Juxtaposition, or I Love You Too

"What's this?" Min-cheol asked witheringly. He had that way with words in English, his crisp pronunciation rendering them sharp as swords. Added to the fact that I was out on a Tuesday, it had been raining out and the smell of alcohol was wafting rather inelegantly out of my mouth, all in all I had successfully driven my husband to annoyance. Then he looked behind me, and lifted his brows even higher.

"Hi, Michael," Timmy greeted him. Ah shit, I groaned inwardly as I hung my coat, drenched from the rain.

"Min-cheol," my husband corrected. I felt his eyes turn on me, glaring at my back as I bent down to undo my shoes. For some reason my shoes were uncooperative, and I lost my balance and sat down on my haunches right there at the threshold.

"Min-cheol, help me please." Min-cheol sighed and bent down, which looked funny because of his tall stature. Then he lifted me up like I was a small child, and I looked up at him and smiled. "Thank you, hyung," and proceeded to kiss him full on mouth, alcohol smell be damned, right there in front of Timmy. We made out for a minute before Min-cheol remembered where he was, and more importantly who we were with, and pushed me away gently.

"You're inebriated."

"Oh, you and your big words."

"Come I'll bring you to bed. Tim help me please."

They carried me all the way to my bed, our bed, well technically my bed because it came out of my salary, that and most of the furniture of our house. The house itself, the mortgage, the bare bones, all that was Min-cheol though. The bed was warm and inviting, and I promptly curled up like a porcupine in hibernation. It took a few tries to get my socks and pants off, but in the end I was safely encroached in the bed.

In the middle of the night I came too, delirious and thirsty. Min-cheol was not in bed beside me. I reached for the bedside table where we always have a tumbler of cold water and took a swig. The door was slightly open, and there was a soft murmur from the direction of the living room. Shadows were running in the dark hallway -- the TV was on apparently -- and the murmur grew louder as if deliberately masking something. I turned at the corner and took a look at the living room.

The TV was showing a scene from Game of Thrones, the part where everyone and everything got blown up to smithereens. Min-cheol was sitting on his usual seat, naked except for his favorite white briefs. His thighs, tree-trunk thick, were open wide in an inviting man-spread, the light flashes from the TV playing with shadows to accentuate his tall bulge. His body was perfect masculine musculature, etched by relentless hours at the gym. His eyes were glued to an apparition in front of him, slowly writhing in the dim light of the TV.

Min-cheol and me, we met when we were young. He was in fact the neighbor's son growing up. His family migrated from South Korea for his father's job, something in marketing I never could make any sense of. But Min-cheol was proud of his father, and proud of his Korean heritage. He still made time for Korean holidays, even after he came out and began dating me. It was still funny to remember how we used to have huge rowdy fights as children about stupid things but could not stop our hands on each other once puberty was done wrecking havoc on our bodies.

I was his first man. I never had to come out in his sense of the word, I always knew I was different from the other boys. I never realized the looks and the stares of the Korean son next door were of longing. Our ships kept missing each other, but one summer he confessed to me, came out to his family and began dating me all in one fell swoop. He did not just came out, he truly burst out of his closet.

And the sex, God the sex. There were some creatures God had decided sex should be a career for them: Min-cheol was one of those. He had the tight body, broad shoulders, pecs like armor plates, lightly haired down flat tummy until one reached his neatly trimmed pubes, the root of the eighth wonder of the world. Not so much fat as it was broad, the head of the cock was a firm strawberry, promising carnal delights. And because of his years in rugby he had the stamina of a horse, so it was not unheard of for him to keep going until five or six times a night -- a fact I had since learned, to my delight, and taken advantage of.

Through all the times, the good and the bad and the worse, Timmy had always been in the background. My Timmy, if there was such a thing as a male fag hag he probably deserved that moniker. He was my little knight whenever we played in the rough tumble world of the playground -- children could be cruel -- when Min-cheol was not there. We were the three stooges, me, Min-cheol and Timmy, although the times he mistaked Min-cheol's name for Michael were numerous, the earlier account a case-in-point.

I never questioned his sexuality. When you were good friends for as long as Timmy and me had been, some things became this amorphous blob of nothingness: who they sleep with was one of them. It was for the simple reason that I had never asked the guy, and never thought of it. If he was straight, hallelujah, ditto if he was a bonafide homosexual. Our friendship was so much more than mere labels.

In retrospect perhaps I should have been more questioning.

That thought was first and foremost in my mind as I watched from behind a turn how my best friend Timmy was slowly undressing himself in the light from the TV, timing his cadences with every explosion in King's Landing. At long last he was dressed only in a pair of tighty whities, before pulling down the fabric to expose his hard cock, which was at most six inches, slightly smaller than myself, but looked as hard as iron tacks.

At this point Min-cheol stood up from his seat and pulled down his own underwear, showing off his -- my -- treasured jewels. His thick brawny cock stood taller than usual, high and dripping already with sweet precum.

"Fuck, you're so... so big."

A snigger. "Well Kyle had always thought so too."

"Fuck Kyle. You're with me now, Min-cheol." I noted how he pronounced my husband's name correctly this time, with that slight curl of tone in the second syllable, very Korean. He had been learning.

"Suck my cock."

"Yes, hyung." Timmy knelt down and set to work. Soon the room was rife with wet sounds of suckling, peppered with small struggling sounds of choking, as the cock was simply too big for the throat. He laved attention to my husband's balls, even dipped a few times into his shadowed perineum to taste the skin there. My husband's groans were evidence enough for Timmy's skills in oral sex, no novice was he.

After what seemed like forever my Min-cheol lifted Timmy up, kissed the mouth that just gave him satisfaction, tasting his own precum inside the smaller man's mouth. He manipulated Timmy's body without much words, sitting back on his seat and fingering Timmy's hole all the while, readying it for the intrusion of his cock. Where the lube came from I did not know, or perhaps did not want to know -- just the miracle of illicit sex.

When Min-cheol first penetrated Timmy's cunt with his rampant cock, i imagined I could see the sparks of realization behind Timmy's eyes: Ah so this was it, the cock of dreams. A tiny whimper escaped his sinful mouth before being blocked by Min-cheol's mitten-like hand. He turned that into a chance to slobber on his fingers, running his tongue along each protuberance and licking the hairs and the nails, earning him a moan from my husband.

Sure enough, the sounds began to turn from the explosions in the TV to the sounds of wet cock raging inside slippery asshole. It was as if they finally threw caution to the winds, hoping the haze of intoxication would mask the sounds of sex, unaware that their coupling was being witnessed by a third pair of eyes.

"Fuck Min-cheol, your cock's so fucking hard inside my cunt."

"Yeah right? So hard for my husband's friend, you filthy whore."

"Yes, I'm a whore, a fucking whore, a whore for your big cock."

"Fuck your fucking tight asshole." CLAP CLAP CLAP. "Aungggghhhhh I'm cumming, cumming up your cunt!"

"Are you cumming? Come seed my hole, breed my fag ass!"

"Nnggghhh yeah cumming up your fucking faggot ass!"

"FUUUUUUCKK MEEEEEEEE!"

The room turned silent after their last simultaneous roar of completion. I had not realized but I was crying all the while, my tears a fitting juxtaposition for the spilled spit and semen between my husband and my friend. I did not even recall how I made my way back to the bed, but when I felt my husband came back I immediately scurried to his side. My hands snaked my way towards his treacherous cock, back under cover of his white briefs. The cock still felt wet and full from his recent sex, but not marmoreal hard anymore.

"Oh baby."

"I love you, hyung."

... Snigger. "I love you too."