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One, the scandal at college fucked him up, though I don’t see any connection between that and what happened today.
Two, I don’t know Joel as well as I thought. I mean, he’s an overconfident chick magnet, with no fucking doubts whatsoever about his sexuality, right? So what was that all about?
Suddenly I remember him by the kitchen sink last night, telling me he needed my help with something, and I’m itching to know what it was.
***
I’m floating in a half-formed dream involving Joel—who else?—and a horse. Not sure what the horse is supposed to be doing, but I’m sitting there with J, shooting the shit. We’re talking about our school days, and the bar fight I got into.
He reaches over and touches the bruise on my face. I feel at ease with him.
I’m also horny, and I can see that he is, too. His dick is hard inside his jogging pants, and he shifts uncomfortably on the sofa.
“What we need,” I tell him, “is more.”
“More what?” he replies, leaning back on the cushions, his hand moving down, toward the bulge at his crotch, and I swallow hard.
Hard, so hard.
“That.” I point at the horse, or rather where the horse used to be, but of course there now stands a girl with pretty, wavy, blond hair and lush curves. She’s naked, and the sight of her full tits and rounded hips makes my dick fucking weep with joy. “That girl.”
That’s what we need. Who we need. She’s light, and darkness, and everything at once.
But Joel sinks into the couch, shaking his head, sinking deeper and deeper in the cushions, until he disappears, and I wake up with a start, my heart pounding and my dick diamond hard.
Fuck.
***
A noise wakes me up. I’m lying sideways on the sofa, the TV playing some random program, my drawing pad and pencils making dents in my cheek. I blink at the sudden blinding light and throw up a hand in front of my eyes to protect them.
“J?”
Joel nods at me, opens the curtain further, letting in the morning light, then proceeds to yank the jacket I’d thrown over me off and stalk to his bedroom.
Ow. Good morning to you, too.
Wait, he spent the night out? As in, he didn’t fucking come
home at all?
Whoa. That’s a frigging load of freak out for seeing your best friend’s dick, right? Granted, my dick was shooting cum at the time, and we were looking at each other, but it’s not like it was my fault he barged in. A guy should be allowed to jack off in the shower in peace.
Not like Joel doesn’t do it. Not like I haven’t fucking heard him before—and jacked off quietly on the other side of the wall, listening.
Anyway, he doesn’t know that, so what’s his deal? I’ve done my best to stay out of his hair.
Throwing my legs off the couch, I rub my hands over my face trying to convince my brain to start firing again, and I get up.
Fall back into the couch, rub my face some more.
Then attempt the standing-upright thing again.
It works this time around, and I take some stumbling steps toward the kitchen, when a hand pushes me back down on the couch—oof—and pushes a steaming mug of coffee under my nose.
“Drink.”
“Like Alice in fucking wonderland,” I mutter but take the mug and sip at it, scalding my tongue. Still, it’s black and loaded with sugar, the way I like it. “Will it make me shrink or grow?”
