It started out casually. I think. It seemed that way for a while, at least; just something we did for fun, something that didn't mean anything, a goof, a lark. A secret for sure but that was nothing different for us, we'd always been close, always told each other things we wouldn't tell anybody else.
We were best friends. Still are. Have been since junior high. Back then I was pretty much a geek and he was popular but he thought I was funny and I thought he was cool and we wound up hanging out all the time. And we elevated each other as the years went by, I became more popular and came out of my shell and from me he got permission to indulge his intellectual side and show that he was more than just a jock.
We went to college together, sort of by chance but it only cemented our bond. We dated together all throughout college - it never seemed weird, we just ran in the same social circle, a circle in which we were inevitably the locus. We fucked a couple girls together, and that never seemed weird, it was just fun. And, since I'm being honest and everything here, during one of those encounters my hand kinda found his cock and his hand kinda found mine and Lainey, she was the girl we were with, suggested maybe we go a little further so we did and I sucked his and he sucked mine. It was fun and, yeah, hot in a crazy way, and we were all laughing about it and it never changed anything.
We were similar in the fact that college didn't do much for us. I majored in philosophy of all things and he majored in political science and when we graduated (together) neither of us knew what the hell to do with our lives. So we drifted for a while, living together, waiting tables at the same restaurant.
And then he met somebody and I met somebody and just like that life seemed to get real serious. I wouldn't say we drifted apart, because we still saw each other all the time, but it was like we needed some distance in order to grow up. We were both in love, more deeply than we'd ever been with anybody else, and in the meantime I started training to be a paramedic and he started training to be a cop.
Then, marriage. We didn't have a double wedding (haha) but we did get married the same year and he was my best man I was his. Our wives became good friends and, gradually, we reconnected in a way that only two old friends can, having long conversations where we took stock of where we were and how far we'd come. We were both happy, and I kind of loved being a paramedic and he kind of loved being a cop and we both loved our wives and were thinking about kids and all that.
And then gradually things got more complicated, but in a way that only drew us closer. My wife couldn't get pregnant and it was causing a strain. His wife had a miscarriage. And I think we were both realizing just how carefree and fun our high school and college years really were, and that we might not ever get that back again.
Not that our hangouts were always that heavy. We got into this routine of getting together on Monday nights, cause we both typically had Tuesdays off while our wives worked normal schedules. We'd meet up at the bar, throw a few beers back. If it was more than a few, I'd crash on his couch or he'd crash on mine and his wife would flirt a little with me on her way out the door or vice versa.
And this was one of those times, except we hadn't had just a few the night before, we'd had a lot. When I woke up the light was right on my face and it was hot and I realized it wasn't morning light, it was afternoon light.
I groaned, and just a few moments later he groaned from his bedroom down the hall and then we laughed.
"Might've overdone it last night," he said.
"I'll make breakfast," I said. So we had a big greasy breakfast, eggs and bacon and buttery toast and orange juice while we watched The Price is Right and joked around with each other. The one thing I've always felt around him is comfortable and this morning was no different but maybe it was. Our plates were on the coffee table so we were kicking back and our legs were getting tangled and we just let them rest that way. Not unusual, we've always been comfortable with touch, but maybe it felt a little different that morning.
I started this game where we rated the attractiveness of whichever females were bidding to get on the show. So even if it was a row with three old ladies in it we'd have to pick which one we'd fuck. Which was cracking both of us up and when he said he'd pick the dude over any of the other prospects and I agreed we really started to lose it.
"I am so fucking horny," he said, and I concurred, cause a hangover always does that to me. "I tried to fuck my wife this morning but she just pushed me away because, well, look at me," he said, pulling up his shirt to show a beer belly that was just barely there, and making a face that accentuated his mussed-up bedhead and drunk-haggard face.
"You'll always be beautiful to me," I said and he blew me a kiss.
And then for a long time we didn't talk. Commercials came on. We were just staring at the TV and not looking at each other but our legs were still tangled. And when he finally said "Wanna jack off?" it was such a relief cause I'd been thinking of the same thing.
We hadn't jacked off together since college but it wasn't much of a deal to get back into it again. I'd been doing it myself, obviously, the whole time I'd been married and if he hadn't I would've thought something was wrong with him. If I thought about it, and to be honest I never really did, I would've assumed that we hadn't done it together for a while because we never had the time or opportunity. When we'd done it together in middle school, high school, college, we'd been bored out of our minds and horny as all hell and there'd been a bonding aspect to it that maybe we didn't need anymore, either.