More than Just a Shoulder to Cry On

I was still trying to push the cacophony of intrusive thoughts from my mind as I parked my car in front of my apartment. The neon green light emanating from the console clock informed me that it was 11:18 p.m. I hadn't thought that I would be sleeping in my own bed when I'd left a few hours earlier.

Tears began to well up in my eyes. I was not someone who easily cried, but I was nearing my breaking point. I tried to tell myself that it would all be fine -- that all I needed was a hot shower to clear my head and reset my mood. I exited the car and started the short journey to my apartment. Ironically, it felt like a walk of shame.

I pushed through the door and tossed my keys on a small table that was cluttered with unopened mail. My body steered me towards the kitchen. I looked in the fridge and pulled out a cold beer. I ambled over to the living room and flopped down on the well-worn navy loveseat.

I replayed the evening in my mind. I knew that I really liked Warren; he was caring, funny, and extremely fucking hot. I just couldn't figure out why I could go from laughing and nestling into his side when we were at the restaurant to feeling completely panicked when he invited me to "crash" at his place.

It had been our third date, and I had told myself that I finally wanted to do more than just make out. I had imagined going back to his place and cuddling while we watched something on Netflix. I knew what he felt like since I had already let my hands explore his body on our second night out. I had planned on being brave; I'd resolved to do something I had never done before, but my fear had won out in the end.

I looked around the small room. It was pretty cramped with the loveseat, a beanbag chair, a large television, and a generic Ikea coffee table. An overturned beer can was resting in a puddle of amber liquid on the table's faux wood finish. Normally I would have gotten up and cleaned it to prevent damage, but I just didn't care at that moment.

I replayed the conversation of me telling Warren that I couldn't stay over because I had a huge midterm in my chemistry class. He had been crestfallen as he'd taken it in; I had been certain that he had expected things to go to the next level tonight as well. I wondered what was wrong with me; why was I so damaged that I hadn't been able to do more than make out with another guy? I knew it wasn't normal for a guy who had just turned nineteen to struggle with being physically intimate.

The tears started to flood back into my eyes as I took a swig of beer, trying to numb myself. I couldn't hold them back any longer. I started crying; I didn't even try to stifle the sobs. A part of me wanted to embrace the sadness.

"Hey..." I heard a tentative voice say from behind me.

I immediately suppressed my sobbing, although the tears continued to stream down my cheeks. My head pivoted to better see the opening to the hallway; my roommate, Chase, was standing there. It looked like he had just got out of the shower. He had a white towel wrapped around his waist and his hair was still dewy.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I, um, I thought you were going out tonight," I said, in an attempt to shift attention away from the fact that I was crying.

I rubbed both of my hands against my face. I breathed in deeply and told myself to pull it together. I had plenty of practice pushing my emotions aside, so I tried to tap into that wellspring of shitty experience. I attempted to feign a smile; I had to bite the inside of my lower lip to keep it from quivering.

"I just wasn't feeling it tonight," Chase said. "I thought I'd rather go for a run instead."

Chase meandered over to the loveseat; he was looking down at me from his standing position. The light fixture above him caused his spiky, dark red hair to flicker as he moved his head. He had alabaster skin with a smattering of pale blue veins that were barely visible on his large biceps. From my seated position, I had to crane my neck in order to maintain eye contact. He was easily over six feet tall.

I had met Chase at the beginning of sophomore year. Neither of us had won the lottery for on-campus housing so we'd both been trying to find somewhere else to reside. I had originally planned to live with my roommate from the dorms, but at the last minute, he'd decided to withdraw from the university. Chase had had a similar experience, except his roommate had decided to live at home because he had lost his part-time job and wouldn't be able to afford rent.

We had found each other through the college's website aimed at helping students connect with housing resources. I hadn't thought that we would be a good fit at first. I was a focused pre-med student who also happened to be gay. Chase was a self-described 'guy's guy' who played on the baseball team and spent more time socializing than attending class.

"Can I sit down?" he asked.

I looked at his defined abs, which were right in front of my face at that moment. I thought about how Warren, too, had an incredible physique. I wondered how everyone around me seemed to have the perfect body. I felt a tinge of jealousy that quickly gave way to admiration.

Chase must have taken my silence as permission, because he lowered himself onto the loveseat. It sagged as it accommodated the additional weight; we both slid into one another so that our thighs were touching.

I took another drink of my beer before placing it on the coffee table. Again, I patted at my cheeks just to reassure myself that the tears had dried. My eyes burned a little as they recovered; I knew that they must look blood-shot to Chase.

"What's going on, Kyle?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said. "It's all just a mess."

I wasn't surprised that I let down my defenses so easily. In the few months we had known one another, Chase had really challenged my expectations and shown himself to be a true friend. When I had found out that my grandmother had unexpectedly died, he'd been a major source of comfort. I couldn't think of any other straight guy that would let a friend cry into his shoulder while hugging him for a solid five minutes. He had even pulled me closer into him when my legs had started to wobble.

We would often chill in the living room playing video games or watching movies when neither of us had something better to do. Initially I'd been reserved. Chase had taken the first steps to strike up a deeper relationship by telling me about his strained relationship with his father, and things had progressed from there.

"You know that guy, Warren, that I told you about? Tonight was our third date and it didn't go well. I really like him, but I think he's just too good for me. I'm not sure if I really deserve to be in a relationship. Maybe I need to just devote all of my time to school instead of thinking about guys."

I felt the tears welling up again. I focused my energy on stopping them from pouring over the brim of my lower eyelids. A single tear pushed through and slowly trickled down my cheek. Chase raised his large hand and gently wiped it away with his thumb.

"I don't think any of that is true, Kyle. Warren isn't perfect, and you are pretty amazing yourself. I'm sure that he isn't managing to get straight A's like you, even though he's majoring in communications. I just don't understand how you can't see what a good catch you are."

Chase draped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me a little closer. I thought about resting my head on him but I resisted the urge. He smelled nice; I had never paid much attention to his natural body odor.

"You're just saying that to be nice. And it really doesn't matter in this situation. I mean, I know that I'm smart; that has never been my problem. It's just that there's such a huge discrepancy between Warren and me in other areas. He's a solid nine and I'm a five, at best."

I thought about my body for a second, as if I were doing an outside critique. I was five-foot-seven, which I had come to learn was not at all desirable in the dating scene. The only way it could have been worse is if I'd been straight. I weighed one-hundred-and-forty pounds; I wasn't particularly muscular or chubby. I had a solid frame with a few extra pounds in my midsection, but not enough to create a paunch. I had quite a bit of black hair on my pecs and lower abs that I had always disliked.

My face was a bit better than the rest of my body. I had blue eyes; they were my most complimented feature. I had wavy black hair and sun-kissed skin. A constellation of freckles covered my cheeks; they weren't too noticeable, though, unless I spent a lot of time outdoors. I had a friendly smile, even if a few of my teeth were ever-so-slightly crooked.

"Dude, you are delusional," Chase said with a big smile. "You are at least a seven. Sure, you are a bit on the short side, but you have a nice body. It's really not all that different than some of the guys on my team, and I'm sure you'd rank them higher just because they're athletes."

I shook my head; I didn't really believe what he was saying. I knew Chase well enough to understand that this was his attempt to make me feel better by any means.

"I'm being serious," he said. "In fact, I'm even a little jealous of you."

"Of me?" I blurted out. "In what world are you jealous of my body?"

"Kyle, you aren't the only guy who has things he doesn't like about himself. I HATE the fact that I've never been able to grow much body hair. I remember being jealous of my older cousins' thick chest hair when I was younger. I just had to learn to accept that it's the way I'm built."

I rolled my eyes. Chase jostled me a bit with the arm he had draped over my shoulder. I could see him trying to figure out the best way to get through to me. It looked like he was attempting to solve a complex equation, and he definitely wasn't a mathematics major.

"Show me that sexy hair," he said with a smirk.

Chase started poking at my mid-section with his free hand. Before I could react, he pulled up the hem of my gray T-shirt to reveal my stomach. He rubbed his fingers through the coarse black hair a few times. I found myself laughing; I didn't quite register it was happening until I heard myself chuckle.

"This has got to drive the guys wild, right? They must love reaching up and rubbing their hands through your hair when they are sucking you off."

Chase and I had talked about a lot of things; however, when it had come to sex, I had been more tight-lipped. I had listened to him go into detail about his sexual encounters and desires without any problem, but I felt like asking a straight jock to listen to my insecurities about hooking up as a gay guy would be too uncomfortable for both of us.

I stopped laughing and averted my gaze from Chase's green eyes. He stopped rubbing my stomach, pulling his hand back to towards his side.

"I'm sorry if I said or did something wrong," he stated.

"It's not you," I said. "It's just that I... I haven't actually done anything sexual yet. It feels so weird to say aloud; I've never told anyone this before. God, you must think I'm a freak."

"Dude, I don't think you are a freak," he said without missing a beat. "Everyone has a different path when it comes to this stuff. And I imagine it wasn't easy for you as a gay guy in the environment you grew up in -- and hell, it's just a smaller pool to begin with, you know? Well yeah, of course you know. Sorry."

It was a more insightful comment than what I had expected. Most straight guys I knew seemed to think that gay guys are all getting gangbanged within a week after coming out of the closet.

"I think that's part of why I feel insecure with Warren," I said. "It's not just because of the fact that he's hot. I know from my friends that he has had sex with at least ten different guys since coming to college."

Chase pulled my body tighter against his side. I gazed at his exposed chest and abs; I noticed that the towel he had wrapped around his waist seemed to be loosening as we sunk deeper into the loveseat. I could see an inch or so of his fiery red pubic hair peeking over the fabric. I redirected my gaze back towards his kind eyes.

"Everyone has a first time. I'm sure Warren will understand that you've never had sex if he's a good guy."

I gave in to the urge and rested my head on Chase's shoulder. He didn't flinch or pull away. It felt nice to let my tear-stained cheek connect with his warm skin.

"It's not just sex. I haven't really done anything. Sure, I've made out with guys and we've groped one another. But I haven't done more than that."

Chase was silent; I could hear him breathing, and I became acutely aware of the lack of any ambient noise in the room. I wondered what he was thinking. I knew that he must shocked by the fact that I was so inexperienced.

"I mean, not even a handjob?" he asked.

"Nope," I said. "I haven't even done that. I've thought about it a few times before I met up with a guy. I've imagined myself unbuttoning a guy's pants as we kissed and then pulling it out to jack him off. But I always freeze in the moment."

"Why do you freeze?"

"I guess I'm afraid they won't like how I do it. I know it sounds stupid. I have a dick and I know how to make myself cum, so theoretically the same rules would apply to any guy. It just doesn't feel that way in the moment. I start to get worried and think that maybe the things I like really only apply to me."

I couldn't believe that I was being so open about this topic. I had only drunk about a half a can of beer since returning home, so I knew that couldn't be the reason for my lowered inhibitions.

"It feels so odd telling you this while you're only wearing a towel. I hadn't really noticed it before, but you and Warren have a similar build. You're both the same height and roughly the same weight. You both have insane six-packs and huge pecs."

I slowly moved my right hand towards Chase and lowered it onto his abs. He inhaled as my palm connected with his smooth skin.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Is that uncomfortable?"

"No," he tersely replied.

"I've always wondered what other guys like," I said. "What do you like, Chase?"

Chase was silent again. I was uncertain if I was making him uncomfortable; I could tell he was breathing more rapidly. I didn't want him to feel ill at ease, but I was also enjoying being vulnerable in a way that I had never been with another guy.

"I guess I like it all," he said with a forced chuckle. "I like handjobs, blowjobs, and regular old sex."

"You don't have to answer, but what makes a handjob good in your opinion?"

"I'm not sure I can really think of any specifics."

"Well, why don't you tell me about the last good one you had?"

Chase shifted his body; I let my hand move with the motion rather than pulling it away. He didn't scoot away from me. It was more like he was repositioning himself because of the sagging cushions.

I noticed that the top of his towel had pulled away from his waist even more. I could now see all of his groomed red pubic hair. The top centimeter of the root of his dick was also visible. I was confused about how he was oblivious to the fact that his towel seemed to unravel a little more every time he shifted his weight.

"Well, there was a girl a few weeks ago," he said. "We met at a party. She had a killer body with a tiny waist and huge tits. Oh, I guess that part isn't super important to you."

Chase chuckled a little. I started to slowly moved my thumb to trace one of the indentations in his six-pack. It felt soothing.

"Um, I asked her if she wanted to come back here. She told me that she couldn't but that she thought I was really hot. I led her to the side of the house, to this alleyway without any other people. We started making out again, like we had been in the house."

Chase stopped for a second. I watched as he moistened his lips with his tongue.

"We were making out, and she started to show that she wanted to do more. We had been groping each other over our clothes, then she slid her hand beneath my shirt and started rubbing her palm against my abs. It kind of felt like what you are doing now." He laughed at that. Strangely, it he didn't sound uncomfortable.

I thought about whether I should stop. He hadn't asked me to. I knew that I would immediately stop if he said anything, but I decided to keep caressing him since he didn't seem displeased with what I was doing.

"I was grabbing her ass," he continued. "She had a really nice one. Then she did something that surprised me. She slid her hand up my abs towards my pecs and started rubbing them. It felt really good as our tongues continued to explore each other's mouths."

I could sense that Chase had tilted his head back to look towards the ceiling. I guessed that he was probably closing his eyes to help him better visualize what had happened that evening.

"I have this thing that I don't think is very common for guys, but I still like it, and she started to do it. She started using her thumb to rub my nipple. I know it sounds odd, but for some reason it really gets me going. It's like, if someone is touching my abs, I start wishing that they would move their hand up my chest and start playing with my nipple next."

Chase paused, as did I. I felt like my mind was playing a trick on me; was he really telling me to do the same thing she had, or was it just my imagination? I thought about how things had already gone this far, and the worst that could happen was that he would tell me to stop.

I slid my hand up his chest and tenderly placed my thumb on his right nipple. I could feel his heart pounding beneath my palm.

"She started moving her thumb around my nipple as we continued to make out. I reached up with my hand and grabbed one of her tits."

I started to move my thumb over Chase's nipple in a back-and-forth motion, like a windshield wiper. It firmed up, becoming a small mound beneath my soft finger.

"It was more like a circular motion," Chase said. "Clockwise, I think."

I didn't need more feedback than that. I shifted my caressing to better following his guidance. I was feeling so much more at ease. I wondered why this wasn't as scary as I had imagined. I thought that maybe it had to do with the fact that I could tell Chase was nervous too.

"She would stop every twenty seconds or so and lightly pinch my nipple. I would have played with hers too, but she was wearing this thick bra that made it impossible."

I halted my circular stroking motion. I delicately pinched his nipple between my thumb and index finger. Chase let out the smallest moan. It felt good to know that I was bringing him pleasure after years of doubting my skillfulness.

"One thing about me is that I start to get really hard when my nipples are played with. Not just regular hard, like rock hard."

I gazed out of the corner of my eye towards Chase's crotch; I could still see his pubes and the first centimeter or so of the base of his dick. I could also see a huge tent forming in the towel directly over his cock. It looked like it was barely containing him.

I felt excited knowing that he was hard. It had been my touch, combined with his memory, that had done it to him. I tweaked his nipple again with a little more intensity. Chase moaned and shifted his body; the loveseat squeaked as he moved.

Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck, was what raced into my mind as I watched his towel completely fall open. Both sides unfurled onto the loveseat cushions. Chase had a gigantic cock; I had never seen it before. I guessed that he was close to nine inches, and it was pretty girthy too.

I was shocked; I lifted my head from his shoulder to better gauge how Chase was reacting to this new development. He continued to recline in the same position with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. He had to know that the towel had fallen off of him. I wondered for a second if maybe he moved on purpose, knowing that it would cause the towel to open.