This is an erotic story about man-to-man sexual activities. If you are offended by such material, too young to read such, or it is illegal in your community, stop here and find something that won't get you in trouble. Otherwise, please enjoy! If you do, please drop me a note at mj_mclean2001@yahoo.com
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FIGURING IT OUT
By M.J. McLean
It was more of a cottage, really, than a house -- one bedroom, a cozy living room, a bright eat-in kitchen, a tidy little yard -- but to me it was paradise. That's because it was mine, at least as long as the landlord cared to rent it to me.
I'd waited so long to get my own place and this fall, I finally matched my meager college student budget with this little cottage, a gem I found with the help of a co-worker.
Now maybe I could figure out what my life was supposed to be about. I was two years back from a botched Mormon church mission and in that time, I'd come out for real, to myself first -- even though I knew I was gay even before I donned my white shirts and ties -- then tentatively to a few close friends. I lost my virginity in a somewhat awkward coupling with a guy in high school who moved away a month later (not my fault, I swear) and I fooled around with my mission companion, who went home early (again, not my fault). I had experimented further with other guys in college (OK, two guys, one at a time), but with an apartment full of straight roommates, my options were limited.
I needed my own place.
Which is why the call from my friend Chris so quickly dampened my spirits. Chris was about to get married. He'd planned to move into the house he was building -- how a newly minted college grad could afford a new house, I could only guess and the guess involved his parents' money -- but summer rains had slowed construction and, well ...
"I'm homeless, guy, no place to go. Sara's parents would freak if I moved in with her before the wedding and so I was wondering, since you're living alone now ... "
"You want to live with me," I said.
"It's only for a couple of months, if that long," he replied. How he managed to convey his brown puppy dog eyes over the phone, I still don't know, but he did.
"I only have one bedroom, so you'd have to bunk on the couch," I said, secretly hoping that would disuade him.
"I can do better than that," he shot back. "I have a nice sofa bed I can move in there, give us a little more furniture ... How about it? It'd be a lifesaver. And between work and the construction and Sara, I probably wouldn't even be around much."
I sighed. Not aloud, I'm too nice for that, but inside, I sighed. My freedom. My cottage. My bachelor pad. I was never going to get laid again! On the other hand, Chris was one of my closest friends. We were both Mormons (he still faithful, me not so much) in a town where there were few and we had a lot of shared experiences, including the church mission. I came out to him before anyone else and he shrugged it off, telling it me it didn't matter, and it hadn't. In fact, he'd become one of my most ardent supporters as I came out to others.
He was also really cute. Damn, did I think that? I wasn't supposed to. He was straight and my close friend and I'd naively sworn I'd never do a straight guy or a friend. On the other hand, living in such close quarters, there'd undoubtedly be a lot of incidental nudity -- I'd never seen Chris in the buff before -- and maybe that could make up for the other nudity I wouldn't be getting.
"Of course you can stay," I said. "I'm glad to help."
We made plans for Chris to move his clothes, a few other essentials and the sofa bed to the little cottage. I hoped that maybe, just maybe, I could squeeze in one last, um ... squeeze before I lost my privacy again, but I had to settle for a few leisurely sessions with my right hand.
We made a nice dinner his first night as my roomie and sat around talking until after 1 in the morning. I was a little surprised when he admitted how nervous he was about his impending wedding. I'd never known Chris to be anything but confident and deliberate about what he did. I wrote it off to jitters and announced that I needed to get to bed.
I brushed my teeth, washed my face and, without really thinking, stripped to my boxer shorts while Chris took his turn in the bathroom. I was turning down my bed when I heard him gasp behind me.
"Whoa, those aren't standard issue skivvies, dude! When did you stop wearing the Gs?"
I turned around, surprised. Chris stood there in what I assumed were his nightclothes: his mesh garment top and sweats, under which I assumed he wore the garment bottoms.
"I dunno, not long after I got home," I replied, my face just a little red. I'd shed my Mormon underwear – garments or Gs among the faithful – for good not long after my first sexual experience, figuring that I was headed down a path where I didn't need them. I'd turned into a typical underwear queen since then, filling two drawers.
Chris laughed, shaking his head. "Guess I hadn't thought about it. Must be nice."
We said our goodnights and went to bed. I didn't see him the next day -- he left early for work and stumbled home after I'd turned in, but the next evening, he came home early. He seemed quiet. When I asked if everything was OK, he mumbled something about Sara and the wedding preparations and I let it go.
The next day was Saturday. We both slept in. I was reading in bed, when Chris walked in to the bathroom. He showered and walked out with a towel wrapped around him, which was unusual; he usually came out in his Gs. I wasn't getting as much nudity as I'd hoped.
"Dude, if I ask you a weird question, will you promise not to get all upset or anything?" he said quickly, as if he was afraid he would lose his nerve if he paused.
"Shoot," I said.
"Well, uh, I've been thinking ... it's just that ... well, I've been kinda wondering since the other night and, well ... canItryapairofyourunderwearforaday?" He blushed, but I figured out what he said and, before he could escape, replied, "um, yeah, sure."
"I just wanted to see what it felt like again. It's been a while and once I get married, well, you know ..."
OK, so it was a little odd, but underwear is a big thing for Mormons, so who knew.
"Top drawer," I said, trying to supress my smile.
Chris opened the drawer and pulled out a pair of striped boxer shorts. He looked at them, then shrugged with a sheepish smile. He dropped his towel and I got a glimpse of nice thatch of hair and a cock that looked healthy even soft. I tried not to stare, but damn!
He shifted a little and smiled. "Nice," he said. "Too bad you don't have some briefs -- that's what I think I miss."
This time I smiled. "Second drawer," I said.
He stared at me for a second -- "Boy, you don't mess around, do you?" -- then turned around and fished out a pair of black briefs. He dropped the boxer shorts. This time, I got a view of his ass, which was tighter and rounder than his usual khakis ever hinted. He pulled the briefs up and left the room quickly.
I listened to him dress. He called out that he was heading up to the house and would probably be there all day, supervising the plumber or something. When I heard his car pull away, I pushed the covers back and shucked off my shorts.
That little show -- not to mention the thought of Chris in my underwear -- had given me such a hard-on. I stretched out on the bed and closed my eyes, running one hand across my chest while the other one stroked my cock. I found myself doing what I'd tried to avoid for so long -- fantasizing about my straight friend -- but I couldn't help it. I imagined Chris coming home and stripping down to his underwear -- my underwear! -- before coming into my room.
"Guess you'll want these back," my fantasy Chris said with a leer. He put his thumbs in the waistband and slowly pushed the shorts down, freeing his cock, which was growing harder. I watched him stroke himself, staring straight at me as I stripped and stroked. I imagined him walking over to the bed and sitting next to me.
We were almost the same height and weight, I knew that. His brown hair and brown eyes contrasted with my blonde and blue. He was better defined than I was -- I could see his stomach muscles ripple in my mind as he stroked -- but our cocks looked about the same length.
"Those shorts must have some special power," my fantasy Chris said as he reached down and grabbed my cock. I reached over for his and we stroked together. He leaned down and planted a kiss on my lips, sliding his body into bed with me. I imagined us kissing deeply. our arms finding each others' bodies, our legs twisting together, our hard cocks bumping, grinding.
"I want you to suck me, I want to know what it feels like," I imagined Chris saying. I kissed him again and then ran my tongue over his chin, tracing a line down his throat, toward his chest. I paused and licked his nipples briefly. In my mind, he shuddered. I continued licking down his stomach, until I reached his cock. It was rock hard, at least seven inches, I imagined, dripping with precum.
I took it into my mouth and let it slide on my tongue, wrapping my lips around it. I began to suck and he began to move his hips. I grasped his ass and helped him fuck my face. He grabbed my head and groaned as I sucked harder.
"I'm gonna come any minute," my fantasy Chris whispered. "I wanna see you come too."
I pulled my mouth away and we sat up next to each other. I imagined him grabbing my cock as I took his and we stroked, staring into each others' eyes. "Yeah," he growled, "it's time." I felt his cock tighten and then begin to shoot streams of come, just as mine did the same.
And then I collapsed back on my bed, alone, exahausted, sticky with come. So much for that rule. Have to figure that one out later.
Chris didn't mention the underwear that night, but two days alter, I found the plastic wrapping for three pairs of mixed color Fruit of the Looms. I grinned, but also wondered what was going on.
For the next week or two, Chris spent most of his time either at work or at the house, but I noticed a change in him when he was home. One night, he admitted he'd been sneaking a beer now and then and even a shot or two -- I knew he'd been a bit of a drinker before his mission, but didn't know he'd started again.
"Um... " I began. "Chris is there anything you want to talk about?"
Chris sat silently for about five minutes. He shook his head, got up, then sat down again.
"Dude, I don't know if I love her. Sara. I don't know if this is right. We're fighting way too much. Way too much."
"Is that why you've had a few drinks?" I ventured.
"Mostly. I don't know. We're fighting a lot."
"About what?" I asked.
"Everything. She was furious when she found out I'd had a beer, said we'd have to repent and maybe even postpone the wedding. I told her that was silly, it was just a beer, but that night, I had two more cuz I was so pissed at her."
He sat for a minute.
"Then a few nights ago, she surprised me up at the house. I'd been working pretty hard and I was hot and I'd taken my shirt off and ... and I wasn't wearing my Gs. I kinda don't wear them all the time now. Figure I may as well enjoy the freedom while I can, right?" He laughed nervously.
"She asked me where my top was and I was pissed at her attitude and said it was with the bottoms back at the house and a showed her the waistband of my briefs and she flew into it. Bawling about how I didn't respect the church, the temple, her, whatever. Said maybe we couldn't get married. I told her to relax, that I'd wear the Gs once we were married, but she wasn't having any of it."
Chris walked over to the fridge. "I thought I saw this in here," he said, pulling a bottle of gin out of the freezer. I was experimenting, though not often and not with much enjoyment yet. "You want some? I could use some."
He didn't wait for me to answer, just poured two shots and topped it off with the tonic water he found in the lower compartment. He handed me mine and sat down next to me on the sofa.
"I don't know if I should tell you the rest," he said slowly.
I looked at him, worried about what he meant. "It's up to you, but Chris, you're my friend and nothing you say is going to change that. Besides," I said with a chuckle, "I think I've set the standard for shockers, dontcha think?"
He smiled. "Yeah, that was a big one," he said. He paused. "What's it like? How did you know? Was it tough to like, you know, try something to see if you were, you know, gay?" Chris had not taken a breath the whole time and I sat stunned for a moment.
Finally, I said, "OK. Um. Well. If you're asking what I think, I just knew. It was sort of in there. I fought it for a while and, well, I told you all this when I came out... "
"Yeah, I know, that I know. But what's it like? I mean, you know, being with a guy? Is it weird? What do you do?" He gulped down the rest of of drink and shifted uncomfortably.
"You know what we do, I think, it's kinda not too complicated," I said. "As for what it's like ... well, I haven't had a lot of experience, but it's just right. I feel good when I'm with a guy. Really good..."
Chris turned to me suddenly. "Listen, dude, promise you won't get all freaked out, but .. well... I wanna know what it's like, for real. I want to, you know, do something with you. I want to see what it's like, if it's right for me."
I was floored. I didn't expect this at all and I was about to launch into my "never gonna have sex with straight guys or friends" speech when I saw the mixture of fear and confusion in my friend's eyes, which were now filling with tears. I realized what it was taking for him to say this.
"Chris," I began. "If you really think you might be ..."
"I don't know if I am and I don't know if that's what this means, but I need to know before I get married, I just need to know," he said, a little more confident.
"I don't want to ruin our friendship," I said.
"It won't, I promise," he replied. "Just think of it as getting really close with one of your best friends. It's us sharing something no one else can. Just this one time. I have to figure it out."
I sat for two or three minutes. He'd obviously thought about this a lot, but it was still a mistake, I was certain. I loved Chris as a friend and the last thing I wanted to do was ...
I barely saw his hand as Chris reached for my face and pulled it toward his. He kissed me, hard and deep, catching me off guard. I kissed back and finally he pulled away a little.
"Whoa," he said.
"Whoa," I replied.
We sat again, and then fell into each other's arms. If this was a mistake, it sure didn't feel like one at that moment.
I felt his tongue push against my lips and I let it in my mouth. I pulled him closer to me and ran my hands through his hair. I felt his arms encircle me, his fingers digging into my back. I squirmed and writhed as he found a pleasure spot on my spine. I guess I thought I'd be taking the lead, but suddenly, Chris reached down and pulled my shirt up and off.
"Do I lick your nipples?" he asked quietly.
"If you like," I said. "I like it."
So he said. He was a little awkward and he bit a little, but he sucked a little on each nipple. I reached down and helped him pull his shirt off. I carressed his chest, tracing his muscles lightly with my fingers. I licked his nipples a little and he giggled.
"Maybe we should go in the bedroom?" he asked.
I took him by the hand and led him back. We stopped by the bed and I embraced him, pulling his bare chest to mine, planting my lips back on his. As we kissed, I began to grind my hips into his, which surprised him, I think.
"Wow, dude, is that you down there?" he said. I looked down -- yeah, I was already hard and the sweats I'd been wearing did nothing to hide it.
"Let's see," I said slyly. I pushed my sweats down and then dropped my boxer shorts. I was naked in front of one of my best friends, who looked little shocked, I think. My cock was rigid and I stroked it a little as I kicked my clothes away.
"You wanna touch it?" I said huskily.
He didn't hesitate. I wrapped his hand around it, then pulled it away, then grabbed it again and began to stroke.
"Wow," he said, grinning. "This feels ... well, different." He stroked a little more and smiled at me. I looked down at his khakis. Not all the way hard, I guessed, but there was something there.
"Last chance to blame this on me," I said as I reached for his belt. I unbuckled it, unbuttoned and and unzipped the pants and, in one motion, pushed them and his black briefs to the floor.
"Not exactly standard issue underwear there, buddy," I said, but stopped as I saw his cock. It was definitely growing harder and it was bigger than I had imagined. He was an impressive "shower" but a better "grower."
He stood almost shly, but let me reach in and stoke his cock as it grew harder. I pulled him closer and put his cock next to mine, stroking them both as I kissed him again.
"Tell me if you want to stop or if I'm going too far," I said, hoping he wouldn't. He said nothing. His cock was fully hard now. I slowly sank to my knees. I looked up at him. He nodded. I took his cock with my right hand and pulled it to my mouth. I swirled my tongue around the head and heard Chris moan. I eased his cock into my mouth, as far as I could, and began to suck.
His hips bucked a little, not as smoothly as my fantasy, but he knew what to do, more or less. I sucked slowly, fondling his balls with one hand, kneading his ass with the other. I felt him flinch a little when I reached his ass and I decided not to push things.
His hard cock filled my mouth as I sucked. Finally, I stood up and guided him to the bed. He sat down and I sat next to him. We kissed and I felt him tenatively take my cock in his hand. He stroked for a minute and squeezed my nipples.
I leaned back against the pillows and stretched out on the bed.
"C'mere, I want to try something," I said. He looked a little nervous, but I said, "don't worry." I pulled him on top of me and kissed him as I used my legs to pull him close. I thrust my hips against him, feeling our hard cocks together.
"Now you're going to fuck me," I said. I saw the shock in his face and smiled. "Not for real, not for real, don't worry. Just imagine that you are. You're on top, between my legs, now just thrust against me." He looked doubtful, but then determined. He began to thrust his hips against me. I wrapped my legs around his ass and met his thrusts with mine. I grabbed our two cocks and stroked them against each other.
He thrust faster and I stroked in rhythm. Finally, with no warning at all, he stopped, threw his head back and let out a muffled yell. His cock began to shoot cum all over me. I stroked my cock a few more times and found myself wracked in an orgasm more intense than I'd ever felt with someone else. I was covered with cum.
Chris rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. "Wow," he said at last. "I can't believe I did it. I wasn't sure I had the nerve. But I needed to try, to figure it out."
"Did you?" I asked. "Figure it out."
"I figured out a few things, maybe not what I thought. I know one thing: You're still my friend and I still love you. I... um ... I ... dude, don't freak out, but I don't think I want to do this again."
I didn't think we would, but I felt disappointed for a minute.
"That's because I don't think I'm gay. I mean, this was hot and I could do this and maybe have some fun, but it was fun. I don't think I'd ever feel what you do."
He pushed up on one elbow, leaned over and kissed me deeply one more time. "I'm gonna hop in the shower and hit the hay. Gotta finish a few things on the house tomorrow. Think it's gonna be ready next week."
I listened to him shower and I did the same later. He moved out a week later. We had a big last-night dinner and he pulled out a bottle of champagne at the end. We toasted each other and then he told me he had news.
"Sara and I called it off. It wasn't going to work. It wasn't right. I figured it out after ... after that night."
I must have looked horrified because he quickly said, "No, dude, it wasn't that, it wasn't what we did. That was fun -- " as if to punctuate the point, he reached over and tweaked my right nipple -- "but it wasn't why we broke it off. It just wasn't right. I think I have other things to figure out and I couldn't do it with her. I think I need some distance from her and maybe from the church too."
We were quiet for a minute, then finished the bottle, laughing as we talked into the night.
About a year later, Chris called. He was getting married and wanted me to be his best man. Of course, I accepted and helped him prepare for his wedding. Connie, his bride-to-be, was lovely and Chris was happy.
The night before the wedding, I came home to find a package leaning against my front door. There was a card attached. It was from Chris.
"Thanks for a night I'll never forget and for helping me figure things out. I think these are yours."
I couldn't figure out what it all meant. I tore open the paper and out fell ... a pair -- my pair, I guessed -- of black briefs.