Curiosity [MM]

My mind brain is numb. My eyes are open but I can’t really see. I’m aware of flashing lights, something on the t.v. that we were supposed to be watching – Rob & I.

That’s right, Rob.

I’m in his apartment. I know that yet, at the same time, I’m lost. My skin is crawling, yet I want him to touch me. I want him to run his hands over my body and do the things he’s always joked about doing; the things he threatened to do.

I tell myself I don’t want this but, as his lips touch mine, I both melt and go hard at the same time. I’m not gay. I tell myself that.

I’m not gay.

I’m not gay…but…

I’ve thought about this before. I’ve fantasized about it – kept it secret – for how many years?

Rob and his teasing, putting thoughts in my head. Thoughts I wish I didn’t want, yet they come to me every time I masturbate. Now that his lips are on mine; his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to my back where I want to be; these fantasies becoming a reality, finally.

He’s my first. Something about the way he touches makes it obvious that he knows that. I’m shy, like a schoolgirl. I’m not in shape like he is. I’m not cute. My belly is a little hairy but he traces his fingers over it after lifting my t-shirt. There’s no softness. It’s all denim and thick, leather belts. Heavy zippers and unflattering boxers that hide my shameful stiffness.

Rob doesn’t care. It’s what he wants. It’s what men want…I think.

I think it’s what I want.

“Stop,” I whisper, unable to find any depth to my voice. His kisses make me weak. He’s much more experienced, taking advantage of my insecurity and my arousal. The pounding in my chest robs my muscles of strength and I allow him to roll me to my stomach while his hands grab the fabric at the outside of my hips.

I gasp. When did he unfasten my belt? When was I unbuttoned? When did my fly become unzipped?

“Rob, I don’t want this…”

Yet, even as I say so, the firmness between my legs throbs with joy.

“Shhh…” he says simply. It’s reassuring, different from his teasing and his questioning of my sexuality that he’s made me endure for years. Rob, who is my only friend in this small town. Rob, who knows I’m shy, that my girlfriend and I are long distance and we haven’t been getting along lately. Rob, who always said he’d made me feel better than I could possibly imagine, if only I gave him a chance.

Did I?

I accepted his invitation to watch a movie. I knew he would try something.

I took the beer, and four beers more. I knew he would try something.

I’m drunk, but not so drunk that I can’t stand up for myself. The truth is, I knew that he would try something, and I wanted him to.

I want this. Finally, I’m getting what I want.

“Rob,” I plead, “please, slow down…”

“What’s the matter?” he whispers.

His voice is different now. He’s no longer the calm, friendly, humorous best friend I knew him to be. It’s deeper, gravely to the point of appearing hoarse. Lust drips from every word and it makes him come across as though he’s angry. He wants to be in control and I’m denying him that.

I turn my head to the side, only now realizing how helplessly I’m pinned to the cushions on his sofa. “I’ve never done this before,” I say softly. “It’s too fast.”

“I thought this was what you wanted.”

There’s disappointment in his voice and, for some reason, it stings to hear. His weight lifts off my back, freeing me to sit upright as I scramble to pull my jeans back around my waist.

“It’s just…” I begin to explain, struggling to find the right words. “You know me, Rob. I’m not gay.”

“You’re not?”

“I’ve told you…”

“I know,” Rob says, leaning back against the far corner of the sofa. He’s much larger than myself, and I imagine how comforting it would be to lay against his broad chest. It’s a thought that lasts only a fleeting moment before I push it below the bubbling surface of my ever-shifting sexuality.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Rob replies. “It’s fine. I’m not mad, just…”

“Disappointed?” I suggest.

“Horny.”

“Oh.” I lower my head but not before the blushing at my cheeks was clearly visible.

Rob reaches over and caresses my chin. His touch is different now. It’s gentle, soft – softer than I ever thought a man’s touch could be. Somewhere, deep down, the foundations of whatever kept my protests afloat began to quiver.

“Do you mind?”

“Do I mind what?” I ask.

“If I take care of myself.”

My already reddened cheeks blush even deeper as I avert my eyes. Rob doesn’t hesitate at all, taking my lack of an answer as confirmation as he unbuckles his belt. The snap of his button and unzipping of his fly, a sigh of relief as he leans back and slips the waistband of his boxers down.

I can only steal a glance but it’s all I need to see that he has his cock in his hand and it’s everything I’ve ever dreamed about. Looking at pictures online couldn’t compare to the sight of it, to seeing his skin gliding and being pulled tight as his prick grows to a full erection. The scent of his arousal, the sound of his fingers sliding along his meat as his salty precum makes his manhood slick. He strokes himself while looking at me and I want to join in – to do anything to help him feel good – but I’m afraid. I’m afraid of the shame that I know will come when he’s done…when I’m done. When I’ve gone too far.

“Rob,” I say softly, “I need to go.”

“Wait,” he gasps. His voice his shaky as his hand grips his organ. He’s stroking himself while he looks at me.

He’s looking at me.

“I can’t…”

“Stay,” he grunts, “just a little while longer.”

I want to say ‘no’. I want to leave, but I don’t. I sit there and I watch my best friend stroke his cock. I look at him squeeze and massage his prick in all the ways he wants me to squeeze and massage it. It throbs and bulges and I know it wants to be buried in my virgin ass. Finally, with a gasp and a groan, a murmuring of words a bucking of Rob’s hips, he cums. He cums and spills his frothy jizz over his own hand as I stand up and rush quickly to his front door.

“John!” he yells, but my only response comes in the sound of his door slamming shut.

Once safely in the driver’s seat of my car, my trembling fingers trace over my lips. I can still remember the feeling of Rob’s on mine. I can remember clearly the sight of him stroking his cock, feeling his eyes peer into my soul as I sat mesmerized by the act of him pleasuring himself.

I’m not gay.

That’s what I tell myself.

I’m not gay.

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