AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I like dick.
Or at least, my body does. I wouldn’t have guessed that about myself until Tripp pushed me to examine the possibility of it. Even knowing I felt something different around him, I’m not sure I’d have done anything about it without his influence, and for that I’m grateful. I’m also still confused as hell.
Am I bi? I have to acknowledge that’s possible since I can now say I’ve done sexual things with both women and men, although since a woman hasn’t piqued my interest in quite a while bi doesn’t feel right. Have I been gay and not asexual all along, and just didn’t realize it? And if I really am gay, how come seeing Luca pleasure himself didn’t do anything for me while seeing Tripp do the same got me hard? I assume the difference is because I see Luca as more of a brother, but if I imagine watching anyone else, Xander for example, that doesn’t do anything for me either despite the fact I can objectively say he’s good-looking.
Does that mean last night was some sort of anomaly—a right place, right time sort of thing—or that I only react to Tripp? Is it even possible to respond to one particular person and not a gender? If I didn’t think that’d freak him out, I’d ask Tripp, but I don’t want to imply he’s the key to my sex life. Especially not after the way the night ended.
Neither of us mentioned it—he passed out pretty quickly after coming a second time, thank God—but I’m pretty sure he could tell I came, too. That wouldn’t matter except for the fact I warned him it probably wouldn’t happen, and while I’m pretty sure he’d be proud of succeeding where others have failed, I highly doubt he’d want to consider the fact he’s the only person who can do so. I don’t even want to consider it. Still, it's hard not to, given my history, and the fact that I can’t substitute any man for Tripp in my mind and feel the same level of excitement.
God, he was a vision–confident and sexy. Tripp unabashedly showcased himself for my pleasure then used me to chase his own. The way his body contorted. The heat in his eyes. The mixture of delight and relief on his face as he painted us with his cum. I didn’t know seduction could be so filthy yet still so beautiful, much less that I could find release from that alone.
For a brief moment afterward, I didn’t have the presence of mind to bite my tongue, and I thanked him for giving me what I thought I’d lost. I think he was already asleep at that point because he didn’t react, and fortunately he’d already left for work by the time I got up, so I have time to get my shit together before facing him. And by getting my shit together, I don’t mean freaking out about what we did since I clearly enjoyed it, I mean figuring out whether my body likes men, or just Tripp.
However, I have no idea how to go about figuring that out. I could engage in a little more experimentation while I’m here, though that wouldn’t answer the question of whether my body can respond to anyone else. And that’s hardly a question I can ask the man I’m fooling around with to help answer. It doesn’t feel right to ask Niko or Xander since they’re friends with Tripp, and even if Luca and I had the kind of relationship where I asked him for advice, I couldn’t in this scenario since he’s as straight as they come. Besides, I wouldn’t know where to start.
Aside from Tripp, who I inexplicably find myself opening up to, I haven’t hinted to anyone that I've been questioning whether I'm not cut out for sex. After all, locker rooms are more of a ‘share your exploits’ than a ‘confide your secrets’ environment, and as the last line of defense on the ice, it’s better that I appear focused on the game instead of my own internal conflicts. To burden my teammates with my questions now… Even if I could, I doubt any of them are equipped to give me sound advice.
Restless yet mentally exhausted, I revert to the one and only thing that’s ever quieted my mind – physical exertion.
Usually, hockey practice is my outlet, and it’s so rigorous it’s no wonder I don’t spend time dwelling on my inactive sex life. But during the off season running typically does the trick, and in a new neighborhood I figure the scenery alone will be enough of a diversion. And it is, though not in the way I’m expecting.
Rather than flowers and trees, of which there are plenty, I find myself noticing people. Specifically, other men who are running. Only, I’m not noticing them the way I notice Tripp. I don’t see the shape of their legs, the swing of their hips, or the cut of their jaw. Instead, I see only the whole person, which is no more or less appealing to me now than it was before I met Tripp.
After a grueling seven miles, my mind is as restless as ever, and it’s apparent nothing but puzzling out this mystery will give me any relief. So, I collapse onto the nearest bench and just sit, searching every face, every figure, to see if one of them might hold my attention the way Tripp does.
Physically, there are several. Men and women alike, with the lean physique indicative of an active lifestyle that would be compatible with my own. I’m able to discern that several have attractive faces, though none have the charisma that Tripp exudes. None of them are so alluring I can’t look away. In fact, they sort of blend together, becoming indistinguishable the harder I try to recall any of them specifically.
I think there’s some sort of condition to describe that. The inability to recognize peoples’ faces. I don’t have it, obviously, since I can tell who’s who, although in terms of sex appeal, I don’t seem to be able to pinpoint my interests. It feels a little like there’s everyone else, and then there’s Tripp.
What does that mean?
“Noah Tremblay?” A deep voice startles me out of my trance.
“Yes.” I look up at a man who matches me in size, with wavy black hair and ocean blue eyes.
“I thought I recognized you. I’m sorry to intrude, it’s just that I jog this path regularly, and I’ve never seen you before. I couldn’t pass up the chance to say hello. I’m Justin.”
The man holds out his hand, and I grip it for a handshake. Classically attractive, athletic, firm grip. Do I feel anything?
“I’ve been a Bulldogs fan for years. Never been lucky enough to bump into anyone on the team before now. Do you live around here?” He lets go of my hand and gestures to the surrounding area.
Nope, nothing. Not a single thing.
“No, just wanted a change of scenery during my run.” Pro athlete 101, don’t tell people where you live. Or where you’re staying temporarily.
“Oh, nice. So, um, I don’t mean to pry or anything, but you looked kind of…dazed just now. Are you okay?”
Shit—I can’t afford to zone out where people can see me, they’ll start questioning my health and I’ll get stuck talking to doctors every week.
“Yeah, man. I’m good. Just visualizing a game.”
“Always in training, huh?” Justin smiles brightly, as if I’ve given him some special insight into my pre-game process.
“Something like that, yeah.”
This guy is handsome, polite… No idea if he’s into men or not, but even if he isn’t I could still be attracted to him. So why aren’t I?
“Mind if I get a picture?” he asks.
