Sunday Morning

I go to bed every Saturday night pretending I'll get to sleep.

But for the last two months, since Tess left him, Roger has built a habit.

I lay on my side under the covers, feeling fatigued enough to drift. But I've begun to wait now, with quiet anticipation.

Sometimes its after midnight, other times closer to 2am. The later he comes home, the greater chance I'll be caught unaware, half asleep and forgetful.

Tonight I'd stripped down and slunk into bed feeling buzzed having gone drinking with the boys and taking in a drag show. There'd been a Twink with foppish hair who'd been eyeing me all night, and I made the odd choice to make an early exit to come home.

Laying there in the quiet, I began to feel sad, regretful, the dark thoughts creeping up from the back of my brain. This was all too fucked up. Why was I wasting my waning youth on this stupidity? I'd be 30 next year, and what did I have to show for it?

Then I heard it. The key in the door.

My heart vaulted and I took a deep breath to stay calm and appear unbothered. Roger was home.

Every familiar noise now felt like a countdown. The lock, the door, the deadbolt, him kicking off his shoes. I could tell how drunk he was by how many bounces his sneakers took off the linoleum. His keys rattled across the kitchen table as I squinted towards my door, watching the light from the bathroom spill out from the hallway. Roger took a loud, healthy piss before flushing the toilet and ham-handedly slapping the light switch. I turned around under my blanket to face the wall.

Here we go.

My door gently swept open and I watched in the mirror on my wall as a body blocked the moonlight. What had once felt like a funny accidental peek at my best friend undressing in the wrong room after a debauched night out, now became ceremony for me. Like myself, Roger had begun to soften and fill out as he exited his twenties. His chest was now slackened and unmanageably furry, a small belly beginning to form. I drank in the reflection of a man's honest body as he pulled his clothes off and approached the bed in filled out grey briefs. I felt the sheets lift as he slipped in behind me and wrapped me up in a cool arm. I laid still, not betraying the illusion of sleep, giving him a moment of pause before pulling me into him.

And for fucks sake, that's all it took to dispel any doubts or shame or worry.

Just drag me into your arms.

The countdown had finished, he was here, I was part of him now.

My body relaxed as I exhaled. And whether he cared or not, I went through a brief performance of being awoken. My hands moved along his forearms until I could intertwine our fingers, I arched my back for more skin on skin contact, and nudged my butt towards his groin. I Bringing the back of his hand up towards my face I gave the rough skin a gracious kiss. It was all the encouragement needed for him to return the favour by kissing my neck. A ripple of arousal rushed down my spine as I pulled him tighter. Moving slow, I turned in bed to bury my face into the curls on his chest. I struggled to slip an arm underneath him in effort to fully embrace. I whimpered like a tiny boy as I lifted a leg over his hip and pushed my erection into the growing such of his briefs.

As I had mentioned before, this was now habitual for Roger- or if I'm being honest here, for us.

And every position I describe here would have, could have been the terminus for our physicality; I would have been happy.

Tess had been Roger's first serious girlfriend, the first long term, monogamous relationship that made him realize that was not only possible, but preferable. He had just begun to sink into that realization, change his mindset and recalibrate his life when she decided she wanted something different. It absolutely shattered him. He had short term plans to ask her to move in together and play house, before the long term plan of starting a family. She didn't want any of that.

In all the years of personal growth, of navigating masculinity and manhood, of realizing adulthood wasn't all it was cracked up to be; right or wrong, Roger had put it all on this single relationship. I had known him since college and seen it all, he had seen me through my share of heartaches and hookups and was always keen on pointing out how the homos and the heteros weren't all that different when it came to love. Post breakup though, Roger had become quiet, and took to partying and going out like some sort of hedonistic rehab.

The first couple times he came home blitzed, he would flop down on my bed half-dressed, mumbling about the events of the evening. I'd giggle and chat, keeping him on his side and hauling the wastebasket within vomitting distance before falling asleep. I'd wake up hearing him pissing in the bathroom, and knowing the nights events had already been forgotten.

Then one night he came in barely standing, managing to strip completely naked before falling into my bed and snoring. I had gone to turn him onto his side when I found myself frozen at the sight of his body.

I don't know if I could describe all the feelings I had in that moment, nor could I honestly tell you they came from an unaffected place. My own love life was non existent at the time, and random hook ups had begun to lose their lustre- I was no less hornier than usual, but was experiencing some disillusionment with it all when my best friend got into bed with me with his dick out.

I felt guilty to be taking in his prone, nude form, to hungrily eye his limp dick knowing he was in such pain. But there was such a welcome, trusting familiarity in the moment. It made sense, it felt right. In his sorrows, and out of his right mind, Roger had drug himself here knowing he'd be safe to lay himself bare.

I took one last look at him before turning him on his side and moving the waste basket bedside.

I lay there about a foot away, staring at his back and watching him breathe as it sunk into me that this was something new. In all the beds I'd been in, the cocks I'd sucked, the asses I'd fucked, the men who spread my cheeks and left- this was the first time I just lay with a man in our honesty. I fell asleep that night confused but safe.

By the time I awoke though, I found myself spooning him with an obvious erection.

I was mortified.

Was he awake? Could he feel that? Could I extricate myself without him waking up or noticing? Fuck! My arm was underneath him. I tried to remain as still and unbothered as I could while panicking inside. This had crossed the line. What would I say if he woke up angry? We were both asleep, this just happened, right?

After some time I managed to pull my arm out and roll over. Despite the fear and worry, my dick hadn't gotten any less stiff. Roger still wasn't awake, so I curled up on my own side of the bed and fell back asleep. It was when I heard him piss and flush that I woke up and felt safe knowing that another evening would be forgotten.

The week began anew, and we seemed to fall back into our regular routine. If he remembered anything or held any ill will, Roger certainly hid it well. The next Saturday, he did opt to stay in and watch hockey while I went out, which did feel like a bit of change. I figured maybe he was finally turning a corner over Tess, and things would go on as normal.

The following weekend proved that to be wrong.

Having gone out to a work function, I didn't expect the loud drunken Roger to show up that night as I drifted off to sleep. I'd missed the keys and the door before getting woken up by the thumps of his dress shoes clattering across the floor. Fucker, I thought to myself, cursing him out for waking me up.

"Todd!" He hissed into the darkness as my door swung open. "Tonight was the bomb...diggity," I propped myself up on my elbows as I wiped sleep from my eyes.

"Great. Shut the fuck up and go to sleep," He walked out and flicked on the light in the bathroom flooding my room. "For fucks sake dude, close the door!" I could hear the full volume of his piss taper off before a flush, then the lights went off. I looked to the door as Roger appeared, kicking off the pants that had pooled around his ankles as he shrugged off his shirt. He looked like a brute of a man in tiny briefs, and I admit the sight caught my breath as he staggered into my room.

"You're such a good friend Todd, I love you for that," Roger flopped down in bed beside me and I could smell the combination of booze, cologne and deodorant as he got under the blanket with me.

"Fuck off dude, go to sleep," I tried to sound annoyed, but the closer he got, the more I could smell of him, and the more pungent his manly, sweaty musk became apparent through the more flowery facade.

"It's true dude, you're such a good friend." To my shock, Roger reached under and around my torso to warp me up in his arms. "Thats why I love my Todd, I do," I could feel the gap between us closing and tried to nervously giggle. It was when he buried his face into the back of my neck and pulled my ass into his groin that the line had finally been crossed. I lost the ability to form words as his mumbling lips turned into intermittent kisses, and I could feel his briefs filling between my cheeks. A thumb found my nipple and began to massage it. I began to tell myself that he was drunkenly confusing me for a woman, and fought the urge to spit out "I'm not Tess!", but my body went into autopilot, and I found myself grinding back into him. My arm flew back to cradle his head as I imagined myself being fucked by a stranger. If I just kept my eyes closed long enough, maybe this would feel real.

Roger's kisses worked down my spine until I felt his fingers move to tug at the waistband of my underwear. I felt panicked again, recognizing that my best friend was now pulling off my last shred of clothing and nearing my ass. Instinctively I went to roll onto my back, but Roger's arms stopped the motion and pushed me forward. I may have been strong enough to struggle, but giving in felt more natural now. Thumbs pulled my cheeks apart as I felt myself being licked.

Whatever self consciousness I had was beaten back by the oral assault Roger made on my pink puckered hole. He lapped at me furiously, wetting me enough to dart his tongue inside while pushing his whole face forward. I grunted as he teased, then returning to lick. My hardened cock rubbed against the sheets, the good feelings coursing through my lower half and opening myself up to Roger's work. Soon, his thumb would curl underneath his tongue and I could recognize that he was fingering me as he would a girl. It was a clumsy annoyance, and every few seconds his brutal effort would push on the right spot and I'd yelp in pleasure. My arms gathered the pillows as I buried my face and gave in to what would happen next. I could feel movement on the mattress as Roger shifted about, pushing my knees apart and settling in between my legs. I braced for impact and was lured into a false sense of security as I felt Roger's cock easily push inside. As I figure he'd learned from women, he had managed to create a wet enough entrance with his mouth to poke the head of his cock into my ass. It was the second ring he forced himself into that caused me to wince and arch my back as I whimpered into the pillow. Good pain, good pain, I told myself.

For his part, Roger must have been scared by the reaction, because he stopped his movements and laid across my back. He kissed the back of my neck as he withdrew his cock and gently slipped it back in.

From the outside, I don't imagine we were an elegant pornographic sight to behold. There was no drama or grand performance in the bed that night, no one posing or playing a role. Our bodies melted together into a heap with Roger's hips quietly humping away as I absorbed his heat and weight. He moved his arms from mine until he could push himself up on the bed and get a thrusting rhythm started. I wiggled my hips a bit to reposition my own cock so it would rub against the mattress as I got fucked. Roger began to speed up, and I struggled to keep in time for mutual pleasure. He bolted upright and grabbed my hips in full fuck, my cock mercilessly lifting. I began to cry out in staccato moans as he quietly hissed "I'm cumming, I'm cumming". He surprised me not with a manly bellow as he came, but with a ragged, high pitched whine. He filled my ass, giving the extra lubricant needed to fully reach my prostate, and I grabbed backwards at him to pull us forward.

We tumbled to the mattress and I pleaded with him to keep fucking me, the new sensations and the ability to rub my cock in the tangled sheets were all I needed to get off. His softening cock squeezed out as we furiously rocked in unison but he kept grinding my ass enough until I finally shot my load. My body stopped, giving Roger a cue, and we stayed in our positions for a few quiet minutes before he flopped onto his back.

I think this is when the shock of what we had done began to sink in, and I found myself in great fear of impending violence. I'd never known Roger to be a violent person, but I also wouldn't have figured he would fuck my ass one day either. It was a dreaded uncertainty. I pondered what I would say, contemplating all the thoughts he could be having just as I turned over, only to find him snoring.

I watched him for a few moments, examining his spent body with my eyes, watching to see signs of him faking it, but he did indeed seem to be knocked out. I quietly crept from the bed and into the bathroom, closing the door but not turning on the light. I feared the shower would be too much noise so I turned on the faucet and cleaned myself with a wad of toilet paper. What the fuck had we just done? Did he really confuse me with a woman? No. He was using my name. This was insane. I flushed the toilet with the door closed, waiting for it to finish before stepping outside with a warm facecloth. I tiptoed back into the room and gently cleaned my friends cock and groin up, shocked that I was so close and intimate to his penis. I threw the cloth in the garbage and pulled it to the side of the bed, as I nudged Roger onto his side. Unsure of what the morning would bring, I curled up into the fetal position under the blanket and fell asleep.

I woke up to the sound of him pissing with the door open, and the toilet flushing. Like nothing had happened.

The rest of the week would have been normal if it wasn't for the gnawing fear of impending confrontation and disaster that firmly stuck itself in my brain. Roger was the same as he'd ever been, didn't seem bothered or reserved at all. The following weekend he had some friends over to watch hockey, and went to bed by himself. The Saturday after that was a family event for me so I wasn't home. But it was as the holidays approached and the social calendar filled up that things began to change.

I suppose after being in a long term relationship, the prospect of facing family and friends as a single kinda shifted Rogers mood. While as friendly and kind and helpful as he normally was, I could sense a bit of sorrow. He blamed it on lack of sunlight, but I found myself worrying about his general disposition. I suppose it was a combination of his mood and a bad streak of luck for me that set us up for round two.

I'd thought I had started something with this cute friend of a coworker, only to find out that they had dramatically different ideas about monogamy. I had gone on a bit of my own bender, commiserating with friends one Saturday when I stumbled home later than usual. Roger was in his bed fast asleep when a nasty idea crossed my mind.

I kicked off my shoes and began stripping off my clothes as I made a bee-line for Roger's bedroom. There was a moment of doubt before my drunken lizard brain said "fuck it" and I shed my boxer briefs. My cock bobbed to life as I padded into the dark room.

"Honeyyy, I'm hoooome," I whispered. Roger lay with his back to the door, his bare shoulder poking out from under the blanket. He didn't move. I less than gracefully stumbled onto the mattress giggling as I went, finally getting some movement.

"The fuh-" Roger turned his head just barely acknowledging me."Todd, yer home. Good. G'night,"

Feeling myself and thinking I could enact some revenge, I slipped under the covers ready to cuddle. I pulled the blanket over me as I scooted in close to spoon my best friend. For some reason, even in all my own nudity, I wasn't prepared to discover that Roger slept in the nude. Despite the boldness of my joke and the quiet hope we'd have sex again, I was stopped in place the moment my cock settled against his bare ass. Would THIS be the bridge too far? Was my overconfidence about to shock Roger and cause a ruckus? To be honest, there also might have been a flicker of "does he want me to fuck him?"

My quiet awe was broken the moment Roger reached behind him to grab my arm and pull me closer in.

"I'm too tired, go to sleep," He pulled my arm around his chest and gripped my hand in almost loving acceptance. I was shocked. As far as I knew I was the only drunk one, we were both naked and here was Roger inviting the cuddle. I closed my eyes and squeezed his body.

"I love you... man," Was it weird to nakedly cuddle your best friend weeks after fucking, and feel the need to add "man" to not sound so gay?

"I love you too Todd,"

That did me in right there.

I wanted to flip this guy over, go crazy on his body and submit to everything he had right then and there. I instinctively ground my hard cock into the cleft of his ass and kissed Rogers shoulder. Goddamn I was horny now.

I loosened Rogers grip on my hand and caressed his front until I felt pubes. My fingers sought out his shaft, gathering his balls in my palm before rubbing him semi-erect. He seemed to moan an objection but made no effort stop me, which emboldened me. I lowered my body and used my elbow to push his knee up. Teasing his frenulum with my forefinger, I got him to full mast and felt his body turn in the dark. I had pulled the blanket off the bed and watched as Roger laid onto his back as he spread his knees. The boy was giving himself to me now.

I slipped off the end of the bed and pulled Roger closer to the edge. I noticed for the first time that while he trimmed his pubes, he'd kept his ballsack completely shorn. The awkward juxtapositioning of the hair was cute because it showed me that my friend was self conscious enough to do the work, but unsure of how to do it properly. I buried my nose in the shaven skin and luxuriated in the pissy, sweaty, salty tastes as I lolled my tongue around. Roger's shaft bounced off my forehead reminding me of my subservient desire, as I began to massage his inner thighs.

I used my lips to nibble the base of his cock, fluttering kisses upwards until I could lick the head and take him whole.

I filled my throat, pulling off with suction then reengaging. Roger groaned as I bobbed up and down on his dick, my tongue flitting out collecting the precum and saliva as I went. I daringly brushed my thumb around his hole and waited for negative reaction. As I worked Roger's cock, I gently tickled his bum, sending him into quiet convulsions.

Feeling the stiffness in my neck, I brought my hand up to aid in the blow job. I jerked the base while sucking the head, taking a moment to pull out and slap myself with the wet prick. I sped my pace up and made my final effort, Roger making that familiar whine just before he came. The first shot hit the back of my throat causing me to gag a little, but I swallowed and kept sucking. I felt a pair of strong hands in my hair, and try to push me off as we hit the super sensitive post orgasmic period, but I wouldn't let up. I drained Roger as he wiggled about uncontrollably suckling his soft cock until he felt full release. I pulled him from my mouth, proudly admiring the shrivelled flesh in my hand. All the wet, shiny wrinkles. I'd made that hard-on and defeated it all by myself. I smiled and laid my head down in Rogers lap. His fingers caressed my hair. I could have died then and there.