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The last thing we needed was to be shitty in the sack too.
“It’s not like we’re poofters or anything,” I hedged thoughtfully. The blokes out here always went to pains to make it clear that it was okay to be anything, as long as we weren’t poofters. “I mean, we’d only be practicing, right?”
“Yeah, course. Means to an end.” He nodded and turned to me. “You wanna?”
“S’pose.” I shrugged, ignoring the urge to adjust my half-hard dick.
“Stack the next set of bales up at the front. We can hide behind there so we don’t get busted. It can be our practicing hideout.” He grinned and I barked out a laugh, the tension between us broken. We’d had practicing hideouts our whole lives. One for making mud pies, one for growing seedlings, and another one when we got older for whittling sticks. We even had one for smoking until we’d tried it. That’d ended real quick. The latest one was drinkin’, but it was hard to try when the only grog we had on the farm was a few bottles of cheap red wine which Ma used for cooking. It’d given me a headache that’d lasted for three days, and I’d sworn off the stuff after only half a bottle.
We got to it, hefting the bales into place and creating an alcove where we could get comfortable. The whole time my mind raced, my body pulsing with anticipation. I wanted to burst out of my own skin with excitement, but at the same time, I knew I shouldn’t be as keen as I was. It wasn’t like it was for real. Like I’d said to Sam, it wasn’t like we were gay or anything. We were practicing so that we could be better at it when we did it for real with a girl.
I knew if I kept Lindsey, the cutie from church, or the blonde girl from Dawson’s Creek that Sam always had a wank over in mind, I’d be right. I’d be able to push past the fact that I was practicing with my mate.
Twenty long minutes later, we were done moving the hay. The space we’d left for ourselves was tight—one bale wide and four bales long. There was just enough room for Sam and me to sit comfortably in it. I looked at our handiwork and hesitated. Sam saw it and gripped my arm.
“We don’t have to. I just thought we should practice if we wanted to get to second or third base, or even go all the way on our birthdays. It’s not like a girl’s gonna give up her v-card if we can’t look after her.” He pulled a piece of hay from the bale and snapped it in half. “I don’t want to be one of those arses who gets a shitty rep because he got off and didn’t look after his girl, you know?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m totally with you.” I didn’t want to be that kind of guy either. “Yeah, nah, we’re good. You wanna get in first?”
“Practicing your manners already, huh? What am I, the girl?”
“Shut the fuck up, idiot.” I laughed. He always knew what to say to lighten the mood, even when he was just as nervous as me. We crawled in and knelt in front of each other. I hesitated, not really knowing what to do. “Do we hug each other or something or just go for it?”
“Should try to make it as legit as possible, shouldn’t we?” he asked, his brows dipped questioningly. I nodded and leaned in, realizing I was still wearing my gloves. Yanking them off, I dropped them to my side and reached for him, running my hand up his forearm.
The dark hairs there stood on end as his skin prickled with goosebumps. He was watching me, wide-eyed, as I shuffled forward and reached for his shoulder, wrapping my hand around the back of his neck. He came willingly, and we met in the middle, both up on our knees until our bodies touched. When Sam slid his arm around my waist and brought his hand up to my face, my heart stuttered. “You’re so pretty.” He leaned forward and I bit back my laugh, but when our noses bumped and we went cross-eyed looking at each other, I couldn’t help it. The laughter bubbled up from my chest and I rolled my eyes.
When he pulled back, looking playfully wounded and added, “Hey, I was serious,” my cheeks heated. I honestly couldn’t tell whether he was being corny or genuine, and that made me shift awkwardly.
“This is weird. Is this weird?” I turned to hide my embarrassment.
“Yeah, totally weird.” He gently cuffed me on the chin. “Whose idea was this?”
“Yours.” I poked him in the chest, giving him shit. I couldn’t help my grin at his smirk.
We were so much closer physically than we’d been in years, probably since we were kids and had insisted on sharing a swag when we camped out by the fire with our dads. Sam’s warmth seeped into me, and I leaned into his touch. His fingertips dancing along my shoulder had my muscles going all jelly-like, quivering from the energy he radiated. His firm body, hardened from years of physical work even though we still had a ways to grow, was pressed against mine. His cheeky smile turned soft as we gazed at each other. Hugging him was nothing like what I imagined a woman’s body would be like, but in that moment, I realized how much I liked it.
Or maybe it was just being with Sam. I didn’t know.
I loved curves. I loved the idea of being with a woman. I’d seen tits and bush and they were beautiful. But my body was reacting to Sam. Then again, maybe I was just worked up from the thought of getting close to someone and getting off without using my own hand.
The thought of getting off had my dick hardening and begging for friction. If only I could get closer. Press harder against him. But I couldn’t. I mean, how would I feel if he started riding my leg, using me to get off? What would it be like to touch him? To wrap my hand around his dick? No! That’s something a poof would do, and I wasn’t one of them. I’d heard the stories. Hell, there was even one about a boy at school who’d killed himself. They still called him Priscilla in the hallways. There was no way I was one of them.
But my body ignored the fucked-up monologue in my head. All my dick wanted to do was get out and party. It wanted to grind and rut against bare skin. Feel what it was like to blow with another person. I tried to focus on Sam instead of getting off. On what was before me. Who was before me. He was my best mate, not a girl I wanted to hook-up with. I needed to keep that in mind.
I took a breath and focussed. Concentrated like I would when getting near one of the more skittish horses. Holding Sam close, I looked into his eyes. Brown with hints of green, they were as familiar to me as my own. This time it was my heart that reacted. It flip-flopped in my chest. I loved my best mate. Not love love but love, and I knew I wouldn’t want to kiss anyone else.
My thoughts screeched to a halt. Practice. It’s just practice.
I ran my thumb along his throat, touching the soft skin there and feeling him swallow. My eyes slipped closed as I leaned in and rubbed my cheek against his, just breathing him in. His breath, hot on my cheek electrified every nerve ending. His stubble, still soft like mine, had me doing it again, rubbing against him like a cat. But then I moved my mouth and my lips touched the corner of his. On a gasp, he tightened his grip on my back, digging his fingers into my flesh. Liquid fire travelled down my spine. My restraint snapped. Any doubt, any confusion dissipated.
I wanted this. I wanted him.
I kissed him.
My mind whited out.
Every thought, every uncertainty, every justification for whatever this was fled, and I was left with instinct. My body took over, my mind surrendering to my first kiss. That first press of my lips at the corner of his mouth was everything I’d imagined. As if I’d been lassoed by an invisible rope, I was drawn closer. I couldn’t resist Sam’s pull. Another gentle kiss on his mouth, his lips soft and full beneath my own.
