Almost Like Family

By moc.loa@yugsitnalta

Published on Jun 17, 2023

Gay

Note that the following story is a work of semi-fiction, or maybe "inspired by a true story." Part is 100% true, and part is fantasy, and I leave it to the reader to determine which is which. Certain details have been tweaked to protect the "innocent." By all means, send feedback along to AtlantisGuy@aol.com

In the broadest possible sense, I guess Jeremy and I were "family," although we shared absolutely zero blood ties.

How so? Let me explain. I'm Trevor. My parents divorced when I was 6. My dad got remarried to my stepmom, who had a sister who was likewise married with kids. That sister got divorced, then remarried a guy with a son of his own—Jeremy. So in the strictest sense, Jeremy was my stepcousins' stepbrother. Which made us... nothing at all.

For all that, we were still in each other's orbits, especially when we were younger. Since my dad had us on weekends, and my stepmom's family all lived close by, I would on occasion run into him, particularly at big get-togethers like all-family cookouts or the holidays.

I never knew Jeremey all that well... but what I did know made me cringe. He was a couple years younger than me when we first met, like 8 or 9. His dad Gerald was a jackass, pure and simple—loud, opinionated, sure he was always right. A blue-collar man in a small town. Paleolithic in his views on gender roles, politics, minorities, city-folk... and pretty much everything.

The kids got the worst of it. He was hard on the boys, enforcing a brutal regimen of turning them into "real men." And he was particularly harsh towards his own son Jeremy. Nothing the kid did was ever good enough. Everything he did was a waste of time, and reflected badly on his dad and men-folk in general. Buying Star Wars action figures was "playing with dolls." If he got freaked out watching a horror movie, he was "being a pussy." Doing well at school made you a "dexter." Even when Jeremy tried to make his dad happy, he got dismissed because no one likes a suck up.

Jeremy essentially became the family scapegoat, ruthlessly bullied and just as ruthlessly told to man up about it. His younger stepsister, the baby of the family, became a princess who could do no wrong. Even as a kid, I could see Jeremy's brightness fade. It kinda shook me.

It was only a few years later that my dad took a job out on the west coast, and I pretty much stopped seeing Jeremy—or anyone from my stepmom's family. I was involved in school, sports, friends and the joys of growing up, and by the time I was in college I had pretty much forgotten about their existence.

Now, I was approaching my big 30th birthday, and I was feeling pretty damn good about my life. Despite a few false starts, I had a good job going with enough prospects to keep me interested. I had long ago put my pimply-faced-dork phase behind me, and had grown into my looks. I hope it doesn't make me sound like a douchebag, but I'm damn fine on the eyes. I also put a fair amount of work into my body and was not ashamed in the locker room. I had a sporty, Guy Next Door vibe going, and an easy-going personality.

Best of all, I had gotten married the year before, to an amazing girl named Stacey. We were still in the honeymoon phase, although our sex life was no longer chugging along at the rate I would have liked it to. Stacey was soft, sweet, and had a heart of gold, and I was lucky to have her. Okay, so I admit there were moments where I felt like I was getting just a bit domesticated. For one, she tended to think sports were "silly" and got pouty if I watched too many games. I was finding it harder and harder to hang out with my buddies. And, I had a hairy chest—and, um... other parts—that she was always hounding me to go smooth because I looked like a "caveman." But these were minor things, and she really did bring out the best in me. Life was good.

But life sometimes throws you for a loop.

It started that spring. A few years earlier, my dad moved back to town, and restarted his tradition of hosting big, blow-out barbeques on the big marquee holidays. I didn't usually make them; you know how it is trying to balance spending time with divorced parents while trying to live your own life, and lay down some traditions of your own. It didn't help that he lived way out in the exurbs, and most of the family had a small-town mentality. They all seemed to think life in the city was a nightmarish cycle of gang wars, riots, arson, and babies selling crack on the streets. I mean, I got along with everyone generally, and no one was outright mean, but it was a bit... exhausting.

But after getting married, my wife started expressing more and more of an interest to go. She had commented that she was still somewhat bewildered by my dad's branch of the family, and eager to get to know everyone. She batted her big brown eyes at me, and I couldn't say no.

And so that Memorial Day, we packed up some homemade potato salad to pass around, and loaded up the car to make the trip out there.

Overall, it was fun, but a bit disorienting. Since I hadn't been there for many years, I admit I was straining at remembering peoples' names myself. But there was good food, cold beer, and it was fun to catch up.

At one point I was talking to my stepcousin Janey, and noticed this guy who was standing apart, like he was trying to fade into the wallpaper. Easier said than done... he was... well, he was noticeable. In all the right ways. And I say that as a happily married straight guy who never made it a habit of checking guys out. He was buff, with a great build—the kind that came from being a jock rather than artificially bulking up in the gym. Sharply handsome, with a rough, scruffy beard that gave him a slight bad-boy vibe. And really piercing eyes, although there was a certain... wariness about them. An All-American jock, right there in the flesh.

I... was curious. I mean, I was a bit rusty with people's names, but he didn't look familiar at all. I turned to my cousin. "Boy, I'm worse with names than I thought. Who is that guy? I swear I've never seen him before. Is he someone's boyfriend?"

My cousin looked over, then lightly punched me. "Doofus. That's my stupid stepbrother Jeremy. Remember, we used to play together? Are you really that clueless?"

"Aw, man... it's been a long time. Boy, he sure filled out." I thought for a second, but something tickled in the back of my mind. "'Stupid' you say? That's kinda harsh. What's his deal?"

"Oh, he's not an asshole or anything, just... you know, a boring, intense loner. Yeah, he's good looking and everything, but I'd never like set him up or anything with one of my friends."

Her dismissal seemed coldly out of character, surprising me. I changed topics slightly. "I remember his dad used to ride him pretty hard. All of you, really."

Janey sighed. "Well, I never had a problem with Gerald, but I know the boys did. Especially Jeremy. Jeremy never played his cards right." She didn't elaborate. Inwardly, I thought about the times growing up when I thought she was a bit of a pampered princess. Like as the only girl, she was the Golden Child of the family.

Ouch. That probably wasn't fair to her.

But I don't know that life had been all that fair to Jeremy.

It was... strange. As the party went on, I noticed that Jeremy was ever-present, but out of... phase... with everyone else. Like he stayed in the fringes. His dad was a loud, life-of-the-party kind of guy, but barely tolerated Jeremy's presence. Like Jeremy was always the one sent off to fetch something. No one offered to get him another beer, or asked if he was ready for another burger. There was a general air of... distain towards Jeremy.

Later, I ran into Jeremy alone in the kitchen. He was quietly nursing his beer. At that moment, I... I dunno. I felt bad that on a beautiful day outside, he seemed to be trapped in here, almost hiding. "Hey man," I offered companionably, "how goes it?"

He looked up, somewhat surprised. It was like he was caught off guard that someone was talking to him. Which made me feel worse. I went on. "You probably don't remember me, I'm Trevor... Steve's son. You're Jeremy, right? It's been a long time."

The initial surprise having worn off, Jeremy brightened. "Oh yeah. How are you? Yeah, it's been like... man, 15 years at least? Nice to see you again."

"Yeah, a very long time." Something inside me told me that he could use a kind word. "I gotta say, I'm not trying to hit on you or anything, but man... you look great. Seriously. I wish I had your build—what's so routine?

Jeremy gave a shy smile. "Wow, man... thanks! I...." He trailed off as he looked at me, now properly taking me in. "It really isn't anything special. I mean, you're looking good yourself. Mostly biking, I guess. I ride every chance I get."

"Really?" I responded, surprised. "I wouldn't have guessed that. I mean, all the bikers I know have tighter builds. I mean, they have crazy-ass leg muscles, but... you know, tiny little arms. You've got some serious guns, too."

Jeremy laughed. "Yeah, the T-Rex look. Nah, I also lift to balance myself out. I started when I was younger—it helped when I was, well... you know... getting bullied."

A bit of a dark cloud drifted over his face as he said that. Bullied. I didn't have to think too hard to consider where it came from.

There was a slight pause, but Jeremy pivoted fluidly. "It's good seeing you again. I don't remember seeing you at one of your dad's cookouts before."

I grimaced. "Yeah. I'm... terrible at keeping up. Especially after I met my wife. It doesn't help that I live like an hour and a half away in the city, and it's... just... you know. I end up feeling out of place."

"Oh no, I wasn't trying to bust your balls or anything, I just... it's..." He drifted into silence. "Well, I hate to admit it, but these cookouts are tough for me, too. I mean, not tough... I mean, they're fun and everything, it's just that..." He drifted into an unsettled silence.

I let it go. Instead, I raised my beer bottle. "To the misfits. Cheers!"

Jeremy shot me a smirking half grin. It looked good on him. "To the misfits!" he responded, and clinked my bottle with his. He looked at me, and his demeanor... softened. "So! You live in the big city? What part?"

"In Steward, do you know it?"

Jeremy brightened. "Really? No way... I work there! I've been living in the next neighborhood over, in Lincoln. I know the west side pretty well."

"Wow, I didn't know. What kind of work do you do?"

"A bike shop—Fast Eddie's on Lake."

"No shit, seriously? I live just a few minutes from there, I go by it all the time. And every time I do, I think I should stop in."

Without realizing it, I had said the magic word. Jeremy had been cordial, but the minute he heard I had some sort of a connection to biking, I was suddenly his best friend. I tried to backpedal, saying that I hadn't been riding in a long time—pretty much since I met my wife. He wasn't having it. He wanted to know all the details, and was adamant that I bring my bike in to tune it up so I could get back out there. I kept trying to back down, but Jeremy was insisting. Way too excited to let it go.

At this point, the mood changed sharply when Jeremy's dad Gerald walked in, apparently to grab a bag of ice from the freezer. You could just feel the contempt rolling off him, and Jeremy start to slink back into his shell he had only just now come out of. "God Almighty," Gerald sniped. "Is he going on about those stupid bikes again?" Gerald glowered as he pushed past us to get to the freezer. "Why don't you talk some sense into him, Trevor... no real man would ever go near one of those pansy-ass things after his voice cracks. I keep telling him to get a man's job, but there he is!"

I was taken aback. "Huh? What are you talking about? Biking is really taking off. And that shop is like an anchor of the neighborhood. And as they add in more bike lanes so..."

"Those goddamn bike lanes!" Gerald exploded. "You can't even drive in the city anymore, with these goddamn bike lanes. And no one ever uses them, anyway! Just buy a car for Christ's sake, and drive like a normal person."

"Sorry, gotta disagree. We need to get more people biking, and Jeremy's on the cutting edge. In fact, he's going to get my bike in shape, and then he's promised me some rides around the lakes!"

Jeremy looked at me. Gerald looked at Jeremy, then looked at me. I just gave them both a contented, happy-go-lucky smile. Finally, Gerald marched off... I think he was muttering something about a "bunch of pussies," but I let it roll right off me.

Jeremy looked at me, with an expression I couldn't quite place. Almost like a puppy. It suited him, making him... boyish. Like he was... I... I dunno. He looked good. And I got the feeling that he didn't have a lot of people stand up for him.

And so it began. Just like that, Jeremy and I became fast friends. Not just at the party, but afterwards. I realized that away from his shitty family, he was a totally different man. It was funny... he was so reserved, so wary when I first met him, and he still had a quiet streak to him. But once we broke the ice, he... like, gushed. Like with endless bounds of enthusiasm. He was a good guy... a really good guy.

Whenever we hung, we had an absolute blast. He was always up for anything, and spending time with him was just... easy. And pretty physical. Jeremy was not afraid to sweat. True to my word, I brought my bike in, and he got me pulled into the world of biking. I pulled him into my world, too... sucking him into a world of playing ball, paintball and a crapload of outdoor activities. We were close in terms of strength, drive, and stamina. He may have had a bit more bulk to him, but I'm no slouch. And knew how to push each other. It was a great release for me... something I didn't even know I needed as so many other parts of my life became tamed.

The more I spent time with him, the more I admired his form. He was... like, the perfect male. Shirts hung off his pecs just right. And fit well around his arms. A barrel chest dusted with the right amount of hair—looking masculine, without looking like a Yeti. And I'm not creeping on him or anything, but the guy's ass filled out his jeans perfectly, to the point that women openly ogled him... although he never seemed to realize it or care.

But Jeremy wasn't just some brainless hunk. The guy had the soul of a poet. Well... shit, that's not quite it. But he was... thoughtful. Amazingly so. And I mean that literally. I guessed that growing up he had a lot of time to himself, and he thought about things, with a curiosity that was contagious. While he physically looked like a mindless brute coming over to kick sand in your face and take your girl, he was completely the opposite. A quiet gentleman if there was ever such a thing.

A few months later, he had just started getting serious with a girl, and peppered me with questions about how to impress her, to make her interested him, that sort of thing, He was a hilariously nervous wreck. At one point, I laughed and said all he really needed to do was to rip off his shirt and show her that perfectly built, hairy chest. He thought I was kidding.

Funny... we'd known each other since we were kids. But it was only as adults that we clicked. In a few short months, he had quietly become my best friend. A guy I couldn't wait to talk to. Whose opinion mattered to me more than anyone but my wife. It's so weird, because like most guys I had a horrible time making and keeping friends after college. But there he was.

One day, Jeremy called me up with good news. He was finally ditching his roommates and moving into a place of his own. I almost wondered if he was going to move in with his girl, but he pointed out it was still way too early in their relationship. Besides, he had never lived alone. He had bailed out of his parents' place the first chance he could, but had to essentially couch surf with buddies until he found a job that could cover his rent. He bounced around from place to place, but always lived with other people. Now, he had found a "garden level" studio apartment fairly near his job. He was so proud... I could feel him glowing as he told me about it.

Naturally, I agreed to help him move.

The big day came, and he was joined by a pair of guys from his work. It was reasonably warm outside, and there wasn't much air in Jeremy's new place (he promised his first new purchase would be an air conditioner), so we stripped off our shirts as we worked. Given we were all healthy guys in our prime, we were able to take care of everything in short order. In fact, it mostly became a social hour as we went, with loads of inappropriate banter and us all busting Jeremy's chops. When we were done, Jeremy regaled us with the obligatory beer and pizza. It was a great time—better than many parties I've been to.

The guys headed home, but I told Jeremy I had still had time to kill and offered to put together his new Ikea furniture while he kept setting things up. He eagerly agreed. We worked some, talked some, drank some, and were enjoying life.

We were wrapping things up; I was surveying our progress, hands on hips, and feeling good. I looked over at Jeremy, to see him looking at me. Just... looking. He gave his trademark half-smile. It... always got me. He wasn't a cheery person by nature, and when he smiled his face just... lit up. It made me smile in return. He looked down, and I swear I almost saw... like... color in his cheeks. He gave a half-laugh, like he was laughing at a dimly-remembered joke.

"What?" I asked.

Jeremy looked up at me, not quite startled, but... kinda caught off guard. He shook his head once and grabbed for his beer. I persisted. "No, what? Are you... laughing?"

He didn't move at first, but finally looked up at me. "No, it's just... it's nothing. Stupid."

"C'mon, man... what, do I have like something in my teeth? What?"

"No," he chuckled. "No, it's just... I'm just... thanks for being here. It's funny, but I feel like I'm finally grown up... you know, a man. A real man. Got a job I love, a great girl, and I'm finally living on my own. And I gotta say, man... a lot of this is due to you. You... you're... it's like you're everything I want to be when I grow up. You know shit. You do shit. You fucking live your life to the fullest. And you've totally let me run along for the ride. You've dragged me out of my comfort zone. Kicking and screaming into adulthood. And you've just... been there for me. Letting me be me. It's been great. I'm used to being on my own, fending for myself. I was just... it feels good to have a partner in crime. Having... like... a best friend."

I think this time, I'm the one who had color on my cheeks. "Ditto. I..." It was hard to finish. It was hard for me to wrap my head around things. Damn. The guy made me feel like a million bucks when we were together. Like we were Kings of the World. But I didn't know how to say that without it sounding... weird.

But I couldn't let what he said go. I gave him a half smile of my own, and pushed on. "I should be thanking you, bud. I hadn't realized how much I missed guy time. It was so great having a bud I could relate to. I don't know everything you've gone thru in life, but I know it's been a lot. Shit like that could make a guy hard. Mean. But you... it just made you strong. Stronger than anyone I know. I just wish I could be..." Man, I was starting to get all mushy. I tried to rein myself in. "It's been a blast. I'm just sorry we never hung out as kids."

"Thanks man. I ... thank you." Our eyes locked, in companionable silence. I felt... warm... in his gaze.

Well. "What are you thanking me for? I'm the lucky one," I said, trying to lighten the mood. I was too much in my own thoughts. "Well, one thing before we call it a day, we have to mount your TV. You game?"

Jeremy shook himself off, gave me a flash of his smile. "Hell yeah man, that's the most important thing! Let's do it!"

The process was a pain in the ass, and we ended up drilling a couple of extra holes in his wall that we'd need to plaster over sometime later. We were tightly together as we worked, enough so that we occasionally rubbed against each other. Skin on skin. His was warm. No, hot. With a slight sheen of sweat from our exertions. That closeness felt... strange. I mean, we ground against each other on the court and all, but this was... felt more... it was closer. The touch of him stayed with me in my mind, like the afterimage when you see a bright light and look away. But we had work to do. Finally, we manhandled the TV and the mounting brackets into the correct position and were able to secure everything.

We stood there. I was quiet. Lost in thought. I decided to break the spell by helping myself to a couple more beers for us out of his fridge. I saw Jeremy rolling his shoulder around. "You okay?" I asked as I handed him a bottle.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry... yeah, just pinched something there at the end. It's fine."

I responded without thinking. "You want me to work on it? I can give a pretty good massage."

Jeremy gave me a short, sneer-laugh. "You're gonna what now?"

Shit. What the hell did I ask that for? That was pretty bold, especially to a man's man like Jeremy. Did it sound like I was creeping on him? Damn. I was just thinking... I mean, I guess I thought...

Rubbing his shoulders. Huh. My thoughts started churning. Part of me, I'm not sure where or why, really perked up at the idea. But... I mean... was that weird? Weird for him? Having a guy, a buddy, rubbing your bare shoulders? Damn. Well, there was no taking it back now, and standing there slack-jawed wasn't going to help matters. I opted to play this through, but to do so breezily to de-escalate.

"Oh... no... it's no big thing. Not some weird professional massage or anything. It's just... something the guys... guys on the team... would do when we pulled things, strained things, while playing. We did it all the time. I bet I can loosen that up for you."

"Umm, well... you don't have to..."

"Nah, it's cool, happy to do it." I started reaching across him, even before he answered. "It will just take a second." I grabbed his shoulders and turned him around, so he was standing facing the other way. I reached out and ran my hand across his bare shoulder. "Let me know if anything hurts."

My hand started working his exposed muscles over. It was... strange. Despite my comments, I really only did this for my wife after she had a bad day. Strange that I had very conspicuously left her out of my explanation. Right from the start, it hit me how... different he felt from her. She was soft, gentle. Pliable. Jeremy was... hard. Not... stiff... so much as his muscles were taut. Strong. Coiled power. And slightly slick with sweat. My wife never sweat. No... men sweat. Sweat was part of our lives. Expected. We sweat together. We did things. Our bodies did things. Men...

Jeremy gave a light grunt, snapping me back. "You okay, bud?" I asked?

"Yeah, man... it feels good. You've got... good hands..." I smiled, loving the physicality of it all. Rubbing. Feeling him. Feeling. Losing myself in the moment. Proud that I could...

Wait. I realized I was getting an... unexpected feeling. In my gut. And that was triggering a hint of an alarm somewhere in the back of my mind. But that's crazy. I was just... helping a bud with his sore muscles. I mean, what was the deal? But at the same time, the thought of... well, you know, the feel of his skin rubbing against mine was... making me... feel connected to him. Close to him. Comfortable. But... uncomfortable...

Uncomfortable? What the fuck?

Why was I getting jittery? Why the butterflies? I mean, it was just... But, why would I...

I quickened the pace, trying to be more active than sensual. More... businesslike. I worked both sides of his neck with my hands, probing for knots. Seeking release. Hoping to...

I realized I had unconsciously leaned my head in, my nose nearly touching the nape of his sweaty neck. I could... breathe him in. Smell... his dusky scent. The smell of a guy, tinged with fresh sweat. A scent I knew from years of hanging out with the guys. A scent I... fuck. It was... raw. Smelling of power. Strength. Manhood.

Smelling of Jeremy.

I breathed in, deeply. His scent filled me, like whirls of smoke filling a room. It was... My pulse was... Fuck.

I realized I had stopped my massage. Shit. How long had I...? Fucking shit... did he hear me, feel me... you know, smell him? Oh fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

I decided to bluster my way out of this. I theatrically pulled my hands away, and chirped out, "There we go! Better?"

Jeremy reached up and lazily rubbed his shoulder, and started turning around. "Yeah. You know, I think so. You did good, man!" His voice had an... unfamiliar timbre to it.

There was a pause between us. And panic started rising inside me. Shit, what had I just done? Had I freaked him out? Why the hell did I do that? I couldn't even look at him.

But then to my utter astonishment, Jeremy looked at me, with an... unreadable look. He gave me a half-smile, and said, "Yeah, that feels great. Mind if I return the favor? I'll show you what I learned."

I had no response. Part of me thrilled to feel his hands on me, part of me starting to freak out about how this whole situation was... well, wrong.

But... Jeremy... didn't seem to think... it was wrong...

I guess he took my lack of an answer as a cue to get started. He pushed me down so I was sitting on the edge of his bed, then clambered behind me. Sitting so I was between his legs. Shit. Was that... strange...? Sitting between a guy's legs like that? His hands mimicked mine, and slid into position on my bare skin.

And started kneading my shoulders.

Unnnnnnnnnnnghmmmmmmm.

Damn... it felt good. Good. Whatever paltry reason I had for objecting evaporated into thin air. His hands were... strong. Digging in deep.

Releasing...

Fuck, it was like I was fucking melting or something. Instinctively, I released a held breath with a low rumble, which suggested that whatever my misgivings, I was liking this quite a bit. It still made me uncomfortable, but I didn't fight it. I didn't... want to fight it.

Jeremy was working both shoulders with his hands. Strong hands. Strong, like him. It felt... good. Relaxing, but in a way that was... Shit. If I didn't know better, I'd say exciting. But that couldn't be it, right? I mean Jeremy was...

His hands dug deep again, and I let out a louder sound. Totally unplanned. Totally feeling...

His hands were kneading me harder now. Rolling. Probing deep. Meeting my shoulder muscles with his muscled hands. It felt... fucking good. There was just the slightest slickness to my skin, traces of nearly dry work-sweat, and the beginnings of excitement-sweat. His hands were hot. Rough. Fucking strong.

Purposeful.

It was... disorienting. I mean, my wife touched me teasingly. But this was different. A man's touch. Jeremy's touch meant business. Wanting something.

I realized I had started ever-so-slightly leaning back, leaning into him. Oh shit. I froze. I mean, was that... cool? Okay? Would he think I was weird or something? I mean, I couldn't... I shouldn't...

Then I realized something. He had rested his forehead in the crook of my neck, as his hands slid across the bare flesh of my back. I could feel his breath ripple across my sweat-sheened skin, right behind my ear. I swear... I could almost feel the scruff of his beard...

I shivered. It was...

Shit.

It felt good. It felt fucking... good... fucking... goooood.

His hands slid back up. I drew sharp intake of air... I swear I didn't gasp. I swear I didn't...

Jeremy was back to rubbing my shoulders, but... more. His right hand was really digging into me, forcing me forward, so he snaked his left around my chest to brace me. Fuck. Then his right hand was rubbing up my shoulder, almost down toward my chest. Back and forth. Back and forth... fingertips slowly tickling up over and past my collarbone. Deeper. Digging deeper. I leaned back, my right hand brushing against him. Against his thigh. I didn't move it. Shit. Shitshitshit. I was both ashamed of my action and desperately wanting him to keep going. To wake up my skin. To wake up my...

Shit. Holy shit. He was all but rubbing my hairy pecs now, both hands at once. His fingers pushing through, lightly tangled in my short, curly chest hair. I gurgled a sound that could not be mistaken for anything but masculine enjoyment.

Shit. Shit. What was I doing? I should...

His breath against my neck. Breathing through his mouth. Hotly. Against my skin. His hand... oh fuck his hand... his fingertips lightly running the length of my breastbone... and further down. Oh God. OH GAWD.

Oh... shit...

It struck me as... fucking... intimate. No man had ever touched me like that. I felt open. Close to him. Not just physically, but... fuck... emotionally. I was reacting. My body... reacting. On its own. My heart was pounding. He had to be hearing it. I was making sounds with my breathing that...

I realized that Jeremy's right hand was slowly circling my belly. Circling. Fuck. Circling. And going lower with each lazy swirl.

Oh shit. Ohshitohshitohshit. The tingling running up and down my skin was spreading. I could feel it in my balls. It was... holy shit, it was... FUCK. Without me realizing it, my dick was roaring to life. Straining at my shorts.

Somewhere, somewhere down deep, I could feel a muffled voice of panic starting to rise. A deeply embedded voice, honed by years of conditioning, was screaming at me: What the hell was I doing? What the hell were we doing? Guys don't do this! SHIT! I was reading way too much into this, ruining everything! Betraying our friendship! Of course this didn't mean anything to him, he was normal! I was being wildly inappropriate, and needed to stop this before I freaked him out. Needed to break the spell. Oh God, I was humiliated with the spectacle I making of myself.

Jeremy must have sensed my panic, maybe felt my body stiffen. He abruptly stopped his hand's downward motion, moving back up again, seemingly in all innocence. See? There wasn't anything to it. I was humiliating myself by reading something into my buddy's actions. Stupid, Trevor—stupid, stupid, stupid!

But if part of me was relieved, part of me was... shit, was I... disappointed? Fuck. FUCK. Did I somehow want to blow past all the guardrails of male friendships? Want him to blow past all that? What was I...

And something I had not dared to let myself think of entered my mind: was he into this just as much as I was...? NO! I couldn't take the chance to find out.

Yes. Fuck it, I could.

Before he could pull away any further, I leaned back again. I didn't want to lose contact with his touch. He was close behind me, close enough I could feel his heat. Close enough I could feel...

Oh, fuck.

I could feel him.

His hardness.

Pressed against my ass. Clear as day.

He was hard as I was.

It wasn't me misreading, or me misunderstanding. It wasn't me anything... it was us.

I grabbed his right hand with my own, as it lay on my chest. Our fingers entangled. Then, taking his hand in my own, I drove it down again. Down. Down.

Down into my shorts.

Down.

Our finger tips effortlessly slid under my underwear's waistband.

His fingers snaked through my man bush. And fucking grabbed my dick.

And I fucking came alive.

Ohhhhh FUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

I moaned like a bitch in heat, and my entire body shuddered at his touch. I was gushing precum, and I could feel my own wetness as his hand encircled me and started jerking me as well as he could with my clothes on. Oh God. Oh Fucking God. His face was still firmly planted in the crook of my neck, and I could feel his breath right behind my ear. Hot. Ragged. The fucking scruff of his jaw.

Fuck.

Oh God. This was raw. Totally unexpected. And completely natural. God. It was totally wrong. And totally right.

But that was part of the excitement. Jeremy was a guy... he knew what to do. Holy fuck! How many worthless, nervous handjobs had I gotten in my life, from girls who couldn't possibly get what needed to be done? Jeremy was different. God... the pressure. The perfect pressure. The skill of handling a dick. Oh God, there was raw lighting was flashing across my skin. Neither of us giving a flying fuck. Hungry, and made hungrier for this being so completely taboo.

I reached around with my left hand and grabbed his rock-hard cock through his shorts. Treating him to the same electrifying sensations he was giving me. Kneading him. Needing him.

Fuck, his hands worked my fly open, and he roughly pulled my cock and balls out. Freed from the confining fabric, my dick snapped to attention. Smeared with cocksnot. God. His hands. His scruffy beard rubbing relentlessly against my neck. His hot breath. I realized I was pressed hard against his hairy chest. The wiry fur on his pecs was softened by our intermingled sweat.

The air was electric. Something awakening, roaring to life. Sensations I'd never felt before. Excitement, raw excitement... like the first time I ever saw porn when I was a kid. A wild new world opening up for me.

I disentangled myself from Jeremy's arms, got up, and turned around. He looked me in the eye, at first not sure what I was going to do. But he must have read my expression—in a flash, a big, shit-eating grin split his face—he knew I was right there with him. Our hunger feeding on each other.

I reached down and pulled open his shorts... and pulled him out of his underwear.

Fuck.

He was thick, not as thick as me, but a man's dick for sure. Long, like 7 inches at least, with a mushroom head, slick with cocksnot of his own. It was harder than I expected, but at the same time... softer. Hot. Standing tall from a proper, hairy man-bush—he clearly didn't shave, either. It was more... masculine that way. Raw. Untamed. I was more like 6 inches myself, but thick... a bull's dick if there ever was one. I grabbed him and started jacking him. Squeezing hard. It felt good. Free. Fucking wild. He started thrusting into my hand as I held him tight. Our eyes burning into each other's gaze.

It was forbidden. And hot as fuck. I can't remember the last time I was that fired up. We stared at each other. Daring each other. Begging each other.

Fuck it. You only live once.

I dropped to my knees in front of him. Hie eyes widened, and his nostrils flared. I roughly pulled his shorts and underwear down past his thighs, then freed them from his hairy legs. He was hard as a rock, inches from my face.

And then... it hit me. I could smell him. My first real blast of man musk. FUUUUUCK.

Sex had always had a specific smell for me, the scent of wet pussy. I knew it well, as eating my wife out was one of my favorite things—and hers. That ripe smell of a woman's natural perfume.

This was entirely different. Funky. Raw. Sharp. Deeply masculine. His smell filled my nose, filled my entire body. OH FUCK. It ripped through me, and my body leaped to embrace it... understanding that scent and what it meant at the most primal level. One man's excitement calling to another, with no translation needed. Shit. I mean, I liked my wife's smell, but this was a whole different ballgame. I NEEDED it, needed his manscent. FUCKING NEEDING IT.

I buried my face in his hairy crotch. Scenting myself. Wanting to breathe him in forever. Nuzzling his balls. Rolling them across my face. Mouthing them.

Then I reared back and fucking swallowed him down. Hard.

Jeremy roared, gripping my head with both hands. His deep baritone urging me on.

I had never sucked a guy, and had no idea about how to give a man a blowjob. But as a man myself, I had sat through enough crappy ones to know what to avoid. You have to actually suck. Hard. Like you mean it. None of those insipid, womanly bobs. Not for my bud. I fucking wrapped my lips around his flared cock head, and fucking sucked him for all I was worth.

Enthusiasm must have counted for something, because Jeremy started making sounds like a madman. "Oh FUCK MAN! SUCK IT! FUCKING SUCK IT! OH GOD YEAH YEAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!" His hands running wildly around my head. His hips rolling and bucking to meet me. We were as one. Lost in a world of shared masculine power.

I tied to swallow him down as far as I could go. He was too long for me, and I gagged myself. I tried again, but failed again, coming up coughing. I shifted gears, puckering my lips and running them down the length of his shaft to his balls, then back up. I worked the head again, hard and fast, while jacking him with my fist. My spit making him slick. God I was in heaven. So was he. I pulled off, and went after his balls, sucking each on in my mouth and rolling it around with my tongue. Jeremy wasn't even coherent at that point, just making strangled animal sounds. None of the fake womanly moans you get with porn, this was fucking real. Raw-throated. The sound of Men. I went back up and back to his cockhead, sucking hard, sucking fast...

To my surprise, Jeremy stopped me, pulling me off just as I had hit my stride. I looked up at him, confused. "I'm getting too close bud." He reached down and pulled me to my feet. And a sinner's leer snaked across his face. "Mind if I return the favor?"

I responded with a hungry snarl that would have had a woman grabbing for her can of mace: "Show me what you've learned."

He got up, then threw me back on his bed, my legs dangling over the side. He roughly pulled down my shorts and Jockeys, so I was naked as he was. He kneeled between my legs... and his mouth slammed into my crotch.

Oh fuck. OH FUCK OH FUCK OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCK

NOTHING could have prepared me for the feel of his mouth as he went down on me. To my knowledge, Jeremy was as unexperienced as I was, but desperate passion made up for any lack of technique. Holy shit—this was the best blowjob of my entire fucking life. The kind that made me mad for all the shitty blowjobs I'd ever received. He went after me with more raw hunger than any woman had ever done—especially my wife. He sucked in my cockhead, rolling his tongue hard around the rim, fast. Flicking the piss slit. Then going down deep. Hard. I bellowed out a string of profanities. Hell, I might have spoken in tongues. He went after me. Hard again and again. And againandagainandagain. Sucking. Wet. Slobbery. Sucking.

He went for my balls, and again it was like a fucking revelation. Girls have no idea what to do with them, but Jeremy sure as fuck did. Perfect pressure, sucking them juuuuust on the edge of pain. Rolling them. He started ticking me with his fingertips, hitting that magic spot just behind my balls. God, I was fucking screaming. My mind on fire.

And then.

One of his fingers dug deeper, going further behind my balls. My entire body convulsed, and I barked out words so blasphemous that somewhere up in Heaven, Jesus wept. Jeremy pulled back slightly, and gave me a wicked look. "You like that?" He said, as he shot another finger back there, into my hairy buttcrack.

"Oh FUUUUCK!" I belted out. He run another finger, and my whole body shook again, like I had been hit with lighting.

He stuck his finger in his mouth, locked me with a terrible glare, and snarled out, "Well what about THIS?"

And Jeremy, God bless him, rammed his slicked-up finger right into my bunghole.

The sound I made was like an entire pack of werewolves howling at the moon. My body lifted off the bed as I shook wildly, my hands tearing at as brand-new sheets. No one had ever touched me there. My wife thought my hairy ass might be cute and all, but it was "dirty" and wanted nothing to do with it. Hell, I never thought of it as anything but a one-way garbage chute. I was floored by the sensation. This was next level. Life-changing. THIS WAS INCREDIBLE.

Oh God, the next few minutes were a blur, as my best friend finger fucked me while sucking my dick so hard he about tore it off. I flailed wildly, trying to grab his head and shoulders, but unable to get a grip from all the sweat. I was out of my mind. Desperate. My body flooded with sensations I couldn't comprehend. Bucking desperately against him as he rammed another, and another finger inside me. Fire. Fire and passion.

But that was nothing compared to what was to come.

I saw Jeremy pull off my dick and stand up. We were both panting like we had run a marathon. He looked at me in naked hunger. Our eyes burrowing, burrowing...

He must have seen what he wanted to.

He violently spat into his hand.

Oh fuck. He wasn't... was he? Oh fuck. My whole body tensed, but fucking shivered. There was no way he was going to... I couldn't let him... Oh fuck...

Yes. He smeared his phlegm roughly on his dick, and before I could utter a word of protest he leaned forward. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. I could feel his hard cock against my hole. Fuck. There was no way. This was the ultimate betrayal of the guy code. He couldn't...

But I was reaching out to him. He had to. I fucking needed this, whatever my brain was saying. Trying to push my ass toward him. Trying.

Damn. No movement.

He grabbed my right leg and hauled me up and forward. My butt open and exposed. My foot resting on his hairy chest. He spat again, and tried to slick himself more. He leaned in. I pushed forward. He found my hole and pushed. And pushed. And...

HOLY FUCK.

Pain ripped through me. Fucking pain like I had never felt. My back arched and my teeth bit down on my strangled scream. Jeremy pulled back. I relaxed. He tried again. PAIN. But not quite so bad. I was panting. Loud. "Shit!" he snarled in frustration. About to pull back...

"NO!" I heard myself bark at him. "No. Just... give me... a second. You're fucking... HUGE... man..."

He broke out into a half-smile again. He didn't move his hips, but reached down and ran his beefy hand across my abs. Slowly working down to my deflated cock. Jerking me again, getting my juices flowing, taking my mind off...

And then, he got a particularly wicked smirk on his face. To my astonishment, he started rubbing my foot, still braced tightly against his chest. I relaxed. His hand felt good against my toes. Jeremy instinctively knew my body better than any woman I had ever been with. He rubbed, and rubbed, and I let loose an appreciative growl.

Then—Oh! My! God!—he raised my foot to his mouth. I breathed in a shocked breath of astonishment... and he fucking stuck out his tongue and fucking licked my foot, from heel to my big toe. I let loose a shuddering, baying cry.

Holy fuck, the man sucking started sucking on my foot. The west slickness of his tongue. He roughness of his beard on my skin sent arcs of electricity up my spine. I arched my back so hard I about lifted off the bed. His tongue, swirls of hot spit between my toes. Then sucking my big toe like it was my cock.

And then I felt it. My body unclenched, and Jeremy's steel girder of a dick opened my ass up and slid inside me. I gasped. Too overcome with the new sensations to say a word. Shuddering at the feel of it.

Until... he hit something inside me. And all Hell broke loose. Fire, roaring fire filled my body. Fire and light like I had never felt before. It was like getting flipped off a surfboard and being pounded by the surf. Pulled in every direction at once, unable to breathe, and then dragged across the sand into another swirl of water. I roared louder than a battalion of Zulu Warriors on the charge. "THERE! THERE! FUCKING THERE!!!"

My whole body convulsed, and my entire being focused on Jeremy's dick inside me. From my awkward position, I grabbed desperately at him, trying to pull him in deeper. Needing him like I have never needed anything in my life. The fire was filling me. Pain mixing with raw fire. Consuming me from the inside. Fire I had never felt before. I needed it. Jeremy responded, driving his dick deeper, deeper, fucking deeper. Finally, I could feel the wiry scratch of his pubes against my hole. I felt fuller than I ever had before. It was like nothing I had experienced in my entire life. I realized I was screaming words I could barely understand myself, but finally came into focus as "FUCKMEFUCKMEFUCKME!!"

Jeremy pulled out, then rammed me hard, driving himself to the hilt. I roared. He repeated, and I instinctively squeezed down hard on his cock, as hard as I could. His roars nearly drowned out mine. He slammed into me, and again, and again. Jacking me in time with his thrusts. Torquing, twisting as he went, and I could feel every vein in his fat dick as he ripped through me. God... it felt like was like I was cumming. But the feeling just kept building.

Finally, Jeremy had enough and picked up the pace. Slamming into me. Hard and fast. My mind turned inside out. There was only the fire. The ROARING FIRE. FIRE...

And inside my head I could hear what sounded like a tornado. Roaring. Destroying everything. Raw power. As raw as the connection between Jeremey and me. Louder. Louder. My whole body started shuddering. Louder. Fire. LOUDER. FIRE.

And without warning, I shot out the biggest load of my entire life. A firehouse of cum, splashing everywhere. Every muscle in my body flexing at once. I screamed. Louder than I thought possible. My throat raw from the violence of it all.

As I blew, my ass clamped down hard. Jeremy threw his head back and bellowed loud enough to shatter the windows. His thrusts went wild, but still he pounded. Exploding. Seven, eight, ten volleys deep inside me. Filling my guts with his cum.

Oh My God. My mind couldn't comprehend it. Not at that moment... maybe not ever. The entire world I knew as a man had just been completely, utterly shattered, and I was standing there taking my first glimpse of an entirely new one. With Jeremy right there with me. He didn't stop thrusting into me, and I wasn't about to try and stop him. I never wanted him to stop. Never.

I had never felt so alive in my entire life.


All of us enjoy the stories here, so please, support Nifty. Like any other business, it takes resources to keep it running.

Nifty appreciates your support, and so do I!

Next: Chapter 2


Rate this story

Liked this story?

Nifty is entirely volunteer-run and relies on people like you to keep the site running. Please support the Nifty Archive and keep this content available to all!

Donate to The Nifty Archive
Nifty

© 1992, 2024 Nifty Archive. All rights reserved

The Archive

About NiftyLinks❤️Donate