Part 3 finds straight Brian redefining his sexuality and embracing an unconventional arrangement.
*****
It's been maybe two months since Mark gave me a blowjob. I spent those first few days after I fucked his face and came down his throat questioning my what, or who, I am attracted to. My sex life is no one's business as long as it's consensual. It took me a while to work through the mental hurdles I had set myself. Just because a guy gives me a blowjob does not mean I'm gay, and Mark is enjoying the taste of my dick. The way it fills his entire mouth, the way tears stream down his face when I really take control. He actually enjoys it.
I'm not embarrassed to say I love having a throat to cum down. Sure, right now it's a dude's throat, but I don't feel attracted to Mark. I've kept my eye out for attractive guys, to see if my interest is sparked, but admiration for a clean haircut and well-fitted clothes doesn't make me want to jump a guy's bones. I even watched gay porn, fearful that I might discover an enthusiasm. But I viewed gay porn as an objective observer. I understand that everyone wants to get off, and gay guys really desire the attention of other guys.
That's not me. I know now. My eyes are still drawn to cleavage, midriffs, and hips, without thought or planning. So I've come to terms with the fact that this arrangement is perfect for both of us. But getting to that point was rough.
I ignored Mark for a week after he worshipped me. I felt guilty for taking advantage of Mark.
"Brian," Mark began a long text, "I sincerely hope that our friendship doesn't change. I expect nothing from you besides a good friend if you still want to be one. I know you're not gay, and I could never want anything more than a friendship from you. But if you ever feel the need for a release, without any expectations, or just want to hang like old times, platonically, let me know."
Release without any expectations. That played over and over in my head before I replied. I told him everything was going to be okay, but I needed little time. The next few days were filled with lots of solo jack off sessions watching lesbian porn, a couple Tinder dates, and one drunken pick-up failure at a bar.
No matter how much I masturbated to lesbian porn, without a dick in sight, I kept thinking about Mark's buzzed hair and how it felt in my hands as I literally rammed my cock down his throat. Or how eager he was to open his throat for my entire load. Not only did it feel physically great, but the idea of someone wanting my dick and cum so badly made me feel admired and respected-put on a pedestal.
He doesn't want to be in a relationship, I thought. He said as much. Fuck it. I'm going to text him.
"Hey, busy 2nite? Wanna hang and talk about it? No agenda just wanna be cool."
That night would begin a weekly tradition that lasted relationships and marriages and kids. It would get us through our grandparents' and then our parents' passing. Waiting on loan approvals and unemployment. It became an untraditional friendship that the loves of our lives would understand, and even embrace. Those closest to us would find out, and we wouldn't be judged.
Mark came over that Sunday night. I fucked his face again. It wasn't much different from the first time. He shut my apartment door. I forced him to drop to his knees. Without pause, he rubbed his face into my gray sweatpants. Our cocks grew, his own slithered down his thigh.
He fit both of my balls in his mouth and tugged. He deepthroated me-his entire skull shoved into my hairy pelvis. I wasn't concerned about making an impression on a dude. I gave up on dating, so I hadn't shaved. His gaping mouth around my cock felt so great that I didn't care about the feeling of what little stubble he had on his chin against my ball sack.
For the finale, I flung my foot up on the dining room chair and fucked Mark's face relentlessly with no resistance. My balls kept hitting his chin. I thought I might break his nose I was slamming into him so hard. But he didn't complain or stop me. I put my sperm into his belly as he wanted, and then we sat on the couch and talked. I think his dick stayed hard the entire night.
"You really like sucking dick, don' you?" I asked, pointing to his dick. If I'm comparing a man to a woman, there's one thing I prefer: the obvious sign of pleasure. A cis-woman doesn't have the erection to show me she's turned on. If ever I felt guilty again, I could simply look at his crotch to ease my doubts.
"What? Oh," he looked down, embarrassed. "Yeah, I really do. Sorry," he shrugged his shoulders.
"No, it's cool. It's nice to know we both get something from it and that I'm not just," I paused, searching for the right words, "you know," more searching, "forcing my dick down your throat while you wait for my cum." There, that's it.
"No!" He practically jumped. "I get to let this loose at some point," he said, tapping his dick through his jeans, "thinking about how hot it was. I'm into it."
Every Sunday Mark came over for some cum and I shot stress out of my dick in the form of cum. Sometimes I'd deposit a load twice, before and after pizza and commiserating about our love lives. He dated guys and I tried dating girls (I never found blowjobs as good as his). Neither of us found anything worth pursuing.
On one Sunday, Mark came over earlier than usual. I hopped out of a post-gym shower just as Mark knocked on the door. I don't know why I put on the towel. Once he shut the door he dropped to his knees, took it off, and went straight to work. But this time was different.
Over time, Mark he had gotten in the habit of cupping my balls, which progressed to tugging. That then progressed to a couple fingers pressing on my taint, something I've always enjoyed. Once he tried moving a finger to my no-fly zone. I put a stop to that. I know it wouldn't make me gay necessarily, but it's just not my thing.
This Sunday, however, Mark paid special attention to my balls. They hang low enough for licking and tugging and sucking and rubbing them all over his face, which made him moan. It was summer and Mark was wearing super short shorts, not atypical for him. I performed my routine dick-check to see if he was enjoying my balls. His cock was half sticking out, veiny and full of blood.
His pre-cum was sliding down his thighs. His thighs were far more muscular than I thought. I noticed for the first time how blonde his bristly leg hair was. It was the first time I'd seen his dick. He maybe had half an inch on me. Good for him, I thought.
Mark had been making rubbing my hairless ball sack over his entire face (I will always shave my balls). I focused my attention away from his cock and back to my dick, hard and unmoving, thick at its base, its girth tapering toward the tip.
