Hello, friend-readers! So Luka has taken the plunge, told his best friend the truth, and now we wait to see the fallout...
A big thank you to everyone who takes the time to email me: feedback is always appreciated at alexp336@gmail.com.
There's a brand new story on my site, www.alexpendragon.com, and it's possibly my longest story ever - and one of the raunchiest. Ass-play, exhibitionism, toys, cute guys, and hookups galore, oh and so much cum, all with that "but I thought I was straight?!" slippery slope I know you love as much as I do. It's called "Seven Days to Squirm" and a beta-reader described it as 'classic alexp336'...
Of course, I still love Nifty too, and donations to keep this fine resource running are always appreciated.
Yours, cheekily, -Alex (aka alexp336) www.alexpendragon.com
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** Xander Shows Me My Prostate - Part 18 **
Dan's staring at me, and the look on his face says he's not quite sure whether I'm bullshitting him - and about to shout "gotcha!" if he shows any sign of believing me - or if I've just made a confession that he never imagined hearing from his best friend's lips. I'm trying not to fidget under the intensity of that stare.
"Okay, stop looking at me and just say something, okay," I say, finally, the nerves making me sound tetchy and impatient. Dan blinks at me a couple of times.
"You hooked up with... him." He gestures at my phone, as though there's a tiny Xander inside rather than just a naked photo of him that got me into all this fucking trouble. Well, naked photos of us both, but even if you can't see my face, my best buddy has seen me undressed enough times to recognize my body.
It's what I've been doing with my body that's making him look at me like I'm from another planet, suddenly.
I shrug, trying for blasé but probably just looking as awkward as I feel inside. Because it's hitting me, now, that while I may not have been freaking out over what Xander and I have been doing - and yes, much to the surprise of the both of us, frankly - there's absolutely no guarantee that Dan is going to take it so... easily.
The idea that I might just have fucked up my closest, longest-lasting friendship in the whole fucking world is making my insides feel like they're melting into acid.
"It's no big deal," I add, and I sound even more sulky and childish to my own ears. As though I've been caught doing something even I know I shouldn't, and the nuances here about what I should be feeling guilty over are too much for my panicking brain to understand.
"Like..." Dan's face looks like he's having about as much trouble processing this as I am, or at least that's what I get from the brief glances that are about as close as I can bring myself to look. "I mean, what did... what did you guys do?"
It's either a long list or one that gets boiled down really quickly into a few, crude-sounding descriptions. And the problem - or at least part of the problem, in an evening which is filling up to the fucking brim with problems right now - is that even as I'm mortified and terrified of Dan's reaction, the thought of what Xander and I have been doing together isn't letting my dick get any softer. That's making me feel even more of a pervert than anything else.
"Just... stuff," I say, hoping he'll leave it at that. That maybe my best friend doesn't actually want to hear a full run-down of the guy-on-guy shit that I've been doing this week.
"Like... you jerked each other off?"
I give him a look. "Come on, dude..."
I meant it as a 'let's not talk about this stuff' dismissal, but Dan apparently takes it as a sign that he's not thinking big enough, here.
"Did he blow you?" I shrug again, at the same time as giving a tiny nod. Not able to hold his eye any more. "Shit... did you blow him?"
Another nod.
I wait for the exclamation of horror, or disgust. But all I hear is Dan's intake of breath, and then - much quieter, more surprised than anything else - his muttering. "Damn, dude."
There are a billion things I want to tell him, even as I also feverishly wish that the conversation would wrap up and we need never talk about any of it again. Problem is, I can't make my mouth open and words emerge, and the rest is all down to my friend's curiosity.
"Are you guys... like..." I glance over at him, unable to help myself, as his question stutters to a premature halt. So I'm looking right at him, and him at me, when he finally gets the sentence out. "Are you... together? Like, dating?"
It's not the query I expected, not where I figured Dan's interest would land. So I just stare back at him for a couple of seconds, brain desperately trying to figure out the easiest way to describe the situation I've somehow found myself in.
"He has a girlfriend," I settle on, eventually. See Dan frown at that. "They have an... arrangement."
I'm hoping he doesn't ask me to explain that arrangement, because I know that he's only going to have questions about Xander and Lucy's relationship that I'm struggling to understand for myself, too. Made all the more complicated by what the two of us had tiptoed around at the coffee shop; the unspoken ultimatum he'd set down, or at least that I'd perceived, at the same time that he all but admitted his feelings for me weren't just the physical ones his girlfriend knew about.
I can almost hear the cogs in Dan's brain churning.
"Are you guys gonna... y'know, fuck?"
It's the question I thought he'd have next - which is almost a relief because at least I can still partially predict the track my best friend's' brain will take - but I can't answer it. Not immediately, anyway, because he's talking about sex as some future thing and of course that's not the case any more.
I guess my silence says enough. "Shit, like, did you already fuck?"
He still sounds more surprised than disgusted. Curious instead of getting about ready to disown me as a friend and storm out. Even so, the nod I finally give him is about as tiny as a gesture can probably be.
Dan's still staring, and I can't read anything from his expression. Even though I know he saw me confirm his question. I'm desperately trying to decipher something, anything, from that blank look, but his emotions, his thoughts, are totally locked down.
"Did he... or did you... or..."
There's no question there, but there doesn't need to be because it's not like either of us is unaware of what he's asking. I close my eyes and decide to just rip off the Band-Aid.
"He fucked me. Today. Like, for the first time, today, I mean." It's as though the words are coming from elsewhere, from a different Luka who's standing across from us in the room. Thinking about it that way makes it easier, somehow. Like it's not me who's potentially messing up the friendship I value the most. "I haven't fucked him yet, but he wants me to. And... I guess I want to, too."
Silence. So thorough, so clean, I can hear the thump of my heart beating as it races in my chest. Competing with the white noise roar between my ears, and the sense that I'm dangling from some precipice by my fingertips. Waiting to see whether Dan will reach down to grab my arm and haul me up, or if he's just going to stamp on my hand instead and watch me fall.
Finally I have to open my eyes, because if he can't give me words then maybe I can read something, anything from his face. Finding him staring back at me, and then Dan tips his head back against the cushions and grunts at the ceiling in what sounds like utter frustration.
"Fuck! I totally thought I was winning with three fingers."
My brain is like mud, slowly churning, my thoughts bogged down and sluggish. It takes me literally seconds to understand what the hell he's referring to. Even then, I can't properly understand the direction all this has suddenly taken.
"What...?"
He sits up, and now he's grinning at me. An expression so familiar, and yet so out of place in the conversation I thought we were having, that I'm openly boggling at him in shock.
"Did he hit the spot in you? Like, I bet he did, right?"
I open and close my mouth a few times, like a fish but stupider.
"I mean... yeah... but..."
Dan grunts again, sounding exasperated. "Fuck, and I bet the cum was amazing, right?"
I need to remind my lungs to breathe before I can respond. "Uh... yeah."
He starts shaking his head, almost in disbelief, but he's still grinning as he does it. That same grin he gives me every time I beat him at some video game, or know the answer on a quiz that he flunked. The 'can't believe you one-upped me' grin, I call it.
"And you weren't gonna fuckin' tell me? Damn, dude, we're supposed to be best buddies here."
There's no stopping it, the snort of laughter that escapes me. The sound apparently surprising Dan as much as it does me, but only for a second, because then he's laughing too.
"I'm meant to just tell you that some guy nailed me in the ass?" I ask him, and that makes Dan laugh even harder.
"Like, am I surprised? Yeah, sure. But I don't fuckin' give a shit, dude. What, like I'm meant to stop being friends with you just because you do shit with guys, too?"
I stop laughing at that, because what he's saying - what it almost sounds like he's joking about - is exactly the thing I was most terrified of just now. Was the possibility that was wrapping my insides with long, ominous tendrils of fear and squeezing; warning me to get ready for a loss that I never saw coming.
I guess Dan sees some of that, somehow, too, because now he's not laughing either.
"You really did, didn't you," he says, sounding surprised. No, not surprised, bemused. "You thought I was gonna be, like, fuck you Luka and walk the hell out of here."
All I can do is shrug, because I'm feeling some godawful mix of disloyalty and nausea and lingering shock, and if there's a thread of relief in there too then I'm not ready to count on it. It's too soon for that.
He rubs a hand across his face, and by the time he pulls it away I can see an expression there which I recognize, and so intensely, even though I've only ever seen it a handful of times in the, like, fifteen years we've known each other.
"You're my best friend," Dan tells me, staring at me.
I nod, because again, it's all I can do. My chest feeling like there's a stone lodged in the center, and my throat feeling thick. He'll give me far more shit if I start crying now than for getting dicked down by another guy.
We look at each other for a moment, and I'm grateful for all those years because it means a ton of stuff doesn't need to be said. Is just... understood. Even if I'm reminding myself now that I shouldn't take it for granted.
"So does he have a big dick?"
I snort at Dan's question, and in an instant the tension in me just kinda dissolves. Well, not all of it, but it's hard to be full up with fraught emotions when he's dragging us back down into the gutter again.
"I'm not talking about that," I tell him, grinning. Dan makes a noise of outrage.
"Come on, dude, don't leave me hanging. It looked like it was gonna be big, am I right?"
It's so close - and yet so weirdly far - from our conversations about girls he likes, and what he wants to do to them, and what parts of their bodies he's obsessed with and wants to see, that I have to chuckle.
"It's pretty big," I admit. Dan smirks, knowingly.
"Bigger than mine?"
I pull a face. "Dude, gross."
He gives me an outraged look. "Wow, so I'm your best friend but you don't rate my dick?"
I roll my eyes at him. "It'd be like having sex thoughts about your brother."
"You don't have a brother," he points out. I sigh, because he's ridiculous.
"You know what I mean."
A laugh, at that. "So what was it like? The sex, I mean."
He sounds genuinely curious, and I can't really blame him. I know I would be too. "Like... weird?" It's difficult to put into words, something which in the moment feels like such a physical need. I frown. "Kinda full, I guess, and like your body knows it shouldn't be inside you, but it also sorta wants it to be?"
"But you like it?"
I replay the four words in my head, trying to sift out any judgment, or teasing, or anything else in there which might suggest Dan is being something other than purely interested. Come up with nothing.
And so I tell him the truth. "It feels amazing. Weird, but amazing."
I could tell him how Xander's hands feel on me. How his fingers feel when they're stroking around my hole, the anticipation as I wait for him to slide inside me, and the reality that's so much bigger when he finally does. How it feels to have him tug on my ass, dragging me up onto my toes as the exquisite pull leaves me throbbing and close to whimpering; the depth of the need that it rouses in me. I could tell Dan all that, and I don't think he'd even be shocked, not really. Just want to hear more.
If I don't tell him, then, it's because I want that to be just between Xander and I.
"I thought you'd freak out," I say instead.
Dan grins at me. "I mean, did I expect it? Nah. But it's not like I don't know how good playing with that stuff feels." He snorts. "Maybe I need to find a dude to dick me once myself, just to see what I'm missing out on."
I shake my head at him, smiling in borderline-disbelief. "You're such a weirdo."
He winks at me. "Guess that's why we're friends, then, isn't it."
There's no way I can argue with that.
Dan's gaze slides down to my phone. "Can I see the photo again?" Sighing, I unlock it and pull up the chat. Tap Xander's picture so that it fills the screen - feeling my erection throb a little, even from that brief glimpse - and then hand it over. Dan makes an approving face, nodding as he stares down and plays with the zoom.
"I mean, you scored a fuckin' hottie for your first, dude." Looks up at me, as if something just dawned on him. "Wait, he was your first, right?"
I roll my eyes. "Yes. Idiot."
A chuckle. "Just checking. And he wants you to fuck him?" I shrug. "Why didn't you?"
"He had to work," I explain. Dan nods again, slowly, still focused on my phone.
"You should totally send him another pic now. Get him all horny while he's stuck working," he suggests, casually.
It's my turn to snort at the ridiculousness of the idea. "Yeah, sure, I'll just go sext him in the bathroom or something."
Dan looks up again, and I recognize the new twinkle in his eye. From many times before, in fact, and it's pretty consistent that the mischievous look always ends up with us getting into trouble somehow afterwards.
"Who said anything about going to the bathroom? Just take one now."
Frowning - because, even with all the bullshit he talks about, this is new territory nonetheless for me and my best buddy - I try to process that. "Not happening, dude."
Dan glances down, pointedly, between my legs where they're half-stretched out between us on the couch. "It's not like you're not boned up thinking about him," he reminds me.
I shoot him a look. "I'm not taking a photo of my dick."
A laugh at that. "Nah, I'll take it. Better angles, dude." He holds up the phone, pointing it up at me between my thighs as though framing it for a shot.
I can't help but imagine what that perspective would capture, what Xander would see. My dick, yes, and my face too, but from the way my hips are angled he'd have a pretty good view of my ass as well. Nothing he hasn't seen before, but the thought of it still makes my cock throb.
"Shut up," I tell Dan, but he's still got that smug expression.
"You want to fuck him, right?" I glare at him, but after a second or too I still nod. It's still a surprise that Xander is into that, and still a surprise that he wants me to do it, and combined the two things seem to have a direct route to my libido. "So let's show him what he's getting," Dan suggests.
I don't know why I'm even thinking about it, much less apparently considering it. It really should be the sort of thing I can shut down instantly; thank my best friend for how open-minded he's being, and the generosity of his offer, but politely decline (while probably calling him a pervert, too). All I can blame is the way today has gone, the intensity of it. Losing my virginity to Xander, and the way he feels so at ease touching me even when we're out in public. The anticipation of what he wanted - what we both wanted - to do, and then the frustration of having those plans suddenly upended. Even the way he blew me in the car, turning what could've felt like a submissive act on his part into another example of how he could control my body.
The thought of pushing back on that, slightly, of maybe even making Xander feel some of those out-of-control feelings himself, well... it's more tempting than it should be.
"It'd be weird, dude," I say, but I can tell Dan knows my resolve is weakening here. Has known me long enough, indeed, to understand just when I'm about to give in to one of his dumbass schemes, consequences be damned.
He doesn't even bother pointing out that this evening has already been weird. That we've already crossed a line after what we've discussed, what I've told him about myself. Maybe Dan just decided that was unnecessary; maybe he's not wrong, there, too.
"I promise you I'm gonna make you look hot as fuck, dude, okay?" he says instead. And that hits just close enough to that lingering thread of uncertainty - of wondering what someone so sexy as Xander might see in someone ordinary like me - that, well, suddenly I don't want to say no.
"Just don't make it weird," I repeat, seeing Dan's smirk as he realizes I'm giving up on protesting. He shakes his head.
"I'm gonna make you look epic, dude. Gotta show the best bud off at his best, right?" He doesn't give me a chance to respond - or to change my mind. "Keep that pose, but take your sweats off, okay."
I could think about it, or I could just do it, and my hands have clearly already decided either way because they're pulling at the waistband of my pants. Tugging them down - my ass lifting just enough so the gray fabric can slide underneath me - and then pushing them off my legs and onto the floor. Blushing, at the thick and very obvious ridge of my erection in my trunks, and the dark wet spot at the tip where I've already leaked into them.
"Damn, that looks good," Dan murmurs, and I realize he's already taking photos. Struggle to glance at the lens as he frames my face between my bare thighs. "Take your boxers off, dude."
There's part of my brain saying I should call a stop to this, warning that the only way this can go is into a super-awkward place that Dan and I can't come back from. Reminding me that this evening has gone better than I could've ever expected, in terms of his reaction to what I've told him so far, but that doesn't mean we should take it any further now. That would be like winning big at roulette and then putting the whole lot down again for one more spin.
I ease my underwear down, kicking it onto the floor.
"Fuck, buddy, you're hard as hell," Dan observes, tone approving. I thought I was already blushing about as hotly as I could, but it turns out I'd underestimated my ability to feel self-conscious. Not that it's stopping my cock from being epically hard. "Push it up with your thumb, okay."
Cringing inwardly, trying not to imagine how ridiculous I must look and doing my best to ignore Dan wielding the camera, I press against the base of my dick. Lever it upright between my thighs, knowing that my slumped position must be putting everything on show right now. Legs spread, cheeks probably spread too, and the swollen, glistening head of my cock stuck up like I'm presenting myself on a platter.
"Holy shit, you look mind-blowing, dude," Dan purrs, sounding a little surprised. It's not like he's seen me this way before; I mean, we've got hard by accident, on sleepovers or whatever, but I've never been exposed to him - intentionally, prolonged - as I am now. It feels wrong but also kinda thrilling, even if I'm still mortified by how dumb the photos must look.
He's crouching down, now. Basically on his knees and elbows on the couch in front of me, frowning with concentration as he holds the phone up and I force myself to stare back down, past the thickness of my shaft, to the glinting lens. Holding in the flinch, as a thick droplet of precum topples from my tip and slides slowly down.
Dan sits up, looking mesmerized by the screen. Taps and swipes a half-dozen times, then turns it to me. The expression on his face is weirdly proud, like he's madly pleased with himself or something. "Dude, can you see how fucking sexy you look?"
I wince, despite myself. Because that's absolutely not how I'd ever think of my body, not a word I'd ever connect with how I look. And right now I'm regretting everything about what I agreed to do, not so much because of what Dan has seen of me, but because I now have to be faced with the evidence of how ordinary and mundane I look, and that's only gonna restart all the doubts about why Xander would ever be into me. Physically or, if I'm being honest with myself like he and I apparently can't be with each other, when it comes to the feelings I know I'm catching for him and that he seems to be catching for me.
Finally, reluctantly, I force myself to look down from Dan's face, to my phone and the picture he's chosen out of however many he just took of me. Hoping as I do it that he'll delete the rest from the gallery for me, so I don't have to be faced by thumbnail after thumbnail of my own averageness.
And then stop thinking altogether, because what's on the screen doesn't look like me at all. Or, at least, it does, but not the Luka I've ever seen in any mirror. The guy I'm staring at now looks sultry, and confident, and clearly, epically turned on, and though you can see his thick cock and the tightness of his balls and even a glimpse of his hole, the end result is somehow powerful not submissive. It's me, but it's not me, and the wildness of how hot this picture is has melted my brain.
"Dude," Dan says, happily, grinning at me even as I look up at him in shock. "When he sees this, he's gonna lose his fucking mind."
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