Slippery Slope 01: Game Boys

Trevor and I had been together for two years before I finally managed to end it. He hadn't been a terrible person or anything, just... a bit boring, honestly. He never quite managed to get his life together after university, always finding some excuse to keep working shit jobs that he hated instead of trying for something bigger.

So it's not like I had any delusions about him being the great love of my life, or anything, but it still sucked to go through the break-up and realize that after two years of work at the relationship, I was back where I started - single. It was depressing, and I decided to cope by spending more time with friends, especially the friends I had that Trevor didn't like.

One such friend was Peter.

Admittedly, Peter wasn't the best guy. He was a notorious horn dog, always talking about his latest conquests and getting a bit handsy after a drink or two. But he could also be hilarious and, frankly, sometimes I found his stories kinda hot. He was always hunting after some new twink, and he seemed to love a challenge. But Trevor found the stories "distasteful" - he literally said that once, "distasteful" - and would get really possessive when Peter would put his arm around my shoulders or playfully give my ass a quick pat, so we lost touch a bit. It was too bad, because Peter and I had always gotten along well, and used to get together regularly to play video games, but Trevor threw a fit about it once and I kind of let Peter and I drift apart.

So when Peter reached out to me after the break-up went public, I was more than happy to invite him over for drinks and some gaming. I was worried at first that it would be awkward - here was a guy who I'd basically ditched because my ex didn't like him, and probably knew it - but Peter was great about it. He showed up to the apartment with a couple bottles of wine, and as soon as he saw me he set the bottles down and pulled me into a huge hug.

"Little dude!" he said, literally lifting me into the air, just like he used to.

I rolled my eyes. I never cared for people pointing out how short I was - I barely broke 5'6" - but Peter seemed fascinated with it. "Oh god, I have immediate regrets about inviting you back into my life," I teased.

Peter laughed and set me down, but didn't quite let me out of his hug yet. I'd forgotten how big of a guy he was - not fat, and he wasn't crazy muscular, but he was just big and fairly athletic. It was nice having his arms wrapped around me; I'd been missing physical affection since I'd become single again.

Anyways, after that, we slipped easily back into our old flow; drinking a bit too fast, playing games, and catching up a bit.

"Man, I'm so excited for you," Peter said at some point. "After all that time with dumbass, you've gotta be raring to go for a good slutty phase."

I laughed. "I don't know if a slutty phase is really my style."

Peter gave me a roguish wink. "It should be, you'd have guys lining up for a chance at that ass of yours."

I rolled my eyes. That was just the kind of thing Peter would say so casually that would piss Trevor off so bad. Peter was all talk though, as far as I was concerned, so I usually let it go. That being said, it had been a while since anyone had been checking out my ass, and I felt myself blushing a bit too.

"In fact, I'd bet you've already had a few good fucks since you kicked Trev to the curb."

Trevor had also hated the whole "Trev" thing, so I took some malicious pleasure from that. "Nah," I said, "No such luck. Honestly, I don't even know how to meet guys anymore." I'd met Trevor at our town's old gay bar, which had closed down since. "The online thing never got along well with my anxiety, and it's not like I'm working at homo central."

"Oh, man, no, you've gotta start getting out there." There was a lull as we refocused on kicking each others' asses in the game, before an idea struck Peter. "I know! You should come to my gym. It's super cruisy, you could totally get some nice cock in you."

"Peter!" I was slightly scandalized, though I could feel myself blushing a bit harder. I did have a bit of a fantasy about getting checked out and fucking in a locker room. I mean, who didn't have leftover fantasy wank bank material from the high school locker room after gym class? But I'd never told Peter that, so I played it close to the chest. "I'm not going to hook up with some random at the gym. Besides, I have a nice workout routine at home. And what am I going to do, parade around in the locker room in a jockstrap until some guy bends me over and fucks my brains out?"

Too specific? Probably too specific. Thankfully Peter didn't seem to notice my overly-detailed hypothetical. "That would get the job done. Wait, is that why you work out at home instead of hitting the gym? Too shy to go around naked?"

"Yep," I said quickly. It was partly true, I was pretty shy about being naked in a place like that. I just left out the bit where I'd probably start to enjoy it too much. Damn fantasies.

"Oh, well that's an easy enough problem to fix. We should hang out naked."

I laughed at him, though it had planted the idea in my brain of being naked with Peter in the locker room... I'd seen Peter in skimpy briefs once at Pride, because of course he's That Guy at Pride, and frankly I wouldn't mind seeing more. He had a great athletic build and a bulge that I sincerely hoped wasn't stuffed.

Wait, I suddenly realized, am I fantasizing about Peter? Maybe Trevor was right to worry...

Out loud, I said, "I am not just getting naked with you. Weirdo."

"But how are you going to get over your Never-Nudeness except by exposure?" For a second I thought the double entendre was accidental, but he added a wink a second later that made my pulse flutter a little.

Damn, where was all this coming from? The answer was pretty close at hand, though; one and a half years of boring sex plus half a year of jerking off in the shower plus four weeks of being single. With the extra variable of two bottles of wine split between Peter and I that night, with the third waiting in the fridge.

"I am not a Never-Nude. And I'm not one of your sluts, either," I added, maybe a bit meaner than I intended.

Peter didn't seem to mind, he was grinning. "Then what's the harm? I mean, isn't this one of the best parts about being gay? Being open about sexuality with your friends? Besides, how are you gonna have a slutty phase if you can't get naked with a guy?"

I snorted. I had distinctly not agreed to this whole slutty phase concept, though the wine was starting to give the idea a certain sheen, and I definitely wasn't going to strip down with an old friend.

Peter started to stand up, and I quickly said, "Do not take off your pants."

He laughed at my near-panic. "Relax, I'm just getting more wine." Peter grabbed his glass and mine, without asking (presumptuous fucker). He had been sitting on the side of the couch that was pressed up against the wall, and had to cross in front of me to get to the kitchen. What he didn't have to do, but did, was sidle between me and the coffee table, putting his crotch right in my face. It wasn't his most subtle of moves - and honestly, this wasn't the first time he'd made sure to put his bulge at my eye level over the course of our friendship, or even the first time that night - but it was the first time I found myself really looking at it. He wore loose shorts that made it easy to notice a sizeable lump. I couldn't tell if he was aroused at all, but it was at least as big as I remembered it from his Pride outfit, and I strongly suspected he'd end up being a fair bit bigger than Trevor was...

I tried to look away quickly, though I'm sure Peter caught me checking him out anyways. Dammit. I really had just intended to reconnect and have another gay friend, and here I was checking him out and casually chatting about getting naked with each other? It was hard to tell how seriously Peter was taking it, mostly because he'd always been outrageous and sexual. Maybe he was just joking around, or maybe he legitimately thought he should help me get more comfortable getting naked (and getting laid). Or maybe Trevor was right, and Peter's top priority had always been getting me on my back.

"I'm serious," Trevor said from the kitchen, punctuated by the sound of a cork popping.

Woah. Freaky mind-reading moment.

"Serious about us getting naked?" I tried to make it sound derisive, but I had the bad feeling that my voice was wavering.

"Obvi," he said casually from the other room,

"How are you going to be a good little slut if you can't even drop trou with a friend?"

My breath hitched. Something about the phrasing sent a literal shiver down my spine. 'Good little slut'. It was so fucking cheesy, something someone would say in a bad porno (which, honestly, could be said of most things that came out of Peter's mouth), but I was suddenly very glad that Peter was in the other room and couldn't see how hard I was blushing.

And how hard I was, for that matter. I quickly adjusted myself, barely managing to get myself presentable before Peter came back into the room.

Once again, he pulled his lame sidling in front of me maneuver, and once again I pretended not to look. Only this time a glass of wine appeared directly in front of his crotch, right where I'd been very much failing to not look at.

Damn. Definitely busted.

I took the glass of wine quickly while Peter chuckled at my flustered reaction.

"Here, let's make it interesting," Peter said as he slumped down onto the couch. "Strip Smash Bros."

"That is not a real thing," I said, still trying to recover.

"It is now. Stock match, every time you lose a life, you lose a piece of clothing."

"I'm not doing that," I said firmly. But my heart was racing. And was Peter sitting closer to me than before, or was that my imagination? Could I always feel his body heat next to me, or was that new? At that point, I wouldn't have minded ditching my shirt just for the sake of cooling off.

(And of course that was the only reason I'd want to take off my shirt. Obviously. Nothing to do with the raging hard-on I was hiding.)

Peter didn't acknowledge my objection, but he also didn't say anything more as we picked our characters. Just in case, I chose Jigglypuff - I could wreck face with Jigglypuff, and Peter knew it. I was hoping he'd see that, realize I was intent on keeping my pants on, and forget the whole idea.

Or, barring that, that I'd beat the literal pants off him.

He picked Dark Samus. Not his best character, but someone I'd seen him play often enough. My overanalyzing couldn't decide whether that meant we were doing this for real or not.

My brain and dick couldn't come to an agreement on whether I wanted it to happen or not, so it's a bit of a shock that I actually knocked him off the stage first.

"Fucker," he cursed, but he was grinning. He didn't even pause the game to peel off his shirt.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I said, face heating again. God, I hope the room was dim enough that he couldn't see all this blushing. Downside of being so pale; real hard to hide when your old friend is getting you hot under the collar.

"Just play the game." His voice was surprisingly firm, so I did what he said.

It was hard to focus, because I was trying to figure out how and when to stop this. I told myself that next death, either way, I'd call it; I'd keep my shirt, he'd keep his pants, and maybe he'd keep gently flexing his pecs while we played...

Dammit, distracted.

Thankfully, Peter didn't seem to be on the top of his game either; he was getting lots of good hits in on me, but couldn't quite manage to land the KO, and I managed to (just barely) send him off the stage for a second KO.

I held my breath as Peter stood up, swearing again. "Shitfuck. Fucking Jigglypuff."

Okay, Matt, I told myself. Speak up, tell him you're not comfortable with this, maybe make him out his shirt back on. Let's get back to normal, and not this weirdo wet dream-

Peter turned towards me, hooking his thumbs into his waistband.

It doesn't need to be a big deal. Just laugh it off, tell him to stop being such a weirdo-

He pulled his thumbs down and back, the shorts catching for an instant on his muscular ass, then catching for a much longer moment on his bulge, which just drew even more attention to what was a not-totally-soft lump. The part of me that wasn't frozen in panic (with a little bit of pre-cum leaking into my briefs) noticed that he was wearing CKs, which was a bit of a straight guy move as far as I was concerned.

It was definitely not a straight guy move when he finally popped his shorts over his bulge and let them fall to the floor.

Jesus.

Fucking.

Christ.

He wasn't porn star big - at least, not yet he wasn't - but his cock seemed like it was fighting a winning battle to break out of his skimpy boxer-briefs. The head was pressed up against his left hip, and I found myself unconsciously leaning forwards to to be closer to it.

I caught myself and leaned back, trying to pretend my focus was on getting back to the game.

Peter chuckled at me as he sat down. If there was one thing I learned from that night, it was that I needed to work on my acting skills.

Okay, for real this time, Matt, it's time to call this off. My inner voice was countered by itself, which said, Uh, fuck no, it's been half a year since I've even seen a cock that wasn't mine, I'm enjoying this while it lasts.

This was fine, I decided. Just a couple guys hanging out, one of them is in their underwear. Straight dudes do this all the time, unless gay porn has been lying to me. I just wouldn't let it go any further. He'd keep his trunks on, I'd have some fantastic new jerk-off material, everybody wins.

Suffice it to say, I was pretty distracted when we unpaused the game. Peter's knee bumped into mine, which made me glance at it... and then up his (surprisingly hairy) leg to his crotch, and that giant bulge.

I snapped my attention back to the game, just in time to watch my character get launched across the screen, losing my first life.

"Your turn, little dude," Peter said smugly as he paused the game and stared at me expectantly.

"I'm not-"

"Take off your shirt."

The command seemed to skip my brain and go right to my arms, and before I realized what was happening I'd unbuttoned and peeled off my shirt.

I tried not to be self-conscious as I tossed my shirt to the side. I still had a tank top, so it wasn't even like I was as exposed as he was.

Fair is fair, I decided. He gets a bit of a show, I get a real big, throbbing show... fuck, had Peter always been this built? His biceps flexed while I stared at them, which was my wake-up call that I was staring at my friend in his underwear and our game was still paused.

"Um, sorry," I said, not really sure why.

Peter just laughed at me and unpaused the game.

He bumped my leg again, with the same effect; I took a quick glance at his cock and Jigglypuff took a missile to the face. I recovered while Peter chuckled at my distraction. Seconds later and he did it again, and again. I mostly managed to ignore it, but every once in a while he'd catch my attention.

I glanced over at one point, and his cock visibly throbbed.

I nearly walked off the stage without Peter even having to hit me. He laughed, but was cut short when I managed to refocus and send his character off the stage again, losing a life.

I crowed in triumph, then suddenly realized what was about to happen as Peter stood up.

Flustered, I quickly tried to stop him, "Listen, Pete, you don't have to-"

"Relax, little dude," he said with a smirk. He ran a thumb under the waistband of his trunks, which drew my eye to his bulge. It was definitely bigger than before, and as his thumb travelled I almost thought his cock was going to pop out on its own. Peter flexed his cock again, which nearly made me cream my shorts.

Peter leaned forward until his face was next to mine, breath tickling along my ear in a way that made me shiver. "Relax," he said again, "It's just a sock."

I blinked as Peter abruptly leaned back, reached down, and peeled off a sock, then flopped back down onto the couch.

My jaw dropped. "You still have your socks?"

"Sock, now," Peter said, laughing at my shock.

"Ugh," I groaned, "I forgot about your goddamn awful socks and sandals combo. What kind of gay are you, anyways?"

"The kind you can't stop staring at, Matty," he teased.

This time I was sure my blush went down my bare shoulders. Cocky. Mother. Fucker.

He flexed his cock again, which I think had gotten even bigger while we'd talked, and proved his point.

I snapped my attention back to the screen. The man was a fucking horse, I'd decided. A freak, too big to be attractive. No way was that cock getting anywhere near me. Which didn't explain why my mouth was watering, but I figured if I denied it hard enough then things would go back to normal and tomorrow I could pretend this whole thing had never happened. Except for in the shower.

We traded blows in the game for a while, but I knew I wasn't going to make it; I'd taken too much damage and my character was having a harder and harder time keeping alive. I watched with a sinking hard as I lost another life.

I peeled my tank top off before Peter could ask, embarrassed to notice that my nipples were hard. He actually licked his lips while he watched, which gave me images of him pushing me down against the couch and devouring me...

Fuck, shit, fuck.

Peter unpaused the game and started before I really realized what was happening. I didn't even get the chance to cry foul before he was attacking me in game. My brain, still plagued by images of him on top of me, sucking my nipples and- well, it was distracted. I managed to come to my own defense, but it was too little too late, and far too soon I lost my third life.

"Off with the shorts, buddy," Peter said, practically growling. He leaned back, lacing his hands behind his head and obviously expecting a show.

"Wait, wait," I said, stalling for time so I could build up the courage to tell him to fuck off - or to ditch my shorts, which I was suddenly aware were already tenting pretty obviously. I pulled my knees up a little to try and cover. "This isn't fair, I have two lives left but I've only got my underwear and shorts-"

"No you don't," he interrupted, pointing at me with his chin. "You're losing the shorts."

Ignoring him, I continued, "But you've only got two lives and you've got your underwear and a damn sock. I should get extra clothes so we're even."

"Not how it works, little guy. Lose a life, lose some clothes." He smirked. "Not my fault you weren't wearing enough clothes when we started." Then, almost under his breath, he added, "Like a little slut."

"Fuck you."

"Lose. The. Shorts."

There was just something about the way he talked - or the wine, or how insanely horny I was, or how afraid I was that if I pissed him off he'd put his shorts on and I'd never see that throbbing cock again. But before I could even consider another argument, I was standing in front of him.

"You're the fucking worst," I said, even as I started to unbutton my shorts.

"That's not what your cock says."

There was no chance of hiding it, even before I got my shorts off. I was rock hard. I'm no slouch in the dick department - though I wasn't getting anywhere close to Peter's cock - and as I dropped my shorts, my cock actually bounced in my Trophy Boy underwear. It was obscene.

"Fuck," Peter said, almost silently. It took me a second to realize that it wasn't just the sight of me in my little briefs; I'd been so turned on from our game that I was pre-cumming gratuitously, and it was painfully obvious from the big wet stain darkening my pink briefs.