The BFF

tumblr_mh7axx4kEL1rs15z6o1_1280From the Upcoming Erotica Collection by Christopher Wyatt

DJ had been my best friend since sixth grade. At first our friendship had been more of an alliance as we had joined forces to stand up to a particularly bully named Kent. Kent was a nasty child with a continuously running nose, no conscience, and had about 25 pounds on the rest of us grade schoolers. Our alliance formed when both DJ and I had been given black eyes by Kent on the same day. On the bus ride home, we griped about how something needed to be done about our class bully.

I spent the weekend at his house so we could devise our plan. I loved spending time at DJ’s house; he lived alone with his divorced dad and had no brothers or sisters. Coming from a large family with six brothers and sisters, DJ’s house was a respite from constant chaos. His dad was a chiropractor and was always impeccably dressed, though never seemed to be without several day’s worth of beard scruff. I remember even back then being completely enamored by him. By the end of our first weekend together, our friendship was cemented and our plans of revenge ready for implementation.

Though we had spent many hours over the weekend talking about how awesome it would be to punch Kent in the stomach until he barfed, we realized there was no way we could physically take on Kent, even with the two of us. Besides, neither of us were fighters. So we decided to instead to humiliate him into submission … hopefully.

Monday morning, I distracted the teacher before class while DJ spread super glue on Kent’s chair. We sat through the entire first period with bated breath, stealing glances at one another across the room and at Kent who sat slumped in his desk looking as mean and grumpy as ever. The clock seemed to be going in slow motion, but at long last the recess bell rang. Kent, as usual, was the first person to jump up. This time his chair came with him, causing him to lose his balance and sit back down. DJ and I fought to control ourselves as we watched him stand up again, trying to push the chair off of himself and the other kids seeing what was happening start to laugh at him. Soon the entire class was rolling with laughter as the teacher made his way to Kent, who was struggling to get unstuck. We were all ushered outside as the teacher had to walk a doubled-over Kent with the chair still attached to him down to the office. Success!

The next couple days Kent was even meaner than before, so we set our next plan into motion. Thursday was test day and as the stack of “take one and pass the stack” test papers came my way, I took two, making sure to hide the second one under the first. I raced through my test as quickly as possible, thankfully, geography was my best subject. Then, making sure no one was looking, I took the second test, wrote Kent’s name at the top and I began to fill in the answers. What is the chief export of Argentina? “Pussy.” Who sailed around Cape Horn? “Admiral Dick Fuckhead.” The answers got more vivid and vulgar from there. Since DJ sat right behind Kent, when the test papers were “passed back and to the left” he managed to keep Kent’s real test paper from going with the rest.

That afternoon, as we quietly solved fraction problems from our math book, we watched our teacher, as discreetly as possible, as he graded test papers from that morning. We didn’t need to even wonder when the fake test paper was being graded; the teacher’s expression said it all. At first he looked surprised, then almost amused, but by the end of the page, he looked positively red-faced. He picked up the paper, stood and crossed straight to Kent, tapping him on the shoulder and motioning him outside of the classroom. From outside came the sounds of muffled protests and angry accusations. Then silence. Minutes later the teacher walked back into the room alone. We found out the next day Kent had been suspended for the next week.

In retrospect, I feel a little bad for what we did to Kent, but as I remember the numerous black eyes, cement scrapes and bruises from that year, I don’t feel that bad. Still, DJ and I formed a friendship that defined much of my teen years. He was the first person I got drunk with, the first person I watched porn with and the first person I came out to. After all the time it took me to get my courage up to make this huge confession, he just smirked and said, “I kinda figured.”

During my final year at college, I was home on break and spending time at DJ’s house catching up. I had waited a year after high school to go to college, but he was already graduated and working full time at an architecture firm. Hearing I was home on break, he planned a visit to his dad’s house so we could spend some time together. He had told me there was something he wanted to talk to me about.

Sitting on his old bed watching cheesy movies and catching up, it felt like we were still in high school — except now we could drink his dad’s booze without sneaking it. After a few whiskey and Cokes and a bad ’80s movie, I asked him, “Wasn’t there something you had to tell me?”

“Oh, yeah, but it’s not important,” he said, taking another drink.

“What is it?” I pressed, shifting on the couch to face him. “You and Joanne gettin’ married?”

“Joanne? I haven’t seen her for months. And we never even … ”

“Oh. Well, what then?”

“It’s nothin’.”

I fixed him with one of my “just tell me already” looks.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I … I was just wondering … if you ever … thought about … me.”

My brow crinkled in confusion. “I think of you all the time.”

“I meant … ” he cleared his throat, his face turning red as he said, “like, sexually.”

I laughed.

“Fuck you,” he snapped, looking away.

I then realized he was serious. “Why would you ask that?” I asked.

He was silent a few moments before answering, “A couple months ago I met this woman at the bar. Actually, a couple, her and her husband. We hung out a few times and … ” He hesitated. “He used to like to watch.”

“Watch what?”

“Me fuck her.”

“Wow!” I exclaimed. I don’t know why it was hard for me to picture DJ doing something like that. He was often shocked when I told him about some of my sexual antics.

“Yeah, well, a couple weeks ago, we were messing around and while I was going down on her … I let him suck my dick.”

“No shit!”

“Yeah, it was weird at first, but he was really good at it,” he laughed. “They asked me if next time I’d fuck them both.”

“Whoa! Did you?”

“Haven’t seen them yet.”

“Well, are you gonna?”

He gave an exaggerated shrug. “I’m not sure. I mean, I think I’d be Okay with it, but …”

“So … wait, why did you ask if I’d ever thought about you that way?” I asked confused.

“I just thought … if I were ever gonna be, ya know, with a guy, I’d want you to be my first.”

“Dude, that’s twisted.”

“Again, fuck you!”

“Apparently!”

“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything!” he barked. He looked at me sternly. “I’m not gay!”

“Um, a dude sucked your dick and you liked it. That makes you, like, a little gay.”

“No it doesn’t!”

“Yeah-huh, you’re like 20 percent gay, dude. And you wanted to fuck me, so that’s like 30, maybe 40 percent gay. DJ, you’re almost Bi.”

He started to yell, but broke into a laugh. “You’re so fucked up!”

I laughed along with him, a warm feeling flooding over me as I looked at him. I remembered back to my early teen years when I had indeed, on occasion, fantasized about him while jerking off. But they had been nothing more than random overactive hormonal thoughts. Here at 23, in the same room where we had spent so much time together, I looked beyond my comfortable vision of my best friend and saw him, for the first time, as a man.

He was just over six feet tall, muscular but in a natural way — not stocky, but not twinkish either. His normally neatly trimmed light-brown hair had grown an inch or so too long and his red-tinted beard had grown slightly scruffy like his dad’s used to be. His blue eyes reflected the kind, gentle nature he had always possessed. Maybe it was looking at him from a new perspective, or maybe through a slight whiskey haze, but I suddenly found myself extremely attracted to DJ.

We had been looking at one another in silence for a good minute or two when he reached out and put his hand on my leg, above my knee, and squeezed it. I slowly placed my hand on his and as I held it, I felt a pulse of electricity surge between us. I set my drink on the nightstand and, leaning forward, I moved my face to his. I hesitated for a split second, then pressed my lips to his. His hand moved up to my face and I let him take the lead, his lips parting and his whiskey-coated tongue finding its way to mine. It wasn’t a kiss of long-requited, unleashed passion, but one of comfortable exploration. As his full, soft lips continued to work mine, our tongues finding one another, then pulling back every few seconds, his hand slipped from my face to my shoulder and down my arm, pulling it forward while his hand guided me back against the bed.

With little effort, most of his body now lay on top of mine. I moved my hands up his back as his mouth made his way to my neck. His tongue found the magic spot on my throat; the more I reacted, the more into it he got. I was practically panting by the time he lifted himself up to look down on me with his wide, pleased smile. I reached up and ran my hand through his hair, looking at the same face I had known for so many years and feeling so comfortable laying there underneath him.

“You wanna … go further?” he asked.

I shrugged, smiling, though inside I was already anticipating what he would feel like inside of me. He raised up to his knees and pulled his shirt off over his head. His skin was pale and flushed with an edge of pink. His shoulders were broad and strong, pecs large and round, but not hard like a bodybuilder. A smattering of brown-red chest hair made a pyramid from his collarbone to his large pink nipples and made a sporadic trail down his stomach, disappearing below the waistband of his pants. His stomach was muscular, but not tight, and shivered as I ran my hand over it.

He reached down and began unbuttoning my shirt, pulling it open to expose my chest. He immediately lowered himself onto me, his mouth suctioning to my left nipple, licking and sucking with passion. He moved to the right one, attacking it with just as much gusto — just as a straight man might with a woman’s tits. I couldn’t help but start to giggle at the thought.

He stopped, raising up to look at me concerned. “What?” he asked.

“Nothin’.”

“You’re laughing at me,” he sighed, looking hurt and starting to move off of me.

“Dude!” I grabbed his wrist before he could retreat and pulled him back to me. “It’s cool. My nipples just aren’t that sensitive.”

“How am I supposed to know?” he said defensively.

I smirked, leaned up and kissed him and then told him, “It’s just me, Deeg, you ain’t got anything to prove.” With that, he kissed me even harder than before, pushing his tongue into my mouth and meeting mine with a newfound energy. He moved all the way on top of me, his bare chest pressed to mine, our arms wrapped tightly and protectively around one another. I felt his erection pressing against me which made my own dick begin to swell. Soon our crotches were grinding against one another with the same fervor of our tongues. His legs slipped between mine, forcing them apart; I wrapped them around his waist and he ground his groin even harder against mine.

Losing ourselves to the intensity, I cried out as his teeth sunk into my neck. Grabbing the back of his head, I dug my fingers into his hair, encouraging him to continue. His lips suctioning and his teeth pinching, his mouth made its way from one side of my neck to the other. After he marked his territory with several large bite marks, he raised up, wasting no time in popping the button on his jeans and unzipping them. His cock flopped out, pointing straight ahead — straight at my head. As he struggled his way out of his pants, I watched his cock bounce from side to side. It was about 7 inches, thick, cut and with one of the most beautiful heads I had ever seen. Several large veins ran widthwise on the side of the shaft, one disappearing into his ample ballsack, which had a number of long, red-brown hairs growing out of it. Somewhere between bright pink and red, it was slightly darker than the bulk of his skin.

He stood on the bed, fully naked except for a pair of tube socks, looking down on me. His expression caught between lust and apprehension, he moved one leg over me, straddling my chest, and squatting, he brought the head of his cock to my mouth. As it brushed my lips, a bubble of precum leaked out and dripped onto my lips. He used the tip of his dick to smear it over my lips like he was applying lipstick. When he stopped, we looked at each other; his eyes seemed to ask me if we were doing the right thing. My mouth answered by opening and sucking the length of his hard cock into it.

“Oh — my — fuck!” he gasped, his left hand finding the back of my head and pushing me down on him another inch. He held me there until I gagged, then eased up. I took his balls in my hand and as I went back down on his leaking fuckpole, I pulled his balls straight down. He yelped, gasped and let out a long, low, guttural moan of pleasure. His hands still on my head and my lips tightly wrapped around his shaft, he began slowly, casually face-fucking me as I played with his balls. When his balls began to tighten and I knew he was close, I moved off of him. His tongue replaced his dick, giving me several long, probing kisses before his hands began to pull at the waistband of my pants.

I raised up, slipping out of my pants and underwear, feeling suddenly awkward as I lay there naked before him. My dick, half an inch shorter than his and not quite as thick, was every bit as hard. He reached his hand out, grabbing my shaft and squeezing, pushing out more of my already dripping precum. I gasped, tensing, then relaxed as he began stroking it, almost inspecting it with his hand. His hand moved lower with each stroke, his fingers moving past my balls and toward my crack. As his precum-covered middle finger slipped into my crack,, and with no further pretense, pressed against my hole, I drew in a quick breath as my body jerked in response.

He pulled away quickly. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I answered. “You, uh, got any lube?” He pulled out a small tube of K-Y Jelly, which almost made me laugh. He also produced a packet of condoms.

With some K-Y on his fingers and a reassuring look from me, he again made his approach. This time he rubbed the outside of my hole for a few moments before he slid his long middle finger inside of me. As it pushed far into me, I spread my legs even more, letting out a soft moan as my eyes closed. As he began fingering me, slowly, methodically, I took hold of his cock, stroking it in time with his fingering. When he started using the second finger, I shifted again, letting go of his cock and finding his free hand. Our fingers laced together, he waited only a short while before adding a third.

I let go of his hand and raised my legs to my chest, watching him probe me with his first three long fingers. The deeper he went, the more I moaned. I looked up at his face, seeing him mesmerized by my ass. He gave me a look and I nodded quickly, letting him know I was ready for the main event. He removed his fingers and positioned himself so that his cock was now laying across my hole and my lower back was resting on his knees. He opened the condom, placed a drop of K-Y inside, then rolled it onto his hard, leaking dick. Then rubbing more K-Y over the condom and my hole, he pressed his shaft into my crack and rubbed it back and forth a few times.

I was shivering; everywhere he touched me my body tingled. Every time our eyes met, I yearned to feel his prick inside of me. When the moment came, it took us both by surprise. He raised up ever so slightly, pushed the head downward against my opening and slid his meat all the way inside of me. Both of us were so close to coming, neither of us could move. We remained motionless, barely breathing, not wanting to lose ourselves to orgasm before we’d had a chance to fully experience one another.

It seemed like eons until our bodies calmed enough to move, and when they did, DJ laid himself on top of me, keeping my legs pinned against me and his thick cock pressed all the way inside. He kissed me, first softly, then harder. My hands moved to his shoulders, feeling his strong back tight with restraint.

He looked at me with a serious expression in his face. “How you want it?” he asked.

“Go for it,” I answered with a cocky grin.

His smile turned slightly evil as he pulled his dick almost all the way out of me, and in one quick, hard motion plunged it all the way back in.

“Ah! FUUUCK!” I yelled, still smiling. “Yeah! Nail me, Deeg!”

He did just that. His thrusts were long and deep as he used his entire body to propel his dick into me. I grabbed on to his strong, flexing arms, needing something to hold onto as he wailed on my ass. Our eyes only left each other’s gaze for seconds at a time as the intensity of our pleasure rose in waves, then evened out. Each time he sank his dick into me, he began holding it in for a few seconds, moving his hips up and down or side to side and making my body shudder as I gasped for air. He was hitting all the right spots, doing all the right things, and this was the first time he had ever had his cock up a man’s ass.

After one long plunge inside of me, it was evident neither of us could hold out much longer. DJ began rabbit-humping my hole, slamming his thick meat in and out at lightning speed. I grabbed my cock and started jerking it, my hand flying over my dick, matching his speed.

“Come,” he gasped. I moaned a protest, but he countered, “I wanna make you come. I wanna see it!” He raised up, grabbing my hips and using them as leverage to slam his cock into me with an even greater intensity. My balls were pulled tight to my shaft, my hole gripped his dick, and his cock rubbed hard against my prostate. He looked away from my dick long enough to meet my eyes and flash me one of his amazing smiles. Seeing my best friend enjoying my ass while giving me pleasure with his pistoning prick, sent me over the top. I let out a desperate cry and a shot of cum that flew up past his chest and into his beard. The next shot did the same, and each one that followed trailed down his chest.

“Fuck!” he gasped. “Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!” He was coming. His cock still inside me, his cum filling the condom, he continued to thrust into me, his eyes glazed over in post-orgasmic bliss. He laid flat on top of me, his cock slipping out of my ass as his tongue slipped into my mouth, then down my neck, and finally we laid quietly as our breathing returning to normal.

His slid off of me, but pressed himself tightly to my side, wrapping his large arms around me. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, you?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

Though we’ve seen each other many times over the past few years, we haven’t had sex again, nor have we felt any awkwardness when together. In fact, nothing has changed. Well … almost nothing. His hello kisses occasionally include a little tongue and his goodbye hugs are tighter and longer. But our friendship has never been more solid.