A gay story: Oh My Hunky Friend Pt. 02 Author’s note: Sorry for the delay as life got in the way. A note for first time readers is that don’t be deterred by the low reviews for Part 1. I made a big mistake by making such a small chapter with little pay off. This chapter is around 7000 words so I won’t be making that mistake again. So I’d advise you to view Part 1 and Part 2 as one chapter and hopefully this improves your enjoyment. And please feel free to let me know how my story made you feel. As a newbie writer, this sort of feedback gives me a lot of motivation and, to be honest, turns me on. 😉
In a sorry state, I lay on my bed for an hour in a cocoon of self pity. My thoughts deviated to Connor many times, causing an uncomfortable tent in my pants. Frustrated, I reverted to Christ and silently chanted memorised bible verses. I would not lose myself to the clutches of pleasure.
After a while, I heard a knocking on the door. Flinging off my bed sheets, I unlocked the door and stood before Connor. It was only now that I truly considered how big Connor was. A few weeks ago, the doctor had measured me as five foot nine. A respectable height. Even then, I was only up to Connor’s shoulder and had to strain my neck to behold his face.
Though he had a large scar and a crooked nose, Connor’s face had an angelic quality that I had overlooked in the primal landscape of the gym. His pores were free of zits and so his skin gleamed like a god. As he wore a wide smile, I could see that his pearly whites were perfect. I had never seen a man so well manicured.
And yet, I had never seen a man so masculine. He wore a loose black t-shirt that tried to hide his muscles but failed spectacularly. I tried not to stare at those bulbous biceps, rippling with thick veins.
To make things even worse, his forearms were so hairy that it made me salivate at the idea of his rough grasp manhandling my sensitive areas without remorse. All these dirty thoughts rolled uncontrollably through my head in a second. Connor caught me taking a glance at his arms and winced. I averted my gaze with shame. He must have thought I was so weird. I needed to salvage the situation.
“Hey there Connor. How’s things been going,” I ventured, teeth chattering.
“Yeh Laurie, good. Sorry about that earlier. I get all dizzy after my workouts and have no idea what I’m doing. You look great though,” Connor said, leaning awkwardly to the right.
Inwardly, I let out a massive sigh of relief. By the sounds of it, Connor had forgotten what had truly happened during that hug. I now had a fresh slate in which I could present myself as normal and not some drooling degenerate. Besides, him remembering that incident would have made things even more awkward than they already were.
“Thanks. You do too. It’s been so long that I don’t even know what to say”
“I know right. I still remember the good old days and I miss ’em to bits. Getting older has just been stressful if I’m being honest with you.”
“Tell me about it,” I said, very abruptly.
A silence hung between us. Although Connor didn’t remember that incident, things were still very awkward. I guess that’s natural considering we hadn’t met in person for three years. One can’t underestimate the amount of things that had changed drastically in that time-frame: I had been scarred and battle-worn by the travails of secondary school and the verbal barbs of my fellow teenagers. And Connor, well… Connor had become a man. It would take time to sweep away the cobwebs of our friendship.
“Well it’s no good just standing here and talking. Let’s just go to my room and chill there,” said Connor, understanding the situation.
I nodded in approval. I followed Connor into the seemingly endless corridor; the walls were littered with strange abstract paintings. I was no art critic but all forms of creative expression intrigued me. And I was also desperate to find a topic of common interest.
“What are all these paintings? Did you make them or something?” I asked.
“Hell no. My dad’s too rich for his own good so he bought all this junk. He thinks he’s sophisticated or some shit like that,” Connor replied.
“Oh I thought so.”
As we hiked up the swirling staircase, I scolded myself internally for asking such a stupid question. Despite having no charisma, I was so insistent on babbling like an idiot, outing myself as a dim witted fool. I decided that the best course of action was to simply shut up until spoken to.
Ripped from my internal monologue, my gaze fled with a thirsty agenda towards the glorious sight of Connor. As Connor marched up the steps with ease, I couldn’t help but admire how his tracksuit bottoms were snug against his small ass: not too tight but just enough to send my imagination purring.
I fantasised about the divine feeling of clasping that tender firmness with needy hands, my fingers trailing across the striations of his tensing muscles, hot to the touch, wandering further and further in the search of something even harder. Perhaps my efforts would elicit Connor’s high-pitched moan, a moment of vulnerability that I would cherish.
He stared at me.
“Are you alright?”.
“Um… Yes”.
I was horrified. We had gone up the stairs, passed through a corridor, stood outside Connor’s room and I hadn’t even noticed! Such was the deep and depraved extent of my daydreaming. God forgive me, what had I become? However, there was no time to mull over my shock. Connor was waiting.
I followed him into his room. It was similar to my own: minimalistic and bland. My parents would have been proud. The only thing missing was a few Jesus portraits and bible quotes framed across the wall in a neat line. The only thing that showcased even a bit of personality was a PS5. When packing for my summer visit, I had been expecting Connor’s room to be a messy extravaganza of discarded clothes and eccentric interests. I was preparing myself to embrace the chaos of a typical teenager’s room. On the contrary, it was so perfect that it looked unused. And so, I was now strangely disappointed.
Connor lumbered towards his bed, arms dangling loosely by the side, and sat down in a reckless thud. I followed him, careful not to trip over the edge of the brown carpet, and settled beside him. My heart skipped.
“So… What do you want to do?” Connor asked, hunched over and mouth twisting in a shy smile.
“Um…”
Frankly, I was confused. Expecting Connor to take the reins, I had no idea of how to re-establish our friendship. I was never the most socially intelligent person in the best of times; most of my friends were made accidentally through a shared hobby and not through any premeditated effort. But Connor seemed just as clueless as me. But maybe it was worse than that. Maybe he didn’t want to be friends with me and his offer of inviting me was just a courtesy, nothing more.
“You probably play Fifa. Do you want to just do that for a bit?” asked Connor, while twiddling his fingers awkwardly.
“Yes”.
When Connor went over to the PS5, I noticed he had a rather odd walking style: a lumbering waddle with one shoulder tilted awkwardly while his left foot was slightly splayed. For an athlete of undeniable strength and coordination, it was strange to see him so uncoordinated.
But I was getting carried away. He asked if we could play Fifa. And I said yes. Why? I’ve never had the slightest interest in football, let alone a digital version of it. What had gotten into me? Ever since my reunion with Connor, my calculated self had been replaced by a headless chicken that ran on whims of idiocy. Unfortunately, I was now forced to bear the consequences of my actions.
While setting up the match, Connor kept asking questions and I kept replying yes, yes and yes. Embroiled in panic, I didn’t even look at Connor and that was a miracle considering the way his minty breath floated towards my cheek, tempting my tortured self.
Before I knew it, the match started. I looked over to Connor; his eyes were squinted in deep concentration and he was gripping the controller so tight that I was optimistic that it was certain to break. Considering my lack of experience, Connor’s intense focus was unnecessary because he’d win anyway. But in a moment of respite, I enjoyed watching Connor’s competitive spirit in action.
And then back to reality. I started spamming buttons that I had used in other games – such as Stardew Valley and Minecraft – but to no avail. Connor scored a goal immediately. For a moment, he shouted in satisfaction but then stopped. He looked at me strangely, arching his right eyebrow.
“Are you sure you know how to play?” he enquired.
“It’s been a while,” I whispered, barely audible.
And then he did it. Connor grasped my hand and I surrendered control. He gave deep words of advice that flowed over me like nectar, leaving me blissfully ignorant to the actual meaning. His eyes met my eyes. They were so calm, so patient that one could never guess that he was a hulking rugby prodigy.
And oh… My eyes met his thighs. Though hidden by those pesky tracksuit bottoms, I was still enraptured. Perhaps I would rest my head on his lap, sinking further into the flesh, while he played with my raven locks, giving them a cheeky tug. Then, I would slip away, between his mighty thighs, and let him crush me senseless and still I would plead for more. Somewhere, my religious instinct was commanding me to stop my forbidden train of thought. But it was left unheeded, drowned in a flood of lust.
“… So yeah that’s all you need to know. Don’t worry, I forget stuff all the time. For example, I’ve already forgotten what I had for breakfast this morning,” he said with assurance.
“Oh thanks.”
“Don’t think of it.”
By some miracle, I had remembered some of the controls Connor taught me and was able to become slightly more competent at the game. I managed to pass the ball about in defence. I swiped a frantic hand through my hair. Playing FIFA was surprisingly stressful.
I tried to pass to my goalkeeper but my sweaty thumb slipped and hit the button for scoring a goal. My defender shot the ball and slammed the ball past my goalkeeper and into my own net. It was two-nil to Connor. I looked at him, nervously gauging his reaction.
Connor’s mouth curled up in a slight smirk, suppressing laughter; his smile-lines clashed with his long scar, lengthening it and distorting his face. His blue eyes sparkled. And then a gleeful snigger arose, making way for a strange but hearty noise.
It took a while to register but I realised it was a laugh. It sounded more like a tortured donkey throwing up. While laughing, he slapped his thigh, making a solid thud. Though it sounded weird, he certainly had an infectious conviction and so I started laughing nervously as well and eventually, I guffawed without a care in the world. For someone accustomed to overthinking every action, I simply let free and lived in the glory of the moment. After an age, our laughing dwindled and silence was upon us again.
“Bro, that was hilarious! No offence, but I’ve never seen an own goal like that in my entire life. You just ran up and fucking pelted it!” he said, still laughing “But seriously, what’s the deal with your laugh? It’s so weird. No, I mean, don’t take it in the wrong way. I like it.”
“Wait what?” I asked in surprise.
“Your laugh.”
“What about it?”
“Bro, you don’t know? It sounds so fucking weird!”
I was so confused. No-one had ever said anything about my laugh. But to be honest, I barely laughed in public or in front of my parents. More importantly, did this idiot not know about the weirdness of his own laugh? How was that even possible?
“Do you not know? Your laugh is terrible, probably even worse than mine” I retorted.
“You’re joking surely. No-one has ever said a thing,” he said, very seriously.
“I’m not joking.”
“Anyway, never mind about that. But I think it’s safe to say that you’ve never played Fifa in your life. But why lie? We could have done something else, it’s no big deal,” said Connor.
The light-bulb seemed to radiate directly upon me, making sizzling heat flow into my face and then my cheeks blushed tomato-red. My mind went terrifyingly blank. The answer to the question eluded me. Connor stared at me, waiting with clenched jaws.
“If I’m being honest, I don’t know Connor. I really don’t. It’s just that it’s been three years and things have changed and I don’t know what to think about it,” I confessed.
“But I’ve not changed Laurie. Although we haven’t met for ages, you’re still my closest friend and I don’t want that ever to change. I wanted to come and visit you but you were always away and that’s why I invited you over this year. I really want things to go back to before,” said Connor.
“Things are still the same Connor, I assure you that,” I said, frantically “Other than that you’re a six foot something rugby player in a prestigious high school, I guess that things are the same.”
Connor blushed as well.
“So that’s it. I’ve grown. I’m gonna be honest, sometimes I hate my muscles. It does more harm than good. But I never thought it would get to this.”
“No, no, don’t blame yourself. It’s just that you look like the boys who bully me. It’s my fault really. Your muscles though… Your muscles look good.”
I had no idea what possessed me to suddenly share something so personal; I hadn’t even told my parents yet. However, before I could feel the wave of instant regret, Connor met my eyes with a warm look of empathy, his cragged features softened.
Without warning, he gave me a hug. I reciprocated, wrapping my arms tight around his solid back muscles. I rested my face upon his chest, cheeks rubbing against his stiff, concealed nipple. A tear rolled down my cheek: not sadness, content. It was a sensation I hadn’t felt in ages. Connor arched his neck and set his full, red lips against my ear, eardrums tingling in anticipation.
“You should’ve told me. I’d fuck ’em up, you know that. By the time I’m done with ’em, they’ll have no teeth to chat shit with,” he whispered.
“I know. But don’t. Being with you is enough.”
“Fine but if I ever see them, I’m having a chat. But seriously, cheers for the compliment. Working my ass off in the gym is hard and encouragement like that is what keeps me going.”
Then he pulled away. Unconsciously, my hands wouldn’t let go. I wanted to stay in deep embrace forever. It wasn’t anything sexual. It’s just that Connor’s touch made me feel something I had lost. I didn’t want to lose it ever again. Connor looked out of the window.
“It’s dark and I’m tired. I want to talk but it’s best to do that tomorrow when we’re refreshed,” said Connor.
I nodded. We walked downstairs to the guest room, shoulders bumping against each other. He said good night to me with a cheeky smirk and then off he went. Curled up in my bed, clutching my cross, I felt strange. I missed him already. My existence felt empty without him. And so, I drifted into an instant dreamless sleep. Tomorrow, I would see him again.
The moment I woke up, I sped down the stairs. I foraged through the living room and the conservatory in a desperate bid to find him. But I found Connor in the dining room. And Mr Richards too.
They were seated on opposite ends of a table that stretched across the room. The dim light of the archaic chandelier reflected upon its shiny surface. Mr Richards picked apart a smoked salmon impassively while Connor spooned cereal in sullen silence.
Seeing me, Connor stood up with a smile and hurriedly arranged a chair beside him. I hurried towards Connor and then sat next to him. With that crooked smirk, he whispered good morning. His hand pressed hard against my shoulder; I couldn’t help but let out a satisfied giggle. Mr Richards stared at us with hollow eyes.
“Good morning Lawrence,” he said.
“Good morning Mr Richards,” I replied.
“I see that you and Connor are back together again. That’s great to see.”
“Yes Mr Richards.”
“Well. You two have fun, I’ve got work. Bye Lawrence,” said Mr Richards, jumping out of his chair.
Mr Richards strided away down the corridor. His smoked salmon was left unfinished. Connor stared at his leaving father with an intense frown. I wondered what had happened between them.
Connor, back to his usual self, insisted that he’d make my cereal. I was too shocked to refuse; Mother and Father always made me cook their breakfasts, let alone my own. With shaking hands, he placed the cereal bowl on me with a clumsy thud, spewing spurts of milk on the table and on my hand. Connor was shot with a look of horror and wiped my hand furiously.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry! I’m always such a damn klutz,” he said.
“It’s fine. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” I assured him.
Connor sat back down and resumed eating his cereal. He was a noisy but voracious eater, slurping down his breakfast at lightning speeds. I looked at my own serving with overwhelming dread. He had mixed so many different brands of cereal and used so little milk that it resembled porridge. Though Connor seemed to love it, it didn’t look appetising to me.
But I didn’t want to offend him. He had gone to the trouble of making breakfast for me. He didn’t have to do that. I would have to be a cold hearted soul to disrespect such an act of kindness. And so I chowed down the monstrosity without complaining. The taste wasn’t bad but the texture was nauseating.
Once we had both finished, Connor suggested that we retreat to his bedroom. There, we talked and talked and talked for hours on end, making up for lost time. Connor talked about his rugby career and surprisingly, I was interested and kept answering questions.
Though I didn’t care for the sport itself, I was very proud of how accomplished my best friend was. Though he seemed embarrassed to say it, I could infer easily that Connor was certain to become a professional. Fortune was bound to reward the good people who deserved it. Such was the grace of God. He also revealed that he had a rugby festival tomorrow and would only come back at night. I felt a pang of selfish disappointment. I wanted to be with him.
Unlike myself, Connor seemed to be a popular figure in school. Throughout the day, he kept getting phone-calls that he kept declining. Connor said they were his friends but his irritated expression seemed to contradict that.
Connor also had a girlfriend. I wasn’t surprised. A god amongst men like Connor would have the choice of any woman he desired. She was called Jenny and he showed a picture; she was clearly attractive with her dark hair and blue eyes. Strangely, I felt happy for Connor and didn’t feel even a shred of jealousy.
In fact, during our long conversation, I never once lusted for Connor. Instead, I grew to love him purely as a friend. And so I rejoiced, thanking God for my bestowed discipline. Now, I could enjoy my best friend’s company without any blasphemous disturbances.
However, we didn’t just talk about Connor and his exploits. For the first time, I was able to unload my woes upon someone else. Though I hid many details, Connor listened patiently to my struggles at the hand of bullies and attempted to give me solid advice. He told me to tell the teachers and surely they would do something. Still, I was sceptical. Teachers never did anything. But Connor urged me to at least try. I promised that I would.
But it wasn’t all doom and gloom. I told Connor all about my various literary interests. Though I had a few good friends at church and school, none really cared too much about books. By contrast, Connor listened with interest while I rambled about the Chronicles of Narnia and Lord of the Rings, though he had read neither. In between all my ramblings, Connor would open his mouth, as if he was going to talk, and then close them again, with a wistful look in his eyes. In hindsight, it was strange to see bold Connor so indecisive.
After a while, the chatting topics dried up and so we decided to rewatch the iconic Jurassic Park, the highlight of our childhood. It was a fitting landmark for our blooming relationship. We watched in darkness, hunched at opposite ends of the bed, and flung witty jokes to hide our suspense.
Though I couldn’t see Connor in the darkness, I felt his presence and longed to be closer. I longed to touch him. But no, that would be inappropriate. We were just friends and friends had boundaries. When the movie was finished, Connor turned on the lights.
“Bro, Jurassic Park gets better every time,” he exclaimed.
“It’s a classic for a reason,” I replied.
“Yeh that’s true. But one thing Laurie. Why were you sitting so far away from me? I was gonna ask you to come closer but didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Next time, feel free to, you know, snuggle up. It’s more fun that way.”
“Sure Connor,” I said breathlessly.
“Alright then. It’s getting late. As I said, I’ve got a rugby competition tomorrow. I’ve gotta wake up at eight o’ clock. My dad’s still at work so my friend is going to pick me up.”
“I’ll set an alarm then.”
“There’s no need. Just get a good sleep. Don’t wake up early for my sake.”
“I wouldn’t want to miss out on you leaving,” I said firmly.
Connor looked at me strangely. And with that, I headed off to my bedroom. Clutching my cross, I thanked Christ for reuniting me with Connor and this sense of content soothed my soul. For once in my life, I slept immediately without the clashing turmoil of thoughts. My best friend Connor had brought stability to my life.
The moment I woke up, I bolted downstairs. Connor was already by the door, wearing a black and blue tracksuit. His forehead was riddled with creases and his eyes were squinted as he paced back and forth, biting his lip.
“Good morning Connor! Ready for the game!” I exclaimed.
“Yeh I guess,” he mumbled back.
I looked at him with concern. I’d never seen Connor so flustered. Usually, he was so assured and never hesitated to speak his mind. But now, he suddenly seemed a shadow of his former self. But I didn’t think too much of it. Connor was strong, Connor was perfect. Why would he feel nerves. Perhaps he wasn’t a morning person.
“Look Laurie, I’m getting picked up by a friend in about five minutes. You get some breakfast,” said Connor.
Without elaborating, Connor barged the door open and left the house. He was gone without saying anything. My feeble whisper of “bye” was left painfully unsaid. I trudged away into the dining room.
I felt empty.
Chowing down my cereal, I noticed movement outside the window. A shining Lamborghini’s engine was revving up. I caught a glimpse of Connor in the backseat, laughing and sniggering with two of his friends. I clenched my jaw. I wanted to be there. I wanted to see his smile up close again. Instead, he was sullen and grumpy with me this morning. Why? Did he suspect that I had thoughts about him?
But then he looked at me. Though his face was wrinkled with lines of smiles, his eyes were of a sad glint. I didn’t know what that meant.
But then the car rushed away. I was left confused. For the rest of the day, I reverted to the only mode of living I had mastered: the art of doing nothing. My parents never let me go out so I had plenty of time to practice.
I read a bit. I slept a bit. I prayed a bit. And time flew before I knew it. But of course, in the back of my head, thoughts of Connor lingered. I missed him terribly. But I was sure he didn’t miss me. He was obviously having a riot with his rugby friends, my sorry self relegated into irrelevance. Just like I deserved. I hated myself for digging myself into an emotional hole that I could never escape.
It was in this mood of doom that I explored the house, pacing up and down the stairs. I was too absorbed in my own thoughts to notice the endless sequence of rooms (I even didn’t notice the indoor swimming pool) but on the fourth floor, I came across a door for a room that I couldn’t ignore.
The door was slightly yellow and the knob had lost its shine. It was clearly well used. I felt a yearning to look inside. Surely a peek wouldn’t hurt. Slowly, I twisted the knob but it wouldn’t budge. Locked.
I sighed in both disappointment and relief. Though my curiosity was left burning, it was for the greater good. It would be a betrayal of Connor’s trust to rifle through his privacy. I thanked God for the presence of that lock. Otherwise, I would have succumbed to the temptation. Then, there would be no going back.
It was raining outside when I saw Connor returning. Reading in my bedroom, I saw him from the window, trudging through the rain in a blue jacket, his hood concealing his face. Excited, I ran downstairs and opened the door for him. But he barged past me.
Banging my head into the wall, I was left dazed and confused. My first emotion was hurt: did he really hate me that much? The next was a realisation that he hadn’t even noticed I was there. He was too embroiled in the red mist of rage.
Connor charged into the living room. He kicked the sofa repeatedly with all of his might, droplets of rain spraying from his jacket. I swore I heard of crack.
His eyes were like an all-destroying tempest, devoid of any meaning except from the escape of anger. His teeth were bared in a devilish snarl as he screamed soundlessly, his veins almost popping. This was not the Connor I knew.
Instead, this beast reminded me of the bullies who used to brawl in the middle of the school corridor. I was very scared. Without thinking, I edged further and further from Connor. I would shut myself in my bedroom. I would drown myself in my blanket, muting the sound. I would cry. Just like I did when my parents argued. But by some miracle, I ignored my better instinct and didn’t.
Instead, I tip-toed across the room, towards the raging figure of Connor. He didn’t even look at me. Strangely, I didn’t shiver. I also shivered when I was scared. Perhaps, I wasn’t scared because my trust in Connor was too great.
I placed my hand on Connor’s shoulder, slightly rubbing his tenseness. He turned back at me, staring with a fiery gaze. But I didn’t falter. I met his eyes yet again. In a moment, his rage collapsed and his face changed into a quivering mess of confusion.
Connor buried his face into my chest; I felt the unsteady heaving of his breath upon my chest. He smelt of sweat and mud but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered except him.
“Sorry you had to see that,” he whimpered.
“Don’t worry. I’m here,” I whispered back.
For a time, we remained in silence. I didn’t ask for details. He was my best friend and that was that. Anything else I didn’t need to know. But he told me anyway.
“It’s not fucking fair Laurie, it’s not fucking fair. Things never go my way,” he snivelled.
I stayed silent. Connor released himself from my chest and stood in front of me, eyes burning red. It was my turn to listen.
“Nah that’s stupid. It’s my fault. It’s my fault that I don’t work hard enough in the gym. A cramp? What the hell is that? The team is counting on me, England is watching and I choke like an idiot. What’s the point? Rugby is a shit sport anyway, always was,” he ranted.
I still didn’t say anything. Though I craved to soothe Connor, I knew nothing about rugby. I would just sound like a fool if I talked nonsense advice from the top of my head. At that moment, I felt utterly useless: as Connor would say, a “shit” friend. I restrained my tears.
“You know Laurie, thank you,” Connor announced with a smile.
“What for?” I replied, incredibly confused.
“I never get a chance to form my thoughts, if that makes sense. Usually, I take my anger out in physical action. You stopped me. You made me think and work out why I’m annoyed without saying anything. Just being with you was enough. But now I don’t know. I don’t feel angry, I feel sad. I always get sad but not this quickly,” he vented.
“Connor, let’s do something you enjoy. Let’s play fifa,” I suggested, grabbing his shoulder in an attempt to steer him away from sadness.
“Yeh, yeh, we should” he said.
We walked slowly towards the stairs, shoulder to shoulder. But Connor kept opening his mouth and closing his mouth. His forehead was knitted with hesitation. I looked at him kindly, urging him to speak.
“No. I’ve been hiding too much. The true me. It’s embarrassing, please don’t laugh. I’ve told anyone and I never thought I would. Actually, I’ll show you tomorrow. Not today…” Connor rambled.
“…Slow down, Connor. It’s perfectly fine. If you don’t feel comfortable, you don’t need to say anything,” I tried to say with assurance.
” No, no I want to tell you. I need to tell someone. Especially you. It’s so embarrassing though. You know what, just follow me. I can’t bring myself to fucking say it,” he said.
And so I did. As we walked up the stairs and down the corridor, Connor walked far slower than usual. He kept fiddling with his fingers, staring intensely into the ground.
It was so strange. I thought Connor was perfect. But in a matter of a few moments, I had witnessed him unravel into a mere mortal.
I also was slightly ashamed. At times, I grovelled in self pity while assuming that I was the only one who suffered. But even Connor had his own problems. And so, I became slightly more centred in reality.
We found ourselves in front of that mysterious door that I found earlier today. Connor’s entire body shook as he twisted the key inside the keyhole. I held his shoulder and the shaking stopped.
I stepped in the room and looked around in disbelief. The room was an extravaganza of colour and chaos. Posters of various characters draped the walls and in the corner, there was a library of sorts, full with comics and movies. The bed was smaller. The TV was smaller and the light was dimmer. Yes, there were wrappers and other junk littered across the place. And yet it felt like a home. It reminded me of my past. Our past.
But amongst the posters of happiness, I spotted a touch of sadness. A photo of a beautiful woman with blonde hair and kind blue eyes was framed upon the wall, flowers placed beneath: it was Connor’s mother. I could assume she was dead. I offered a quick prayer to God. I wouldn’t mention it to Connor. He was already in pain.
Though I had ventured further into the room, Connor still lingered by the door. He twiddled with his thumbs, unable to meet my eyes. I couldn’t help noticing how cute Connor was when he was nervous. Crinkles formed around his small eyes and his full lips pouted. It was difficult to believe that he was a hulking rugby superstar.
“I know it’s so cringey. Don’t judge me,” he whimpered.
“No Connor. It’s so cool. I’ve never seen anything like this before,” I replied.
“Really?” he said with longing eyes.
“Yes of course. However, even though it’s cool. I have no idea what I’m looking at.”
“Oh. I’m a big fan of manga and anime. It’s basically Japanese comic books. I do like western stuff as well but mainly manga.”
I had friends at school who liked manga. But when the conversation fell towards it, I always fell silent. I didn’t know anything about it and so why talk about it? Why learn about it? I just had to accept what I had. That’s what my parents always said. But now, I was forced to face my own folly. Clearly manga meant a lot to Connor and now, I would listen.
Connor suggested that we watch his favourite anime “One Piece”; apparently, it was a good place to begin. I didn’t argue otherwise. While he faffed with the remote, I admired his unrestrained smile: it was a thing of beauty. I could feel the sheer excitement reverberating from his body. It was this excitement that was missing in my life and I finally felt whole.
We snuggled up on the bed, shoulders smushing nicely against each other. He didn’t seem to care about this sudden intimacy. But I was paralysed. I couldn’t focus on the anime. I could only focus on him.
I cherished how his husky warmth seemed to envelope me in a cocoon of drowsy bliss and watched the dim light dance dangerously on the edge of his red stud. I loved the way his shoulder pressed firmly against mine, making my skin tingle and my knees go weak.
But he didn’t notice my unrelenting gaze; Connor was fixated upon the TV and nothing else. His facial muscles relaxed and his mouth crept towards a gleeful grin; his eyes glinted with a sense of comfort. There was something so attractive about Connor at ease and not angry, not frustrated. I would do anything to keep him like this.
All of a sudden, Connor jolted from his reverie. I averted my stare towards the TV. I told him that the show was great so far. I agreed with every question of his fever like interrogation. I kept lying until he stopped speaking. I didn’t even feel guilty for some reason; the aesthetic appeal of my best friend was greater than anything.
Connor walked over to the TV-stand and picked up a water battle. And then, with his left hand, he grabbed a bottle of lotion.
“Bro, do you mind if I jerk off a bit? I’ll be quick. You just keep watching,” he said casually, walking off into the distance.
I stared blankly.
“Jerking off?”
“Yeh I’ve got a raging boner for some reason. It happens sometimes,” he said, walking back towards me.
“Do you mean masturbation?” I said, horrified.
“I mean yeah that’s the technical term. Wait… Oh, so you’re one of those people who don’t jerk off? Honestly, I don’t understand how you guys do it. Genuinely, I respect it but I can’t help but get horny. Anyway, keep watching. I won’t be too long,” he said.
I tried to open my mouth to protest but no sound came out. The One Piece episode rolled on but I didn’t care. And why would I? Connor was masturbating. I knew the mechanics from Sex Ed class. I knew that people watched porn while doing it. But I had never tried because I knew God would be watching my sin with disgust. But still, Connor was masturbating. Right now. The mere thought made me hot and bothered.
I swore I could hear him grunting,
Lost in my thoughts, I became shockingly erect. My tip pressed tight against my underwear, causing growing discomfort. I tried desperately to shift my penis but as my smooth hand met the warm hardness, and the penis, with a rebellious mind of its own, twitched and grew even harder. I flinched. This was wrong. I could feel my underwear getting sticky and wet like some drooling baby unable to control their own body. This was humiliating. And yet I liked it.
I scanned my surroundings. Connor wasn’t coming. I threw a blanket over my lower body and whipped down my pants. My penis was a hard rod pointing into the sky. Streams of pre-cum had rolled down my shaft, shining in the dim light. I couldn’t help but stare; yes, I have had my fair share of erections like any teenager but they were all random and not sexual. But this? This was the unmistakable product of bottomless desire.
I could feel it seducing me, taunting me with something I had always repressed but deep down, desired more than anything. Oh, I knew it would feel good if I gave in, better than anything else. Of course it would. But it was fear that stopped me. It was the fear of God. The fear of my parents. And so my penis was abandoned in the open, still begging for blessed relief but I couldn’t. I wanted to but couldn’t.
“I’m back,” Connor said while walking towards the bed.
Panicking, I pulled the blanket even closer to myself and my penis trembled at this sudden rough contact. He said some things and I just kept saying yes. He put the TV on and my eyes just glazed over, not taking anything in. Luckily, it was getting darker and darker and Connor was sitting a bit further from me. Otherwise, it would have been the end.
I tried to muffle my heavy breathing and restrict the shaking of my legs. Sweat poured down my forehead and settled upon my eyelids. Blinking stung and I could no longer think. Even Connor was the least of my priorities. Acting somewhat normal was the only important thing.
Connor laughed hysterically, gazing into my eyes. Normally, his happiness would make me overjoyed but here and now, it was an emergency. In a playful gesture, he accidentally swiped his hand across the tip of my penis. My penis convulsed and shot out a spurt of pre-cum into the blanket. I let out a sharp groan, biting my lip in tortured ecstacy. I could not stop shivering; the sensation was perfect and yet so incomplete. I wanted, no, I needed more.
“Are you alright?” said Connor suspiciously. Luckily, it was very dark and he couldn’t see the dark patch on my blanket.
“Yes,” I whimpered, struggling with my endlessly hardening boner.
“Alright I’m tired. We’ll continue tomorrow and by the way, don’t bother going to your bedroom. Just sleep here.”
And with that, Connor turned over to the side and went to sleep. Just like that. But it wasn’t that easy for me. Unable to sleep, I tossed and turned without end. My pores were drowned in sweat and my heart pounded rapidly and without control. Worst of all, my erect penis was impossible to ignore, sweetly burning like a furnace of sparkling fever.
Looking into my blanket, I admired my penis. It was not the vulgar taboo I had assumed and instead, it was so beautiful. I longed to touch it. I craved the nirvana it promised. But God, as he always did, stopped me. I told myself I was glad but really, I was not.
After a few long minutes, the frustration was at breaking point. I felt like screaming soundlessly or hurting myself if I didn’t do the deed. The deed that haunted my every thought. Complacence crept through my conscience. I started to ascend in boundless excitement. I would only do it once. God wouldn’t mind. God wouldn’t be watching. Deep down, I knew that he would but that did not bother me. Instead, it turned me on even more. Just once.
And so I dove. My dainty hand clasped the shaft of my penis. With a deep breath, I started to slowly stroke. I felt welcome warmth seeping up my twitching penis and my body shuddered with relief. I stopped thinking. Letting the sensual rhythm wash over me, caressing me, I stopped caring about anything. Only pleasure.
I threw my blanket off. A whoosh of cold air hit my sweaty, vulnerable body. The room was lit with a flickering lamp, giving a sense of dreamy fantasy. As I lowered my legs onto the ground, my excited boner dripped strands of pre-cum. Bending over, I twirled my delicate finger through those sour threads and lovingly massaged them into my penis.
Without thinking, I hobbled to the other side of the bed, my legs barely functioning with excitement. And there was Connor sleeping. The blanket covered most of his half-naked body but that added to my mounting rapture. The world asleep, I could now ogle at my prince with peace.
Connor was so peaceful, so innocent when he slept. Oh, the way his full, red lips pouted and his gentle, golden locks lay peacefully upon his forehead. I couldn’t help but caress my swollen penis with tender longing as I basked in Connor’s perfection. Such beauty could never hurt a fly.
I wanted to drag my needy tongue along the sweaty line of dark hair that spanned from his plump chest, blessed with perky nipples that I would suck dry, and through the sexy cut of his abs, ending in an ominous stubble that wandered deep into places unexplored. But I couldn’t. Instead, I pumped my penis faster and let my imagination roam free.
I fantasised about my sleeping beauty becoming a monster. The mere thought almost made me cum. I slowed down the pace and regained my crumbling composure. But then I grew feral with desire. Perhaps those closed eyes would open and reveal an all-destroying storm of desire. He would shove me into the cold earth again and straddle me before attacking my lips with a clamping kiss, his forcing tongue plunging deep into my throat. Making it hurt.
I dragged my left hand up the gentle bumps of my ribs, feeling the rapid bumping of my heart, and found my erect nipple. A tingling buzz alighted the soft flesh of my areola as I twisted and poked the delicate nub as my hair shook and swayed in front of my blushing face. God was very, very far from my thoughts. Only Connor remained.
My fantasy grew ever detailed. Releasing himself from our eternal embrace, the lusted Connor yanked off my drenched trousers and dug his claws deep into the plumpness of my ass. He then flipped me on my side, as if I was weightless, and fumbled with his breeches, revealing his enormous cock.
I kept stroking and stroking. The outside world blurred until I was fully immersed in my mind’s sexy escapade. I looked at Connor sleeping closely. He huffed gently as his chest rose and fell slightly. But in my head, his gleaming rod plunged deep into my tight asshole, leaving me squealing like a pig while my cheeks jiggled and my cross swayed wildly. I was so turned on.
My left hand strayed towards my gooch. My nimble fingers pinched the zone of prickling skin, twisting strands of pubes. Suddenly, I felt a pleasant stirring in my loins. Gradually, the feeling soared and I writhed without control, moaning, feeling myself everywhere. I had to bite my lips to muffle my sounds of love. It drew blood.
The portrait of Connor’s mother seemed to stare seductively in the distant darkness.
My asscheeks were so clenched as my hip buckled to the rhythm of my pants. The surging sensation flooded into my penis, making it ablaze with lusty fire. My other hand wandered to my asshole, pistoning my finger in and out in rapid thrusts, feeling so dirty.
This was the breaking point.
Spurts of cum erupted from my penis as I howled in delightful delirium. I had never felt anything like it. It was my unending passion for Connor distilled into one glorious moment. Tears dripped down my cheeks as years of restraint tumbled down in an avalanche of mad release. The cum had gone further than expected. A splodge had settled upon Connor’s lip. Not thinking too much, I bent over and scooped it up with my finger.
I sucked it clean and it tasted good.