“Positive.” He nods, so I stand and head to the bathroom after grabbing my clothes.
I flip the bathroom light on and close the door behind me as I walk in. My jaw drops open as I take in the room because there’s no way I’m actually seeing what I’m seeing right now.
Suctioned to the vanity countertop is a dildo. A massive fucking dildo sticking right up, pointing toward the ceiling.
Holy. Shit.
Did Porter leave this out intentionally? He knew I was coming. Did he want me to see it? Is he trying to gauge my reaction, to see if I’m into him? Because I am. This doesn’t deter me. It’s only causing my mind to race with different scenarios and thoughts of Porter using it. Of him stroking his dick while fucking himself on the silicone toy.
Moving closer to it, I realize it isn’tthatbig. I think it was just the initial shock. I’ve never seen a dildo before. I tilt my head, hold my fingers up next to it in a circle to compare the girth, and yeah, I’m pretty confident my hard dick is bigger than this toy. But it’s not too far off, which I think means Porter could take my cock.
If he wanted.
“Oh fuck,” I groan out loud. My dick is growing thicker in my still-wet boxer briefs, and I reach down to squeeze it.
“Uh, Will.” Porter’s voice is barely a whisper as he knocks.
“Forget something in here?” I tease through the door, but I make my way over to open it, still hard and not really caring if he notices at this point.
“I forgot, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to just leave it out like that!” His cheeks are flushed from embarrassment. I’ve never seen him flustered like this. It’s cute.
“No worries. I was just in here letting my imagination run wild. I’ll admit my first thought was, ‘Holy shit, that’s massive, how does that fit?’ But then I realized my dick is actually bigger,” I tell him proudly.
He stares at me in disbelief, like his brain is rebooting, but I did just kind of admit I was imagining him fucking himself on his toy. Or my dick. Maybe I should have thought about my reply a little more, but fuck, that’s a hot visual. I kind of can’t think about anything else.
“You… what?” he finally asks.
Is now the time to tell him that I’ve been thinking about exploring my sexuality more? I can’t imagine there’d be a better time than now, it’s probably overdue, but how much should I admit?
“Does it feel good?” I ask instead, unable to let the dildo part go. Or more accurately, the images of him taking my dick instead.
He hesitates, still looking shocked by the conversation, but finally answers. “Yes.”
My dick twitches at the confirmation. Suddenly, all my concerns about blurring the lines of our friendship or what might happen if I don’t end up enjoying being with another man are gone.
I’m so turned on right now by the thought of him using this toy, I feel like I might die if I don’t get to see it for real. We’ll need to have more of a conversation about my attraction to him, but right now, it’s like my brain is locked-in on his dildo and won’t acknowledge any other possible topic.
I haven’t made the conscious decision yet, but I hear myself ask, “Will you show me?”
“W-what?” he stutters, not meeting my gaze as he looksaround the room, seeming more reserved than I’ve ever seen him. Something in me loves knowing I’m the one who has him so flustered, but I also don’t want to make him uncomfortable. He should know how fucking hot he is, and I want to remind my confident friend why he got “lucky you” tattooed on his hip.
“Porter, look at me,” I say in a firm tone, and his blue eyes immediately snap up to meet mine. I smirk. “Good boy.”
“What is happening right now?” he whispers, almost to himself.
“I want to watch you fuck yourself on your dildo,” I explain plainly.
“But… you’re… Right? I mean… Are you?” He can’t seem to form a complete question, but I think I know what he’s getting at.
I shake my head. This isn’t how I pictured telling him, but there’s no going back now. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my sexuality lately, watching porn and wondering if I’d like to hook up with another man.” He makes a high-pitched squeaking sound, and I think I might have broken him. His jaw is hanging open, and he seems to be processing, so I continue honestly. “I got really fucking hard when I pictured you with the dildo. I still am.”
Porter swallows visibly, throat bobbing as his eyes snap to mine, and he lets out another whimper. I can see the desire swirling in his gaze, the way his breathing picks up. He wants this, but he’s holding himself back. “But you’re stra?—”
“Nope,” I cut him off. “I was wrong.”
“How can you be so sure?” he asks hesitantly.
Instead of responding with words, I point toward my hard cock. My damp underwear is clinging to it and doing absolutely nothing to hide the outline. The urge to rip them off is strong, but I’m still trying to give him the control here. He has to decide to do this.
