Disclaimer: This is a mostly true story, with some of the action and events compressed or rearranged, and others omitted, in the interest of telling the story more simply. Names and locations have obviously been changed. Since this story involves sex between males of differing ages, if that sort of thing is not your cup of tea or if it is illegal to read such material due to your age or location, please check out now. Remember to donate to Nifty to keep this free resource available.
Chapter 1 – The Boredom Chat and Its Consequences
This story takes me back ten years ago. I was two years out of college, had just broken up with my long-time college girlfriend, and it was mid January, and I was laid up in bed with double pneumonia. Well, not quite laid up, exactly. I was past the feverish delerium and constant sleeping, and was on the mend. But I was still stuck inside, and cabin fever was hitting hard. I was playing with my new smart phone (I had waited a bit, wasn't an early adopter), and decided to check out some chat apps to just have something to do. As part of the “Oregon Trail” generation, I had grown up having anonymous chats with people whenever I was bored. But of course the internet had moved away from chatrooms and BBS forums toward social media dominance, and those 90s era internet relics were going away. But, in the early days of smartphones, there were some chat room apps that were like the old days, and, like I said, I was really bored, and I decided to give it a whirl for shits and giggles.
I'll say, too, that at that point in time I'd never really had any romantic sort of feelings for guys before (except that first time, but that's a fucked up story for another day), but I had on occasion had fuckbuddy. But other than that, my romantic interests had always been girls. But, I was a veteran of cybersexing on gay chats. That was always fun, it was anonymous, harmless, and everyone enjoys a good fantasy every now and then. That's what I thought I was in this chatroom to do. Enjoy a little fantasy and log out later and be done.
So, I log into this chat and am having a good time bantering about with some nerdy dudes who happen to be into dick. The banality of the chat in the main room is almost certainly of no interest to anyone. But, this one guy and I started cracking jokes back and forth, and before I knew it, he'd PM-ed me. We talked, he told me his name was Austin, and I told him mine was Dustin (not true), and we chatted about all sorts of stuff for the next four hours. There was some flirtation, but it wasn't overtly sexual and certainly not the cybersex jackoff fantasy time I had gone in expecting. But I found myself genuinely enjoying conversation with this guy. On a whim, I asked him where he was from, and to my shock, he tells me he's from a suburb on the northern side of the city that I live on the southern side of—maybe 30 minutes away from me. I started to tell him where I lived when he asked me my age; being honest, I told him I was 26.
Austin replied with, “Hah, I'm 16.”
All of the danger warnings went off in my head. I panicked. I had been causally sexually chit chatting with a minor all day long. My mind immediately went to Dateline episodes and mugshots. So, I made the decision to spin him a story, right there. I told him I was from metro Atlanta, and every time he asked for details about my life, I fudged a bit more. And, finally, I ended the conversation, telling him I needed to go get a shower (probably the first really true thing I'd told him in that last half hour). Satisfied that I had obscured any trail to the “real me” I did get up and get that shower, and I resolved to never talk to Austin again.
My resolve lasted until about 2 PM the next day, when boredom and, if I am being honest with myself, a desire to talk to this smart, funny, witty, nerdy guy who made me smile all day long the day before took over and I logged back in to the chat. He was there, presumably waiting for me, because I got a PM instantaneously that said “Hey! Are you feeling any better today?” And just like that, we were off to the races, and we chatted till I fell asleep that night.
The next day, I was feeling a little better, and decided I would try to go back to work the following day. So I told Austin I probably wouldn't be able to log into the chat. He suggested that I download a messenger app like KIK or Nimbuzz (both of which he was on) so that we could keep in touch; we also exchanged email addresses (I gave him the fake one I used to register a chat app account with). I shouldn't have agreed. I knew better. But I really liked this kid, and we had a lot of fun talking, and I convinced myself it was just mostly innocent, and he didn't have a clue who I really was or where I was from or anything really about my life, so we could keep it on the mostly platonic level and just enjoy being friends.
I know, I was pulling all out all the stops to keep myself delusional.
never admitted to myself that I was attracted to him. But the longer
our friendship went on, the more I had to bury that. He was a kid,
ten years younger than me. And, of course, because I had been so
paranoid about talking to a 16 year old kid, the longer we talked the
more details about my life he wanted to hear (just as he told me
about his), so the more stuff I shuffled, exaggerated, downplayed,
and outright invented. But at the end of the day, our flirty
friendship and easy camaraderie became something that I looked
forward to every day. We texted over the app all day long most days
for the next two years. Then, Austin graduated from high school.
We had talked a lot about college; he didn't feel like it was right for him, and I told him not to waste a bunch of money trying to figure it out. I tried to talk him into trade school, but he just wanted to get out and get a job, which he did. He also ended up moving in an apartment with a girl, to whom he had mentioned he was a little bit attracted to in the past. Being bi myself, I assumed he was too, and that maybe he was moving on. Part of me was relieved, and I thought that he would eventually get involved with this girl, and slowly leave me behind.
that's not what happened. She friendzoned him pretty hard, but pulled
him into a peer group that was doing a lot of drugs, smoking, and
drinking. Austin was getting fucked up on a regular basis, and when I
told him that I really didn't like him being stoned and drunk all the
time, he quit talking to me. Again, part of me was relieved, because
I thought maybe this was my out from the web of lies I'd told him,
and was tired of; but another part of me, and, in truth, the greater
part, was incredibly sad not to get to talk to him every day, like I
had come to look forward to over the last couple of years. I enjoyed
sharing in his triumphs and his tragedies.
A few weeks later he told me he was in a relationship with a guy he'd had a crush on in high school, who came out to him while they were hanging out together at a mutual friends' place, and this other guy confessed he'd always had a crush on Austin, too. I had my suspicions that this was meant to make me jealous, but, I encouraged it, despite the fact that it sounded like a happily-ever-after gay teen fantasy from the Nifty archives.
Austin quit doing drugs, but he kept up the binge drinking and smoking for the next couple of years, along with the pretense that he was in a relationship with this guy. He even pretended to be this guy and to chat with me about himself on occasion (though of course, I didn't actually know that for sure at the time). I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what was going on, and inventing more stuff about my own life at the same time, trying to give him every reason to think that I was not interested in him and that I had my own life, and just wanted to be friends. I thought this was working out spectacularly well, until he quit talking to me again. This time for about 2 months.
Then, one night close to midnight, I got an obvious drunk text from him on the app, where, through the misspellings and generally incoherent ramble, he confessed that he was in love with me and wanted to be with me. Of course, the truth was (even though I was lying to myself), I was in love with him, too. But, I now had years of lying to him about myself under my belt, and I couldn't figure out how the hell to come clean and tell him the truth. So, I took the safest course and said, “You're drunk, and I'm way too old for you anyway. I just want to be friends, ok? Text me in the morning when you're over your hangover.”
I didn't hear from him again for six months.
When I did, I got a frantic message from him. He had been to the doctor complaining of pain in his abdomen, and, after and abdominal scan, they had found a lump or mass in his lower abdomen, attached to his intestine. He was terrified, because they had prepared him for the possibility that it was cancer, and they scheduled him for surgery. At this point he was just shy of 20. The poor kid was beside himself, so I talked to him, tried to calm him down, and to be there for him. But, honestly, the thought of him having surgery and possibly cancer really got to me. I really cared about this kid that I'd met in a silly chat room 4 years before. Leading up to the surgery I was a wreck, but I never let him in on that. Every time he was nervous or depressed or morose, I kept encouraging him. I once again came really close to coming clean, because part of me really wanted to come see him at the hospital (he told me which one he was going to be at, and I knew it from all the times my grandpa had been there before he died). But, instead, I chickened out again, and did something that ended up having a lot more momentous impact than I would have imagined. I used the cloud storage from the fake email account I used to register the app I used to chat with him, and uploaded my huge collection of fantasy, scifi, and horror ebooks, and sent him the link. This way, he could have something to do while bored in recovery—other than chat with me.
Some of these are great. I hope I get to read them all. Thanks for
being such a good friend to me. I love you,” he texted me that
night before he went in for surgery.
“I love you too, buddy,” I texted back.
I barely slept that night, worrying about him.
Chapter 2 – Cancer Scares and Unexpected Surprises
I didn't hear from him at all the next day. I knew that he was probably not up for chatting, and that almost certainly everything had gone fine with the surgery, but I was still worried. I imagined all the horrible things that could have gone wrong. Maybe he hadn't made it, and I would never know what happened to him. I was unbelievably depressed.
next day, I got a notification that someone had accessed the cloud
storage drive with my ebooks. I as thrilled, since he was the only
one with the link and if someone had accessed it, that meant he was
ok. But when I logged into the account, I saw that it has not been
accessed by Austin, but by someone with a different email address,
whose name was Mark Davis. I didn't know a Mark Davis, and I was
instantly afraid someone had hacked my account. In the midst of my
freaking out, I got a text from Austin.
“Hey, I'm doing good after surgery. IT WASN'T CANCER!!! But it is an infectious mass, and I got a drain tube hanging down by my balls for the next several days. Oh and thanks for the books! I went ahead and downloaded all the Elric novels to read!” he said.
There was a lot to process. I was, of course, elated to hear from him and that he didn't have cancer. I mean, elated doesn't even begin to cover it. But at the same time, he said he'd accessed my cloud drive, but I knew the only access had come from this Mark Davis.
I texted him back, “Thank God! I'm so happy that you're going to be ok!” and of course we talked until he zonked out from his pain meds.
the mean time, though, I did some internet stalking about Mark Davis.
I searched the email address he used to access the drive. I found an
old myspace page (with an incredibly young looking ginger kid, maybe
11 when the pic was taken) but it hadn't had any updates in years. I
found an account on a skateboarding and paintball forum registered to
that email address, and saw that he was frequently buying and telling
paintball guns on there. And then I hit facebook and searched his
name and location where he told me he lived.
I found a profile for a Mark Davis, who was the right age, but his profile's security settings were pretty well on lockdown. But, as luck would having it, his grandmother had tagged him in a post telling him to get well soon after his surgery. Bingo! This had to be him. I kept looking and saw a pic that had him tagged in it, from two years before, and it was obvious this was the same ginger kid from the myspace profile, just grown up. On a hunch, I did a reverse image search on the pics he sent me of himself a couple of years ago, and found out there were from some gay extreme sports jock's tumblr blog. “Austin” had been catfishing me, too.
I wondered if I should confront him about it. But then, if I did, I'd have to tell him the truth, too. I had no idea how he'd react, and, honestly, at this point after so many years, I couldn't imagine my life without him in it. So I decided to let us both continue our catfishing lies, and keep him as a friend. But, in the back of my mind, I knew I had fucked up when I told him that I loved him the night before he went under the knife. I knew it as soon as I hit SEND that I had crossed a line I shouldn't have crossed, but, in the back of my mind my conscience was getting to me, and, if he hadn't made it through sugery I didn't want the last thing I told him to be a lie. I had lied to him quite enough.
After the cancer scare and as he got over the surgery, things between us seemed almost normal, although from then on, we used the “L” word when talking to each other; I was scrupulous about attaching the word “buddy” to anything, trying to make it clear that we were just close bros. He continued the pretense of 'dating' Sean. At this time, his mom and step dad had split up, his mom was living with his grandmother, and he'd been staying there after his surgery until he was healed up. But, eventually, he moved back into his apartment with the girl who friendzoned him, with all the druggies and drunks that were there partying most nights of the week.
texted me one night in absolute frustration.
“I can't handle this anymore. None of this is fun anymore,” he said.
“Why not?” I texted him back, “I figured after a month with your mom and grandma you were ready to get back to being a party boi?”
He sent back a one word response, “Why?”
you like that sort of thing, don't you? I mean, that's all you used
to talk about was drinking and getting high with Jessica and her
you realize that I quit doing all that months ago? After you told me
you didn't like me doing it? I even quit smoking
because you didn't like that either, ffs.”
I was stunned, I had no idea he had quit any of that, or that he'd done it for me.
“I didn't realize that,” I texted back, “but what about Sean. I thought he was a partier too?”
“Fuck him, I've been over him for a while. I want you.” he said.
I again tried to downplay it, but I new the genie was out of the bottle now. A couple more months went by, his mom was back on her feet, had a good job again, and was renting an apartment closer to the city (which was closer to me, the real me). He got a new job 20 minutes from my house, and he got out of his lease that he co-signed with Jessica, and moved in with his mom. I drove by where he worked pretty regularly when I was out doing weekly necessary shopping. I wondered what it would be like to run into him, to see him pass by in a store. Of course, I would know who he was, but he wouldn't know me at all. The thought made me really sad.
things continued on this way for a number of months, until one day, I
got another frantic text message from him. At this point I should
mention that both of us (the real us) come from really conservative,
religious families, which is why neither of us (either the real us,
or the catfish persona us), were “out.” This was
something else we'd bonded over. But, the frantic message I got
“FUCK FUCK FUCK my mom found my gay porn. FML”
I tried to calm him down, but it was no use. It turned into a huge fight, his mom went nuts, and he ended up at his grandmother's house. His grandmother, it turns out, didn't care if he liked pussy, cock, or tentacled monsters from HP Lovecraft's nightmares. So she told him he could stay with her as long as he wanted. His newfound freedom in his grandmother's house is, almost certainly, what lead to the next escalation in our relationship.
Chapter 3 – The Jig Is Up
the months following his move to his grandmother's, and after the old
lady told his mom to shut up and back off, “Austin” who I
now knew was really Mark, really opened up a lot more to me. Instead
of a nightly “I love you,” I was getting “I love
you” several times throughout the day. I wanted to be honest
with him and tell him the truth. I wanted to tell him that I really
did love him too, not just as a best friend (which by this time he
had really become). I had started letting my own mask slip, and was
telling him more about my actual life than ever. Of course, I had to
dress it up with names changed to protect the innocent, and all that.
But I was so conflicted the whole time.
That is, until one Saturday morning, I got a “Hey” text at 8:30.
bud,” I responded back, “what are you up to?”
“Jackin my dick and thinking about you fuckin my ass,” he said back.
make flirty comments, but in the almost 6 years I'd known him at this
point, this was a line that had never been crossed. I didn't know
what to say, and I don't know what came over me, but I said, “Yeah
man? You want it?”
“FUCK YES!” he said, “I've been wantin it for years.”
I decided, in for a penny, in for a pound, and said, “You wanna call me?” Instantly the incoming voice chat sound rang on my phone. In six years, this was the first time I'd heard his voice. And it was fuckin sexy.
“Hey baby, fuck I've wanted to do this for so long. I'm layin here strokin my cock wishing you were fuckin my ass hard and deep,” he said, breathing heavy, his voice husky.
that fuckin cock for me babe,” I said, my hand already playing
with my own throbbing erection, “I wanna eat your ass still
you're beggin me to fuck you”
“I'm beggin now, but I'd love you to put your tongue in my hole,” he replied.
“Fuck yeah, get that tight hole wet a loose for my cock, so I can slam it in you and breed you.”
“FUCK YES DUSTIN!” he cried out, “I've been wanting that since I met you.”
this time I was leaking precum like a dripping faucet, and I could
tell he was getting close.
“Yeah babe,” I said, “Gonna breed you good, fill you up with my cum.” I was breathing heavy and jackin my dick ninety miles per hour.
I could hear him on the other side of the line, panting, and then he said “Oh fuck, I'm CUMMING!” and I heard him grunt and wimper 4 or 5 times. That did it, and I shot so hard I got cum in my beard.
I yelled and moaned at the same time.
“Omigod that was the best cum I've ever had,” he said.
We talked a little bit after that, and decided that we both enjoyed what we did. And for months, we jacked off talking to each other over the voice chat every night before bed, and usually on Saturday mornings, too.
At this point I confessed to him that I had been in love with him for a while, and that I had been dying it to myself. He said he knew, though he was glad I was telling him the truth. But, then he started acting weird. He would say things like “You deserve better” and “You don't really know me” and he started to get distant with me again. I knew what the problem was. But after 6 years of lying to someone, how do you tell them the truth? I knew exactly what he was going through, because I had done the same thing to him, but I couldn't tell him about that either.
We went almost a month without talking. I would message him, try to call, but he wouldn't answer. I was devastated. I had fallen for him, hard, and just as I let myself admit that, he pulled away. I got angry. I knew it was stupid. I knew why he was upset and doing this, because he was trapped in his catfishing lie. I was trapped in mine—I mean, he still thought I lived hours away in metro Atlanta, instead of right across town. Slowly the fucked-upness of this entire situation was weighing down on me. I couldn't take it anymore. I decided to forget about him, about the whole situation, and move on with my life.
That also lasted exactly two weeks.
I was depressed. I missed talking with him every day. I missed him making me laugh. I missed all our bizarre inside jokes. I missed him most of all. But I was too proud and too fucked up and caught in the web of lies I'd spun over the last six goddam years to do anything about it. I was also afraid of what admitting my feelings for him would mean for me in the long run. I'd certainly be a pariah to my family and friends, not just over the fact that I was in love with another guy, but because this fucked up relationship started when he was a kid. I'd be labelled a pedo. I couldn't deal with it.
then, he called me. He was crying, not making any sense really. But
finally he got out, “I have to be honest with you, I have to
tell you the truth. My name's not Austin.”
I didn't know what else to say, so I said, “I know.”
I could hear his surprised reaction over the voice chat, “You know? How do you know?”
I told him the whole story about how I figured out he was Mark Davis.
When I was done he said, “Well, I'm sure you hate me now for
catfishing you, so I'll go and never bother you again.”
“Wait,” I said, “I don't hate you, in fact, you have ever reason to hate me. My name's not Dustin, it's Ryan Bradley, and I have been doing the same to you, and I'm sorry. I've wished for years I could come clean and tell you the truth. I love you. I don't live in Atlanta, I live maybe a half hour from you, across town. I'm sorry.”
“I can't fucking believe this!” he yelled at me, “How could you? I mean, fuck, I've told you repeatedly how I felt, and all this fucking time you've been right here! All those nights I cried into my pillow wishing I was with you, you were right across fucking town? Fuck you!”
“Hey, wait up, you were lying to me, too. Just because figured it out because you fucked up and accessed my drive with your real account doesn't mean that you didn't keep up your lie too. And the only reason I didn't confront you about it then was because I was afraid if I told you I knew, you'd disappear and I'd never talk to you again. I fuckin love you too, you know, and I didn't want to risk not having you in my life at all. So I let it ride, hoping to keep you as a friend instead of losing you totally, because I can't imagine my life without you in it!”
“I don't know what to say,” he said, “I don't know what to feel. I need some time to think about all of this.”
“Fine. Take all the time you need,” I said, and he hung up the call.
Chapter 4 – The Aftermath of Fish Stories
It was along time before we talked again. Months, I think. I had decided that I was never going to talk to Mark again, and it was time to move on with my life. I started dating women again, it was fun, nothing to write home about. At this point, I had crossed the 30 line; my younger brother was already married, and my younger sister was engaged, and my mom started asking when I was “going to find a nice girl and settle down.” I brought a few of the women I dated around, but, even though some of them weren't vapid thots with at least one divorce and/or kids under their belt, after a few dates, there was nothing about them that stood out to me. Nothing that kept me engaged. Most of them I just let go gradually.
About this same time I had gotten a roommate. The guy was an acquaintance, a down on his luck Army vet who had done tours in Iraq and Afghanistan who had his life turned upside down when he got back from his second deployment and his wife had left him. I let him move in with me for a bit so he could get back on his feet. He was a nice guy, but I had been living alone for a long time, and I found the change in privacy requirements constricting. But, Rick and I became better friends, and we hung out a lot (mostly by necessity), and life went on.
had just let go a single mom with a kid who was a total brat, because
I couldn't stand being around her child, when Mark got in touch with
“Hey Ryan. I don't want to not be friends with you, but I feel like I don't really know you. Are you real? How much of what you told me was true?” he texted me.
“Mark, I know, I lied about a lot of stuff, and I told you why. But I'll tell you anything you wanna know, just ask.”
We spent the next week texting back and forth, playing “ask me anything” with each other. It felt really go to finally be honest with him about my life, my family, my friends, all my frustrations and dreams. But, that's also how I found out he was back living with his mom (who had reconciled with his step-dad and was back in his old house), he had gotten a new job, in a town an hour and a half away, and was dating this girl who was his co-worker. That stung, but, I understood. I was doing the same trying to forget him. And if we were just going to be friends, then fine. I could do friends. Friends was better than nothing, and I was prepared to live with that.
the weeks after that conversation, we had achieved a new normal. We
talked and cut up, even flirted a little, but not as much as before.
Things were going fine until one night he said “I really miss
jackin off with you.”
With the no more lies rule we'd established, I told him honestly, “I miss doing it with you, too.”
“You wanna?” he texted me, almost immediately.
I said. The next moment the voice chat ring on the app was buzzing,
and we were off.
I slept better that night than I had in months.
phone sex that night broke the dam we'd erected between us. Our chats
turned flirty and sexual into mostly sexual again. The sexual tension
was building up tremendously, and I thought I was going to explode
from my horniness every time we talked, and all the times I thought
about him all day long. It turns out he was feeling the same way.
I was sitting at work doing my mindless, boring desk job, and I got a text from Mark that said, “So, when are you gonna fuck me?”
“What?” I texted back.
“Well we've been talking about it when her jerk off for a while, and I wanna know when you're gonna do it for real?” he said.
I got an instant boner.
texted him back and said “When do you want to?”
“I'm off tonight, why not now?”
I knew I couldn't take him back to my place with Rick there, so I said “I'll get a hotel room for the night.”
I texted Rick and told him I was gonna be late tonight, maybe not back in at all. “You go, stud! Been a while, so make her show you a good time!” I laughed. If he only knew.
A quick hotel app search showed an efficiency suite room on the east side of town where neither of us was too likely to run into anyone we knew was reasonably priced, so I booked it, texted Mark the address, and told him I'd meet him there when I got off work. It then occurred to me that I really probably shouldn't show up to work in the same clothes I had on today, so on the way there I stopped and bought a new pair of khakis, a button up, some socks, underwear, deodorant, toothpaste, mouthwash, and a bottle of lube.
had already checked in and was waiting for him to arrive. I couldn't
believe we were meeting up for the first time. I felt my heard
pounding, blood rushing. I heard him knock on the door, and my
already hard cock throbbed a little harder in my boot cut jeans. I
opened the door and let him in, and I knew I loved this guy. His
eyes were such a deep, sparkling blue, his skin pale, his hair
strawberry blond, though his whiskers, barely longer than stubble,
were a little darker. As soon as the door was shut, I grabbed him
into a bear hug, and then kissed him.
The touch of our lips together was electric, magnetic. I wanted more, and I coaxed him to open his mouth, and slipped my tongue in. Soon we were tongue wrestling as our mouths were locked together on our way to the bed. I pushed him down on it, and was on top of him, making out with him as if my life depended on it.
Before I knew it, we were naked, and I was licking down his ginger furry chest, down to his thick cock. When I took him in my mouth, he shuddered and moaned, and when I began to suck him, he whimpered like a puppy. His dick was the perfect size for my mouth, I could go all the way down, burying my nose in his fire coloured pubes, and still be able to massage the base of his dick and his balls with my tongue. He was in utter ecstasy, running his hands through my hair and moaning my name.
giving his cock and balls the royal treatment for at least 20
minutes, I flipped him over and got him up on his knees, spread his
ass cheeks, and dove in face first into that ass. I licked him from
his balls to the top of his ass crack and back, before zeroing in on
his puckered hole.
“Hey, um, I haven't had a shower since this morning, so I'm probably a little funky down here,” he said, and I slapped him right butt cheek and told him to shut up, and went back to eating his funky hole. The taste was incredible, I think it even made me harder than I was before. I started pushing my tongue into his pucker as it loosened, and then I reached down and started slowly stroking his dick. Now he was moaning louder than when I was blowing him. The incredibly sexy sounds he was making turned me on as much as the taste of his funky ass was. I loved the way the ginger fur around his hole matted with my spit, as I bathed it with my tongue.
“Come on babe, fuck me, please, fuck me!” Mark was almost yelling as my oral assault on his asshole mounted. I decided it was time (past time, really), and scrambled to the writing desk in the room where I'd left the bag of sundry items I'd picked up on the way to the hotel. Retrieving the lube from the bag, I started stroking some on my dick on my way back to the bed, before putting two lubed fingers into his hot chute. I pushed him down a little lower and lined up his slick hole with my cock, and pushed.
Mark's ass was a sublime experience. I know I took it very slow for
him, but, for me, it seemed as if time stopped, and I was momentarily
in this eternity of warm, tight pleasure that existed between his ass
ring and the head of my cock. He's now slightly loosened, moist,
slick hole began to suck my cock in, engulfing me entirely in his
love canal. Soon my bush was up against his furry as cheeks, and he
let out the softest “Oooooh” sound as we both reveled in
the pleasure we were giving one another at last.
Soon, I began to pick up the pace and thrust into him, harder and harder, hammering away at his prostate on each thrust of my dick, which was harder now than it has been in ages. He was making animal noises, burying his face into a pillow, and moaning “Yes, God yes, fuck me!” over an over. I felt like a fucking stud.
pushed my weight down on him, getting him on his stomach, my dick
never leaving that velvety hole. I fucked him so hard I'm sure they
could hear the slapping of flesh down in the lobby. By this time, he
was drooling and moaning. I kept up until I couldn't hold back
“Oooooh FUUUUUCK,” I yelled, as I flooded his guts with what seemed like a gallon of cum, and felt like it took an eternity to shoot.
just having what was beyond a doubt the best orgasm of my life, I was
still insatiable and wanted more. I rolled him over and saw his hard
cock glistening with precum, gossamer strands of it still connecting
his cock head to the sheet. I licked it up greedily, and then went
all the way down on his cock, sucking him with wild abandon. When he
came in my mouth, he had his fingers in my hair, and called out “YES
YES OH FUCK RYAN OMIGOD YES!” His cum was fucking delicious,
and I swallowed almost every drop.
I left a little to share with him when I moved up and kissed him, deeply, passionately, as we wrapped our arms around each other and drifted off to a wonderful, blissful sleep.
Little did I know it would be over 2 years before I saw him again.
Chapter 5 – Happily Ever After Only Happens In Fairy Tales
After that night we spent together, I was literally amazed. Hands down without a doubt the best sex I'd ever had in my entire life, and, I was insanely into Mark. I knew I was in love. And I didn't know what the fuck to do about it. If I started dating him, my whole family would disown me, and I knew he was in the same situation. But fuck it, I loved him.
It turns out, while I was trying to figure out how to move forward, Mark was having a similar but worse freak out meltdown, and decided to ghost me for the next 18 months. Calls, texts, emails all went unanswered. I was crushed. Totally, completely crushed. After I climbed out of a 6 month depression, where I had fallen off the wagon and started drinking again, making everything in my life much, much worse, with the help of regular meetings and trying to forget him, I was working on rebuilding a life without my best friend who I was madly in love with.
About this time a friend of my mom's introduced me to this great girl. She was 28, never been married, had a good job, no kids, was normal, sane, funny, and engaging. We went out on a blind date and I thought “If I was gonna marry a girl, I would marry this one.” We had a lot of good dates, and a year later, I asked her to marry me, and, despite the fact that she could have done way better, she said yes.
I decided this was it. My parents loved her, her parents thought I walked on water, and all of our friends were so happy for us. And I realized I was in love with Hannah, albeit not in the same way or with the same intensity I had been with Mark. It took a year for Hannah and her mom to plan the wedding, and I was blissfully ignorant of most of the decisions. I just wanted to show up and have a good time.
Three months before the wedding, I got a text from Mark.
told me how sorry he was for ghosting me, and caught me up with what
had been going on with him. He was totally freaked out by the
experience we had in the hotel that night, and it scared him, so he
ran away. He tried to forget me, and devoted all his time to the girl
he was dating who worked with him, Carley. He had proposed and they
were getting married in a couple of weeks.
“Well, good for you, man. If you're happy, I'm happy for you. I'm engaged, too, btw.” I said.
“Oh. Well good for you too! I hope y'all are happy together,” he replied.
I'd invite you but that might be awkard, idk.”
“Yeah, same here. But hey, look, can we still be friends, and talk when we need to? I know I've been a fuckhead but I really miss just chatting with you, like we did all those years ago.”
“Yeah, Mark, I would like that. You were my best friend for so long, I totally miss it, and you.” I said, keeping to the 'no more lies' rule we had established after we came clean with each other about the catfishing.
dude. Ryan, you're an amazing guy, and I love you, dude.”
“I love you too, Mark. And honestly I probably always will.”
“Yeah. Same. I wish we could be together, but we both know we can't. Things would be too crazy.”
know. I agree. Plus, Hannah and I have something special now, and I
love her. I don't want to hurt her.”
“Yeah, I know, I know. I just mean, if things had been different.”
“I know what you mean. I know all too well.”
So we both got married last year. We'd kept in touch, compared notes, bitched about wedding planning turning fiancés into crazy people. I was genuinely happy with Hannah, even though, as I told Mark, I knew a piece of my heart was always going to belong to him, no matter what I tried. But I resolved to be a grown up and not let that get in the way. I even got comfortable talking to Hannah about Mark, though she assumed he was a guy from my tabletop gaming group (whose membership she could never keep straight), and I let the assumption slide.
Mark and Carley got married 4 months before us, and as the date grew closer, I could tell that when Mark and I talked, he seemed unsettled. I had a feeling I was the cause, but I let myself believe he was just nervous, cold feet, that sort of thing. As I said in the beginning of this sordid tale, I am a master at self delusion.
He smiled and looked handsome as fuck in all their wedding photos (that I saw on facebook), and she looked beautiful, too. But, when they got home from the honeymoon, I realized the honeymoon was over. Over the next few months, I heard about what a disaster it had been, how all she wanted to do was stay in the resort and be pampered, and he wanted to go out and actually enjoy being in the Caribbean. I felt bad for him, especially since we were already planning our honeymoon trip, backpacking through Iceland, and were both incredibly excited about the trip.
Mark and Carley were still having troubles. Since they got back from their honeymoon she had become really controlling, always bossing him around. I had never met her, but she sounded like a real bitch. Hannah saw me texting him one night and asked what was up, and I said, “Oh, Mark is just venting about Carley again,” and then I told her about Mark's wife's latest antics. Hannah said “Damn, she sounds like a bitch. Tell him to grow a pair and lay down the law on her.” I laughed really hard, and realized this is one of the reasons I love her.
Months went by, our wedding came and went. It ended up being a gala circus with hundred of our friends and extended family members attending. The reception is a still a blur, along with the wedding night. We boarded our flight to Iceland the next day, and spent the next three weeks there, and enjoyed every minute of it, and our time together.
Mark and I continued to talk as soon as I got home, and I felt a little guilty that Hannah and I had had such a great time on our honeymoon, and that we got along so well together (and the sex was good), when he and Carley were clearly still having issues figuring things out. I hoped it was mostly due to them being so much younger and with less life experience, but part of me know, deep down, that it was almost certainly because Mark really wanted to be with me.
A few weeks after we'd gotten back, Hannah said she thought it was unhealthy that I hadn't spent any time with my friends since we'd gotten back from Iceland, and told me she was going out with some girls from work on the following Thursday.
“You should call up one of your buddies to hang out, maybe Mark,” she suggested.
of course, I texted him. He said he could get off work early on
Thursday and come by my place for a few hours. I knew Hannah wouldn't
be back till after 10, and she was supposed to text me when she was
on her way home. So we had 4-5 hours of time together.
When Mark got to the house, I let him in and we kissed immediately, just like we had over two years before at the hotel. We got on the couch I immediately pulled down his pants. I couldn't wait to get that fat, leaky cock back in my mouth. I sucked him for a while before he pulled me up to him and we made out again. I saw those beautiful, amazing blue eyes shrink wrapped with unshed tears. He wanted this, needed this. And fuck it, so did I.
made love for three hours, and spent and hour in the shower, where I
sucked him off again, before he got dressed and went home. When
Hannah got in, I realized I probably still had cum breath, so I raced
to the kitchen and chugged half a beer, before she came in and gave
me a kiss.
“I hope you boys didn't drink too many of those tonight, especially with Mark having to drive home.”
I said, “we didn't. We just messed around here and hung out. It
“Yeah?” Hannah said, “You need to spend time with your friends. Mark is like your bestie, its a shame y'all so rarely get together. You need to make an effort to see him more.”
I smiled and said, “Yes, ma'am.”
Mark and I haven't managed to get together again yet. Work schedules and time away from the wives are hard to come by, as it turns out. But, we're planning a “guy's weekend” camping in the spring, before it gets too hot out down here. I can't wait to spend a weekend in a cabin playing and making love with my best friend.
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