Date: Fri, 3 Jun 2022 16:47:34 +0000 (UTC)
From: atlantisguy@aol.com
Subject: My Baseball Buddy -- Parts 1 & 2 (Adult Friends)

***Note that the following story is a work of semi-fiction, or maybe
"inspired by a true story." Part is 100% true, and part is fantasy, and
I leave it to the reader to determine which is which. Certain details
have been tweaked to protect the "innocent." By all means, send
feedback along to AtlantisGuy@aol.com***



Of all the ways to meet your neighbor... that particular way was not one
of the best.

Not that it was really the new family's fault, exactly... well, let me
explain.

My name is Will. I like to think I'm a good guy... I'm just over 30,
happily married to an amazing woman. I really came into my own in
college, growing into my looks and body. I stay pretty active, and I'm
proud to say that I've managed to maintain a decent build. Overall I've
got a look I'll call "laid-back rugged," with hair everywhere God
intended a man to have hair. With no false humility, I can safely say
that I catch my fair share of female attention. Of course, I love my
wife, and I've thoroughly outgrown my bachelor days... but I still enjoy
eye-candy, and having a girl give me a half-hidden ogle still puts an
extra spring in my step, same as any guy.

My wife and I live in an older neighborhood in town; most of the homes
were built in the 1930s -- 1950s. Some have fallen on hard times;
recently there's been a boom in developers buying out the shit houses,
tearing them down and putting up a much larger new one with all the
amenities. Fortunately, we've been able to stop outright "McMansions"
from going up, but there has been some grumbling about these fancy new
places "changing the neighborhood."

The house behind us, across the alley, was a shithole that everyone was
glad to see go. Construction was a pain for us neighbors, but it
mercifully went fairly quickly. On that fateful morning, I really hadn't
even realized the house was done and ready for the new owners... which led
to the problem.

I had returned home mid-morning, after realizing I had left behind a pair
of critical files I needed to review. No prob, I live fairly close to
work. So, I zipped in, grabbed the missing docs, and had just started
giving my dog a good-bye scritch behind the ears...

...and then I heard it. And felt it. A low rumble. What the...?

It had stopped by the time I got to the window. I looked out and inwardly
groaned... a moving truck had set up shop in the alley. Totally blocking
my car in the garage.

I tried to get out there as fast as I could, but the efficient crew had
already dropped the ramp and were in the process of unloading furniture
by the time I got to the back door.

I would have been within my rights to run outside, raise hell and get
them to move, but that isn't exactly my style. And in truth, much of
what I had to do that day I could do from home. So, I called into work,
explained the situation and said I'd be in later... most likely after
lunch. It was all cool.

I set up at the computer, worked through email, and generally got done
everything I needed to.

After lunch, I heard what sounded like the sounds of packing up. Sure
enough, the crew had closed up the truck and finally left. I quick
gathered up my stuff and dashed outside, just in case they were only on a
break. Sure enough, there was still a lot of stuff around, but the alley
was clear. Out of curiosity, I popped my head around the corner into the
garage, to see what I could see...

...and nearly ran smack dab into a guy trying to lift a box onto a shelf
over his head.

Whoa.

Jesus. I don't make a habit of checking out other men, but this guy
fucking commanded attention... and in fact, all of my weird insecurities
about being a scrawny kid back in junior high came flooding back. It was
like he was an extra who just walked off the set of "The 300," and I
half-expected him to throw that box at me, bellowing "THIS IS SPARTA!!"
He had stripped off his shirt, revealing a tight athletic frame with
muscles that came from being active rather than working out. Adding to
his look, he had a spray of hair across his chest and down his torso,
which clearly kept running down below his waistband. Holding the box that
way, he ended up giving me an equally full-on view of his hairy forearms
and pits. Added to everything, he had built up some good, honest sweat
from unloading... Christ, it was like the guy was radioactively Male.

Of course, me nearly running into him came as a shock. He sucked in a
surprised breath, and nearly dropped the box he was carrying on both our
heads. Even in my dress shirt and tie, I had some slick moves, and was
able to steady it as it teetered. Together, we wrestled the box safely to
the ground.

I looked back up at him and started apologizing. "Sorry, man, I had no
idea you were there! Shit. I'm sorry, I just.... Sorry."

"Oh no, man, it's all good," he responded. He was glowing with good
cheer, despite the near-accident. "No harm done except to my pride. Just
glad I didn't unexpectedly throw a box of power tools at you! I'm Nate,
just moving in. Are you a neighbor?"

Now that my "fight or flight" response had died down, I could get a
better look at him. The guy had a powerful, masculine face to match his
physique. His face, like the rest of him, wasn't angled or sharp, but
not really smooth either. He ran a fine line between being rugged and
being boyish... although several days' worth of scruff across his jaw
tipped the scale more to the lumberjack side of things.

"I'm Will. Nice to meet you!" We had an awkward exchange where we
started reaching hands, but he suddenly pulled back and ran his hands
roughly across the side of his shorts self-consciously to wipe them off.
I smiled broadly. "Don't worry, no sense standing on ceremony." I
grabbed his sweaty hand and shook it firmly. "Welcome to the block! My
wife and I live right across the alley."

"Oh yeah," he said, with a broadening smile and growing animation. "We
could see your yard when we were checking out the house. You guys have a
fantastic patio! I'm totally jealous... you can see, our yard is still to
come. I was also...." He paused, and his smile suddenly evaporated. "Oh
wait... aww crap! Did our truck totally block you when they unloaded?"

I waved him off. "Everything's fine. I'm not usually home this time of
day--especially in a tie, if I can ever help it! But everything worked
out. I'm heading back to work now."

He still shook his head, and said, "Still, sorry. I try not to piss
people off right way. God knows I'll do it soon enough, and I like to
have a grace period." We both laughed.

A good-looking woman came around the corner. "Who you talking to babe?"

Nate perked up when he saw her. "Hey sweetie, just meeting our first
neighbor! This is Will. Will, this is my wife, Shannon."

We chatted briefly. The pair had been married just over a year. They had
met in college, and got married a few years later. When I asked what
brought them here, Nate explained that he had just finished up a
master's program and they were looking to settle down. Through hard
work, determination, and a fair amount of luck, he just got a plum
starting position in an impressive, local architecture firm... a firm so
impressive that even I had heard of it. It was a sweet deal, especially
as Shannon was born and raised around here, and her folks and sister's
family still lived in the area. For her, at least, they were moving back
home. Nate was starting from scratch in building a circle of friends, but
looking forward to new possibilities, and a new chapter in life.

Then, Shannon added something that perked up my ears: "The big thing
about Nate is that he's a complete baseball nut. Complete. He's
freaking insane!"

"Hey now!" Nate whined.

She continued as if she hadn't heard him. "But we weren't in a major
league town during school, and I think he's been dying inside. Now that
we're settling down, I'm trying to convince him to come over and root
for the home team."

Nate theatrically rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I promised I'd
like her local team. The things guys do for love. Thing is, I know next
to nothing about them. I've always been a National League kind of guy
instead."

"Stop," I interjected. "You had me at baseball. I'm the biggest
fucking... sorry, `scuse my French. I'm the biggest *freaking* baseball
fan! My wife is no help in that regard, and most of the guys I hang out
with are strictly football. They think that if a foul ball goes into the
stands, you have to stop the game to find it. I'm counting down the 14
days until the season starts." I paused, and then offered tentatively,
"Say... If you're interested, I'd be happy to help get you up to speed
with our hometown heroes."

Nate brightened like a 7-year-old just promised ice cream. "Hey, man,
that would be great! Hey Shan, maybe we could get the TV room set up and
watch the opener!"

Shannon sighed and gave a tight, indulgent smile. "Fine. *If* you get
the TV room ready, *you* can watch the game with Will. Knock yourselves
out; I'm sure I'll lift right out."

There was hearty laughter as Nate tried to assure his wife that she was
the light of his life. I wished them luck in getting their house together
and made my way back to work.

I smiled as I drove--we had only talked for a few minutes, but I got a
good vibe from Nate. Given his god-like stature and high-rolling job, I
was afraid he was going to be some self-absorbed, insufferable jackass.
But he seemed solid. Grounded. He was a perfectly solicitous husband. He
was happy to pitch in himself to get a job done, and not afraid to get
dirty. And there was a... a... boyish exuberance, even eagerness to him.
They made a good couple, and I looked forward to getting to know them.

A few days later I was working in the yard, and Nate popped his head over
our fence. "Hey, Will! How's it going?"

"Howdy, neighbor! Not bad, just trying to get some preliminaries done in
the yard. How goes it?"

"Just seeing if we're still on for the opener. House still is a mess,
but I'll have the downstairs TV room ready to go, and I can't think of
a better way to inaugurate it!"

"Hell yeah, I was hoping you weren't just being polite. Looking
forward! What can I bring?"

We fell into an excited conversation about preparations, and ended up
having a surprisingly animated discussion over the benefits of Chicago
vs. New York style hot dogs. I could tell our friendship was going to
have camaraderie and rivalry in equal portions. But overall, we fell into
a lively natural conversation. It was cool... we just really clicked.

Game day came around, and I showed up in style, wearing my player jersey
and carrying enough adult beverages to give alcohol poisoning to a whale.
Nate met me with a shit-ton of appetizers, as if he was the God of the
Harvest sharing his bounty. The TV room was great, with a wet bar and
fridge in the back, and a massive screen dominating the wall. There was a
couch in the center, which we promptly claimed and dug into all the
goodies with all the gusto of two young guys in the prime of life.

It was a perfect day.

We ended up having a rip-roaring blast, made better by a come-from-behind
win, sealed with a nail-biter of a ninth inning. And we ate so much food
that I swear I started having meat sweats. By the time I staggered back
home, we vowed to watch the next game, too. And when they won that one in
a ninth-inning rally, we vowed to watch games together until they lost,
to avoid jinxing things.

And so began an epic friendship. We didn't watch every game together,
but it quickly became a regular thing for us. Both our wives were
thrilled to have a "get out of jail free" card to avoid watching events
they only had a passing interest in. The baseball games where I crashed
at his TV room became the highlights of my week, and I hadn't had so
much fun in years. We geeked out on the stats, developed strongly held
opinions, and ate and drank ourselves silly. With Nate and I screaming
our lungs out at an attempted suicide squeeze play, I felt... almost like
a kid again, and it was Christmas morning.

As much fun as I was having, I also got the sense that Nate... well, I
don't know quite how to put it, but that our friendship was particularly
important to him. More than he'd ever admit. I learned he had little to
no contact with his own family (with good reason, by the sounds of it)
and had pretty much decided to build a new one with his wife Shannon.
Coming here to a new place for him, surrounded by her family and such,
was fine... but he felt more than a bit lonely. And while he never for one
second complained, and he clearly loved his wife and her family to
pieces, he didn't really have anything that was just his. Sure, there
were the guys at work, but that wasn't the same.

And that's where I came in. I just clicked with Nate, like no other guy
I had known. It really was like we were brothers from another mother. We
riffed on each other. We ragged on each other. And had a blast. And our
regularly-scheduled baseball games were at the core of it all, forming
the warp and weft that made the tapestry of our friendship.

The funny thing is that we were in so many ways just... different. I
quickly learned that the guy was absolutely *driven* at work. The guy had
a fire in his belly, and was determined to climb his way to the top. I
wouldn't call myself a slacker, but I was much more laid-back, and
determined to focus on my life rather than my livelihood. But in our
separate ways, we shared a desire to live life to the fullest. And over
the time I spent with him I could see us rubbing off on each other, in
the best of ways--he got me to take things more seriously, and I got him
to take time to smell the flowers.

In the span of a few weeks, I really came to see him as my best friend.
Which may not seem surprising in the abstract, but that was... huge for
me. I hadn't had a best friend since... when, high school?  Earlier?  In
college I hung out with a group of guys; we traveled together in a smug
little pack, always on the lookout for girls, or cheap beer. Sure, the
guys picked each other up off the ground after a night of too much
carousing. But we didn't ever really talk about things. Not really. And
my male friends since then were good and all... but it too often seemed
like we were all keeping our emotional distance, especially my buds from
work. They were great guys and all, but there wasn't that essential...
closeness.

Closeness became a hallmark of our friendship. He was a physical guy, and
our friendship included a steady stream of physical contact. It was odd.
But he was always there with a hand around my shoulder, an excited pummel
when a guy got on base, or simply by hanging off me as we filled up our
plates with food. He was the only one I let do that, and over time I
started reciprocating. It got so he'd even hug me when I came over, even
if I had been working outside in the yard and smelled like an animal. He
didn't mind at all. And I... didn't mind that he didn't mind.

And it wasn't all just fun and games. Later that summer, they went
through some very heavy shit. His wife Shannon was particularly
devastated, but Nate was a fucking tower of strength. He busted his ass
to take care of her, all sorts of unpleasant details, and keep everyone
in her family going. I was amazed and impressed by his ability to plow
through and do what needed to get done, all the while sheltering his
wife. One night I had come over as usual, he shouted that he'd be there
in a minute. When he finally made his way down to the downstairs TV room,
he looked like 10 miles of bad road. He more or less collapsed into the
couch, barely able to lift his head.  I probed lightly, "Shannon doing
ok?"

"Yeah. She finally fell asleep. Hasn't slept for a couple of days now.
Just wanted to make sure she was good before coming down."

"You're a good man."

He just sat there in silence. I pressed, delicately. "You getting any
sleep yourself, bud?"

He just shook his head, looking for all the world the weight of the world
was on his shoulders. My heart broke for him. I moved and sat down next
to him, and after a moment of silence lightly draped my arm around him.
Not saying anything right away. Finally, in a low voice, I said simply,
"You're strong. You've held everyone together, and you are a fucking
hero. But... is anyone checking in... on how *you're* doing?"

He turned his head to look at me, started to say some garbage about being
fine... but then he really looked at me. His mouth twisted, and somewhat
to my surprise, he completely fell apart. All the weight of the past two
weeks boiled over, and he started sobbing. I was... taken aback for a
second; this wasn't a usual part of the Guy Code. But I pulled him in,
and he grabbed onto me like I was the only thing keeping him together. He
just cried. And cried. I ran my fingers lightly through his hair, and let
him be... being a rock for him, for a change.

After a while, his sounds quieted, and I realized he had fallen asleep,
still holding me like I was his teddy bear. Poor guy, I knew he hadn't
slept in days himself, and couldn't let himself relax as long as anyone
needed him. Feeling I was going to be there a while, I muted the TV,
leaned my head back and drifted off myself.

Sometime later, I awoke with a snap, somewhat disoriented. The game was
long done, and the TV was blaring some God-awful infomercial. Nate was
still holding me tight, although he had slid down somewhat with his head
across my belly, pretty much with his face in my lap.

Very much outside the Guy Code.

I smiled inside, knowing there was no other guy I would let get this
close. Hell, I'd haul off and deck any other guy who got *close* to this
position. But I didn't mind with Nate. Weird, I kinda... liked it. Liked
the trust. Liked having a friend so tight. Appreciated our connection. It
was nice. I didn't throw him off, but gently ran my hand through his
hair.

But still, it was late. After a few minutes, I lightly disentangled us...
sliding a pillow under Nate's head and draping a blanket over him. Then
I quietly let myself out. Still thinking about him holding me.

We didn't speak of it. But I couldn't help but notice that Nate had
somehow, quietly, learned what my absolute favorite, splurge-worthy brand
of single malt scotch was, and there was *always* a bottle of it on hand
for the rest of baseball season.

I couldn't believe that in such a short amount of time, Nate had
really... filled up my life. There was an ease to being with him, and... I
dunno now to say it. An... excitement.

A real connection.

I never had a connection with a guy like that before.

And it felt fucking amazing.

* * *

The thing that was really cool was that as the summer went on, our home
team started really taking off. While they were in the middle of the pack
around the All-Star break, they soon shot to the top of the division, and
stayed there. Nate and I were ecstatic, and the excitement built, and
built, and built.  The two of us were in our glory, swept up in a rush of
adrenaline and testosterone. Our wives laughed to see us flush and
screaming like a pair of drunken baboons, although I suspect they were
slowly being driven insane by playoff fever.

As the Magic Number fell to one, Nate's wife Shannon decided to go out
with her sister and a few girlfriends for "Ladies Week" away from home
to enjoy the approach of autumn. Or as Nate described it, a full week of
him leaving the toilet seat up. That fucking rocked, as Nate and I could
truly let loose with our full playoff hysteria.

And that's when life threw us a curveball of its own.

That Friday, we had settled in to watch the big game--win it, and the
boys won the division. The game was out on the West Coast. With a later
start time, Nate and I decided to treat ourselves and go all out for a
perfect man-dinner, with rib-eye on the grill, smashed potatoes and a
hefty amount of booze. Nate was an absolute grill master, and he did the
steaks perfectly... and since it was just us guys, we were able to enjoy
them as rare as we wanted them.

The game started, and Nate and I tumbled downstairs to the TV room, me in
my team jersey, him in the team T-shirt I bought him at the start of the
season. And we watched the magic unfold.

It was a tight game until the 8th inning, where our guys finally scored a
pair of runs off their ace. To our screaming delight, they fucking tied
it up, forcing extra innings. We were both wrecks, tense enough to bite
through steel. No one could score until the eleventh, when our leadoff
hitter got a lucky duck-fart that dropped in for a hit. We were howling
like banshees, jumping up and down while wildly holding onto each other.
Holy shit! This could be it! The next hitter fouled out, dropping us into
the pits of despair. We were still standing, holding each other and
afraid to move as the next hitter came up. Against all odds, he nailed a
single perfectly, sending it ripping into the corner. The runner on first
blew through the signal at third and tried to reach home. There was a
play at the plate, BUT HE WAS SAFE! GAME OVER! DIVISION CHAMPS!!

Nate and I lost our fool minds.

We were both jumping up and down, screaming at the TV, like somehow *we*
had just scored the run. Absolutely, deliriously out of our minds. Then
we saw each other and flew into a wild bear hug of unbridled joy.

It felt amazing. No really... fucking amazing.

Amazing.
We had long given each other guy hugs, slap hugs, and such, but this
was... different. We just held. And held. I could feel his pulse pounding
in my embrace.

Then, something strange. With my face essentially mashed into the crook
of his neck, I could... well, smell him. Not in a bad way. It was just...
there was his scent. Personal. Strong after a long day and from the
excitement. And I could feel the heat of him, and the strength of his
arms. All tighter, at once. And it was... him. My best friend. A guy I
loved. In the prime of life, on a fan-fucking-tastic day for the ages.

And... I couldn't let go. We were way past when a normal guy hug would
end, but I didn't care. There was something... *something* I couldn't
explain. Something I couldn't put my finger on. But I felt this...
connection. Deeper than anything. Like everything was coming together. My
pulse was pounding, too... but I don't think it was from me jumping
around. I was feeling something in my gut. Like... butterflies. And my
hands starting moving on their own. Sensing him. Taking him in. And
fucking hell... I think his were doing the same. I could feel sparks on my
skin where his fingers were. I could feel his hot breath against my neck,
and I broke out in goosebumps. And still we embraced.

Shit.

What was this? I don't fucking know, but it felt... fucking amazing. It
was weird, I almost felt on fire.

Finally, after long, long minutes we pulled slightly apart... looking eye
to eye, but still holding each other. Nate had a slightly goofy look on
his face, like he had been grinning ear-to-ear but caught himself, but
his expression vaguely read as being... surprised. We just looked at each
other. We both flashed a flicker of a smile, and gave a couple of soft
chuckled laughs. God he was amazing. The living image of a guy in the
prime of life. Alive. And someone who made me feel alive. His gaze
dropped slightly, like he was looking at my mouth... then snapped his eyes
to mine again. Again, we chuckled lightly. Nervously.

I broke the gaze and looked at his mouth... taking in his lips, and the
scruff of his stubble. It was... magnetic. I had been in a similar
position a million times before, but never with a guy. There was a
different sort of... well, shit, *everything* about it was different. I
mean, he was a *guy.* Fucking masculine as hell. Unlike any woman I had
been with. I could feel his hands on me, stronger than a girl's. His
face more angled. And the stubble. That fascinating stubble. My pulse was
racing, and an icy trail of sweat was running down my temple towards my
chin. I just... it all felt so natural. So easy. I don't know where it
came from, but I closed my eyes, leaned in... and still almost laughing, I
kissed him.

God help me, it felt *good*. It felt fucking unbelievable.

It was just a moment... I was on the verge of freaking out, and couldn't
hold the kiss for very long. But it was real. And good. I pulled back,
less than an inch from his face. Panting slightly. I couldn't look him
in the eyes. My stomach was flipping into somersaults, and my heartbeat
was pounding so loud I though my eardrums would explode. In a whirlpool
of sensations, excited, terrified... and something deeper. Something I
don't know that I ever felt before....

And then Nate fucking *dove* at me, his lips locking onto mine.

In a flash, I was in the middle of the most savage kiss of my life.

It was like nothing, *nothing* I had ever experienced before. My body was
hit with a tidal wave of feelings all at once. Both physical sensations
and emotions. And I couldn't hold on. It was like being pulled into a
whirlpool. Goddamn.

I don't know for how long, but my mind went totally blank, like
everything I could possibly think about was swept away. There was just
Nate. And fire.

But after a moment, I was distantly aware of several things all at once.

The mechanics of making out with a guy were somewhat familiar, but
everything was strange. Fucking amazing, but strange. As we got over our
shock and *really* got into it, I realized just how fucking masculine
this was. The physicality, the aggressiveness of it. Shit. I had always
thought of a kiss as romantic. And that a first kiss should be
respectful. Not when there's another guy involved. We fucking *mauled*
each other. Sloppy, loud, and with all our weight behind it. It was like
Nate was trying to eat me for dinner, rip my face apart, and suck my
tongue right out of my head. I hit him back with everything I had. I had
to; if I hadn't, he would have literally smashed me onto the ground.

And it wasn't just the kiss itself. It was... *everything.* It was the
stubble from his unshaven face... it scratched me raw, and to my surprise
I loved it. It was the way his hands gripped me, far stronger than any
woman I had been with. It was the way his breath tasted of whiskey. The
fucking way he *smelled.* It was a familiar scent, as I had lived with
guys throughout my life. Fucking masculine. But also, so... personal.

But on top of everything, it was the fact that I was with Nate. My best
friend. A guy whose shit-eating grin made my day. A guy who brightened
when I came over. A guy I could talk to for hours, or sit silently with
for hours. A guy I helped at his lowest, and who would have taken a
bullet for me in a heartbeat. A guy whose loopy sense of humor always
made me laugh. A guy who I couldn't wait to spend time with. A guy who
fucking set me on fire.

Fucking yes... he *was* setting me on fire. There was no way to hide it;
my dick was harder than fucking granite.

And holy shit... it dawned on me that crushed together like that, Nate was
harder than granite, too.

FUUUUUCK. Even fully clothed, as I felt his hard dick against mine, my
own excitement started blasting through the roof. I had never had such an
intense moment, one that filled my whole body and set me on fire. His
dick. I couldn't believe I was feeling another guy's rock-hard dick rub
against me. To feel *Nate's* rock hard dick rub against me. My heart was
pounding like it had never pounded before, and we were both breathing in
explosive gasps and we made out.

Fuck. He was grinding his dick against me. My fucking best friend was dry
humping me, still fully clothed.

Fuck it.

My instincts got the better of me, and with trembling hands I reached
down, between us. I had to feel his cock. I fucking *had* to. He was
wearing lounge shorts, and the waistband easily gave way. I could barely
breathe as I slid my hand in.

It was fucking unbelievable. I knew he was hairy, but I'd never really
seen his crotch. My fingers brushed into the wiry tangle of man-hair, and
found his cock... pulsing with excitement. It was the first time I had
every felt a cock other than my own. His dick was harder than I would
have thought, but oddly enough softer. My fingers coiled around him,
instinctively knowing how to work it. And Fucking-A... as my fingers
grazed him, they came away wet and sticky. The man was fucking leaking
precum like crazy!

I broke the kiss, causing Nate to breathe out an audible groan. I slid my
hand out of his shorts, and moved them to my face... I locked eyes with
him, and with a nasty leer started licking the cock snot from my fingers.
Sweeter than I expected. And I could just catch the scent of his musk. As
he watched, his eyes flared open and he fucking growled an obscene growl.
He landed a kiss on me like a right hook.

I roughly slid my hand back towards his cock and dove forward. Our
kissing was now a loud, clumsy rumble as he was panting out his
excitement. His hands worked down to my crotch, gripping me through my
jeans. My lips slid across his chin, as I moved down to attack his neck,
just behind his ears. That blew his world apart, and he started losing
his balance. We fell backwards, crashing awkwardly against the sofa. Our
kiss dissolved into a bout of wrestling as we tried to maintain our
balance, too horned up to care.

We slid hard onto the rug in that space between the sofa and the coffee
table, me on my back. Nate violently shoved the table away to make space
for us, sending beer bottles skidding across the floor with their
tell-tale clatter. Stradling me, he reached down and in one violent move
hoisted his T-shirt over his head.

If I hadn't been on fire before, the vision of that guy's hairy,
perfectly proportioned chest would have done it. I was somewhat hairy,
with a spray of fur across my pecs and hairy belly reaching into my
pants. But Nate was fucking *hairy* with thick dark curls across his
torso, and similarly hairy forearms. I almost gasped as he pulled his
shirt off, flaring a pair of hairy pits. Right there, right then it was
like the most fucking masculine thing I had ever seen. Raw masculinity in
its purest form.

But what made it truly, unmistakably masculine was the predatory, crazed
look in his eyes as he looked down on me. Eyes of pure hunger. Eyes like
a fucking jungle cat prepared to pounce. A woman--any woman--in that
position would have been afraid for her life.

I'm a guy. In response, *my* eyes said... "fucking BRING IT YOU
MOTHERFUCKER!!"

Oh, he fucking brought it.

Nate violently wrenched my jeans open so forcefully I thought he likely
ripped them. He clawed my boxer briefs down, setting my dick free
abruptly so it slapped against my torso. It slapped against my body hard,
wet from a flood of precum myself. There was no foreplay. No consent, no
romance. He fucking locked his lips around my cock and fucking swallowed
me down.

I arched my back and let loose a snarling scream that about blew out his
windows. I couldn't believe it... I've been around enough guys to know
that I'm well above average. Not in length maybe, but I'm pretty
fucking thick, with a straight shaft that ends in a thick forest of
man-hair. I'm used to women not being able to deal with me. Or even
wanting to try.

Nate sure as hell did. That initial suck down was better, way FUCKING
better than any blowjob I had ever gotten from a woman, my wife included.
He fucking *sucked* it, not doing one of those half-assed bobbing games
that woman do. He sucked me *hard,* and I swear I thought he was going to
suck my dickhead right off. And better yet, there was no timid,
half-hearted effort just to get though it. He fucking *wanted* this. He
was fucking *living* for this.

After working me over for a few minutes, Nate tried swallow me down
entirely, but ended up gagging himself and pulling back. Before I could
say anything he shifted gears, making rapid up and down motions, sucking
as hard as he could. The fast movements of his lips against my
cockhead's rim sent absolute shudders across my body. He started going
faster, and fucking faster... and my steady moaning started breaking into
explosive grunts and picked up in pace to match his. This was all so new,
so wildly incredible that I thought I was going to blow right there. My
legs instinctively started to flex, and my grunts became a howl...

...and Nate gave me a reprieve. I growled out disappointment, but was
right there with him... I didn't want to end this too fast. Nate slowed
the pace by sliding his tongue in a vulgar slur down my shaft to my hairy
balls. And fucking *worshiped* them. His mouth was everywhere, taking
them in one at a time in his mouth, teasing with his tongue, lapping me
like a fucking dog. I had no words, just an unrelenting roar of joy as my
best buddy rocked me to my core. And to my unending wonder, he was as
into it as I was. Unlike my wife, he didn't give one shit about my hairy
crotch. His mouth was everywhere. Going crazy. He fucking knew just how
to play me.

The strange thing was that it wasn't just the amazing sensation of Nate
blowing me that got me so worked up. It was this incredible feeling of
closeness. Of fucking connection. Of gratitude. My best friend was giving
me the experience of a lifetime. We were fucking sharing it.

Finally, he spat out my cock, panting as if he'd just run a marathon. I
was worried something was wrong, but his eyes confirmed he was still on
fire. He dove forward on top of me, locking lips with me and sticking his
tongue halfway down my throat. God, I loved the feel of him. His raw
energy. The friction of our chest hair running together.

In that position, I felt my rock-hard cock jab him behind the balls... but
as we ground together, it slid further. To my surprise, I felt it pop out
behind him. Holy shit. My spit-slick cock started riding up and down his
hairy ass crack.

The sensation hit us both like a thunderbolt. For me, it felt fucking
amazing, and completely, totally, unforgivably taboo. Holy fuck. my dick
was sliding in the most hidden, most forbidden part of a guy's body. The
sexual energy was amazing, but... what the hell? This was *wrong.*
Terrifyingly, amazingly wrong. Time fucking stopped. My senses went into
hyperdrive. In the intensity of that moment, I couldn't fucking breathe.

But my response was nothing like Nate's. His look was of... surprise. Of
wonder. Awe. And slowly the start of a lop-sided, shell-shocked grin
split his face.  Everything vanished as new sensations, new possibilities
flooded his mind. He started thrusting against me, and Jesus fucking
Christ I could feel his hole kissing my dick. Nate had a look that was
like... well, shit, if I was a Victorian pulp writer I'd call
"rapture."

He continued to rock so my dick ground up and against his hairy crack.
Holy fucking shit. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. HOLY! FUCKING! SHIT!

Finally, instinct and raw sexual need finally ripped my mind apart. I
don't know if it was exactly what he was thinking, but I didn't care
anymore... I need him. FUCKING NOW!

Like a fucking lion unleashed, I fucking let out a roar and violently
threw my friend off me. My mind only on my need, and his hairy ass that
had set me on fire. I'd never done anything like this, but instinct
drove me on. I roughly rolled him onto his belly, then hoisted his hips
up. His hairy ass opened wide before me, entirely at my mercy. In a
reedy, thick voice, Nate kept growling, "Fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh
fuck." I quick ran my finger through my mouth, slobbered on it good, and
then rammed it inside him.

"UUUNNNGHGHHH!" Nate's entire body tightened at the intrusion, but
after a second he started hissing out his breath, and pushing back
against my spit-slick finger. I pulled out and spat directly on his
asshole. I was close enough to catch his scent... musty, musky, and sour.
Unlike anything. It was raw. Fucking *raw.* I started working my spit
into his hole with my finger. And started finger fucking him, roughly.
This time his body didn't stiffen, it... rippled. He let out a long
rumbling groan that dissolved into a whimpered, "Yeaaaaaaaaaaah."

Fuck. He was into this. He fucking wanted this. A guy--my buddy--was into
me playing with his ass. And fucking losing his mind. Yeah, he fucking
*wanted* this. I had never been so hard in my life.

I fucking hacked up some lube, spat into my hand, and started slicking up
my dick. I spat again onto his hole and worked it in with my finger. No
pause, no hesitation, no wellness check-in... I pantingly lined up my
cockhead against his hairy pucker, and pushed.

No dice.

I pushed again. Nothing. I gripped my dick and started crudely running it
in small circles against his hole. Finally, an opening. And then I leaned
in and pushed hard.

FUCK. FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!

Nate bellowed like a gored bull, in raw pain. It barely registered in my
mind, because I broke through and his pucker was giving my dick the
fucking embrace of a lifetime. Tighter than any pussy ever. Hotter than
fuck. Nate's cry of pain was obliterated by my scream of sexual joy.

Nate's sounds finally jarred into words. "You're so fucking BIG.
You're so fucking BIG."

This brought me back to myself, and reminded me of who the guy was below
me. I pulled out, bringing a yelp from Nate. I went back to circling his
hole with my cock. "Sorry, bud. You ok?"

"I'm good," he hissed back. "But you're so fucking big. Go easy."

"You're ok bud. You're ok. This is gonna feel amazing." God I hoped
it would. "Just... relax. I'm not gonna hurt you. You know I'd never
hurt you."

"Just... easy, man. Go easy."

I pushed in again, this time with less violence. I held it there, letting
him get used to the massive invader ripping through him. To help him
relax, I reached around and started jacking him slowly. I think it was
working... his dick had deflated, but in my hands it started to stiffen
again.

"God, man, you are so fucking tight. It's fucking unbelievable. So...
fucking... tight...." My mind started blurring as the incredible
sensations flooded through me. God, it was tight. With white-hot heat. I
started making small circles with my hips, and he started loosening. Then
he bore down, and the extra pressure caused me to yell sharply. He
relaxed and bore down again, and again I involuntarily blasted out
something like a battle cry. Holy fuck, this was the best feeling in the
fucking world.

My body took over and I started thrusting, short little bursts at first,
but soon becoming deep dives. Nate's body seemed to dissolve, and he
started rolling his head from side to side, unleashing a wave of vulgar
sounds. Then my dick hit something, and Nate threw back his head with a
wild bellow that almost scared me in its intensity. Soon he yelled back,
"There! Do it again! THERE! THERETHERETHERE!"

I started pumping in earnest, hitting that spot again and again. Nate
lost it. He started slamming his fists onto the floor. He roared in
absolute male abandonment. His reaction broke through my last
inhibitions, and I hauled off and rammed my cock into him as hard as I
could, my hairy balls smashing against his hairy hole.

It was like a bomb went off inside us. All conscious thought was
obliterated by raw sexual need. A primal instinct to release or die. I
started fucking *slamming* against him, all sexual rage, no technique.  I
fell forward against him, and swung my arm under him, gripping his hairy
chest for leverage. And in the back of my mind, I could feel him snake
his arm around mine, so that our fingers intertwined. We fucking collided
again and again. My hammer blows making Nate's entire muscular form
shake. It was the tightest hole ever, and the warmth of his ass was like
nothing I had ever experienced. Sex on an entirely different plane. The
fucking *friction*. The way his ass seemed to suck me in. The incredible
pressure as his ass bit down on my cock. Fucking unbelievable.
UNBELIEVABLE. I never felt SO FUCKING ALIVE IN MY FUCKING LIFE. Somehow,
I realized in the back of my mind that we were both screaming our fucking
lungs out. I could barely hear it over the fucking roar inside my own
head....

It was only for a minute or two. We were far, far too gone, so
overwhelmed in new, primal sensations we were completely unprepared for.
There was no way we could last. My arm wrapped around his torso, I could
*feel* his whole-body orgasm building. Suddenly, Nate's entire body
started tensing, I could... feel... his body twisting, constricting, and a
new howl ripped out of his lungs. Without warning, he exploded, blasting
cum everywhere. As he did so, he bore down so hard on my cock I thought
he was going to crush me. It was too much to take, and I fucking
*erupted* inside of him, shooting so hard I though my body was turning
inside out. Everything when white and I screamed myself hoarse.

I don't know how long we continued... I still rocked inside of him,
amazed at the new, warm wetness. I pitched forward collapsing on him,
barely able to breathe. He went as limp as a boned fish, and I had to
brace myself from knocking us both flat. I dimly remember clumsily
rolling off to the side of him, landing hard on my hip. Both of us lay
there panting, completely spent. Covered in a thin sheen of sweat. My
senses too fried to make sense of anything.

But as I started coming back to myself, a clear, insistent question
started forming in my mind:

...what the Hell did I just do?

What the Hell did WE just do?


* * *

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