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He didn't stop when I called out his name.
"Robert!"
I felt almost betrayed, as though he'd violated the rules of the game. We never used each other's full name; at least almost never, so when we did the other guy knew we were extremely serious. Never before had I used his full name and not received a sympathetic response.
Although, when I thought about it, I started to come to the conclusion that it was I who had violated the rules of the game. Ever since coming out to Rob about my homosexuality things had changed, for better or worse. Although, at that particular moment, I was starting to think it was most definitely for the worse. When I came out to Rob it caused some sort of confusion within him- maybe it was always there, maybe not; it was impossible for me to know that, despite my oft repeated statement that `we always told each other everything'. Clearly there were some things we did not tell each other- I hadn't told him that I was gay for fifteen years, and he'd felt betrayed and lied to, understandably so. He'd swallowed that pill, he'd forgiven me; we'd tried to forge a new friendship going forward, but my admission had caused some sort of sexual confusion within him because he had repeatedly initiated sexual activity with me. That first night, when I had told him, he kissed me in the barn and we almost had sex, but he'd gotten scared and stopped. Then, last night, the night before the day I'm now relating to you, we had jerked off in front of one another; and now, not even 20 minutes ago, he had fucked me.
After that, it was I who had violated the rules of the game. I had taken the initiative for the first time- I'd kissed him and pushed him down onto his knees. He had willingly sucked my dick but when I came into his mouth he affected disgust and left me, literally ran from me. Really, I had made a mistake. It was always he who made the first move because he was testing and exploring his own sexuality. When I made the first move I broke some fundamental law about the dynamic between us.
Or, perhaps, it was the fact that he identified himself as straight and getting on his knees and sucking dick, much less having me cum in his mouth (without warning I might add- definitely not cool on my part) was much less justifiable than fucking a guy. Perhaps when he's fucking a guy he can justify it to himself, but sucking dick is the job of the "passive". He had always seen himself as a masculine guy, a country dude, a man. A straight man. I'd just ruined things, I'd violated the rules of the game, and now even calling his full name out wasn't going to cause him to rethink his reaction. I was completely and totally fucked; worse still, I'd known from the beginning, or since that morning anyway, that sex would ruin a friendship, and I hadn't wanted that to happen to us. I'd made a conscious decision not to do anything with him because I wanted to stay friends with him (so very desperately- I had no one but him). All the other times it was he who initiated sexual activity, I couldn't help that. I'd made the mistake when I tried to do the same with him.
When I finally got to the tent he was packing all of his stuff up. I couldn't speak for a moment, my heart leapt up into my throat. The idea that Rob would leave me, really, really leave me was terrifying. I did not want to be alone. When I got my voice back, I said, weakly,
"So you're just going to leave me here?"
Rob continued to pack, completely ignoring my presence. I tried, once again.
"Robert, please."
He stopped, looking at me. I felt relief at the fact that the name trick had worked this time, although I also felt slightly manipulative. I felt truly terrible, actually.
"Are you going to leave me here? Robert." His name tacked on, not even sounding right in the sentence. Rob sighed. He sat down, placing his stuff on the bed. He was quiet for a moment, scratching his lip.
"No. No, I guess not."
More silence. Then, I apologized.
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine." Was his reply. It most certainly wasn't.
"No, really, I'm sorry."
He looked at me.
"For what?" he asked. I didn't really know how to answer.
"Well, everything really. And especially for, you know, that last thing. And for the whole thing, for... just for everything."
I was terrified of making the abstract concrete, despite the fact that it had been very, very real just some minutes ago. Robert sighed again, placing his head in his hands.
"Kenneth." He said, using my real name, but saying nothing after that; I was scared of what he was going to say next, but I stayed silent. Then,
"Kenneth, I am sorry. I can't do this anymore. I just can't."
"Do what?" I asked, terrified by what he could mean.
"Any of it."
His voice cracked. I realized that he was crying, or about to. I wanted to put my hand around his shoulder but I was scared to touch him, which is a very pathetic and sad thing to feel about your own best friend.
"You're my best friend, Robert, I... I didn't want anything to change. I wanted us to stay best friends. I really only have you. Maybe I'm selfish, but I don't want you to stop being my best friend, I really wanted everything to just stay the way it was, stay normal."
Rob turned away from me- he may have been silently crying but I couldn't tell. After a little while, right when I was about to say something else, he responded to me, turning, but not to face me; rather in profile to the way I was looking at him.
"No. No, you're not selfish. I am."
He wiped underneath his eyes. Now I was sure he had been crying but I had no idea what I could do about it. I felt incredibly helpless and sad.
"I am... I'm selfish." He continued, "I shouldn't have done any of that. I know how you feel. Honestly, I knew you were gay before you told me. Or, at least I thought you were bi."
I was extremely shocked, I had no idea what to say. It didn't make any sense to me, none at all. How could he have realized and things still play out the way they did?
He turned to face me. His hands were clasped while his arms were laid across his knees; he looked at me but avoided looking me in the eye for too long.
"I could tell that you liked me, at least a little. For two or three years before you came out to me. But I thought you were bi because of all the stuff you told me about fucking girls. So I actually was upset when you told me you were gay. I felt lied to, and it really hurt me because... we tell each other everything, right? But we don't. I could see the way you looked at me sometimes. Well, I didn't mind. I guessed it meant you'd never leave me. I don't really have anyone else either, I know I have a family and stuff but... well, it's not really the same as a friend and you're the only friend I've got. But when you told me, I don't know. I just got this idea. It's not like it was even something I'd thought about before. I just wanted to try it, I knew you were gay and I wanted to try it. But I'm not gay, I'm really not gay. I just... I wanted to see. But every time I tried... something happened, or I felt bad about it. I felt like l was using you. I am selfish. So, I'm sorry."
I couldn't find the words. I was genuinely the most surprised I'd ever been in my life. I just stared at him in amazement.
"I used you to see what it was like. I'm not gay, I hated myself every time. Really hated myself. I hate myself."
"You shouldn't hate yourself. Especially not for that." I responded, somehow the statement just spilling out of me. "Like... I don't know what to say. I didn't feel used, I felt the opposite. I felt like I was using you. I felt really bad about it, like I was manipulating you. And you definitely shouldn't feel bad about doing... stuff with another guy. It's normal to at least try, just to see what it's like, to explore that. And it doesn't mean you aren't straight." I added at the end, not letting my uncertainty color the tone of my voice. "I just want to be friends still. That's all I want. Nothing else." I reaffirmed. Rob rubbed his brow.
"We are. I don't know why you think we wouldn't be."
"I just mean... look at us now."
He laughed, replying
"You have a point."
"Yeah, I just don't want things to be complicated. Sex makes things complicated. We're best friends. I don't really care about anything else, so long as we're friends. Don't feel bad for using me, but if that's going to ruin our friendship or make you hate yourself then I'd rather you not because what's more important is... being your friend."
Rob ran both of his hands through his hair and looked away. When he looked back at me he had the strangest look on his face.
"I don't know why. Why do you think that's so important?"
"What? Why wouldn't I?"
I was bewildered, an almost constant at this point in the conversation.
"What I mean is, do you think it's important to be my friend because you actually want to be friends with me? Or because you don't want to be alone?"
Now, I was even more confused. Could Robert really think that I only cared about our friendship because I was scared of being alone? I put my hand on his knee despite my fears. He didn't flinch, or move at all, other than to move his arm off of his knee. He looked at me. His hair was messed up. God what an unfortunate time to think he looked cute. I ignored the thought.
"Do you actually think that? Really? That I don't actually care about your friendship and just want someone so I won't be lonely? Why would you think that after all this time?"
Rob put his other hand on the side of his face, looking very embarrassed. What was happening now was extremely atypical. We were very close but didn't talk about our feelings. Sure, we told each other so much about our lives, but didn't talk about deep feelings. We were just regular guys.
"I don't know." He said.
"Robert. I don't want you to hate yourself."
I almost started crying and Rob looked miserable, like he wanted to cry.
"I just..." he trailed off.
"God, I don't want you to hate yourself. Of course I care about you. We've been best friends for years. Besides, you're a genuinely good person. There are a lot of things you've done for me that you didn't have to. You used to pay for my lunch at school all the time. My mom is a shitty parent, she didn't give me money for lunch half the time and you'd pay for my food or get me something from the vending machine. You've let me sleep at your house even when we had to hide it cause you couldn't ask your parents or did and they said no- on the nights when my mom was really bad. You've given me a lot of things. You actually listen to me and remember the things I told you, even years later. You care about my life and actively ask me about it. You're, like, actually a good person. Why the fuck would I not care about you, specifically. I want to be friends with you, not just anyone."
Rob just stared at me. He looked sad. I could see his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed, hard. Then, he kissed me. It was only for a minute, but he kissed me, deeply, then let me go and moved backwards onto his sleeping bag.
He was looking upward and to the left and right, as though he was trying to remember things; remember things he did, things that proved he was a good person and a good friend, perhaps.
"I can't do that again." He said.
I shook my head.
"That's fine, you don't need to, don't have to. Don't feel bad for `using' me but I want to keep our friendship, I want to save it."
"It's not ruined." Was his reply, before he moved back towards me again and pressed me into the side of the tent and downwards onto the ground. "I can't do this." He said again, before kissing me very passionately. As he did so, I could feel that he had an erection through his jeans, rubbing up against me. In response, I got hard too.
I didn't know what to do. I really, really wanted to fuck him again, but I knew it was a bad idea. Hadn't it just fucked things up earlier? Wasn't he saying it made him hate himself? I doubted it was solely due to his thought that he was using me to explore his sexuality, but just for the simple fact that he was having sex with another man; but, I really, really wanted to. I didn't know what to do, but I didn't have to decide. Rob pressed his hand into my pants and started to rub my crotch. He unzipped my jeans and pulled my hard dick out through my underwear. Then, much to my astonishment, he started to suck it, again; this time initiating the blowjob himself. He looked up at me, I gazed down at him, slack-jawed. He kept sucking; it felt incredibly good but I knew I needed to keep in mind that I couldn't cum in his mouth this time.
As it turns out, that didn't matter either, as before I got anywhere near cumming he got up onto his knees and pulled down his pants and boxers in one swift motion. His impressive tool was standing at attention; the insurgent was drooling precum. He clearly wanted to fuck me very badly (for the third time; such is the amazing work ethic of guys in their early 20's) and I had no longer had any scruples regarding that specific activity.
He didn't fuck me though, he moved himself forward, shuffling on his knees, and pressing his wet dick head against my shut lips. I looked up at him; he had a tender look on his face, not at all the same determined and resolute look he had earlier on when he'd fucked me on the mountain. He looked almost... romantic. I pushed the thought from my mind- he'd already admitted that all he was doing was exploring his sexuality; that was it, and nothing more.
I opened my lips, and his erection slid easily in. I was much better at sucking dick than he was, and accommodated the whole thing, although I won't say it was a walk in the park- I most definitely struggled and gagged but I was very intent on making my friend feel as good as possible; the man may as well feel as good as he can now if he was just gonna hate himself afterwards-such was my logic. And so, he got into a rhythm, like before when he fucked me, essentially using my throat the same way that he did my ass. I gagged repeatedly on his huge dick, at one point he looked concerned as tears flowed from my eyes and I gagged violently.
"You alright?" he asked. He genuinely looked worried. I just nodded; I didn't want him to stop, even for a moment- and he didn't. He fucked my throat intensely. Looking up at him, I admired the look of pleasure on his face, the way his lips contorted while he slid in and out of my mouth, the shifting of his shut eyes as he moaned. Finally, after nearly ten minutes of non-stop assault, he took his dick out, drool connecting his bulging head to my lips; I gasped in appreciation of the air around me. Rob was jerking himself off, his eye still closed, as he pushed himself forward into ecstasy.
"I'm about to cum." He said, desperately.
"Cum in my mouth." I said, no less than desperately. My friend opened his eyes.
"You sure?" he asked, seeming so very surprised. I grinned.
"Yeah." From ear to ear.
Looking determined once again, the man shoved his dick straight down into my throat, pumped it two or three times, and shot his load straight down my throat. He had quite a thick and copious load, I feel that I should add (for no particular reason). I swallowed immediately. He looked down at me dumbfounded. I smiled up at him and he grinned back.
"I love you." I said, immediately covering my mouth. I was bewildered as to how I had even said that, I wasn't thinking the statement before saying it out loud.
"I... you're my best friend." Rob said.
He stood up and pulled his pants up, buttoning his jeans. He turned back towards me. I was still a sweaty, half naked mess on the tent floor.
"I mean it." He said. "And I am really glad that you're my best friend and really appreciate that. And I appreciate everything you've ever done for me including... well, that. And including your trying to convince me not to hate myself and telling me how and why you felt that I was a good person and a good friend do you. So, I really, really appreciate that. And I am happy that you're my best friend."
Then, Robert walked out of the tent. I heard him light up a cigarette.