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I was kissing my best friend. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I couldn’t deny that it felt right being in his arms. Safe, like I could be me with him. I knew I belonged there, but I also knew I couldn’t have him. No matter how much I wanted to keep kissing him and to let go and see what it would feel like to have him pressed against me naked rather than someone else, I had to keep my wits about me. I did like girls. There was no doubt of that.
But then there was Sam.
Another press of open lips, this time Sam leading. He slid his tongue into my mouth and my brain short-circuited. I couldn’t help my needy moan.
Our tongues tangled together, teeth clashing and lips sliding. Exactly like we’d watched on the tele. I dove in deeper, taking and giving in equal measure. Pashing was perfection. But I still wanted more. Needed more. More of Sam. I tangled my hands in his hair, loving the way the short silky strands slid between my fingers. The musky scents of our bodies surrounded me, and I knew without a doubt that I could get off with both girls and blokes. But how could I want both? It was as if my body couldn’t make up its mind. I knew wanting Sam was wrong, so why did it feel so right? I imagined kissing a beautiful girl and it was just as appealing.
I pushed the thoughts aside. This was my one chance to be with him. There was no way I was going to take our time together—practice or not—for granted. Tugging gently on his hair, I angled Sam’s face and licked into his mouth. Dipping my tongue in as far as I could reach, I tasted him, savoured him. Running my tongue up his own, I drank him in, getting high on every part of Sam I could touch. He tasted sweet like the gum he chewed, with something underlying that made me hard.
I shifted, pressing my iron-like dick against his hip as stealthily as possible. I got an erection from a gust of wind, but this was no coincidence. I wanted him. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with that nugget of truth, but I couldn’t stop either.
Sam brought his calloused hand around to my front, and I wished I could feel him skin on skin. He thumbed my nipple, cupping my pec like it was a breast. Like he’d do to a girl. The added sensation sent me spiralling, getting me so close to coming that I had to pull back and gasp for breath.
I didn’t want it. But I did. And I still couldn’t stop.
I ran my hand down his back, delighting at the flex of his muscle as we kissed. Slipping my work-roughened hands under his shirt, I touched his heated skin for the first time and knew without a doubt, I never wanted to stop.
This was supposed to be a practice round. I wasn’t supposed to discover this thing about me, but I had. I didn’t quite know what to do with it until he kissed down my throat, sucking gently on my pulse point. Then I knew. I needed to touch every part of him. To experience this like it was my one and only time, because we couldn’t do this again.
I couldn’t risk it.
I couldn’t risk falling for my best friend or getting caught. Especially getting caught.
Running my hands lower, wishing I could reach into his jeans, I palmed his arse with both hands and pulled him tight against me. Our mouths met again, and we dove in, all sloppy wet kisses filled with tongue. For two inexperienced blokes, we were good at this.
Sam moved his hand away from my pec, and I missed his touch immediately, but when he slid his hand down, I gasped.
Finding the edge of my tee and lifting, he pulled back but didn’t let go of my waist. With a handful of my shirt in his grip, he pushed against my shoulder, making me arch back until I was pressed against the bales behind me. He leaned down, blowing against my nipple, and I bit back a cry, my hips thrusting instinctually. Cupping my pec again, he swiped his tongue out and licked the flat disk. It pebbled immediately and he closed his lips over it and sucked. It was as if he had a hotline to my dick. I was straining and soaking my jocks with pre-cum, grinding on him. Sam rolled his hips, letting me feel his hardness against my leg, and I moaned like a porn star.
“Shh.” He laughed, pulling me in for another kiss. His movements were urgent, trying to cover any sounds we were making. Neither of us wanted to explain to our parents or any one of the other farmhands what we were doing.
When Sam moved his hand down to my waist, I nearly cried. I wanted more of his mouth on my skin. More of his hands on me, and for one horrifying moment, I thought he was pulling away. My head was telling me that I should only want a girl to do it to me. Dad had given me the birds and the bees talk years ago. I’d seen it in practice in nature enough too. It wasn’t that I didn’t want girls. I did. But I also wanted this boy in front of me.
Maybe I was being greedy. Maybe I couldn’t make up my mind. Whatever it was, I was acting on instinct. My body knew what it wanted.
And I wanted Sam.
But when he thumbed the button on my jeans, I froze. Sam dove in deeper, alternating between giving me more tongue and sucking on mine before he pulled back and whispered against my lips, “It’s okay, baby. I’ll look after you. Lemme touch your clit. I’ll send you flyin’.” I jerked my head back, shock rendered me momentarily speechless at his words. Jesus fucking Christ, I’d forgotten for a moment that we were practicing. That he was pretending I was the girl he wanted.
I’d been thrown off-kilter. Flung so far out of myself that I was burning up on re-entry. My traitorous body wished he was speaking directly to me, that he was telling me how much he wanted to feel my cock in his hand. Knowing he still had his head in the game, that he was still practicing, pulled me out of the tornado of my mind. Switching my brain off was easier said than done, but for a moment, the uncertainty fled, and I melted into his touch.
Gods, his touch sent me flying.
The flick of the button on my jeans made me shudder. As he walked his fingers down my groin to my leg, it pushed me to the edge. I was so close to coming. I was treading a line—a dangerous one—but somehow that made me want him more.
I had everything to lose. His friendship, his respect. It’d kill me if I lost either, especially if he was disgusted because I came apart from his hands. It wasn’t what we’d agreed, but I couldn’t help it.
Desperation for his touch clawed at me. I wanted his hand wrapped around my length jacking me off. I wanted to feel him play me like a fiddle and see how my body responded in kind. And for a moment, I wanted him to want me too. I didn’t want him pretending I was a girl. I wanted him to whisper my name against his lips. But I had to shove the thought down. I had to bury that dream.
There was no way we could ever be together.
Sam bypassed my dick, walking his fingers down the outside of my jeans near my hip while I squeezed his arse, kneading the globes and internally cheering when he rocked his hips into my grasp, straddling my leg and riding it. I sucked in a breath through my nose and thrust my tongue into his mouth. When he slipped his hand between my legs, rubbing higher up my leg and getting closer to my nuts, my mind spun. Like that coil being compressed again, my body ratcheted up, energy whizzing through me.
I edged closer as he ran the back of his thumb over my inseam. Tingles exploded in his wake, coiling me tighter. Sam pressed his thumb down a little harder, shifting a little further back to the sensitive spot behind my nuts. He kissed me, all hot and hard as he rocked his hips, and I hit the point of no return.
One. More. Touch and I’d be gone.
He did it then. Cupped me. Rocking his hips forward, he pressed the heel of his hand behind my balls and I grunted, a shudder passing through me as I lost my load in my underwear. The first time it’d happened with another person. My cock flexed, endlessly shooting stripes of cum without ever having been touched. My nerve endings buzzed, the high overtaking me as I sucked on his tongue and shook through my orgasm.
When Sam groaned, I froze, barely able to heave in the breath I needed. Shame washed over me, tinged with fear. What had I done? I couldn’t go there with him. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t want this. It was… wrong.
I never thought for a second that the insults that were casually thrown around by virtually all of us would apply to me. When the drunks in town fought, or the boys at school taunted the geeky kid, the first go-to insult was that they were a limp-wristed poofter. And I was one of them. My sticky jocks were proof. The wet patch no doubt forming on the front of my jeans, the smoking gun. My heart hammered and my vision swam. I blinked back tears because that’s apparently what little faggot girly-boys did.
They cried.
Lightheaded and disgusted with myself, I pulled back and dropped my hands. I shifted away from Sam. I fought my instinct to stay close to him, but I needed distance.
“So, yeah,” I squeaked, clearing my throat before I continued. “We’re all right at this. Good idea practicing. I think… I think we’re good to go. We’re good, aren’t we? I’ve gotta—” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “Tea’ll be soon. I’ve gotta go and wash my hands. Ma’ll have a shit fit if I sit down this dirty. So, yeah. Um. I’ll see you later, yeah? We can, um... Yeah? Good.” I stumbled out of our hiding spot, nearly landing on my arse as I tripped over my own feet, before sprinting to my house.
