viewing him as a sexual conquest.
I’d never entertained the idea of fucking a man before. Hell, we’d been kids and jacked off together in the same room, beneath the same fucking blanket while watching Sharon Stone writhe around on top of Jonny Boz in Basic Instinct —before she brutally murdered him with an ice-pick—and it had never occurred to me that penis was fun to play with, apart from my own, that was. Now that I think about it, Will had done an awesome job of not paying a whole lot of attention to the screen, which had heightened my own orgasm.
But I remember when it went from understanding that he was gay to wanting to fuck him. It had been when I slept with Jess. Yes, I know that makes me a piece of shit. I have no excuse for my behaviour other than she was devastated that Will didn’t want her in that way, because she loved him, strange as that may seem. She was crushed, and I didn’t like seeing beautiful things destroyed.
Jess had told me a lot about Will, about the things they did when they were together, and I’d found myself listening with bated breath. I was way more curious than any straight man had a right to be. This was Will, my childhood friend, my brother from another mother. I couldn’t think of him in that way, but I did.
Several nights, I’d come with Jessica’s lips around my cock, and I’d wished more than anything that they’d been Will’s. Why hadn’t he ever come out to me? Would he run if I confronted him about it?
Maybe he thought I’d already known about him. Maybe he was afraid of my reaction, but we’d never had the kind of friendship where we shied away from anything, so I’d been determined to find out. I don’t think I’d meant to fuck him that night, and I certainly hadn’t thought I would enjoy it, but it’d been unlike anything I’d ever felt, unlike anything I’d felt since, and that pissed me off. That he still owned that. That he was still the only person on the planet who made me feel this way.
I glare down at my dick, not surprised the chubby fucker is poking at the zipper of my jeans, dying to get out. With a glance at the empty hallway, I unzip my pants, knowing that Tammy is probably out cold and snoring softly into her pillow. I stroke my hand up and down my cock. I cup my balls and pull them through the too small space created by my fly, but I like the snugness around them, as if they’re cinched tight in someone’s grasp. Closing my eyes, I think of Will’s dick pressed up against mine, his hands threaded through my hair, and his full pillowy lips against my own, his hot mouth and penetrating tongue. I slide my hand over my head, remembering the way he’d suck me, and I groan as my orgasm rocks through me. Come shoots out of the head of my dick and all over my shirt.
I sigh, feeling empty inside, and not just because I blew a massive load all over my stomach, but because even with a woman in my house, with her living here and me spending as many hours at the pub as I can cram into my day without looking like a stalker, I’ve never been so alone.
It’s as if the floor has opened up and a giant black maw looms beneath me. I cling to the sharp teeth, desperate not to fall into that murkiness. I fell once, and I never really learned how to climb out. Not that it matters. Can’t change the past, and I can’t make it right. I can’t do shit but jack off and fantasise about all the things I wasn’t man enough to own up to. All the things I should have held onto.
Hell, I didn’t fall. I’m still fucking falling, and there isn’t a safety net in the world big enough to catch me.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep this shit up. Jacking off into my hand every goddamned time North comes waltzing into the bar just isn’t working out. For now, my resolve is strong, but that doesn’t mean shit because there’s only ever been one man who could blow my resolve to smithereens, and it’s North fucking Underwood.
I run my hand through
I’d never entertained the idea of fucking a man before. Hell, we’d been kids and jacked off together in the same room, beneath the same fucking blanket while watching Sharon Stone writhe around on top of Jonny Boz in Basic Instinct —before she brutally murdered him with an ice-pick—and it had never occurred to me that penis was fun to play with, apart from my own, that was. Now that I think about it, Will had done an awesome job of not paying a whole lot of attention to the screen, which had heightened my own orgasm.
But I remember when it went from understanding that he was gay to wanting to fuck him. It had been when I slept with Jess. Yes, I know that makes me a piece of shit. I have no excuse for my behaviour other than she was devastated that Will didn’t want her in that way, because she loved him, strange as that may seem. She was crushed, and I didn’t like seeing beautiful things destroyed.
Jess had told me a lot about Will, about the things they did when they were together, and I’d found myself listening with bated breath. I was way more curious than any straight man had a right to be. This was Will, my childhood friend, my brother from another mother. I couldn’t think of him in that way, but I did.
Several nights, I’d come with Jessica’s lips around my cock, and I’d wished more than anything that they’d been Will’s. Why hadn’t he ever come out to me? Would he run if I confronted him about it?
Maybe he thought I’d already known about him. Maybe he was afraid of my reaction, but we’d never had the kind of friendship where we shied away from anything, so I’d been determined to find out. I don’t think I’d meant to fuck him that night, and I certainly hadn’t thought I would enjoy it, but it’d been unlike anything I’d ever felt, unlike anything I’d felt since, and that pissed me off. That he still owned that. That he was still the only person on the planet who made me feel this way.
I glare down at my dick, not surprised the chubby fucker is poking at the zipper of my jeans, dying to get out. With a glance at the empty hallway, I unzip my pants, knowing that Tammy is probably out cold and snoring softly into her pillow. I stroke my hand up and down my cock. I cup my balls and pull them through the too small space created by my fly, but I like the snugness around them, as if they’re cinched tight in someone’s grasp. Closing my eyes, I think of Will’s dick pressed up against mine, his hands threaded through my hair, and his full pillowy lips against my own, his hot mouth and penetrating tongue. I slide my hand over my head, remembering the way he’d suck me, and I groan as my orgasm rocks through me. Come shoots out of the head of my dick and all over my shirt.
I sigh, feeling empty inside, and not just because I blew a massive load all over my stomach, but because even with a woman in my house, with her living here and me spending as many hours at the pub as I can cram into my day without looking like a stalker, I’ve never been so alone.
It’s as if the floor has opened up and a giant black maw looms beneath me. I cling to the sharp teeth, desperate not to fall into that murkiness. I fell once, and I never really learned how to climb out. Not that it matters. Can’t change the past, and I can’t make it right. I can’t do shit but jack off and fantasise about all the things I wasn’t man enough to own up to. All the things I should have held onto.
Hell, I didn’t fall. I’m still fucking falling, and there isn’t a safety net in the world big enough to catch me.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep this shit up. Jacking off into my hand every goddamned time North comes waltzing into the bar just isn’t working out. For now, my resolve is strong, but that doesn’t mean shit because there’s only ever been one man who could blow my resolve to smithereens, and it’s North fucking Underwood.
I run my hand through
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