I'd always wondered if I was gay, but I'd never had the nerves to find out. I didn't know any gay people, and where I grew up most people were homophobic, so I never had a chance to experiment. I'd tried getting with girls but something always felt empty about it, like I was just going through the motions. But every time I slept with someone I couldn't help but imagine what it was like to be on the bottom, or on my knees sucking cock. And every time I watched porn I found myself imagining myself in the place of the girl, focusing on nothing but cock. I tried to change it, but nothing worked. It was just how I was.
I'd always heard rumours that Conor was gay, but I never really believed them. That, or I just put them to one side, secretly knowing what I wanted to happen. It was strange to people that we were friends at all. We were from the same estate but I was shy and kept to myself, while he was a loud, social guy. He was stocky and well over six foot, while I was lithe and shorter than most people I knew. To be honest, we didn't have anything in common, other than that we both smoked, and we'd been in sixth form together. But now we were both nineteen, and both working, it was strange to me that we were friends as well. Until one night, when I found out what he really wanted.
He text me just after ten, telling me to come round and smoke with him. I was already ready for bed, but something about the way he text me made me rush to get dressed and go meet him. The tone of how he spoke to me, how he told me rather than asked me, triggered something buried deep inside me. I knew I had to go to him. I pulled on some track pants and a t-shirt, looking at myself for a second in the mirror before I left. I'd always been ashamed of my body. I had an hourglass build, and was almost hairless. It was like a woman's body. But I didn't dwell on it long before walking over the estate to Conor's flat.
When I got in he was already smoking. There was something different in how he looked at me, a little glint in his eye that I'd never seen before. His shirt was off, his muscular chest out, and he was wearing nothing but a pair of grey track pants. I could see his bulge through the corner of my eye, but I walked over to the couch anyway, sitting down next to him. We chatted for a bit, ignoring whatever was playing on the TV, but the whole time I could feel him staring at me like a piece of meat. And the more he stared, the more I realised I liked it. I knew I shouldn't be doing it, but it just made me want it more.
Once he realised I wasn't going to leave I felt his muscular hand squeeze my thigh, a smug little smile creeping across his face. I couldn't stop myself from smiling back, rooted to the spot in both fear and lust, and soon his hand crept all the way up my thigh to find the back of my track pants, sliding in to cup my round, feminine ass in his palm. I felt a rush of blood to my dick, my whole body lighting up in lust and confusion. I wanted to do something, but I could barely move. He helped me along, bringing his free hand over to rest my shaking palm on his bulge as he moved his face in so close to mine that I could feel the heat of his breath on my face.
