Page 29

Curiouser and Curiouser

Charlie

After throwing up at Coney Island, we took it easy the rest of the day. Carousel, Ferris Wheel, boardwalk games, where I won a fluffy teddy bear that I’m totally going to gift to Roy.

And now, one week later, I still haven’t figured out how to talk to Daniel. About his breakup with Olivia, about the bomb she dropped on me. About whether I feel the same way or not.

I roll over in my bed and stare at the window that’s wide open and letting the warm spring breeze inside.

Rubbing my eyes, I yawn and get out of bed, heading into the hallway to find Daniel’s bedroom door cracked open.

Gently rapping my knuckles on the wood, I push it open and glance inside the empty room.

I pad down the hallway and, once again, find Daniel in his favorite spot. On the couch, his bare feet resting on the wooden coffee table, the remote control in his hand, and a rerun of Supernatural playing on the TV.

I pause, drawn to his relaxed form. The flickering light of the sun, broken by the clouds, dances across his face, highlighting the strong line of his jaw and the fullness of his lips.

My gaze travels lower, taking in the way his broad shoulders fill out his white T-shirt, the fabric stretching tight enough across his chest that I can make out his nipples .

Daniel shifts, crossing one ankle over the other, and my breath catches. His boxers ride up, exposing more of his muscular thighs. I stare at the dusting of dark hair and the way his skin appears smooth and inviting.

He flexes his toes absently, and I find myself mesmerized by the simple motion and the sheer size of his feet. Though he’s never outright said it, I know he’s self-conscious about them, about how wide they are. But right now, I can’t understand why. To me, they’re perfect.

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly bone-dry. A fluttering sensation stirs low in my belly, making my pulse quicken. What is happening to me? Why am I suddenly hyperaware of my best friend’s body?

I close my eyes briefly, trying to calm my racing thoughts. This is Daniel. The same Daniel I’ve known since I moved to New York. The guy I’ve shared laughs and heart-to-hearts with. I shouldn’t be thinking about him this way or ogling him like some piece of meat. It’s wrong…isn’t it?

But when I open my eyes again, they betray me, drifting back to Daniel of their own accord. They linger on his lap, on the impressive bulge barely contained by the thin cotton. My face floods with warmth as arousal stirs within me. My boxers grow uncomfortably snug. Oh God.

Tearing my gaze away, I take a steadying breath and step into the living room, willing my inconvenient boner to behave.

“Hey,” I say, aiming for casual as I plop down beside Daniel on the couch. The cushion dips under my weight, and I slide closer to his solid warmth.

“Hey, yourself,” Daniel replies easily, eyes still glued to the TV. He shifts again and throws an arm across the back of the couch. His fingertips graze my shoulder, sending a shiver racing down my spine. “Just in time for the good part. Castiel’s about to show Dean his wings.”

I hum noncommittally. Daniel’s thigh is pressed against mine, scalding me through two layers of thin fabric. Having him this close is both comforting and electrifying.

My dick continues to throb insistently in my boxers, refusing to be ignored. So, I cross my legs and rest my hands strategically in my lap, praying my boner gets the hint and calms the hell down. Thankfully, Daniel is too engrossed in the scene playing out on the screen to notice my predicament.

Forcing myself to do the same, I watch as Dean stumbles into an abandoned barn. Castiel reveals his true angelic form, and the episode ends. Daniel stretches with a groan. His shirt rides up to reveal a sliver of tanned skin above the waistband of his boxers. I choke on my tongue at the sight.

“This is such a great show. I gotta take a leak. Let me know when the next one comes on?”

I nod as he heaves himself off the couch. His boxers slip down ever so slightly, and that’s when I see it—the tantalizing cleft of his ass crack peeking out, and a dusting of dark hair trailing into the unknown.

I bite back a moan as my cock literally jumps at the forbidden sight.

Fuck, I can’t believe how turned on I am right now.

Over my best friend’s ass, of all things.

I’ve seen it hundreds of times—in the locker room, in our bathroom, even when we’ve come home drunk from a party and he strips in the hallway.

This is too much. I need to do something about these urges before they consume me.

Before they ruin our friendship beyond repair.

But how? I’m not on any hookup apps; I prefer to find my one-night stands at parties.

And it’s only ten in the morning. There aren’t any parties at this time of the day, at least that I’m aware of.

And then it hits me like a line drive to the chest. The dive bar from New Year’s Eve. The one with the glory hole in the men’s room.

I remember how I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to stick their dick through a hole in the wall for a stranger to suck.

But with my hormones raging out of control and confusion swirling in my head, the idea doesn’t seem as far-fetched now.

In fact, it might be exactly what I need to figure out if this attraction to Daniel is a one-off or a sign of something else.

The dive bar looms before me, its dingy exterior belying the salacious secrets within. My heart pounds as I push open the door and weave through the midday drinkers to the men’s room.

The door creaks as I slip inside the dimly lit space. Graffiti covers the walls and the urinal reeks of stale piss. But my focus zeros in on the infamous stall at the far end.

With trembling fingers, I slide the lock into place. The glory hole stares back at me, its edges worn from untold encounters. A far cry from when it was brand new on New Year’s Eve.

God, I can scarcely believe I’m about to do this. What would Daniel think if he knew? What would Roy say?

Swallowing hard, I undo my jeans with shaky hands. They pool around my ankles as I sink onto the toilet seat. I softly gasp when my bare ass touches the cold porcelain. My cock juts out from between my thighs, flushed red and dripping with need.

I wrap my hand around the rigid length, hissing through my teeth at the jolt of pleasure.

Minutes tick by with agonizing slowness. I stroke myself languidly, trying to stay hard despite the growing anxiety gnawing at my gut. No one comes in—not to piss, not to shit, not even to wash their hands.

Maybe this was a stupid idea. Maybe no one else is as desperate and depraved as I am.

Suddenly, the sound of the bathroom door swinging open causes my hand to freeze on the upstroke. The stall door next to me creaks open. The lock slides shut.

A heavy breath. A shuffle of feet.

My cock throbs in my grip as I strain my ears for any hint of what’s to come.

Silence stretches, taut and electric. My pulse roars in my ears, nearly drowning out the tinny music filtering in from the bar.

I realize with a start that I’m the one who has to make the first move. Sucking in a shuddering breath, I tap my foot beneath the partition, the universal signal for “suck my dick, please.”

For a long moment, nothing happens. Humiliation burns in my cheeks. Of course, they don’t want me. This was a mistake. I should just?—

A slim finger pokes through the hole and curls in unmistakable invitation. Beckoning me. Urging me closer to sweet release.

In a daze, I rise on unsteady legs and shuffle to the wall. It’s only a short distance from the toilet, but to me, it feels like miles.

With a racing heart, I line myself up. The head of my cock kisses the stall wall.

This is it. No turning back now.

I slide my cock through the glory hole. A moment of stillness, then the wet heat of a tongue flicks over the sensitive head. I gasp, my hips jerking involuntarily at the sudden sensation.

Whoever is on the other side wastes no time. Their lips wrap around my shaft, sliding down the full length until I hit the back of their throat.

Holy shit. This guy knows what he’s doing.

I close my eyes and lose myself in the building pleasure. But behind my eyelids, an unexpected image takes shape. Pink lips stretched obscenely around my cock. Shaggy blond hair tickling my thighs. Piercing blue eyes gazing up at me with mischief and desire.

Harrison.

I don’t know where the thought comes from. But now that it’s there, I can’t shake it. Harrison is on his knees and worshipping me with his talented mouth. His fingers dig into my ass cheeks, urging me to thrust deeper. His pleased hum vibrates around my length .

The vision is so vivid, so arousing, that my orgasm takes me by surprise. With a strangled shout, I explode, painting the back of the anonymous man’s throat with my release.

I slump against the stall, spent and sated.

Confusion quickly settles over me. Why did I imagine Harrison and not Daniel?

I assumed if I fantasized about anyone, it would be my best friend.

After all, these confusing feelings started with him.

It was Daniel’s body that stirred this sudden attraction to men within me.

Or was it? It was Harrison’s suggestion to kiss a guy, the tiny voice in the back of my head reminds me.

Does this mean I want Harrison more than Daniel?

No, that can’t be right. I barely know Harrison. We’ve only interacted a handful of times. Daniel is my best friend, my partner in crime, the guy I trust with my life. If I’m into dudes, surely he’s the one I’m into, right?

I tuck myself back into my jeans, my mind whirling. Perhaps it was just the taboo thrill of the glory hole that made me imagine things. The anonymity letting my subconscious conjure up the most forbidden scenario possible. That has to be it.

Suddenly, a deep voice from the other side of the stall startles me out of my inner turmoil. “Hey, man, you gonna return the favor or what?”

I pause, blinking in surprise. Oh. Right. It’s only fair, I suppose. I’m not a complete asshole. “Uh, sure.”

I squat down, making sure no part of me other than my sneakers touches the disgusting restroom floor, and open my mouth wide around the hole.

A moment later, a thick, veiny cock slides through and pushes insistently into my mouth. I gag slightly at the intrusion but quickly adjust, hollowing my cheeks.

While I’ve never given a blowjob before, I’ve had plenty and seen even more in porn, so I know what to do.

The man grunts in approval, his hips snapping forward to drive himself deeper down my throat. Tears spring to my eyes as he fucks my face, but I don’t pull away .

As drool dribbles down my chin and my jaw starts to ache, my mind drifts once again. But this time, it’s not Harrison’s face I see. It’s Daniel’s.

I imagine it’s his girthy cock sliding over my tongue. His musky scent filling my nostrils. His big hands fisted in my hair and guiding my movements.

In my fantasy, Daniel praises me, saying what a good boy I am for taking him so well. How hot and tight my throat feels wrapped around him. That he’s going to pump me full of his creamy load as a reward.

I moan wantonly around the anonymous cock, the vibrations making the man curse. He picks up the pace, his heavy balls slapping against the stall wall with each brutal thrust.

I’m achingly hard again, my neglected erection straining against the confines of my jeans. I palm myself roughly, chasing my second orgasm embarrassingly quickly.

“Fuck, gonna cum,” the man grits out.

One, two, three more snaps of his hips, and then he’s shooting down my throat with a guttural groan. I swallow reflexively, picturing Daniel’s face scrunched up in ecstasy as he empties himself into me.

With a shudder, I find my second release, spilling into my boxers. The man slips from my slack mouth and disappears back into his stall without another word.

In the span of fifteen minutes, I’ve gotten off to thoughts of Harrison and Daniel.

Apparently, I’ve stumbled down a sexuality rabbit hole. And I’m not quite sure I want to climb out. Curiouser and curiouser.