Brooke, coffee-” and I fall onto him, spilling both of our lattes all over his long sleeve, pants, and the bed.

“Fuck, hot hot hot!” he yelps, quicking trying to get up as I straddle him. I start laughing.

“Looks like you spilled, Jay. You should probably take your clothes off.”
“Brooke, I need to change my shirt. I’ll be right back and-”
“Baby, you’re about to fuck my brains out. You’re going to have to get naked anyways.”
“I was going to leave my shirt on.”
“Like fuck you are.”
“Please, Brooke. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

I lean in and kiss him, just like in my dream. “I love you, Jay. All of you. Even the parts of yourself that you hate. It’s okay.” And I begin to pull off his long sleeve. He doesn’t resist, but I can see shame in his eyes.

Like I said, Jay is not a skinny person, but not fat either. If I had to describe it, he has a light layer of squish around a decently muscled frame. Like, you can tell that underneath there is some strength around them bones. And his arms –

I stopped as I looked at his arms. All along his forearms, even up to his upper arm, there were scars. Some years old, some recent. Like tally marks made with a knife instead of a sharpie. Suddenly I realized why Jay always wore long sleeves. Coats. The layers of clothing. I feel my vision start to blur, and my heart breaks for him.

“Jay, I…”

He starts trying to get up. “It’s okay. I’ll go now.”

“No.” I lean in to kiss him again. “I meant what I said. I love all of you. Even the parts you hate.” I gently kiss along his arm. “We’re both broken, baby. But at least we can try to fix ourselves together.”

“Do you mean that?”
“With every ounce of me.”

We begin making out in earnest now, urgently, desperately. The only time we aren’t kissing is in undressing each other.

It occurs to me that I should probably describe myself. I’m 5’11”, a brunette, and very skinny with small a-cups. I’m Brazilian but very light-skinned, AKA pale as fuck. I don’t have a fat ass (as much as I’ve tried), but it is very firm and tone. My hair is generally curly down to my shoulders though I had it straightened for my date the previous night. I generally hate my body and have been teased by so many people in my life for being a pencil, and I’ve always agreed with those people. It’s why, I think, I have a degradation kink. Validation of how ugly I look.

“I want you to fuck me stupid,” I say between breaks in kissing. “I want you to use me until I’m begging you to stop.”

By this point Jay has me on my back, him on top of me holding my hand (yeah, lewd) with one hand and propping himself up with the other. He kisses me. “I know you have your kinks,” he tells me, “but this is our first time. We have plenty of time for the crazy stuff later.” He leans in to my ear and whispers, his voice gentle. “I’m going to make love to you, Brooke. I need you to understand how special you are to me. How beautiful you are to me. I want you to know why I fell in love with you.”

Okay. So. Degradation? Hot. Being used like a human fleshlight? Hot. Being daddy’s little cocksleeve? Fucking hot.

But that morning, I learned I had a praise kink.

Maybe it was the way Jay did it. Or because I knew, in that moment, that he truly believed everything he was saying, as he worshipped my body. The sweet kiss on the cheek. “You are perfect,” he said, as he looked me directly in the eyes. “You love with your whole heart,” as he kisses at my neckline. The goosebumps that raise as his hands caress my shoulders and back. “I could get lost in your laugh,” as he begins to flick his tongue against my left nipple. I moan, arching my back, craving more. “You work so hard to give Tina the best life,” as he switches to my right nipple. Compliment after compliment as every part of me is touched, as if he needs to be sure that every part is real. I’m overwhelmed and oh so massively turned on. At some point his fingers lightly brush against my pussy and I swear to God I nearly came right then. I look down at Jay just as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and tastes me. A little glint of a devilish look enters his eyes as he smirks. “And you’re delicious.” And he goes down on me.

Jay is, in my humble and completely lovestruck opinion, the King of the Muff Dive. Not because he’s immediately good at it, no. But I remember in past late night conversations, that he said he never feels shy about asking for advice and never offended about being given instruction. “Every person is different,” he had said once. “What one person loves another person hates. It’s okay to be bad, as long as you try to get better.”

I don’t deserve this man.

And, bless his heart, Jay is persistent. I don’t know how long he was down there, but he took the time to listen to me. To learn what worked and what didn’t. To change if I wasn’t responding. It took some time for him to make me cum. But once he had figured it out, he made me cum again. And again. And again. I was lost in pleasure, in his tongue against my clit, his fingers teasing me and gently fucking me. After maybe the fourth (or was it fifth) time cumming to his tongue, I finally pulled him off me. “Water,” I panted. “Water, then I need you inside me.”

One water break later, he had found my vibrator. “Unfortunately some stereotypes about Asians are true,” he explained. “But I’ll still make you feel good.”

Jay is smaller than most guys I had dated before. About four inches. But if I’m being honest? Size is overrated. Size can hurt. And at the end of the day, it’s all about how you use what you’ve got. Jay is the most unselfish lover I’ve had. When he entered me, it was almost a tease. He kissed me then, telling me again how beautiful I was. Then he started pumping, using my vibe against my clit as he fucked me. He felt so good inside me, and I wrapped my legs around him as he pumped himself in and out. Doing all the work, doing his best to make me feel special. And I did. I felt like I was worth it. That I was truly deserving of love, and to be loved by him. I told him as much as I caressed his face. “I love you,” I told him. “I will always love you.” He surged forward and kissed me, and I felt myself contract around him as I came again. I could feel him growl into the kiss.

“Fuck Brooke, I’m gonna cum.”
“Yes baby, cum for me.”
“Are you on the pill?”

My legs tightened around him. “No.” I made myself contract around him (God bless kegel exercises!) “I want this. I want you.” I kissed him, again and again. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to get married. I want us to have kids together.” I contracted around his cock again. “I never want to let you go.”

“Brooke, fuck, I-” and he came. When guys cum, their faces are… not the best. But I think I could probably replace most of the smut I read with a picture of Jay’s o-face and have enough fap material for the rest of my life. He collapses on top of me, breathing heavily. I wrap my arms around him and we turn on our sides and cuddle. The whole time, he’s looking at me. His hand brushing through my hair, he kisses me.

“I love you,” he says.
“I love you too.”
“I’m never going to get tired of saying that.”

I don’t think I will ever get tired of hearing him say it.

And so we lay, just.. being together. There were things we needed to do, of course. Technically we were both late for work, such as it was in a work-from-home situation. My bed sheets reeked of sex and spilled coffee and were in desparate need of a wash. Neither of us had eaten yet. But for that moment, it was just us. It was perfect.

Later that night, in the backseat of an SUV and then in a motel room far away from my daughter’s ears, Jay would give in to my more degrading kinks. But that’s a story for another day.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/12anvw6/fm_i_27f_got_drunk_and_accidentally_fell_in_love