Anthony and I sat in the backseat of my parents' SUV. We could barely hear my parents muffled talking through the mountains of equipment for our lake trip. Unfortunately for us, this also happened to block a significant majority of the air vents in the back seat.
"You okay back there?" I heard my mom call.
"As good as I can be!" I said. I put my thankfully-cool water bottle on my forehead.
Anthony tilted his head back and moaned "It's hot as balls back here!" He turned to me and put his hand down his shorts -- over his dick -- and said "here, smell!"
I immediately recoiled in horror. He smirked "I was just kidding! Didn't even touch it. You want to though?"
I gave him the side eye.
We'd been friends for a couple of years now. Anthony... he was tall, strong, had chest hair that just popped out of his shirt, had curly blonde hair, had a face decorated with stubble, had powerful thighs... okay, yes, more detail than a typical guy would describe one of his guy friends in. He had me confused. And... kind of burning up a bit. It wasn't just that he was handsome -- anyone could see that -- it's that he'd... toe the line. He'd toe the line of that game all groups of guy friends play.
You know the one. Some call it "gay chicken," when groups of guy friends would say gay shit and do gay shit -- but all because the idea of us actually doing anything was so preposterous that it was hilarious. Whether it was us smacking the other's ass in passing, getting all up in the other's face and saying "I will fucking kiss you right now bro," or saying "come on bro don't be gay just suck my dick," it was all part of the wholesome version of "guys being dudes."
But Anthony... he'd... do the exact same things, but take it a notch too far.
Well, I take that back. For me, it had eventually become not far enough. For our other friends, though, it absolutely was too far. He'd more than once been yelled at by some of our mutual friends. Whether it was "accidentally" grabbing their dick for half-a-second while at the pool, to not just smacking their ass, but grabbing it for a second too long, most of the guys knew something was up. However, because of whatever weird group dynamic we had, though, he got away with it. He was, quite honestly, a bit domineering. Cocky. A strong personality, and our friend for sure, but somehow, his presence let him get away with these things.
Now, I was no exception for his little games. He did it all to me. But... every time he did it, I found myself getting turned on. I only wanted more. Bad. Like, really, really bad.
And I always felt like he took it even farther with me than he did others.
"What's the game?" I asked.
"It's called 'Pube or Chest Hair.' Can you guess how you play?"
"You're fucking sick," I retorted.
He never broke eye contact. "So are you in?"
I couldn't take him seriously, and the game sounded fucking hilarious. I smirked. "I'm in."
"Fuck yes. Turn around, fag."
I turned around. I heard him gasp "ow!" once. β¨β¨Wait, I thought. What happens if you lose?
"Ow!" twice.
I turned around. In each hand, pinched between two of his fingers, were two virtually indistinguishable curly hairs. Immediately, I compared the hairs to the ones poking out of his shirt (for a second, overcome with wondering what it would feel like to rub my hand through it).
"Anthony."
"Hm?"
"What happens if you lose?"
"You'll see."
This dude drove me fucking nuts. "Whatever."
"So, what do you think? Which one's the pube and which one's the chest hair?"
With morbid fascination, I inspected more closely. One was slightly blonder. Maybe ever-so-slightly longer? The other was darker and slightly curlier. His chest hair looked to glimmer a little bit in the light -- blonder. However, it was as curly as the darker hair.
I was at a loss. "Fuck. I don't know. Ummm... the one on the left is your... pube?" I whispered the last word as I pointed to the blonder hair.
"Correct." He smirked at me again and leaned back, expectantly.
"What?" I asked. He was never, ever straight up with me. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now?"
"You have to kiss where it came from, obviously."
I thumped him in the chest. "Shut the fuck up!"
I glanced nervously over at my parents. I could just barely see the top of their heads over all of our supplies. They seemed quiet and lost in the music playing on the radio.