Garrett's Destruction: I
LENGTH: 1,481 words
Author's Note: This is a very early draft of an erotic ebook. The finished ebook as well as drafts of future chapters are now available at www.conormonaghan.com. The author would love to hear your feedback on the story at conor.monaghan.writing@gmail.com
Disclaimer: This story was written for the enjoyment of readers. It should not be reposted or reproduced without the writer's consent.
Warning: This story contains sexual acts between young adult males and/or females. If you do not enjoy this type of material, or if it is illegal in your country or place of residence, please stop reading immediately. This story is not in any way an accurate depiction of reality, and any relations to real persons or acts are unintentional. This story is fiction.
I
Have you ever had a crush on a straight guy? Like one of those crushes on a guy that you just happen to spend a lot of time around, a masculine dude who is certainly straight and as a result there is no chance of anything developing between the two of you. Because he likes pussy. Like one of those crushes that is more of an obsession. Where you find yourself staring at the profile of his face when he's not paying attention. Where you develop mental pictures of his crotch anytime you see the outline of what might constitute a bulge. Where you stare at his butt when he is walking in front of you or go home and jerk off thinking about that ephemeral glimpse you caught earlier in the day of his underwear when his shirt dragged up above his hips.
That's the kind of crush that I had. The straight guy happened to be one of my best friends. His name was Garrett. I had known him pretty much my entire life. We started playing soccer together when we were about six years old, and when we were 18 we were still playing together. Well, we were up until senior year. I decided to quit the team senior year. He still played, though.
Our relationship was cyclical. We had always been good friends, but how close we were seemed to vary over time for no real reason in particular. But it was the kind of friendship where, when you do hang out, months without contact are forgotten instantly and things just click.
He was 75% of your stereotypical "man." He loves hanging out with the dudes. He fits right in with any group of guys, the type of guy who doesn't mind talking about girls and pussy and sex or farting in front of the guys. He loves sports--soccer, of course, but also track and disc golf. He is a food disposal. He is one of those lean guys with an ultra high metabolism. It isn't strange to see him run to the bathroom to take two or three dumps a day.
When I say he was 75% of your stereotypical man, it's because he was all jock except for the jock body. Don't get me wrong, he was fit: he had the six pack and toned arms and legs, but he really was super lean. And pretty short. He was about 5'8'', probably 130 pounds. He was also kind of brainy, but not in a nerdy way, more like in an analytical sort of way. He had brown hair, not buzz-cut short, but also not long. Green eyes. His face had some unique Eastern European traits.
He used to be a fuckboy, insomuch as any horny teenage boy is a fuckboy, at least in the sense that he would pursue women and juggle them at the same time when he could manage it. But he was the type who didn't get tons of pussy, just some occasional action. The type who is actually reasonably sensitive and caring for his girlfriends. He was just a genuinely good guy.
He had been dating a girl named Sara for over a year. He claimed the relationship was "serious", and admittedly, whatever hyper-masculine douche-y tendencies that he once had possessed were neutered with the progression of the relationship. He told me that he wanted to marry her after graduating college. I believed him. They were just right for one another.
When I say that I had a crush on him, I am probably using the wrong word. I didn't dream about kissing him or cuddling him at night or spending the rest of my life with him. I wasn't jealous of his interactions with other guys or his relationship with Sara. It was more like lust.
I could not stop thinking about his body when I was around him. I would try to mentally undress him, but I could never quite settle on what his naked body must look like. I would memorize the pieces I could see: his skinny toned legs coated in almost invisible brown hairs, his arms, his chest, which I admired at the pool or during the occasional shirtless soccer match. It was strange, because I had seen his body in mixed stages of undress for years when we played soccer together. We would change in the locker room side-by-side. He would stand right next to me. There he was, with his shirt off, with nothing but underwear on. I had every chance to peek at his body while we were changing. In the midst of my obsession, I craved even the most casual glance at his flaccid penis or his bare ass, but during all those times I might have claimed just that, I never permitted myself to take a look, because I was convinced that I didn't care to see it. I was interested in naked girls. I hadn't come to terms with the fact that I liked men.
I had discovered a box of Magnum condoms in his drawer one time just before he started dating Sara. I think that's when the obsession started. He blushed a little bit when he realized I had seen them and I laughed looking at his stubbled cheeks, but then the cockiest grin materialized on his face. Like he was happy that someone knew his secret. It was one thing to brag about your penis in front of the guys, but to have one of the guys discover that the bragging was truth was something else. Except even then I doubted that he actually needed the Magnums.
Those types of unintentionally intimate moments were what I dreamt about that last year of school. Now that the casual opportunities to see him undressed had passed and I would never see his package in its glory. Instead, when I jerked off, I resorted to what I did have stored in my mental camera roll of Garrett: that cocky grin; memories of him in a bathing suit at the pool; shirtless when playing soccer with the guys; or a glimpse of Hanes underwear when he jumped to catch a disc.
In other words, not much.
I would fantasize about what his underwear looked like when they weren't covered by his shorts. I knew he was a boxer briefs guy. I would imagine pulling down his shorts in class and leaning over and licking his bulge through the cotton. I would imagine his penis bulging in his underwear. I would imagine what his naked body looked like and what his penis tasted like and what his underwear might smell like. I would imagine riding his hard cock.
I also spent a lot of time browsing tumblr. I mostly used it to look at gay porn. I had recently come upon a page called REDACTED. The owner seemed to flirt with straight guys and post their nudes on the page. She/he/it would "expose" them. I ran across the page randomly, and though the concept seemed mildly fucked up, I couldn't stop looking. I checked every day for updates.
REDACTED took requests. You could go to the page and submit a social media link or phone number, and you might just wake up one day later to see a post of your desired boy and his penis. There were dozens of updates. Ex-husbands who had fucked over their wives stroking their little chubby dicks, muscle hunks showing off in public at the gym, barely legal kids in their last year of high school slapping their thick meat and bragging about how good they were in bed. It was always a straight guy who enjoyed showing off. I assume that they believed that they were talking to a hot chick. And maybe they were. Or maybe they were talking to a faggot who just wanted the world to see them naked. At any rate, it always seemed to end with the guy's penis plastered over the Internet. Or more. The best posts featured guys who were willing to do more than just show their penis, guys who were desperate or horny enough to submit to whatever a hot girl/boy/person told them to do. A twenty-something young professional who sent his first picture over of him in suit with that intrinsic arrogance, expecting the person on the other side to submit, yet in the end it was him submitting, taking a full body nude of his hard cock and face before turning around and spreading his ass cheeks to play with his hole all because some anonymous girl was into it. And then his pictures were on the Internet.
Maybe the guy would have even liked it if he had known. Maybe he wanted it all along. But who knows.
After a few weeks, I requested Garrett. I'm a shitty friend.