This site's great.
Let me begin (actually, I've just finished writing the story, but figured I'd write something with which to open) with stating that if this story starts to sound a bit corny, forgive me. The moment itself was the release of so much repressed emotions, all at the same time... it was just overwhelming and almost surreal for both of us.
That having been said...
I'm prompted to write this story because I had a dream about it a couple of days ago. Actually, I've been having this same dream repeatedly, even though previously I wasn't one for recurring dreams (people tell me that recurring nightmares are some of the worst things). But what could have been a nightmare turned into one of the best (albeit saddest) I've experienced.
At the start of two summers ago (I'm a senior, and this was the summer after sophmore year), my best friend, 'Ben', confirmed to me that he was moving away. His mom is an accountant (or something of that nature, I'm not entirely sure) at NBC, and his mother was told that she would need to move her practice to New York. Well, this wouldn't be too much of a bad thing had we lived in New Jersey or Massachusetts or something. No, we live in California. So, this was quite the move-it wasn't one of those, 'we can still visit each other every few weekends' kinds of things. This was one of those 'now AIM and Facebook are the only ways we can talk now' kinds of things. We had both heard that a move might be in the immediate future, and while it was pushed to the back of our minds, we hadn't been too worried. But now it was a reality, and we couldn't have been more upset.
Let me introduce you to Ben-we met in camp during the summer after seventh grade, and have been best friends ever since. The ironic thing was that I despised him before we became friends (it's become a joke now, though), and it was for a terrible and childish reason. It was because he was 'perfect'. We had a lot of classes together in middle school; by the end of seventh grade we had almost all of the major subjects together as well as gym. And he got near straight A+s in all of his classes, let alone being one of the most athletic kids in the entire school (our freshman in year in high school he already played Varsity volleyball, and was offered Varsity basketball but declined). I hated him for it, too. It wasn't fair. While I am a pretty good student as well as a good athlete (I don't mean to boast or anything), he constantly upstaged me. He just seemed better in every way, and I couldn't find a particular thing on which I had an advantage. He was even an accomplished guitar player. I know this sounds childish, but unfortunately it was true. The thing that makes me feel the most guilty was that he was a nice kid, and I KNEW he was a nice kid. He never bragged about anything he did, he offered to help other kids with their work, and he picked the non-athletic kids in gym before they would get picked last. In retrospect, however, this made me hate him more.
The icing on the cake was that he was great-looking. Everyone knew it. Straight brown hair on top of a face that was, as a friend once joked, 'chiseled by the gods'. Also, the times that we had to swim during the pool unit in gym, I got to see his body. He was nicely tanned, totally jacked and had a six-pack going on (I didn't see what was under his shorts... yet). In the middle of seventh grade, a girl that I really liked even went out with him. Now, if you can imagine having someone like this in school with you, maybe you can understand how I felt. He absolutely INFURIATED me, and the fact that I knew that I was just jealous added to my anger. Constantly being compared to him, with my achievements being sized up next to his. For example, if I happened to get a B on a test when the class average was a C, my mom would ask me what Ben got (she would sometimes be the victim of one of my rants). Of course he got an upper A. Even though she did it jokingly, I don't think she realized just how annoying it was. Ben's perfection got to the point where I was determined to find out what his flaw was. He needed to have a defect somewhere-he needed to fail at something-he needed to have something in his life that paled in comparison to everyone else's.
It was when we bunked together in sleepaway camp during the summer of seventh grade that I found out just what that flaw was. We had both gone to the same particular camp the year before, but hadn't shared the same bunk. This year, however, we did. There were two other kids in our 'room', and one particular day just a few weeks in, they were both off playing soccer or some other sport. Ben was just kind of lying on his bed, looking at the ceiling, and I was reading a book that my mom wanted me to read (a good family friend had just published it, and I had to admit that it was pretty good). He spoke up: 'How come we never talk to each other?' I looked up from the book. I desperately wanted to say, 'Because I loathe you', but I replied with a simple and emotionless, 'I dunno.'
'We've had like a million classes together,' he said.
'We don't have anything in common, I guess.'
'Oh, come on,' he replied. He rattled off some sports and subjects we knew we both enjoyed.
'I guess so. But it's hard for people to relate to you, when, you know, you're so PERFECT at everything,' I snapped. Had I said this in a lighthearted tone, perhaps I could of passed this off as some kind of compliment wrapped in a playful jab. But I didn't-I let some of my seething dislike for him slip into it, and he heard it.
'Harsh, man.' He lied back down. After about a minute of silence, he said, 'I only do it because my dad will go fucking crazy if I don't.'
You can't be serious, I thought. Something that cliched was straight out of The Breakfast Club. I stayed silent.
'Honestly, though, I got an 80 on a test once and he didn't speak to me for a week.'
Did his voice just crack? I thought. And was he telling the truth? Horrible as it sounds, I smiled on the inside. I found his flaw! So his life ISN'T perfect... GOOD. No... not good, great!
...I then repeated to myself what I just thought, and I realized how despicable that sounded. This kid's father is apparently a psycho and I'm cheering it on? Am I that heartless? Personally, I have a great relationship with both of my parents, and know that if it weren't for their support all the time I'd get pretty depressed. I couldn't imagine having a demented father (as well as a career-obsessed mother, as I later learned). I realized that his 'terrific perfection' stemmed from such a terrible source, and somehow, my intense dislike for him disappated. And while a couple years worth of animosity wasn't going to disappear within a few minutes' time, I was willing to give him a chance.
'Sorry, I didn't know that. That really sucks.'
'It's okay. Not your fault.'
I put down my book, and we talked. To turn this long part of the story short (we haven't even actually gone into the part I'm sure you've been expecting yet), we talked that entire day, and for days after that. The thing that really turned me around was that he was a hilarious kid, and he made me crack up a ton of times. I can't stand people who don't have a sense of humor, and he sure wasn't one of them. By the end of the summer, we were actually very close, and most amazingly, my hatred for him was replaced by a sense of admiration.
Quickly, before we finally return to the main part of the story, I should just tell you my sexual orientation. I'm positive I'm bisexual. I definitely love girls, but I can't deny (for the sake of this story as well as my well-being) that I became truly attracted to Ben. I suppose I always had been, even while I hated him, but I was constantly suppressing it. I think that, more than anything, is what fueled my animosity. He made me feel 'defective'... I didn't want to have a reason why someone would call me 'gay' and 'fag', and yet he handed it to me. For the few years that we were best friends, I didn't make any sort of move. I was scared of doing something terribly wrong and losing him as a friend.
Now, back to the main story, which happened at the end of two summers ago (the summer after sophmore year in high school). It was just less than a week before Ben was flying off to California, and I was throwing him a going-away party in my backyard (I have a pretty big pool, so we invited a lot of kids). It was actually in the afternoon, not the nighttime, but there weren't any parents there (thank goodness). My mom and dad had to go away for the weekend; they knew that I was going to throw a party, but as I said before, I have a good relationship with them, so they trust me enough let me handle my own events. Anyway, the stereo was blasting music, and our friends, girls and boys, were screaming and just having a good time. As for me, I was acting cool and laid back, lying with sunglasses on my big floating air matress and getting a tan. All of a sudden, I felt an arm reach across my chest and grab onto the other end of the mattress, and the next thing I knew, it flipped and I was in the water. I came up to the surface, took off my now crooked sunglasses and opened my eyes-Ben was grinning at me from ear to ear.
'Let's go, man, we're gonna play chicken.'
I rolled my eyes and smiled. 'Fine.'
If you don't know what the game is, it's when one person climbs onto another's shoulders, and tries to fight off the person on the other team by wrestling them so that they fall off their teammate's shoulders and into the water. For a couple of rounds, we played it with the girls on top of the guys. Then, at the guys' request, we played it so that was just all girls. After that was done, the girls insisted that some of the guys go against each other. People started calling out names, and both Ben and I were elected to play on the same team, with Ben on my shoulders. So, he climbed up (it wasn't too difficult since while I'm not ripped like he is, I'm still relatively muscular), and someone shouted 'GO!' I rushed as fast as I could to the other team. Finally, Ben and the other guy interlocked and started wrestling. While he was thrashing on top of me, though, I could feel his bulge constantly pressing into the back of my head, and let me tell you, it was one of the biggest turn-ons. It was just a little TOO much, and I could feel myself getting hard. I started getting kind of nervous, as we were completely surrounded by tons of people. So I jerked my upper body backwards, which, as I hoped, caused Ben to tilt too far, and off into the pool. Everybody cheered, and laughing, I pulled Ben back up. I also had the opportunity to have a good look at him. Damn, was he gorgeous, glistening from the water. I had the urge to just jump on him, but of course I didn't. A couple of hours later, the party let up, and I ended up politely kicking out some of the lingering kids (I just wanted to spend time with Ben). An interesting thing I heard from someone during the party, however, was that when he dated that girl that I liked back in seventh grade, they didn't really do anything (even though they went out for a good couple of months). They just kissed, the girl said. At that point, I realized that I never actually talked to him about it. But anyhow, Ben agreed he was going to stay the night, so after everyone left, we ordered some pizza and just watched TV in my basement (it's fully finished and a cool place to hang out).
After I finished eating, I told him that I was going to take a shower. The smell of chlorine just irritates me; I don't know why. He said, 'sure,' and I went upstairs. As I walked to the upstairs bathroom, I started thinking about the situation. I wasn't going to see Ben very much at all after this... was I ever going to act on the way I felt? No, I thought. That would just be too much. Watching him leave is hard enough. No need to make it worse... But then why didn't he do anything with that girl? I ended up flip-flopping back and forth between 'do it' and 'don't do it', trying my hardest to justify each side. When I finally reached the shower, I stripped down, and went in. I slowly washed my body down, and started scrubbing my pecs. I was immediately reminded of the view that I got of Ben earlier that day-his chest shining with beads of water. That cemented my decision. I needed to do something about it. This was my last chance, and I wasn't going to waste it. Almost in a trance, I turned off the shower, quickly dried off my body, and wrapped a towel around my waist. I headed downstairs, determined. I descended the basement steps and saw Ben sitting on the couch, still watching TV. He looked over at me, and smiled. Then he laughed.
'Run out of clothes?'
My breathing got more and more intense. Just go to up him and do something, I screamed silently to myself. I walked over to the couch, scanning his body-damp trunks and a white T-shirt was all that was stopping me from my goal. They're asking to be ripped off! I thought. I stood just over him, all ready to pounce on him... and I just chickened out. I couldn't do it. I couldn't handle it if he rejected me. I sat down, dejected, next to him.
'I didn't feel like changing, I dunno,' was all I could muster out.
After about a minute, he put his arm around me, pulling me closer. The contact between my bare skin and his bare skin was electrifying. I stared straight ahead at the TV.
'I'm really going to miss you. A lot,' he said. My breathing became rapid, and I focused all of my attention on trying to slow it down. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw him turn his head toward me. After a second or two, I looked over at him, and his eyes were red and swollen. He was attempting to hold back tears. He was trying to smile, but that wasn't going to help. I felt my eyes getting itchy. Out of joy? Out of sadness? I couldn't tell.
But I couldn't-wouldn't-hold back anymore. I shattered my inhibitions... I leaned in and kissed him on the lips. During what must have been only about two seconds at most, I felt my stomach freeze and I felt like I was falling. Not out of happiness but out of fear. What did I just do?? I pulled back. I didn't even look at him; I looked down at the couch cushion, where our hands were lying. I just stammered out, 'Sorry.' But I saw his hand gently take mine and hold it. I remember distinctly that he took his thumb and rubbed it on the back of my hand. I heard Ben clear his throat.
What happened in the next moment shocked me (or anyone in that situation). Not just because it's such a loaded phrase, but because guys my age just don't say it. Ever. Not even to their best friends.
He whispered, 'I love you.'
For a while after that, there wasn't an exchange of words. I bit my lower lip and nodded. Even though it was something I thought I'd hear only in my wildest fantasies, I was still thrown off by it. It was like a slap in the face, but in a good way, if that makes sense. But just as the confusion set on, as to whether he actually felt the same way I did or whether he simply declared a platonic statement while politely declining my advances, he kissed me back. No more questioning.
I imitated something a former girlfriend once did to me-I mounted him and pressed my groin into his lap, while wrapping my legs around his torso. I pulled his T-shirt off, and he enclosed his arms around my bare back. We embraced in a kiss again, and I felt his hand comb through the hair on the back of my head. If someone had walked in we would've looked like a human pretzel, but honestly, I had never felt safer. I felt his hard-on press up against me and I decided to squirm a little bit, just to give him a little torturous pleasure. Before that day, I had only seen his cock a couple of times, but never hard and never for very long, just while we were changing for practice or something.
He took his hands off my back and quickly untied the already-almost-loosened-'knot' that was holding the towel around my waist, and lifted myself up a tiny bit so he could get it off me. I tugged gently on his trunks, and he reached down and managed to slip them off, with a little assistance from me. Our boners were now pressed against each other as we were still engaged in a pretty tight embrace. We paused, and looked down. We both trimmed, and we both had pretty large balls (sorry, I guess I'm boasting a tiny bit). His cock was a lot like mine, smooth with a large, deep pink head, except the fact that he was cut and I'm uncut. His certainly seemed thicker than me, but as I looked more closely, my dick was actually the slightest bit longer-we're talking a fraction of an inch. I looked at him and smiled.
'What?' he asked.
'Ha! My dick's longer than yours. I finally win!' I exclaimed, jokingly. 'I beat you!'
'Huh? You wanted to beat me? I've been wanting for you to do that for years!'
I laughed. Gotta love that humor.
Taking his joking sentiment as a cue, I took both of our cocks in my hand (admittedly it was somewhat difficult because my hand couldn't fit around the whole circumference) and started to jack us off. Ben closed his eyes and tightened his lips, obviously enjoying himself. As I stared downwards, watching the precum from both of our cocks make a good lubricant, I couldn't help but being somewhat sad. If only all of this had happened BEFORE the week he was moving away. I looked up at him again. His eyes were open, and we just looked at each other for a little while. It may sound kind of awkward on paper (or screen, I guess), but we stared into the other's eyes, enjoying the moment and each other's company. We were both wriggling from the pleasure that our dicks were receiving, and I loved positioning myself in between his thighs-I took the opportunity to use my other hand to rub his inner thigh, trying to work down to that really sensitive spot just below the balls. He gently brushed off my hand from our cocks and he started to jack us off. We did this for another five minutes or so, and he said, 'I'm getting close.'
'Stop then.' I took his hands away and starting using mine. 'I wanna make you cum.'
'Don't deny me the satisfaction,' he said, smiling. 'I'll do you, you do me.'
And that's what we did. I stroked him with long, full strokes, paying close attention to the head. I could feel him getting closer, and I started to move slower. He smiled: 'No, no... faster... please...' I decided to oblige and started stroking him faster. I was pretty close too, and he started stroking faster as well.
'Fuck, I'm gonna cum...' he said. I leaned forward and started to kiss him passionately. His cock spasmed in my hand, and I felt the hot cum shoot onto my chest. That complelety through me past the edge, and I started to cum... more than I believe I ever had before. The moment, while actually brief, felt like an eternity.
After the orgasmic bliss subsided. We both opened our eyes.
'By the way,' I said, 'I love you, too.'
That night, we skinny-dipped in the pool together, we showered together, and we slept together, naked, and in each other's arms. It was, by all means, the most restful sleep I've ever had. We also did some more activities that would probably be edited if I write them here, but they are more personal anyway, so I wouldn't have shared them.
As for what happened afterward, Ben moved away, just like we both sadly anticipated. Ever since, we still keep in touch nearly every day, and on long vacation breaks we've seen each other again. We haven't hesitated to go at it like we did that first night. We both agree that we're bisexual and this relationship is the most fulfilling either one of us has ever had. I once asked him whether his father would approve if he knew what our relationship was really like. Ben's response was, 'Fuck him.'
By the way, Ben just got accepted (early decision) into one of the top schools in the country. Of course, he's still as 'perfect' as ever...