Seduced By My Friend

This Friday night was rare in many respects. We agreed to meet at the bar to celebrate our successful working partnership and a personal achievement. After several weeks of working out and observing a strict diet, Randy had dropped about 25 pounds. He was uncharacteristically happy and you could tell his slimmed down body gave him greater confidence.

It was almost a year ago that our new employer bought out his rival, hired both of us, and placed us in charge of our departments where we collaborate on print projects. We came back together for this new corporation after working together for several years and then going our separate ways. Then and now, we are gifted with varied abilities that mesh well. Since we began working together, we both valued each other's qualities and work ethic. We worked shoulder to shoulder during long, seemingly endless nights to tap into our mutual drive to achieve excellence and, thus, earning critical acclaim for our publications and employer.

We spent so much time working, most nights both of us went straight home and stayed there. Randy was never a big drinker and I had cut back after I got married a few years ago. My wife did not approve of my college partying, nor did she really approve of Randy. They attempted to act as if they could stand each other but it was obvious that they did not. Still, my wife understood when I called her one late afternoon to tell her of my plans to stop by a watering hole for a few beverages. After all, Randy and I had not assembled for happy hour since moving to this city.

After a couple beers, the cute waitress convinced us to try the special on jumbo rum and Cokes. At work, others surround us and it is difficult to discuss anything of a personal nature. Tonight, the alcohol and noise made everyone else recede into the background, we discussed our latest accomplishments, my marriage, our past, college years, old girlfriends, and how he managed to lose so much weight.

Once again, we managed to skirt the reoccurring issue of his romantic interest in me. Throughout our friendship, Randy made several attempts to initiate physical intimacy. At conferences and in private, he regularly tried to seduce me. He was persistent and I could help but notice that used different tactics. Viewing pornography, explicit discussions of sex, exposing himself, and, once, he started unbuckling my belt before I stopped him.

I was not sure whether Randy was bi or gay. Through the years, he bedded several attractive women where we worked. Rumors about his huge cock, healthy interest in sex, many conquests, and his immediate disinterest in these women were widely circulated. I never asked him about his advances toward me. Nor did I respond with anger or disgust when he made a move on me. On the contrary, I probably gave him tacit encouragement by participating in private conversations that often featured erotic experiences and sexual preferences.

Discerning from our conversations that I have a penchant for blowjobs, he once asked if I would let another man blow me. I think I surprised him when I told him that blowjobs are so incredible that I did not think I would mind who was on the giving end. Even though I was committed to my marriage, Randy predicted that I would have an affair within two years. Based on the context of his comment, I was not sure if he meant men or women. I protested and assured him that I would not allow an affair to come between my wife and me. I am not proud of this but, on this occasion and others, I made derogatory comments about queers to unsettle him and keep him at bay.

The cute waitress interrupted our conversation. "Do you want me to bring some towels?" she asked. "The carpet is drenched under your table."

Randy profusely apologized for spilling a drink. The bar was full of patrons, noise, and smoke. The service was getting sporadic. I asked the waitress to bring us the check as I had too much to drink and needed to go home. Walking to our cars, Randy suggested that I follow his car to his apartment. He offered me another drink at his place and said there was a work-related matter that he did not want to discuss in the bar. I told him that I did not need another drink and that I should go home. Randy chided me for letting him out-drink me. It was still early and one more drink would not hurt me, so I consented.

After driving the short distance, we stumbled into Randy's apartment. We sat down on the couch and he went to the kitchen to pour us drinks of Kahlua on ice. We listened to the soundtrack of Rocky Horror Picture Show, talked about people at work, and drank some more. Now swaying when I stood, I knew I could not drive home and let Randy call my wife to tell her that I was in no shape to drive and would be spending the night. She thanked Randy for taking care of me.

Randy told me that it was time for bed. I asked him for a blanket and a pillow for his couch. He told me that I was sleeping in his bed and that it was big enough for both of us. He met my next protest by saying that if one of us was going to sleep on the couch, he would.

"No, don't do that. I can't take your bed away from you," I replied.

When I came out of the bathroom, all the lights were off except for the lamp in his bedroom. Randy was in his robe as I walked into his room where he unfastened my pants and pulled my pants and underwear down to my ankles. I was even more surprised when Randy forcefully pushed me onto his bed. Exposed and vulnerable, I quickly kicked out of my restraints and crawled into bed.

"No way! You aren't getting into my bed with your socks," he firmly asserted.

Randy threw back the covers, tore off my socks and pulled off my polo shirt. He walked around to the other side of the bed and turned off the lamp. I could hear his rope drop to the floor immediately before he slid into bed. Struck by a feeling of déjà vu, I realized that Randy was again trying to start something with me and wondered if he had planned all along to get me drunk and into bed.

I wondered something else. Knowing how much I had to drink that night, "Why," I asked myself, "do I have this raging hard on?" Moments before, I was surprised when my semi-erect cock sprung forward when released from my underwear. Being pushed on to the bed, my nakedness, the coolness of the sheets, hiding from Randy's scrutiny, having my friend taking off my clothes ... I guess a combination of these events prompted my cock to engorge. Lying on my stomach under the covers, I hoped that he had not noticed my excitement. I could now feel my huge cock throb. I was both confused by and afraid of my response of stimulation to his aggression.

A minute or two passed and nothing happened. Rock hard, I thought my imagination had gotten the best of me. "This is silly. We're both drunk and I'm paranoid," I thought.

No longer feeling a threat, I shifting to a more comfortable position and moved to my side facing the edge of the bed. Without hesitation, Randy deftly slid his body toward mine, extended his arm under the sheet and put his hand firmly on my erection. My hard cock told him everything he needed to know. Randy skillfully ran his fingers up and down my shaft, up and down, up and down. Neither of us whispered a word. The only sound in the pitch-black darkness was coming from me, panting, as Randy patiently stroked my cock.

Whether it was five minutes or 20 minutes of this silent bliss, I cannot recall as time lost meaning. I savored the moment and abandoned any pretense of being a reluctant victim. Randy gently and rhythmically continued my pleasure. Nothing else. He did not kiss my neck, rub his body against mine, or caress anywhere else. Neither did he abandon pleasuring me in this precise manner. In the seclusion of silence, I came to understand his intension toward me. He wanted me to accept his intimacy and to respond beyond my breathlessness piercing the night.

Swelling pleasure combined with a steady and relentless acceptance of his gift of secret touch compelled me to return his affection. With all options available to me, only one response made any sense at that moment. I could not hold back any longer. I gently lifted his hand, inverted my body to his, and ran my hand along his side and over his hip. In the darkness, my hand located what proved to be his large hard cock. His powerful musky scent beckoned me. I put this perfect cock into my mouth and began sucking my friend the way a baby sucks his mother's tit.

Excited beyond words, I gratefully accepted this taboo act, this utter pleasure, and my aberrant response to Randy's dogged efforts to break down my defenses and share his desire for me. I adored the taste and texture of his long, hard cock as I worked it with my tongue and mouth. Just moments after I began making love to his cock, I felt the warmth and wetness of his mouth enveloping my longing cock.

We sucked and licked each other for what must have been an hour. Even in my drunken condition, I felt a primal animal intensity and pleasure that I had never experienced before. While the alcohol broke down my ability to resist, it also prevented me from climaxing and neither of us came during the lengthy session. Exhausted, I abruptly concluded our 69 and returned to my sleeping position. I contemplated slumber awash with exultation in the discovery of and introduction to this forbidden pleasure.

I awoke early the next morning in the fog of a massive hangover and an overwhelming sense of guilt. I found my underwear folded under my pillow and my clothes arranged on a chair. In shame, I quickly and quietly dressed in preparation to leave. Before I could slip out, Randy put on his robe and met me at the door. I stammered through an incoherent explanation of how much my head hurt and how I could not remember what happened after we got back from the bar. Arms folded, Randy knowingly smiled. Carrying a burden of conflicting emotions, I left his apartment and went home to my wife with the uncertainty of what would happen next.