dadmuscle

[dadmuscle]

My Ex Punched My Black Hole at a Taylor Swift Concert

The air crackled with anticipation, a sugary sweet haze of glitter and pop anthems. Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour was a religious experience for Blake Harriman, better known to a select few as Black Hole.

Years ago, Blake had taken a hit of radioactive poppers and triggered his superpower: One whiff of poppers and his butthole transforms into a ravenous black hole. During heroic times, he directs his cosmic cavern at the bad guys, enveloping and trapping them in a dark, moist shadow realm that smells… unpleasant. Sadly, there’s also a catch to his not-always-so-super power. Any time he gets overly excited, he. loses control of his black hole and can’t stop it from consuming everything nearby.

Tonight though, tonight he was just Blake, a shimmering beacon of pure, unadulterated joy. He was surrounded by his chosen family, a gaggle of gays and allies, all swaying and belting out the bridge to his favorite song, “Anti-Hero.”

“It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me!” Blake sang, a little too fervently, a little too close to the edge. He always resonated with that line. He felt like a problem, a walking, talking, butthole-based existential threat. And right then, under the kaleidoscopic lights and the sheer emotional tsunami of the moment, he knew he was about to become one again.

A tremor started low in his core, a cosmic shift in his very being. The familiar, terrifying rumble began. His eyes widened, a silent scream trapped in his throat. “Oh god, no,” he whimpered, the joy draining from his face. “Not now! Not during my favorite song!”

He turned to his friends, a desperate plea in his eyes. “Run!”

His butt hole became a black hole.

The familiar panic set in. Purses, popcorn, and a bewildered-looking man in a cowboy hat started to float towards Blake’s rear. A low, guttural hum filled the stadium, the sound of impending cosmic chaos. Taylor Swift, mid-verse, stopped singing, her eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and, Blake imagined, a hint of professional curiosity.

The black hole was expanding, an event horizon blooming where his perfectly toned glutes used to be. The gravitational pull intensified, seats began to rip from their moorings, and the crowd surged backward, a wave of screaming humanity fleeing for the exits.

Blake’s friend Kevin, bless his quick-thinking soul, scrambled for his phone. “Tim! It’s happening again!”

Tim Johnson was already on his way. Known affectionately as “Tiny Tim,” much to his annoyance, he had a special power of his own – shrinking anything he punched. Tiny Tim, (Just “Tim” please!), felt the disturbance, a ripple in the fabric of reality, a familiar gravitational anomaly. He’d known it was Blake before the phone even rang. “I’m at the concert too. I’m coming. Hold on.”

Tim maneuvered swiftly through the panicked crowd, the familiar silhouette of his ex-boyfriend emerging before him. It had been months since they’d last spoken – awkward texts after their amicable breakup, muted interactions online – but seeing Blake in crisis stirred something deep within him.

Tim approached, smirking gently despite the chaos. “Of course it’s you.”

“Oh, hey,” Blake choked out, his voice thick with tears smearing the glitter on his cheeks. “I really wish our first time seeing each other again wasn’t under these circumstances.”

Tim chuckled, a nervous, almost affectionate sound. “You never could control that butt of yours, huh?”

“Please, Tim,” Blake begged, his voice cracking. “I need your help. Can you stop this? Punch my butt. Punch my black hole! Put a stop to this. Please!”

Tim hesitated, a flicker of something like amusement in his eyes. “Man, Blake, I really want to help. But don’t you think this is crossing a line? I thought we agreed to some boundaries for a while?”

“Please, Tim,” Blake pleaded, the black hole growing stronger, pulling in a rogue hotdog vendor. “Putting your fist in my black hole is the only thing that can save all these people.”

“That feels a little manipulative, don’t you think?” Tim winked. “Besides, I thought you’re always claiming that you’re a top. Now you’re begging me to put my hand in your butt.”

Through the sobs, Blake chuckled at their inside joke, the gravitational pull threatening to suck in the stage itself. “Tim, you know you’re the only one who can save me. Who can save US. Punch my butt!”

Tim’s expression softened. “I know, Blake.” He braced himself against a railing, the pull of the black hole tugging at him. He took a deep breath, and then, with a mighty grunt, he threw a powerful right hook, aiming directly for the swirling vortex of Blake’s backside.

POP!

In a flash of shimmering brilliance, the chaos contracted instantly. Chairs and snacks dropped lifelessly. Gravity restored. The black hole vanished, leaving behind a faint, lingering scent of… well, let’s just say it wasn’t roses.

Blake fell forward, breathless yet relieved, into Tim's waiting arms as a hush fell over the remaining Swifties, who cautiously applauded the strange rescue.

“Thank you, Tim. Thank you for punching my butt again. You’re the only one who can get my black hole under control.” Then he cautiously added, “You really are my hero.”

Tim smiled softly, gently stroking Blake's hair. “Always have been.”

A silence stretched between them, filled with nostalgia and warmth, before Blake broke it, a mischievous grin forming. Looking down toward Tim’s lower half, Blake asked, “Still don’t like being called tiny?”

Tim rolled his eyes dramatically. “It’s not tiny. It’s above average, Blake. Above average!”

Then, in playful retaliatory banter, Tim teased, “I guess maybe now they should call you Tight Ass instead of Black Hole.”

Blake rolled his eyes, a hint of his usual sass returning. “Yeah yeah, like you’ve never used that one before.”

The tension dissipated, replaced by a familiar, comfortable awkwardness. They stood there, two exes, two heroes, surrounded by the remnants of a near-apocalyptic pop concert. The air was thick with unspoken words, a lingering question hanging between them. Maybe, just maybe, some things, like the gravitational pull between them, were just too strong to resist.

[dadmuscle]

The Rival

When I heard our principal call Jason’s name out at graduation, and saw him walk across the stage to get his diploma, that was the very last time I thought about him.

For twenty years, that is.

Let me start by saying, yes, I did grow up to be gay, but I wasn’t your typical “doesn’t know he’s gay yet” high school kid in the 90s. I was tall for my age at 5’10, blond, blue eyed, and a twink or maybe even a twunk before the term existed. I didn’t think about girls at all, but I told myself that’s because I was so happy and busy with my other school activities. My freshman year was amazing. I was in all the advanced classes getting As, joined school clubs, was in the band, and made varsity in track and field as a freshman. Being in varsity sports, because I was fast as fuck, also meant I gained access to the periphery of the popular kids’ circle. Life was pretty great.

Then sophomore year, he transferred to our high school. His name was Jason and he was practically my doppelganger in every way except for his light brown perfectly-mussed hair. He was smart and in all the same advanced classes as me. He joined clubs, and being the new mysterious kid, fell right in with the popular kids. At first, the rivalry started subtly. So much so, I wasn’t even aware of it. The first time I noticed it was in class one day as he leaned over to see that I got a 98 on our trigonometry test. He said, “Oh nice. ninety-eight isn’t bad. I got a hundred.” 

A week or so later, we were standing in front of our lockers, both doors opened as we exchanged books between classes. He closed his door to the left of me and said, “Hey Logan, are you running for any class offices?” I said, “Yeah, I submitted my petition and signatures for class president already.” He just raised an eyebrow and said, “Hm. Maybe I should run.” And. The. Fucker. Did. I won’t lie, it was a close race. The mysterious, new kid versus the guy people were friends with for a year. We each drummed up support in our different branches of friend groups. In the end, I just scraped by with 10 votes to win. I was never one to gloat so I didn’t say anything about it. Also, deep down I think I wanted him to be my friend. But him losing the vote made that impossible. Of course, he shrugged it off like it was no big deal. “I didn’t really want it anyway. Seems like a lot of work.” But the months of glares that followed proved he was hiding his anger at losing.

Then January came and track season started. This was my world. I was entering sophomore year as the fast kid who was already on varsity. The top dog on the field. But as I walked up to the field on the first day of practice my stomach sank. There he was. Jason. Doing warm ups and stretching with my teammates. He just looked at me and said, “Hope you’re ready to have another fast guy on the team this year.” Damn it. This was my place to shine. And he was inserting his competitive streak into my world, yet again. To be fair, the cocky bastard had a right to be cocky. He was fast. Really really fast. Luckily we were fast in different races. I could beat him at short distances like the 100 meter. We’d pull close to each other on the 200 meter. But he could blow me away in the 400 meter. Like our grades and everything else about us, we were evenly matched.

Because I’d suddenly had a rival thrust into my life, and I was still a decade away from coming out of the closet, I never thought about him sexually. Except for that one time after practice. We both stayed later than everyone else to do extra sprint drills. The whole team had to do the same drill over and over until failure. Most of the team gave up around the end of practice. But not me and not Jason. Neither of us wanted to let the other “win” by giving up. Finally, after an endless sprint, walk, sprint, walk routine, the coach came back out to the field as the sun was setting and said, “Alright, you both win the gold medal. Get out of here. I need to close things up.” Who knows? If the coach hadn’t come out to settle things, we might still be out there doing sprint drills.

Because everyone else had gone home long before, we were the last two in the locker room. Which also meant we were the only two in the showers too. At the end of most practices before this, the showers were always packed with the rest of our team. But tonight it was just the two of us. Hard to avoid the awkward rivalrous tension. We tried to keep our backs to each other but once in a while one does have to turn around to wash the soap off his back. And I’d lie if I said I didn’t sneak a glimpse. Like me, he had a lean tall body and a runner’s bubble butt. But as we pivoted, I thought I saw something. Maybe something big! So I looked again when his back was to me once more. From behind, in between his taut, sinewy legs, I thought there was something hanging well below his balls. 

Could his dick be that big? Did mine hang down that low too? Was he bigger than me? Why was I even wondering this? Was it because I liked his dick or just because he’d made me so competitive? I was staring at his naked body from behind, half in disbelief and half out of curiosity when he started to turn toward me. Shaken from my trance I started to turn too, but I caught a better glimpse of what looked like a big, long dick swinging around with his body motion. I heard him let out a short exhale. Surprised, I turned my head over my shoulder and he was staring in my direction. So I turned back around to face him. His eyes dropped down to my dick right as my eyes dropped to his. Confirmed, it was large. Not that I’d seen a bunch of other dicks besides mine and a few in the locker rooms. His balls seemed big too. Bigger than mine? Were big balls even a thing to be proud of? I had so many thoughts going through my hormonal teenage brain as I stared at this kid, my rival, naked and on full display in front of me. I looked up and my gaze met his. Both of us had surprised looks on our faces. We’d clearly sized up our competition in the most literal sense and both had been impressed. 

The face-to-face stare felt like it lasted an eternity, but it probably lasted five seconds or less. Suddenly it dawned on both of us that we were staring at each other’s naked bodies and dicks, so we quickly turned back around. I washed the last of the soap off, grabbed my towel, and headed back to the lockers as fast as I could without looking like I was running away. He stayed in the showers longer, probably to let me get dressed and leave to avoid any more awkward moments. Or maybe for other reasons. Who knows. I was freaked out. Heart pounding, sweating, confused. So I booked it out of there. I did my best to avoid him in the lockers or showers again that season.

Track season and the school year ended without much ado. The following year was more of the same. Little competitive jabs. I’d grown accustomed to it. Maybe I was even secretly trying to best him too, without admitting it to myself or anyone else. Then as January approached again, I was preparing myself for another track season with my rival. Would we still be evenly matched? Would we have more encounters in the lockers? But much to my surprise, he didn’t show up to the first day of practice. The coach asked where Jason was and another kid answered, “He’s going to play volleyball this year instead.” “Phew,” I thought, “finally some peace and quiet around here.” I had no idea just how wrong I was.

One week after track season started, my best girl friend, Ellen, asked if we could hang out at McDonald’s after practice – the only hangout in town that was walkable from campus. Ellen and I had been inseparable since freshman year after we met the first week of advanced English. We were platonic besties who shared everything together. Which is what made it so difficult to hear the news she shared that night and Micky D’s. As we dipped our fries into a shared chocolate milk shake, she broke the news. Ellen said, “So, Logan. Don’t be mad. I’ve been keeping something from you.” In my innocent best-friend-brain, I thought she was going to tell me about seeing the Jurassic Park movie that we’d been talking about for a week, without me or something. “So, I’ve been talking to someone recently. And he asked me to be his girlfriend today.” My stomach sank. She’s been seeing someone and didn’t tell me all the time? Wait. Why wouldn’t she tell me? Unless… No… Unless it was… 

“It’s Jason. I know, I know, I know. He’s so competitive with you and he can be a total asshole.” My stomach lurched. My heart stopped. Blood rushed to my face. My head spun. Was I going to spew chocolate milk shake fries all over the table? “I just think he’s misunderstood. He’s sooo sweet when he’s not trying to impress everyone. And he’s kind and has such a soft side. Did you know he likes poetry? He wrote me a poem!” The pale, blank look on my face must have spoken volumes. Ellen finally asked, “Are you in there? Are you ok? Are you mad?” I wasn’t mad. I was numb. In shock. But she was my best friend and I could see just how excited and happy she was. And I didn’t actually hate the dude. I just didn’t like him because he was always trying to get under my skin and beat me at everything. 

Finally, the shock wore off and my heart started beating again. I feigned a weak smile as I said, “Wow, that’s a lot. Like. Uhhhh. Ok. Are you happy?” 

She squealed, “Yes!! He’s great and I really really like him. And I promise things won’t change between us. Maybe you two will even become friends!” 

We did not become friends. And everything did change. At least for a semester.

Jason and Ellen spent all their spare time together. I saw Ellen in classes and that was it. Every other waking moment she spent with Jason. To say I was crushed would be the world’s biggest understatement. And it showed. My parents asked if I was sleeping ok because I had circles under my eyes all the time. They worried because I’d been running a little slower in track meets. I assured them I was just a little burned out. But when school was over I’d be fine. I just needed to get through the last month of the semester.

And then everything changed again! On the very last day of school Ellen and Jason broke up. It wasn’t really one or the other’s fault. They didn’t fight or have drama – which wasn’t the typical high school breakup. They just found they didn’t have a lot in common after a semester’s worth of infatuation; the honeymoon phase wore off. Ellen started calling me every night again and hanging out with me on weekends. And as the platonic best friend, I was there to pick back up exactly where we had left off.

The following year, senior year, passed in what felt like a blink of an eye. And either I’d somehow psychologically insulated myself from the rivalry, or Jason had just stopped trying. Either way, we weren’t really on each other’s radars that entire year. We got into different colleges and went our separate ways. I went to the East Coast and he went North to Oregon.

… 

It was 2015 and I was 38, living in San Francisco with a boyfriend. I had a steady job that I enjoyed, my boyfriend was handsome and kind, we had a great house, had lots of gay friends, and we traveled to gay parties from time to time. My physical appearance had changed dramatically too. Now I was a dirty blond, with a dark red beard, but still had the same blue eyes. I’d also shot up in height to 6’2 and weighed in at 195 pounds with a physique that gay gym culture demands. Tight, with abs that peeked through when I flexed really hard and had a muscular  leanness that comes from morning jogs, and dancing all night long from time to time. How things had changed since my twinky closeted years in high school. 

One day as I sat down at work, I opened up Facebook like I did every morning, so I could say “Happy Birthday” to friends. On this particular morning I also saw a few friend requests. I clicked the link and scrolled through some friend requests from some generic-looking guys that I’d probably met at some club or event. And then I saw it. A friend request that I never thought I’d see. It was him, but older. More rugged than I’d last seen him. But there he was in my friend requests. Jason. 

I didn’t even know what to do. Was I ready for a rivalry to reboot all these years later? If I ignored the request, was that playing into the rivalry by suggesting I wasn’t confident enough to let him into my social network? With a quick glance at his photos and bio info, I determined that he looked taller, lean and fit, with a beautiful wife named Jenn, and two kids – a boy that looked just like he did as a kid and a girl who looked like Jenn. While some things were different, some things were still the same. That jawline was still etched like marble and his perfectly-mussed light brown hair hadn’t changed a bit. He looked older, but in a way that made him hotter. Like an older Josh Duahmel, subtly but perfectly aged by parenthood and straight life. A hot dad.

So I thought about it for another brief moment and… Fine. Let’s do it. It looks like we’re both happy and a lot can change in twenty years. So I accepted the friend request and went about my day.

Later that night, right before bed, I got a notification from Facebook that I had a new message. I opened the app and there it was, a new direct message from Jason. I cautiously opened it, curious to see if he would open with a familiar salvo from those competitive days.

“Hey man. Long time. I was reminiscing with some friends from high school recently and you came up in conversation. They said you lived in San Francisco and were doing great. I just moved my family back from Oregon to the Central Coast. I’m a math professor at Cal Poly. I love being back in California and the family seems to be really happy here too. Anyway, looks like you’re doing great. Hope to hear from you. Maybe we can catch up sometime. - Jase”

I read the message over easily a dozen times. Searching anywhere for a hint of our old rivalry. But I couldn’t find a single hint of it. Maybe twenty years, a family, a career, and life really did change him. So I decided to respond.

“Hey Jase (is it Jase now, not Jason)? Not sure I would have expected to hear from you in a thousand years. Glad I did tho. I’m really happy to hear you’re back in California and happy. Life is good for me too. We should definitely catch up sometime. Take care,  Logan.”

And I thought that would be it. We had exchanged the ceremonial “hi how are you, great, I’m great too” greeting of distant high school connections that never tend to lead anywhere again. But then my Facebook app dinged again.

“Here’s my number. Let’s catch up for real sometime. I’ve wondered about you from time to time.” 

I had to read that last message again. Because now I was intrigued, to say the least. He wants to actually talk to me? We hadn’t spoken a single sentence to each other in high school that wasn’t dripping with competition. But now he seemed genuinely trying to make a connection. So I sent him my number too and said, “Sounds great. Would love to catch up sometime.” And I closed the app, put down my phone, and went to bed.

The following weekend, as I was enjoying an unusually warm San Francisco summer afternoon in the park with my dog while my boyfriend gallivanted at some daytime realness party with friends, my phone buzzed. It was a text from a number I didn’t have saved in my contacts.

“Hey Logan. It’s Jase. Are you free to chat?”

Surprised and laying on my blanket doing absolutely nothing, I replied, “Sure. Call?” I hit send. And the phone rang instantly.

“Hey Logan! How are you, man? Did I catch you at an okay time?”

“Jase! Hey. Yeah, I’m just having a lazy afternoon in the park with my dog while my boyfriend does his social butterfly thing at the bars. What are you up to?”

“My wife and the kids went to see the new Pixar movie Inside Out. I wanted to go see Antman so I’m boycotting and playing hooky at home. I figured it would be a good time to catch up with you without the chaos of the family in the background.”

I said, “Damn, I want to see Antman too. Love the Marvel movies! I love all sci-fi but I’ve really been loving the Marvel stuff.”

“No way man, I love sci-fi too! My family doesn’t share the love though,” he said as he chuckled.

“I know the feeling. My boyfriend Darren begrudgingly goes to the Marvel movies with me, but he always seems lost and confused. It’s not as fun when you’re constantly explaining who someone is or what happened three movies ago.”

We both laughed and Jase said, “It’s too bad we don’t live a little closer. We could go see the Marvel movies together.”

“Honestly, that would be awesome. We’ll have to make that happen sometime,” I said.

Once we had a shared common love for sci-fi and Marvel movies, the conversational floodgates burst open. We talked about everything. How college had been for each of us. What led him to be a math major and professor. What led me to consulting. Fun things we’d done in the last 20 years. People from high school we still stayed in touch with. The last time we visited our hometown. We even had similar stories about how we’d met our partners, his wife an almost-missed connection at a concert and mine a random flirtation at a bar that I never thought would go anywhere. Even our political views were nearly identical. The time flew by and it felt like we could talk like this forever. Then Jase shifted the tone.

“Hey, man. It’s getting late and I’m sure my family will be home soon. This was great catching up with you. But I wanted to say something I should’ve said a long long time ago.”

I braced myself.

“I’m sorry for high school. I don’t know why I was such a dick to you. It’s just… I don’t know. I guess I arrived at a new school sophomore year and at my old school I was just like you. Good grades, sports, clubs, popular. You know, man?” I gave a short “mmmhmm” reply as he continued. “Then I got to our school and you were already all of those things. And I don’t know what happened in my brain, but I saw you as having all the things that should be mine and it made me so competitive. I wanted to beat you at everything so bad. And I know it fucked with you, man, and you didn’t deserve that. And honestly you never did or said anything mean to me, even though I was constantly fucking with you. Anyway, I’m sorry. I hope you know I mean it. Obviously I’ve had a lot of years to think it over and settle down. I’m happy now and I’m really glad you are too. Do you think we can put that stuff behind us and be friends?”

I was silent. At a complete loss for words. Jase finally said “Are you still there? I hope the call didn’t drop, because I really don’t want to have to say all that again.” And he chuckled again. The warmth of his chuckle snapped me back into reality. 

I took a deep breath and said, “Jase… um, thank you. I think I just needed a minute because I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear you say those words until you said them. I really appreciate you saying all that. And yes. Absolutely water under the bridge. It’s actually really nice to talk to reconnect with you and find out we have so much in common.”

He said, “You know, we always were more alike than either of us probably wanted to admit. I guess it’s even more obvious now. We could practically be brothers or twins or something. Well, except for the part about you liking dudes.”

And we laughed together at that.

Jase said, “Alright, I see the headlights in the driveway. Let’s stay in touch. And Cal Poly isn’t that far from SF. Maybe we can meet up sometime. You could meet the family or something someday.”

“I’d love that. Let’s keep in touch and figure it out.”

I ended the call with the biggest grin on my face. My high school rival had just become my friend. 

Over the next year or so, time passed quickly but we texted from time to time. We also commented on each other’s social media posts regularly. Which is how Jase saw my post about being single again in early 2016. He sent a supportive text message saying, “Hey man, sorry to hear about things ending with Darren. I hope you’re hanging in there. I’m here if you need anything.” 

But it wasn’t until November of that year that we talked on the phone again. It was election night. Things weren’t looking good for Hillary Clinton. Everyone I knew was in a shell-shocked state of disbelief. None of us could sleep as we were glued to the news channels watching the states update their electoral votes. Then the race was called and Clinton conceded. My phone rang. It was Jase.

“Can you even believe it, man? What the actual fuck is happening right now? Are you doing ok?”

I wasn’t, but I replied, “I think I’m ok. Just in shock. You?”

He said, “The wife and kids went to bed. They were freaked out but I don’t think they worry about it the same way I do.”

So we talked for two more hours as we watched the map on CNN get redder and redder. We talked about life, our fears and hopes, escape plans if the Nazis took over, and more. Finally, after hours of chatting, at 3am Jase said, “It’s late man. I should try to sleep. But I’m curious. I have a question for you. My wife and kids are going to be out of town next weekend. Would you be interested in meeting up for a hike? There’s this hike in the Redwoods, about 3 hours north of you and I feel like some time in nature would help me forget about this whole mess.”

My heart skipped a beat. I hadn’t had someone invite me on a hike in ages. My gay friends invited me to clubs. The last thing I wanted to do as the world burned was dance in a dark club. I said, “Yes. I’d love to go hiking with you. That’s literally exactly what I need right now. Get some sleep and we’ll text to figure out all the details over the next few days.”

“Great, man. Sleep well. We’ll get through this shit show. ‘Night.”

“Night,” I said as I put the phone down and laid my head on the pillow filled with a mix of dread and excitement, As I desperately hoped for sleep to wash away that night’s living nightmare.

The Hike

We agree to meet at my place in the city bright and early on a Saturday morning and strike out north. If all went well, we’d be on the Redwood trail by 11am. 

Jase arrives at 8am, and as he gets out of his car, it feels entirely surreal. I still see elements of the 18-year old rival walking toward me. But there is also a new softness in his gait as he approaches my house. I can’t help but gawk a little, even if briefly. He’s my height. Fit for a father of two and professor. Sure, I’d seen the pictures, but in person, he’s even more striking. He’s wearing hiking shorts that reveal his extremely fit runner’s quads and calves. His light sweatshirt over a t-shirt still shows off his broad chest and his toned arms and shoulders. I snap out of my brief reverie, open the door and say “Jase!”

He embraces me with the biggest, warmest hug. He holds us there for a good long moment – years of tension melting away in that embrace. He pulls back and says, “It’s nice to finally see you. It’s weird, you know? I feel like I’m seeing an old friend and meeting a new friend for the first time, all at once. Are you ready to hit the road?”

I say, “I am! Let’s see if we can beat the traffic. We have hours of car ride to talk each other’s ears off.”

We stash our hiking backpacks, filled with sandwiches, water, snacks, and layers of clothing, in the trunk of his car and we head out.

It turns out the three-hour car ride was ambitious. We hit traffic an hour north of the city, as the 9am breakfast crowds and other weekend adventurers set out for the day. Which means that we have plenty more time to chat. The conversation on this mini-road trip is just like the last two times we’d chatted on the phone. So natural. So effortless. And we seem agree on everything. We constantly laugh at how one of us brings up a topic he likes and the other says, “Me too!” We really do have so much in common. Except, as Jase would say, for the “liking dudes” part.

We arrive at the trailhead an hour behind schedule, but we set out on the 5-hour hike all the same. Unlike our chatty car ride, we spend most of the time on the trail in peaceful silence. We both need this dose of nature during this turbulent time in the world. The sounds of the forest, the crisp Fall breeze, the rhythmic and lockstep crunch of our four feet on the damp trail, all fill the void left by our silent vocal cords. What little conversation we do share happens only when we want to point out things to look at along the hike.

We stop for lunch in a meadow about two hours into the hike. It’s 2pm now and the sun is just past its peak; daylight savings time has recently ended. We eat and chat briefly before picking the trail back up. Shortly after we begin walking again, the sky darkens ever so slightly. We look up to see a slight cloud cover roll in. We agree to quicken our pace in case there’s rain coming. And sure enough, with about thirty minutes left of the hike, the first drops of rain begin falling. We laugh at the fact that neither of us brought rain gear. We trudge forward quickly hoping the rain doesn’t come down any harder, but our hopes are in vain. By the time we reach his car at 5pm it’s dark out and the rain is really coming down. We stash our bags in the trunk, jump in the car, and crank up the heater to warm up our soaked bodies.

“Well, that was unexpected,” I say. “That was not in the forecast!”

“I know, man. I was not prepared for rain at all.”

Back at the road, we have cell service again. Jase futzes with his iPhone. He lets out an exasperated sigh as he informs me, “Google Maps says the traffic is snarled on 101 all the way back to the city. It says it’ll take five hours to get back to your place.”

“We’re fucked!” I say, always being one to enjoy dropping the f-bomb.

He just laughs, “Easy there, buddy. We have options. How flexible are you about getting home tonight?”

I tell him the dog is already at the sitter until tomorrow and I ask what he has in mind.

He offers a solution. “There’s a motel nearby. Let’s go see if they have some rooms. We’re soaked and I’d rather not sit in stop and go traffic for five hours while we’re sopping wet.”

“Sure, why not?” I say. “The rooms are on me since you drove. Worst-case scenario is we can still drive home if there aren’t any rooms.”

The motel is nearby and is one of those two-floor places where the doors open out onto the parking lot. We run from our car through the rain into the reception area and ask if they have two rooms available. 

The elderly woman behind the counter has a faded name tag that reads Delores. Delores says, “Sorry fellas, I can’t help you with two rooms. We only got the one room left. Queen bed. It’s yours if you want it, though.”

I look at Jase. This is totally his call. Sleeping in the same room and same bed with a gay friend is a big deal. “It’s up to you. I’m down if you are.” 

I see him mulling it over in his head. Finally he says to Delores, “We’ll take it. Let’s not drive home in the rain at night.”

I sign the papers and give Delores my credit card. As she hands us the key, she says, “By the way, there’s a pizza place nearby that delivers. That’s about all we got ‘round here that’s gonna brave these roads in the rain. It’s real close though.”

We thank her for the tip, grab the number of the pizza place, and run to our room through the torrential rain. Jase fumbles with the key, desperately trying to get into the dryness of the room. We laugh hysterically as Jase drops the key, further prolonging our exposure to the wet cold downpour.

Finally the door opens and we scramble inside. We find the light switch, and the room is exactly what one would expect. Wood paneling on the walls, a queen bed with a nightstand and lamp on either side, a small dresser with a tv, a tiny table with two chairs, and a bathroom.

“Hey man, it could be worse,” Jase says.

“This will be just fine,” I say. “At least we’re out of the rain. Let’s order a pizza. I’m starving.”

Surprising neither of us, we both agree on the exact type of pizza – an extra large combination with extra pepperoni. As I start to dial the number on my iPhone, Jase says, “I’ll shower first while you order. Is that ok?”

“Sure thing,” I say, as he walks toward the bathroom. While he moves across the 20 feet toward the bathroom, he starts peeling off his drenched sweatshirt and t-shirt, placing them on the dresser to dry. I figure that will be it before he moves into the bathroom to finish undressing. But, to my complete surprise and delight, he takes off his dripping wet hiking shorts too and hangs them on the chair.  I’m still slowly giving the person at the pizza place our order over the phone as I take in his body for the first time since high school. He’s lean and muscular just like he was in high school. He’s hairier now, a thick mat of salt-and-pepper hair covers his chest and thins out as it approaches his tight waist. As he turns around, his wet skin-tight boxer briefs cling to him. I see he still has the runner’s bubble butt that I spied all those years ago in the shower, too.

“Hey. I hope this is ok,” he says as he motions toward his clothes laid out on the dresser. “I left a little room for you to hang your stuff up later too.” He seems unfazed. Like being nearly naked in front of a gay guy is no big deal. It’s probably the locker room mentality all straight guys seem to have. Just bros, friends, buddies, teammates undressing before the showers.

I nod at him as I’m finishing giving the pizza order. “Wow, that’s fast. 15 minutes?! Great, we’re starving. See you soon!”

He’s already in the shower, the door closed and the water running. Almost five minutes later he cracks the door and says, “This water is taking forever to heat up. This might take a minute.”

“Ok, I’ll save some pizza for you if you’re still showering when it arrives.”

The pizza does arrive on time and while Jase is still in the shower. I tip the delivery guy $20 because I’m so thankful for the steaming hot disc of cheese and meat in my hands. I set the box down and dig in. I’m already on my third slice when I finally hear the water stop and Jase emerges. He has one towel wrapped around his waist, but his torso is still covered in water. He’s using a second towel to dry his hair, giving it that perfectly-mussed look, as usual. 

“Whoa whoa whoa, easy there, buddy. You said you’d save some for me,” he says as he sees three slices missing. I just grin with a mouthful of pizza and shrug my shoulders at him.

“How about you go shower now and let me have a crack at this pizza?”

I nod as I shove the last bit of crust in my mouth. I walk into the bathroom, peel the wet clothes from my body, and turn on the shower. The water heats up more quickly after Jase’s first use. And one aspect that is not lacking in this small country motel is its hot water. The water pelts my skin and warms my bones, instantly erasing the chill I’d felt for the last hour or more. My shoulders drop with relief even as my mind races with anticipation and excitement for what’s waiting right outside the bathroom door. I’m in a hotel room with my high school rival. My new friend. My straight friend. Who’s hot as fuck. And we have to share a bed.

Whatever, I’m sure it’s not like that. He’s married with kids and we’re friends now. We’ll get some sleep and get back on the road tomorrow, our friendship becoming even closer from having shared this wild detour in our hiking trip.

I finish my shower, dry off, and wrap a towel around my waist as I enter the bedroom again. He’s already eaten his half of the pizza, leaving me two more slices of my half. He’s sitting upright on the bed, propped up with pillows behind his back, his towel still around his waist. After I drape my sopping wet clothes alongside his on the dresser, I dig back into the pizza.

I sit down on the foot of the bed, scarfing down another slide of pizza, and Jase says, “It feels nice to be warm and dry again. I tried cranking up the heater, but it says it’s on the maximum heat as it is. I hope it gets warm enough to dry our clothes by tomorrow morning.”

I’m eating my last bite of pizza and respond with a half full mouth of cheesy crust and say, “Could stand to be a little warmer, but I guess you take what you get when you’re stuck in the woods.” We both laugh and he looks at his phone.

I ask, “Do you need to call your family to check in? Say goodnight or whatever?”

“Nah, I already texted Jenn with our situation while you were showering. And besides…” he trails off.

“Besides what? Everything ok?”

He hesitates another few seconds, and says, “It’s just. I was going to tell you but it’s weird, you know? I know you’ll probably understand because I think this is pretty normal for gay guys. But this is still new for me, man.”

My mind is imagining a million different scenarios for what comes next. “Ok, I’m listening. You can tell me anything. I won’t judge. Promise.”

“Oh, I know you won’t. That’s why I wanted to tell you at some point. Hm. I guess it was about a year ago. Jenn and I decided to be poly and open up.” He must have noticed my eyebrows hit the ceiling with surprise. “With some rules of course. We’ve only played apart twice so far. We choose a weekend every few months, we send the kids away to my parents’ house for the weekend, and we make plans with someone we trust and approve of, for a play date.”

I’m shocked but impressed. “First of all, thanks for sharing that. And you’re right. That’s a big thing to share, so I'm really glad you felt like you could confide in me. But I have to ask, why are you out here with me instead of with your lady lover friend?”

He laughs. “Lady lover friend? Is that what you gay guys call your fuck buddies?” We both laugh as I shrug my shoulders. He continues, “To be honest, I just wasn’t feeling it after the whole election thing. The woman I’ve had sex with twice so far is great. She’s sexy and understands the arrangement. She hasn’t once tried to ask for more and doesn’t make things weird in between. The sex is amazing. My wife knows about her. And I know about the woman my wife is having sex with too.”

My eyebrows shoot to the sky for a second time. “Really? Your wife and you both have women lovers. This is wild. Also, I can actually relate. My last boyfriend and I were open on occasion with some rules – similar but different to your rules. I’m just impressed, is all. I only have a few straight friends who are poly. Are you enjoying it? Are you handling it all pretty well? Sorry, that’s a lot of questions.”

Jase says, “I think I’m good with it. It was Jenn’s idea at first. She said she’d always had bisexual curiosities and she wanted to explore them. We talked about it a lot. It took some getting used to but I also wanted to make her happy. And not going to lie, I was secretly excited about my own opportunities too.”

I crawl up next to him on the bed, sitting side by side, propped up against the headboard. I’m looking eye to eye with this handsome high school rival of mine who has a far more interesting life than I could have ever imagined. We talk for another hour, mostly me asking him questions about the poly dynamic. I pepper in some observations from my own experiment with being open too. This turns out to be yet another thing we share and have nearly identical views on.

At this point it’s 8pm. I can see him stifling some yawns between his answers to my questions. I say, “Hey, it’s getting late. Or, well, it’s late for you. You got up so early to make up to San Francisco by 8am. Want to turn the lights out and get some sleep? We can talk about this tons more on the drive back tomorrow.”

He smiles and nods, “You’re right. I am getting tired. Let’s save the rest for tomorrow.”

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and pulls his damp towel off as he slides under the covers. He looks at me as I stare quizzically. “What?” he says. We can’t sleep in wet towels and our clothes are still soaked.”

“Okay, okay. I’m just trying to take my cues from you. I’ll be a gentleman, I promise.”

We share a chuckle as I pull a similar maneuver as his, ending up under the covers naked. He reaches for his lamp and I mimic the move. “Lights out,” I say.

“Sleep well, man.”

We lay there on our backs respecting each other’s side of the bed. A queen bed doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for two 6’2 guys with some width to their frames. He turns to face away from me, and I can’t help but think of his bare bubble butt facing me. I wonder if it’s hairy like his chest. My mind is torn between a state of excitement about a hot, naked dad in the bed next to me, and being chill and not wanting to do anything to ruin this new friendship on our first adventure together.

Eventually our eyes adjust to the darkness. The glow of red light from the “no vacancy” light outside dimly permeates the room. I can’t sleep. I’ve always been like this. When I have so much on my mind, I can’t turn it off. Even when my body is completely fatigued like it is tonight after our hike. I look at my phone for the time. It’s 9:57pm and I’m still wide awake with no prospect of sleep in sight.

Jase has been turning from his side to his back periodically. But I can’t tell if he’s just a really quiet sleeper or if he’s secretly struggling with sleep too.

And then it happens. As he turns from his side to his back again, this time his hand brushes my butt just a little longer than it should have to be an accident. I’m facing away from him and my eyes flash wide open. Is that what I think it was? Did he just intentionally touch my butt? I mean it’s a nice butt – I have decades of squats to thank for that. But he’s straight. C’mon, think! If he meant to touch it, then he’s waiting for me to make a move to reciprocate. If it was an accident, and I initiate something, it could freak him out. Or maybe he really is asleep. Fuck it. I roll over on my back, and let my right hand touch his left hand, which he’d clearly left on “my side” of the bed. Our pinky fingers and ring fingers are overlapping, touching. I wait for a sign. And wait some more.

Then I get the signal I was hoping for. His pinky finger wiggles a little. My brain breathes a silent sigh of relief. This is it. So I wiggle my fingers just a little in return. With that, Jase starts to move his hand more fully. I assume it’s to pull back completely. But what he does next surprises me. Jase puts his hand fully underneath mine and wraps his fingers in mind. He’s holding my hand! Warm electric energy runs from my fingertips, up my arm, to my chest. I’m exhilarated. He has just given me a hint, but I realize that he might need me to take the lead a little.

So I start slowly. Gently.

First I slowly pivot my body so I’m on my side facing him. I haven't let go of his hand. And then I wait. Once this new position feels comfortable for us, I slowly move my other arm toward him, placing my left hand on his hairy chest. I wait for a reaction. Finally, he inhales and exhales with a deep sigh that speaks volumes. 

I say quietly, just above a whisper, “Is this ok? Are you ok?”

I hear his head brushing on the pillowcase as he nods and says, “Yeah. I think so.”

I begin massaging his tight chest muscles. His heart is beating faster, pulsing so hard I can feel it through his chest. He starts to turn toward me, moving his face to mine.

I put my finger on his lips and say, “First things first. Is this ok? You know, with your poly rules? I don’t want to be a homewrecker.”

I feel his lips tighten into a smile. “Yeah. This is ok. In fact, a few months ago Jenn asked me if I like you ‘like that.’ Ever since we had our first phone call she says all I ever do is talk about you. Jenn says she’s happy to see me so excited about someone else.”

“I guess we have the green light then. Have you ever done stuff with a guy?”

Now with our faces inches apart, I can see him shake his head no in the faint red light of the room. He asks, “Is that ok?” 

I just nod, move my finger away from his mouth, and bring my lips to his. I leave our lips pressed together, mouths closed, to savor the moment for a long moment. My beard brushes against his three-day scruff. His lips are softer than I expected. Then I open my lips and go in for another kiss. He matches my moves and opens his mouth too. Our tongues cautiously cross into each other’s mouths and when they touch it feels like lightning strikes. By the reaction of his (body slightly convulsing, I know he feels it too.

We kiss more, slowly at first, tongues exploring each other. I bring my hand behind his head and begin slowly massaging the back of his neck and head as we kiss. He must like this because he lets a weak moan escape his mouth and echo into mine. 

He seems more comfortable with what’s happening, as he suddenly grabs my head with both of his hands and starts kissing me with abandon. Intense, fast, tongues everywhere. His body seems to be going into autopilot and taking something that it has wanted for far too long. I’m matching his pace and actions with equal intensity. He’s a phenomenal kisser. I can’t help but think how lucky his wife is to have a husband who kisses with such passion. 

We rise to our knees on the bed, lips locked and hands roaming all over our upper bodies. His flesh is searing hot, releasing all that pent-up desire. I want more but I’m still torn about being too forward. I want him to give me another sign. And he does. He takes my hand in his and moves it down his stomach toward his crotch. “Touch it.”

His wish is my command. I reach my hand out in the darkness and grasp his dick. And exactly as I’d suspected all those years before, it’s huge. I can’t see it clearly, but by this point in my life as a gay man, I can tell a big dick when I feel one. This thing is a monster. It’s so thick that my hand doesn’t fully reach around it. And it’s harder than rebar, which tells me that he’s very into what’s happening right now. So I slowly begin to stroke from the base to the head. When I reach the head, his body shudders and buckles a little. I pull my lips from his long enough to spit in my hand, lubricating it with my saliva, and placing it back around his massive cock.

He sighs and quivers as my lubricated hand begins to jerk him off in earnest now. His hips buck and thrust as he fucks my hand around his dick. We keep our lips locked as I alternate using my hand slowly and quickly, base to head. Suddenly he stops. Pulls back from my face and hand abruptly, and says, “Will you… uh…suck it?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” I teasingly reply. 

I push him back onto the so he’s laying down with his head propped on the pillow. I reach over and turn the lamp on.

“Is this ok? It might be more fun for you if you can see your dick disappear in my mouth.” The smirk on his face is the answer I need. 

I arrange my body and lower my face to his crotch. With the lights on I can see his dick in its full glory. It truly is remarkable. The glimpse I caught in high school was absolutely an accurate depiction of the giant member standing upright in front of me now. I reach my tongue out and lick the tip of his head. He gasps. This is going to be fun.

I lower my mouth over just the tip and close my lips, leaving them there as I swirl my tongue briefly around. I look up at him, the tip of his dick in my mouth, As our eyes make contact, his dick twitches. Ok, so he likes seeing me take his cock inside of me. Good.

I lower my mouth further down his shaft, then back up. I could take more, but I want to pace myself. Or rather, I’m pacing him. I want him to feel the anticipation and full range of sensations of a proper blowjob. I pick up the pace a little, taking about six inches into my mouth of what must be an almost nine inch Goliath. The head of his dick has swelled so big with all this excitement that I start to doubt if I’ll ever be able to get it fully down my throat. But I commit myself to it, knowing this is what he needs. So I inhale and punch my face downward. His fat head catches on my uvula and tonsils at first, but I persist and consciously push away my gag reflex. And just like that, it slides deeper into my throat. As my nose buries itself in his pubes and my chin rests on his heavy balls, he lets out a loud groan. I lift back up gagging a little, gasping for air.

With deep-throating tears in my eyes I look at him and grin as I ask, “Did you like that?”

He looks amazed, shocked, bewildered, and in ecstasy all at once. He reaches up to wipe the tears away and says, “Oh man, Yeah I liked it. A lot. Can you do it again?”

I respond by moving my head back down toward the tower below me, granting his wish. I deep-throat him over and over. Saliva coating his dick and pooling around the base. I do this for a few more minutes – as long as my poor throat can take it. Finally, I need air and a break from the pummeling my throat is taking.

I lift my mouth off his dick and move up to kiss him deep. The taste of his dick is all over my lips and beard. He seems to enjoy it as I feel his dick throb again in my hand as we share the taste of my saliva and his precum.

We stop kissing and just stare at each other. Electricity sparking between every part of our bodies. He finally looks down at my dick. I’m harder than I may have ever been in my entire life. And, while I’m about an inch shorter than him, I’m still pretty sizable.

He grins a devilish grin, and I respond with an inquisitive look. “What’s that look about?”

He says, “I think I finally found one thing where I’m finally the winner! My dick is bigger than yours.”

I let out a huge laugh and say, “Ok, wise guy. I guess you’re right. It only took 20 years and getting me naked to finally beat me at something. But who’s really winning here? Look at you. I’m the lucky guy who gets to suck this giant dick on a sexy fucking man.”

“You could do more than suck it, you know?”

I stop slow-stroking his dick. “What do you mean? I’m no expert here, but wouldn’t you have some safe sex rules or something? Did you bring a condom?”

He grins. “I think I’m about to surprise you again. Jenn and I really researched this stuff when she first brought up the poly idea. We learned about PrEP and so now I take it in advance of our play dates. Are you on PrEP too?”

As he predicted, I sat there staring at him in utter disbelief. This is not at all what I expected when I agreed to go on a hike with my old high school rival.

“Yeah, I’m on PrEP. Do you think your wife is going to be ok with you putting your dick in a guy’s butt, though?”

“I think she’s going to love it. But I want it too. I want to be inside of you.”

There is nothing hotter Jase could have said to me at that moment. I kiss him hard and deep, my tongue and his tongue doing battle in an effort to express our desires. I pull back and return my mouth to his pulsating dick, doing my best to repeat my deep-throating magic from before. My saliva begins gushing again, lubricating his dick.

I jerk my head up and say, “That should do the trick.”

I crawl up toward him and straddle his hips with my legs. I can feel his dick desperately seeking its target. But he’s new to this and needs some guidance. I spit on my hand, reach behind myself, lube up my hole, and lean back ever so slowly. I can feel the glistening head of dick touch the lips of my hole. Thankfully, I’m pretty well versed when it comes to riding big dicks. I should be able to take his impressive member with spit only. At least for a little while.

As his head pierces the outer ring of my hole, I let out a moan. His eyes stare at me intently with a mix of curiosity and anxiety. I just smile down at him and nod empathically telling him, “it’ll be ok, I’ve got you.” After a minute of teasing his head with my ass lips, I push all my body weight downward and engulf the entirety of his giant cock. His eyes bulge. My eyes bulge. For different reasons and the same reasons all at once. It’s a lot for me to take. Especially without proper lube. But I’m not giving up. We both want this. We both need this. So I slowly lift my body up all the way so just the tip is in me and fall back downward in one rapid movement. As I bottom out and feel his balls against my tight glutes, he lets out a guttural, feral moan. I know he’s feeling every bit as connected to me as I feel to him.

I ride him a little more slowly and reach my face down to his for a deep kiss. He begins to whimper into my mouth, clearly letting all his inhibitions go as he gives himself fully to this act he’s been wanting for so long.

Riding him and kissing him blurs into an endless loop. Time has no meaning. He’s so deep inside me that our bodies feel like they’ve become one. After what feels like an eternity in this perfect place, I pull my face back from his and lean my body fully back as I grind on this giant piece of my friend, impaling myself on it to my very core.

And then, without any hesitation, he reaches for my dick that has been creating a slick puddle of precum on his tight, hairy belly. I look back down at him and moan. He grins, clearly enjoying that he has found a way to make me groan too. As he has my dick in his hand, he also takes control of the action and starts thrusting up into me. We meet in the middle, my downward thrusts and his upward thrusts making loud slapping noises that echo off the wood paneling. He’s a goddamn natural at this. His instincts are kicking in and he’s taking more and more control. He’s taking what he wants: me and my hole.

His hand on my dick starts to feel too good. So, I reach for his hand and say, “I’m getting close. Be careful.”

He brushes my hand away and says, “Good. I’m close, too. Can I… cum in you?”

“Fuck yes, please. Cum deep in me.”

This is clearly what he was hoping to hear. He thrusts into me with abandon, never letting go of my dick. I’m moaning and grinding, he’s thrusting and jerking. For a second time we get lost in what seems like an endless loop of pure magnetic hedonism. 

Then I feel it. He feels it. Our dicks swell in unison – mine in his hand, his in my hole. We both know it’s coming. That moment where you just know it’s close and unavoidable. We quicken our pace and our intensity of thrusting and jerking. And then… everything just explodes. Our dicks, our bodies, our minds.

I grind down onto him hard and squeeze my sphincter tight as my dick unloads rope after white gooey rope of cum onto his chest. His head is thrown back, eyes shut, grunting and panting gutturally. I feel his fat dick pulse over and over again, his huge load starting to drip out of me, down around his dick and onto his balls. I pull his head back up, his face to mine, and I kiss him as our dicks convulse their final geysers of cum.

I  press my forehead against his. We stay in that position, heaving, catching our breath. His dick softening inside of me, mine resting on his cum-soaked hairy abdomen. After our heart rates return to a somewhat normal pace, I lift my head and he lifts his. We stare at each other for a long time. I scan his face for any sign of post-nut clarity, fight or flight, paranoia, regret, etc. I sense nothing but contentment in his droopy, fuck-drunk eyes.

Even with his dick semi-hard, it doesn’t fully slide out of me on its own. It’s too big. So I climb up and off of it. As I do, the rest of his pool of cum exits along with it. There’s so much I can hardly believe it. I shot a big load, but I think his load was even bigger. It doesn’t matter though. All things considered, I’m pretty sure I think I ended up the winner of this rivalry.

Epilogue

We grab a towel and clean ourselves up enough to crawl back into bed. It’s almost midnight at this point and we finally feel the waves of exhaustion sweep over our bodies. We’re side by side holding hands, and I have a million questions. But I think better of it. He’s happy. I’m happy. Let that be enough. But as if he could read my mind, Jase moves closer and lays his head on my chest. Feeling deeply connected to my friend, I nod off.

When we wake, we’re cuddled together for warmth in the not-quite-warm-enough room. Oddly enough I’m the big spoon and he's the little spoon. He has both of my arms pulled tight and wrapped around him. His entire body is pressed into mine, including his perfect bubble butt into my very hard dick. The thought crosses my mind of initiating round two, but I think better of it. Last night was enough intensity to last a lifetime. And maybe he’s not ready to bottom yet. So I just grind slowly into him as I start kissing his neck. I hear him let out a sleepy yawn as his body tenses and shivers into wakefulness.

We get up together admiring each other’s bodies and rock hard morning wood. He pulls me toward the shower with him and we make out while the shower takes its time heating up. Then we climb into the shower together, kissing and jerking each other off. We both want more but we both know there’s plenty of time for more in the future. We wash the mixture of dried sweat and cum off each other’s bodies and enjoy our hard dicks pressed up against our bodies.

Out of the shower, our clothes are finally dry, so we climb back into our hiking attire. The rain has stopped so we pile into the car and head to a diner for a quick bite before the drive home. We grin and stare at each other over eggs, bacon, and coffee.

On the ride home we mostly sit quietly. About half way home, Jase asks, “Was I ok? Was that good for a first time fucking a guy?”

I turn my head dramatically and say, “If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were lying about that being your first time. You were amazing. Top ten… no, top five experiences of my lifetime. And your dick… I may never stop thinking about your dick until the last day of my life.”

He’s blushing. “Thanks. I don’t know if you could tell, but I’ve wanted that for a long time. I think I wanted it even in high school but didn’t realize it then. You were so cute and I hated you. But I think it was just easier to feel competitive and angry at you than it was to feel attracted to you. Anyway, last night was really special for me.”

Now I’m blushing. “We’re totally on the same page. And just to be clear, I’m no home wrecker. Just like your other play friend, I won’t be weird or cause drama. I want you to know that.”

He smiles, “I know. It’s why Jenn and I agreed that if this did happen it would be ok. We both trust you.”

“Wait a minute!” Now I’m curious. “Did you plan this?” I laugh at the thought of him planning out our trip and running late and needing a motel.

He stammers out an answer, “No! No, not at all. It’s just that Jenn knows shit and she said if the opportunity ever arose between us, that it would be allowed. I laughed it off at first, but I think she saw something I wasn’t quite yet ready to admit to myself. Anyway, I know you won’t cause drama. But I was wondering. Do you think…” He trails off again.

“Yes.” I answer, not fully knowing the question. “But go on. What were you going to ask?”

“Well, I was wondering if you would, uh, be interested in doing this again the next time we have our open weekend. I really want more of you when it’s allowed.”

As my face erupts into a smile I answer definitively, “Absolutely.”