When I saw him walking toward me in the airport, my heart lit up like it does every time I see him. With a beaming smile on my face and on his, I walked toward him and we exchanged a firm but quick hug. Our faces were pressed against one another for just a second and it felt right. We gathered his luggage and made our way to the car, sharing stories of his trip and stealing longing glances at one another. During the drive, as we had moments of stillness, we’d gaze at one another and smile for just a second. A sliver of time dedicated to saying “I love you” without mumbling a word. Here and there a hand would pat a shoulder, back, or thigh, followed with an, “I have missed you so much, man,” the type of phrase that held up the slim boundary that kept our relationship still.

Our relationship has always been weird. Everyone know thinks that we’re fucking behind their backs and are just too scared to tell them, but that really isn’t the case. We’re best friends, no doubt. I’ve spent more time with him than any other person, and we’ve only been close for about 17 months. He has slept over in my bed because he hated his roommate so many time I lost count, and when neither of us hit it off with a girl after a night of drinking, I could count on him to be back in my bed that night. We talk daily, and there isn’t anything we don’t talk about. Our thing has always been watching movies together. We would sit in bed and lean against one another, have an arm wrapped around a shoulder, and a few times even held hands. But other than a few drunken, joking kisses that were far from abnormal in our close-knit friend group, we never went further than that. I always knew I wanted to, but risking our friendship was never something I found to be an option.

Back in his apartment, we laid in bed as he dozed in and out of sleep, failing to conquer the jet lag. Still, occasional smiles at one another would confirm how grateful we were to have someone around. After what must have been the third stare in as many minutes, I made a leap. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to have to kiss you right on the mouth,” I said jokingly.

“You know what? People have been talking and I heard you wouldn’t,” he countered with a straight face.

“You know how I feel about those people talking… Just don’t let it happen again.”

We went on about our conversations, discussing his escapades in Europe and mine with the girl that I hadn’t spoken to since high school graduation. “You mean to tell me that after 15 snapchats you were with her and she was topless?” “I’m telling you, man, she has it in for me and has for about 10 years. It was simple.”

“Dude, you’re my hero. I wish I could be more like you,” slid out of his mouth layered in so much sarcasm you could taste it, followed by another look that screamed his feelings for me more than any other had before.

“What did I tell you about looks like that?” I laughed, trying to mask my nervousness. Now was the time that I had to make my move. So much mental conflict was built up in my head. “How do I kiss a guy that is my best friend in such a way that says ‘I’m interested, please let something happen,’ but also says ‘Dude it was just a joke, I’m totally straight bro, get the stick out of your ass,’ if something goes awry?” I was thinking to myself.

I started with a joking peck, followed by a little bit of laughter and another stare. After the kiss, he looked at me, a little shocked, and then laughed as well. I maintained eye contact, trying to tell him exactly what I was thinking without saying the words.

“Well, the people were wrong I guess!” he chuckled, and shyly looked away. “So did I tell you about the night when I was…”

My thoughts were going a mile a minute at that point and there was no telling how I actually answered his questions and maintained a conversation at that point. About 20 minutes later, after evaluating everything that had happened as many times as humanly possible, I looked over again and he was looking at me. The look was different this time. It was scared, as though he wasn’t sure he should be making eye contact. I glanced away, then back. With a soft smile, I said everything I could. For another quick second we stared, and scooted a little closer to me in the bed. From him, that was more communication that we ever got with words, so I jumped. I leaned in close and put my lips against his. I moved my left hand to his side, and then to the small of his back. As we kissed, it progressed to making out, and my hand moved up his back under his shirt. His right hand was against my left knee, hesitating to make any movement.

I lifted my leg a little so his hand slid down my thigh, edging closer to my crotch. I pulled him in closer, then rolled his back against the wall and myself over his lap. At this point, I was scared to pull away from the kiss. Scared to give him the chance to tell me we couldn’t keep going. I brought my right hand to the corner of his shirt and started lifting it, and was met with no resistance. I pulled his shirt off, breaking the kiss, and just looked at him, waiting. This time, he made the move. He grabbed me without saying a word and laid me on my back, moving on top of me to continue our kiss. I started grabbing at his ass and moved my hand beneath the waistband of his pants to remove any layers between my hands and his butt. I pulled him close so I could feel his erection pressing against my groin. He moved his hand to my hip, and then started making his way toward my now pounding cock. Again, he stopped shy of my crotch and hesitated to make any moves. I didn’t want to push him, but I couldn’t wait any more. I took one hand from his ass and moved it to his, pushing his hand onto my cock. He held it and started to slowly pull on it. I pulled us onto our sides so we had better access to one another. I grabbed his waistband from the side this time and started pulling down his sweatpants, centimeter by centimeter, until I could see the shadow of his freshly trimmed pubic hair. I left his pants sitting at that angle, one side held in place by his body against the bed, for a few more minutes of movement. With my other hand, I grabbed his cock and started pumping him the same way.

With his hand still slowly pumping my cock, I took my hands and pulled down the other side of his pants, exposing the dick I had been waiting to see for 17 months. It was an amazing specimen. Somewhere “between 7 and 7.5 inches,” just like he had a described, and just a little thicker than mine. I grabbed it again, filling my hand, and bit his lower lip. I slowly started making my way down to his throbbing head with my lips, kissing each of his beautifully chiseled abs along the way. When I made it to his dick, I swelled with happiness that after all of this time, it was finally happening. Our relationship was finally breaking down that thin wall that had been needlessly holding it back for so long.

Pre-cum covered the head of his cock causing a welcoming shine that I quickly licked away, pulling a gasp from between his lips. I then took his cock in my mouth, bobbing up and down, and with my hand, started pumping his dick. He quickly started moving his hips to the rhythm of my head and took a hand to grab my hair. After what couldn’t have been more than a minute but felt like an eternity of happiness, he pulled me away and said that he was getting close, but didn’t want to finish yet. With that, he pulled me up to him and kissed me again, then made his way down to my throbbing cock. He hesitated at the tip, unsure of what to do, then did started mimicking the motions I had made. I was in ecstasy.

As I inched closer and closer to summing and he was taking more and more of my inches, I pulled him away and told him what I had been wanting to say for months: “I want you.” He looked at me and I could see the gears turning in his head. I pulled him up to my mouth and kissed him again, then told him, “I love you and I want this.” I spread my legs around him, laying on my back, and pulled his cock closer to my ass. With my hand, I started rubbing his throbbing dick against my crack, enough sweat built up that there was little resistance even without lube.

Then he started taking over. He brought his hand up to his mouth and spit, using that to stroke his cock. He spit again in the other hand, using that to lube up my hole. Slowly, he pressed the fat head of his dick against my hold and started to push. A small gasp escaped me, and he looked up, making sure I was okay. With a slow nod, I told him it was time. I wrapped my legs tighter around his back, helping move him deeper inside me. He moved his head down to my neck, kissing me and nibbling on my ear, as he was slowly pushing in. After what felt like forever, he was finally all the way inside of me. I then got to see him in action the way that I had pictured with myself and with the girls he had slept with.

Aggression and gentleness that I had never pictured before overtook him. He was moving in and out of my hole with so much force, but so gently that I can’t quite describe it. Pleasure that I had never felt before started building inside of me, and his breathing started to quicken. With my heels on his butt and my hands on his shoulder blades, I drove him deeper and deeper inside of me until thick spurts of cum started streaming from my cock. Within moments, he tensed up and buried his cock deep into my ass and I could feel the warmth start spreading through me as he finished. Slowly, he collapsed on to me, his stomach against mine, covering us both in my cum. I kissed him again. He pulled away suddenly and looked at me.

“I’m sorry, I wanted to be the one that made you cum,” he sheepishly stated.

I couldn’t really contain my laughter as I looked at him and smiled, laughing, and kissing him. “What do you mean, do you not feel that against your stomach? Your cum didn’t just seep through my belly button… that’s mine. I finished too.”

“I know that, ass,” he chuckled and smiled, playfully pushing my shoulder away. “But I wanted to suck you off or…” and with that he trailed off.

“Or what?”

“Or, well, I guess after trying it on you, I want you to try on me,” he said in what was clearly an attempt to be discreet about what he really wanted. Putting those feelings into words always made it much more real, and I couldn’t really blame him for saying it the way that he did. With a quick kiss on the mouth and a glance down at our sweaty, cum-covered bodies, I gave a little chuckle.

“From the looks of it, we both need a minute to recover and clean up. With the way things just went, though, I’d say we have plenty of time to make sure that not a hole is left unfinished.”

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