Chapter One
“Do I see stubble?” my best friend Conrad asked. He lay on his bed with his hands behind his head, shirtless, his abs on display for all of their six-pack glory. Images of me running my tongue over them flashed through my head.
I rubbed the side of my jaw. “You sure do. At the age of nineteen, I’m finally becoming a real man.”
“Dude, you’ve been a man. Just a hairless one. Are you still hairless everywhere else?” He smiled and sat up, crossing his legs.
“God, Conrad.” I turned around in my desk chair and folded my arms over my chest, pretending I didn’t want to share the information. He knew I’d cave and tell him, happened that way every time.
“Well?”
“If you must know, no.” I glanced over my shoulder at him.
“Chest hair?” he grinned and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and clasping his hands.
I spun around to face him and shook my head.
“Ah, down there.”
“Okay, we need to stop talking about this and that hair has been there for a couple years now.”
“You’re my best friend. We should be able to talk about everything.”
“Some things, I don’t want to talk about.” I turned back toward my desk, trying to complete my assignment for the class I had later in the day. I loved taking a fiction writing course, but I didn’t like when we had to write papers analyzing books we had read in class, thus me still working on my paper.
“It’s not like you’re the only one who’s had delayed puberty.” Those words, how I loathed them.
“I swear to God, I’m going to punch you,” I said over my shoulder.
“All right, sorry. I know it’s a touchy subject for you.”
“And yet, you decided to have a conversation about it.”
“Just curious.”
I sighed and turned back toward Conrad. “But now, I feel ready to, you know…”
“Have sex?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
I shrugged. “Well, yeah.”
“Because you grew some facial hair?” Conrad rubbed his palm over his jaw which caused my cock to stir in my pants. I had fallen in love with him years ago, and my feelings for him lately had gotten a lot stronger.
“Maybe it’ll make me look older, more rugged, more desirable.” Because I was a sophomore in college and still looked like I belonged in high school.
“If you’re going to be with someone, they should want to be with you no matter what you look like.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re six-foot-four and have been all manly since you were like thirteen. I’m five-foot-five, incapable of building my pecs. Instead, I have perky nubbins. Like what the heck is that about? And my Adam’s apple isn’t even all that visible. All of that doesn’t scream sex appeal,” I said, looking over at Conrad who screamed of sex appeal. Besides his gorgeous body, he had the perfect shade of medium-brown hair that he kept short with his bangs a bit longer, which he always styled up. Hair I had wanted to run my fingers through so many times before. And his smile, a bit mischievous but always so genuinely happy.
“I’m pretty sure to some gay dudes that does scream please have sex with me. And your Adam’s apple isn’t visible at all.”
“Shut up,” I said, touching my neck with my fingertips. “I don’t want to be looked at as just some ... I don’t know.”
“Some guys are into smaller dudes.” I swear, half of Conrad’s time was spent trying to help boost my self-esteem.
“And you know because?”
“I don’t know. I think you’re pretty hot.” He looked me up and down. Our eyes met, and he glanced at the floor.
“Really?” I asked, keeping a calm demeanor. What I actually wanted to do was get on my chair and shout to the heavens because he thought I was hot.
“Yeah, sometimes, I catch myself looking at other guys, but they don’t compare to you. I’ve thought you were hot for quite a while.”
“Really?” I asked, warmness spreading across my face, which I’m sure he could see perfectly because my skin was such a pale white.
“Yes, Mason,” he said, his eyes meeting mine again.
“Now what’s a while?”
“This is where you tell me how hot I am.”
“Conrad, you’re well aware, too aware, how hot you are.” The day I met him when I was thirteen, I took note of his hotness, and I had kept notes ever since.
“So you think I’m hot?” He grinned at me.
“Of course.”
“Well, who doesn’t?”
“You’re impossible and not making a big deal out of it or anything, so ... you check out guys but none compare to me?”
He laughed and shrugged.
We had known each other since eighth grade, became best friends after just a couple of weeks of meeting, but now I wanted more than best friend status. And he seemed to want something more, too. His eyes always lingered when I’d change, or he’d go out of his way to touch me. Like if he had to reach something on my desk, he’d put his hand on my shoulder. And every damn time he touched me, my breathing hitched, my heart beat faster, butterflies came alive in my stomach. So recently, I had begun to push the boundaries a bit and now with him admitting what he just did to me, figured maybe I could test the waters a tad more.
“Man, my back,” Conrad said, getting up off his bed and stretching forward. “I think I lifted too much at the gym earlier.”
“Want a massage?” I asked. Such perfect timing.
He nodded. “Sure.” He went and lay down on his stomach.
I went over to his bed and climbed over him, sitting down on his ass.
“Maybe this isn’t the best idea,” I said, rethinking the situation as I sat straddled on him. If we were flipped, it’s something I’d dreamt about many times before.
“It’s giving you a hard-on, isn’t it?”
“Serious, Conrad. But is it giving you one?”
“Shut up and just massage my back already.”
Him saying he checked out other guys was the first time he ever said anything about his sexuality and not being one hundred percent straight. But I’m his best friend, so I noticed things way before his lingering gaze on me. I noticed how he’d flirt with the guy at the coffee shop. Noticed how he wanted to watch certain movies with the same couple of actors. Noticed how he danced with that guy at the party we went to last week.
I kneaded his back and took breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to keep my burgeoning erection at bay. He moaned as I pressed harder, and it was so arousing. There was no more fighting it, my cock throbbed in my jeans.
Not wanting to talk my hands off his hard, muscular back, I forced myself to finish his massage. When I was done, I lay on his bed next to him. “I think we’re moving beyond best friend territory here.”
“I bet there are other guys who give their best friend’s massages.”
“Yeah, okay. Ones who think their roommate is super-hot?” I asked, pinching his bicep.
He rolled his head to the side and looked at me. “I’m sure. They just don’t talk about it.”
I laughed.
“Now your turn. Take off your shirt and lay on your stomach.” I did as he said and he straddled my ass. It was stuff dreams are made of and fodder for many future dreams and masturbatory fantasies. He squirted oil on my back and worked it in with his large hands.
“Your back is tight. Right here,” Conrad said, pressing down with his thumbs, “is a real large knot.”
“Ow, God, that hurts, but feels good.” It was an oddly pleasurable feeling.
“Just going to work it out for you,” Conrad said, pressing into my back.
I let out a low moan and closed my eyes. By the time he finished, my muscles were relaxed, and I was horny as hell for my best friend.