Karl and Scott

***Note that the following story is a work of semi-fiction, or maybe "inspired by a true story." Part is 100% true, and part is fantasy, and I leave it to the reader to determine which is which. Certain details have been tweaked to protect the "innocent."***

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Given all the shit from earlier that spring, it was a miracle that Karl and I were still friends, let alone best friends.

That senior year of college back in the early 1990s, we certainly had started out as best friends. When we had first met, we had immediately clicked in that inscrutable way best friends seem to click, and over time we became tighter than tight. At the start of senior year, my girlfriend Liz had moved into an incredible suite with a good friend of hers named Di. Slowly, Karl and Di fell for each other... and just like that, the four of us were inseparable.

We made a good-looking group. I was six feet 180 lbs., with reddish hair and a pretty decent build, been called handsome. Karl was an inch or so shorter with light brown hair, and had a very good looking, almost boyish face that turned many girls' heads... and likely a few guys'. He had a very good build... I don't know that I envied him, but I sure did admire him on those occasions when we threw around a ball without our shirts on. Over our time in college, Karl had really grown into his body and good looks, becoming quite an attractive guy... but he still thought of himself as a gawky teenager. His shy obliviousness to his looks was part of his charm, and enhanced his charisma.

Early into the year, I realized his charisma--and, hell, his body and looks--were burrowing deeper into my mind than I thought. Now, I would never have said anything out loud, and I was totally in love with my girl and all... but more than once I caught my mind flashing back to Karl's casual touches. Or thinking too long on funny cracks he made, or lingering a bit too long on his hairy chest as we tossed around a frisbee.

It didn't help that, given the lightly-built walls in college dorms, on those occasions when we were both staying overnight with our respective girlfriends at the same time, I could hear him fucking Di. Loudly. Sometimes while I was fucking Liz. One time Karl and Di were doing something that really got him going, and his guttural sounds as he came sent me into sexual overdrive--really going nutso as I was drilling Liz. Liz later said that was one of our best outings... to which I agreed, but said nothing more.

Again, I would have never said anything out loud to anyone. I was totally in love with my girl. No way was I gay. And it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because Karl was obviously straight and in love with Di. So... no one was gay, and it didn't matter.

Things came apart early that spring. Due to a series of improbable events, I learned that Karl and my gal Liz had totally been sleeping together, on the sly, right under our noses. They had been using our collective closeness as a cover.

Well, the shit hit the fan. I first confronted Liz--the person I was in supposed to be in love with. Her response was not ideal, essentially copping a position of: yes I cheated, but we've been together for so long you owe me a second chance, so I was just going to have to work through things with her.

Nuh-uh. Hard pass. We were done.

I next confronted Karl, and his reaction was entirely the opposite. He broke into tears, literally fell on his knees in front of me and begged... no, groveled for a chance to make things right. I dunno if it was a "bros before hos" thing or some deep-seated feelings, but I relented and said we could see how things go between us.

I admit for the next couple months I really got my pound of flesh from him. I wasn't... well, evil, but I made his life hell, and kept rubbing his face into things. Anythings. But he simply steeled his expression, and jumped through every hoop I held up without so much as a second thought. He answered every pointed question I asked him. Did every favor I demanded. And fiercely came to my aid without being asked. And slowly, with several second thoughts on my side, I started to drop the shields and start treating him like a friend again. And finally, I realized how much I had missed having my buddy around.

And then it happened.

My folks, who lived about 45 minutes from campus, were heading out of town and asked me to house sit, keeping an eye on place for them. I accepted eagerly, and on a lark asked Karl if he wanted join me that Friday night. We could watch a movie or two, get buzzed and crash, and I could drop him off back on campus sometime on Saturday. Nothing special, nothing grand. But it was sort of a chance to sign a permanent peace accord between us. He read it that way too, and eagerly agreed.

It was fun connecting again with him. There was an ease to our conversation, and even some well-directed jabs at each other, the kind of friendly ball-busting that lubricates all good male friendships. We had some glorious pizza, and liberally enjoyed my folk's liquor cabinet.

We were well relaxed, sitting on opposite arms of an L-shaped modular sofa, with our bare feet slightly meeting at the joint. There was a point where we were discussing some raunchy point about outdoor sex as shown in the raunchy movie we had put on. Conversation was easy, and I kept thinking out great it was having my friend back. A guy who had always gotten me. Who readily dripped charisma, but didn't even seem to realize what a sexual specimen he was.

Wait. Damn, what was that? Old feelings I had long pushed aside, especially after "the incident."

I mentally freaked, and then overcompensated. I ended up asking him a pointed question about whether he had done the outdoor sex thing himself... with the very clear implication that I was asking if he had done it with my girl Liz. Karl clearly got the message, and some of the high spirits died out a bit. He somewhat fumbled a reply, "Well...I? Um.... [...] Okay Scott, are you drilling me on this, or are you going to answer yourself?"

At that I buckled. He was right; that was a low blow. More to the point, I didn't want to lose that comfortable glow, along with the easy sexual banter we had been enjoying. I chose to radically shift gears.

"Oh no, Karl. I'm not asking... well, it just... I really just wanted to know if it was any good. Look, this will sound weird, but fucking a girl in great outdoors in front of God and everyone is something I've always thought about doing but never had the balls to... you know, give it a go. I was always afraid I'd get grass stains on my underwear or look up and see a park ranger or something."

"A fucking park ranger? You grew up in the fucking suburbs!" he mocked, laughing.

"Fuck you, asshole--prying eyes are worse in the suburbs. The homeowner association folks watch you like a hawk!"

Karl laughed again. "Whatever dude. But... well, ok fine. Yes. I lost my virginity on a picnic table."

My turn to laugh. "You fucking what? Did you use potato salad to lube her up?

"Ooo! That would have been tasty!" he snarked. "No, it was the end of high school. My girlfriend at the time and I had been going out for fucking ever, and we both wanted to lose our virginity before the end of the year. Jesus, we tried to plan so carefully for the perfect time, but we couldn't make it work. Then, one night at dusk we were at the park. It was storm season so there were all these storm warnings going around when we got caught in a massive thunderstorm. Folks scattered in every direction. We ran into one of those shelters... and with everyone gone we knew this was our chance. It wasn't... my best performance. But it was fucking cool as we had this massive thunder and lightning exploding all around us. I felt like a fucking god!"

"Dude, that's amazing! I always wanted to fuck in a storm! Just all that power! A total fantasy of mine."

Karl laughed, then paused and asked pointedly, "So is that it? It that your sex fantasy? Storm sex?"

I contemplated for a second before answering. "You know, I don't know that I've ever had that kind of fantasy, of a certain place or a certain person... at the end of the day, I'm an all-purpose perv. Yeah, yeah, I have my list of celebrity fantasies and all, but my real fantasy is more about... well, technique. Actions. I fantasize about the goddamn off-the-chart perfect blow job, followed by the fucking Supernova of Fuck with someone, anyone who actually knows how to fuck! I mean, let's be honest. Liz didn't know how to give a blow job. I mean, it was like, fine. Good. Always want another one. But they weren't great. Am I wrong?"

Karl looked abashed, then sheepish, and then muttered, "Well, she almost never did that... but, um... no they weren't."

"And that's what I mean. There were moments where things really came together, and she did something insanely great. Or a different girl did, somewhere along the way. Enough for you to suspect how great sex could be, and it was great and everything, but it never came together. I just want a massive start-to-finish, off-the-chart session where everything blows my mind and I can barely walk the next day. That one perfect encounter."

"Preach, brother. I've never met a girl who was an enthusiastic cock sucker. And what the hell, there are so many ways to curl a guy's toes! And he'd be your fucking slave forever if you really nailed it!"

"Yeah man, that's exactly what I'm talking about!" Swept up in the moment, I rushed on without even pausing "Okay Karl, what's your dream blow job? What do you go to bed praying she would get right?"

Karl gave it a real, legitimate thought, even taking a swig of his whiskey before answering. "So, right from the beginning, what she's gotta get about cock sucking is that it's about... cock sucking right? They usually just kinda... bob on it, weakly. Give me some actual suction, some pressure, tight lips locked around it like she fucking means it."

I raised my glass to him. "Fuck yeah!"

"But also start your suction and then let your tongue really get into ringing around the cockhead. Keep your mouth and the suction hard, then tickle the tip of your dick with the tip of her tongue. Gentle but firm, like you mean it. Long stokes up and down the shaft too, but again with suction!"

Karl's description was hitting me hard; that was exactly what I missed in blow jobs, and exactly what I wanted. Soon I was piling on, too: "Yeah man, deep suction, but it's also cool just to drag your tongue in sloppy zig-zags down the shaft and then go back to a full mouth dive. It's gotta be sloppy, like you don't care. Like you're too excited to care. And then repeat, but keep mixing it up. You gotta mix it up!"

"Yeah, and when you get to the balls, you gotta show them love, too. Right?"

I heartily agreed. "Fuck yea! And yes the same rules apply... you gotta suck on them, you gotta tease them with your tongue hard, and you gotta have variety! And you have to give some attention to that spot right behind your balls. That shoots off fireworks for me!"

At this point I couldn't help realize a couple of very interesting details. Without really meaning to, or thinking through the implications, I had totally shifted to subject of my sentence from how Karl had started his description... right now, I was running through my sentences with "you gotta" instead of "she's gotta." And more to the point, as I was talking, giving general, "impersonal" advice, I was starting to imagine Karl receiving these attentions. His own cock getting the dream treatment.

And at that, I was starting to feel some heavy pressure building in my own cock.

Dammit. What the fuck was this? No, it didn't mean anything. I mean, it was a simple case where I was totally starved for sex, having not seen any action since the spectacular break up. I mean, it had nothing to do with imagining Karl getting a perfect blowjob... with me there seeing it? With me....

No.

I relentlessly pushed on, mentally willing my cock to shrink. Or at least not to get any fatter.

"So you like that spot behind your balls too? Any other spots that set you off?

Karl chucked, "Behind my balls, yeah... I totally put pressure there with my left hand when I jerk off. In terms of others... you know, besides the obvious ones, there's a spot on my neck that has always gotten me in trouble. Some well-placed attention there, and I can't be held responsible for my actions!"

"Fuck yeah," I agreed... possibly too vehemently.

The conversation kept going along, and in fact kept building steam. I had always been private about my sex life, at least among my male friends, but this was like a dam burst. Suddenly I found myself talking about fantasies, dreams, hopes... and more. And Karl was there at every step, matching my stories with his own. We laughed about jerking off, and doing it in weird places. He asked if I'd ever jerk off in front of someone, and I laughingly admitted I had... a command performance in front of a girlfriend who wondered how we guys did it. She ended up being shocked at the violence of the action. Crazy. Karl and I bantered back and forth about what other less than savory actions we would take if given the chance.

"Have you ever done a threesome?" I asked, shifting my weight to hide my excitement. Karl considered, confessed that he hadn't, and went on in extraordinary, graphic detail about what he would do if he found himself in that situation. That was good, but I realized he was answering as if there were two women, and that wasn't quite what I wanted to know.

"Fair enough, but would you ever do anything with another guy and a woman?"

"Well, I... huh. Well, I guess I wouldn't rule it out. You know what they say--well, what we've also been saying--that guys know what to do with guy's bodies more than a woman would. I mean..." he paused to consider, "it... would depend."

"Ah ha! So, would you do anything with just another guy?"

Immediately after I said that, I regretted it. Damn, this was such an intense, amazing evening and now he's gonna freak out! What was I thinking?!

He paused another second before responding with a large stretch and big exhale, "Okay, that's a whole other conversation, and we are well past my bed time as it is."

I looked at the clock and it was quite late, so he had a point. I let things drop. Which was probably as graceful as I could have possible gotten out of that potentially dangerous topic.

As I got up, I tried to disguise my cock--it wasn't a full on hardon, but the less attention it gathered the better. Karl seemed to be unfazed by the turn of the conversation, so I went with it. Probably for the best.

I responded with what I hoped was appropriate levity. "Right you are big guy, I'm more than a little bleary-eyed myself. Let's head upstairs--I can get you a towel and stuff."

He went upstairs ahead of me, and I appreciated in that it gave me an extra couple of minutes for the bulge in my jeans to lessen. But... damn. Our relative positions on the stairs meant that I was eye level with his butt, which I suddenly couldn't take my eyes off. Damn, it filled his jeans. Perfectly shaped, and no doubt perfectly muscled....

Dammit Scott, focus!

Let's just get to bed, and we can avoid any further situations. He's straight, I'm straight, and there's no "there" there. I'm sex starved, and can jerk off quietly once we've both gone into our respective bedrooms.

I took first shift in the bathroom brushing my teeth and such. But damn, all the while I was working double time to keep from sporting some massive wood. Jesus. All this talk. Just picturing my best friend in his sexual glory. Damn. I just needed to keep it together until I could get into my room, shut the door... and squeeze out 3-4 massive loads.

Then things got even more complicated.

Karl had switched into a pair of sweatpant shorts for sleeping. I had left the bathroom door open, and he wandered in to brush his teeth too. He was making some standard-issue small talk that I couldn't focus on to save my life. Since I was still at the sink, he slid past me and went to the toilet, whipped his dick out and started to pee. All the time talking.

Oh God.

What the fuck was I supposed to do with this? I mean, in our best friendship, we've been around each other in various stages of undress since... forever. Hell, we've been in the bathroom together many times, and even talked to each other while at the urinals. But this was... more intimate? Or was it? And damn, muscles I didn't even know I had straining to the breaking point, as I relentlessly tried to both keep my neck looking forward, while sliding my eyes to the side in a desperate attempt to check out his cock. Dammit--for all that, I could only kinda make out his cockhead, with everything else hidden behind his hand. Shit. Finally he shook himself off, slid his cock back into his shorts and took over my spot to brush his teeth. I desperately tired to keep up the conversation--I have no idea what I said, and hoped my voice hadn't tightened too much.

Finally, we moved off towards our bedrooms. Dammit the strain... I both wanted to stay with him and savor our closeness... but Holy Shit I needed to get into my bed and let loose. I have never needed to rub one out so badly in my life. Dammit. In front of our respective bedroom doors, our conversation trailed. Karl warmly smiled and said, "Thanks man, tonight has been great!" And we pulled into a bear hug.

There was nothing at all weird about us hugging--we did it all the time. Karl was a hugger. What was slightly off is that given the angle we had been standing, my head ended up turning into him, so that while we embraced my nose and mouth were nestled against the warm skin of his neck, nearly touching him. Nearly nuzzling him. And, we held. Me breathing lightly against him.

Breathing.

Breathing....

Fuck, that was nice. So close against his skin, I was taking in his scent--that unmistakable scent of Karl. Masculine. Sexy. Karl.

I also realized that we hadn't done the usual embrace-and-release hug, but we were still... just... hugging. And it felt so fucking good. So fucking right. And the conflicting feelings I had been fighting all night ratcheted up to 11.

Dammit, I wanted to stay like this forever.

I wanted to tighten our grip.

No, that's not it. I fucking wanted my mouth to close that hair's-breadth distance between us and....

Fuck. No. He's fucking straight. I'll ruin everything.

Dammit, I could feel my pulse racing faster and faster, with each heartbeat pounding out like a cannon. Could he feel that? Oh God, he had to be hearing it! I gotta let go of him before he.... No! Oh fucking shit! Was I starting to... get hard? Fuck, we were too close, there was no way he could possibly miss the pressure of my....

And then I felt it. A different pressure, but this time on me. And getting stronger. Oh fuck, I thought. My mind suddenly was consumed by a thought so massive, so important, that everything else went blank.

That was his dick I was feeling. His hard dick. Getting harder.

My breath caught. Without releasing him or moving my body, I slightly pulled back my head and moved so we more face-to-face. Time froze. I've never been more aware of my breath in my life. Beneath my arms, I could swear I felt him... tremble. I shifted forward slightly, closing the gap between our faces. He did the same, and our lips were close enough to feel each other's heat. I waited. Fuck it. I closed the final gap, brushing his lips with mine. The lightest of brushes, not even really a kiss. Tentative. Terrified. But determined. I immediately pulled back. Pause.

Pause.

And then, he reciprocated. Lightly, but determined. His lips brushed mine, but they didn't move away. A real kiss.