Story Teaser:
I'm secretly in love with my best friend. When he invites me camping, how will I keep my horny urges in check?
Author's Notes:
- This is a stand-alone story of roughly 9500 words. High-frequency words include shorts (39), skin (37), legs (27), and cock (14). No smut until very late in the story :p
- The narrator and his friend Kevin attended university together. Both are 24 years old.
- This story describes consensual sexual activity among men in graphic detail. Readers should be comfortable with gay/homosexual content.
- This work is fiction. It's intended as light, enjoyable reading for an adult audience. Settings may be real, but the characters are imaginary.
*****
UNDERNEATH A WARM AFTERNOON SUN
"Dude, put away your scrawny legs."
"Huh? . . . Oh." Kevin turned around, smirked, and shook his head. Then he resumed watching the deer we spotted off in the distance.
He'd been massaging the back of his legs just below his ass, providing me with a view that was irritating. Maybe his hamstrings were sore, but in rubbing them he'd been lifting the back of his shorts higher than I could handle at the moment, revealing the fabric of his boxers and the near-entirety of his skinny, hairy legs.
Maybe he's just trying to annoy me,
I thought.
Nah, that's paranoid.
In any event, I regretted telling him to stop. It wasn't often that I got such a good peek at his tight hamstrings. Though his legs were skinny, they were toned from running and biking. It would be amazing to touch them, feel those tough, lean muscles with my fingers.
I imagined kneeling behind him and running my hands up the back of his legs. I'd start just above the ankles, slide up the curves of his calves, then slow down once I passed the back of his knees. Inching higher, I'd lift his shorts and massage his hamstrings, my fingers touching his tight skin and all those little hairs that glinted in the sun. I'd slip my fingers up beneath his boxers too, seeing how close I could get to his hole . . .
"Need to rub one out?" Kevin joked, interrupting my fantasy.
"Ha! You wish you were that hot," I replied, thankful he couldn't hear my thoughts.
Kevin laughed. "Yeah, sure," he said sarcastically.
Then he yawned and stretched, raising his arms in the air. The motion lifted his shirt, giving me a peek at the top of his boxers, which puffed a bit over his shorts, and the smooth skin of his lower back, which had just a touch of hair right above his waist. His boxers were silky and checkered, with deep blues and purples that complemented his silver shorts and light blonde hair.
I wondered if he knew how deeply I felt or how horny he could make me. We'd been good friends since we started rooming together in university. As time passed, as we took classes together, partied together, and stayed roommates, my feelings grew into something of a monster.
I thought I did well hiding them from him, but sometimes I led a parallel life in my imagination, pretending he was with me for every walk on campus and every shower in the dorms. It didn't matter who I dated. No one could compete with him.
I tried to follow a rule never to think of him while jerking off. I got attached anyway. And fiercely jealous. He always dated women who were kind and smart and pretty, but I resented them, my feelings making me irrational.
"I dunno why I'm so tired," he said, yawning again.
"It's cuz we were in the f'ing car all day," I replied. His yawn was contagious and I yawned too.
The drive had been nearly four hours, the latter portion on narrow roads that curved around hillside farms or through patches of forest. I remember thinking about how good all those grapes looked whenever we passed a vineyard. The other crops I didn't recognize, unless we passed an orchard whose trees bore something obvious like apples.
Despite my offers, Kevin insisted on driving the whole way. Secretly I was relieved. An hour outside town was a bridge that scared the hell out of me. Half a kilometre long, it curved across a deep ravine, one lane in each direction. The guardrails, a sturdy grid of metal posts and wires, provided expansive views of thousands of trees and a churning river impossibly far below.
At first, I'd get scared as soon as I saw the shiny blue sign posted a hundred metres before it began:
THIS PROJECT PARTLY FINANCED THROUGH THE COHESION FUND OF THE EUROPEAN COMMUNITIES
But now I knew every house and every hill in the few kilometres leading up to it.
Ironically, Kevin loved that bridge. He thought it'd be great for bungee jumping. Foolish in some moments, I'd heartily agree, quietly grateful that it would probably be illegal.
He's nuts
, I'd think.
Once we'd parked, it was a long hike to the campsite. We unpacked, set up our tent, and decided to chill. It was a surprising thirty degrees out, a lazy summer day whose bright sun could induce a long nap.
Kevin returned to where we were sitting and grabbed some pretzels out of the open bag between us.
I tried to tell if he was sad, but he didn't seem any different than usual. He'd originally planned to make this trip with his girlfriend, but she ended it about a month ago, so he invited me to come instead. I'd agreed immediately, looking forward to spending a few days alone with him despite no real desire to camp or shit in the wilderness.
"So you good Kev?" I asked, trusting he'd know what I meant.
"Yeah," he said, not exactly convincingly. But then he continued, seeming to dismiss any ambiguity. "I think I'm over it; it's not like we dated for very long."
"True," I said.
Should I say something else?
Feeling inadequate, I decided to leave it at that.
What else can you say?
I thought.
Reaching over, I grabbed a few waffle pretzels from the bag. I put them in my mouth one at a time, salty side down, savoring the tingling of that flavor on my tongue. I used to do the same thing with Toppas cereal growing up.
"You're lucky," Kev said suddenly.
"I am?" I replied, pausing the next pretzel's journey from hand to mouth.