Best Friends Bare All E17 | There are no more lines between my best buddy and I (Patreon)

Everyone is over the age of 18

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I can't really describe how I feel about Drake anymore. 

It feels like we've crossed too many boundaries, and now the old lines seem too distant to even think about going back.

I'm not going to stop kissing him. It feels too good. 

We went to cuddle a little too after our last fuck. That one, we didn't even talk about. What else are we supposed to do after fucking? His dense hair in my face was scratchy, but he smelled good. I was hard pressed up against him, but I wasn't horny. It just felt like, well shit, I don't know. Happiness, maybe. 

Are we going to stop fucking around one day? Maybe we’ll stop just as randomly as we started going at it? I really have no fucking clue.

“Jake,” Drake greets me by slapping my hand with a half hug as I enter the locker room. I think he just got in a couple minutes ago, since he hasn't put on a shirt yet. His firm chest presses against mine, and the side of his hair tickling my cheek immediately brings up the thought of us cuddling post-fuck. “Looking fresh.” 

I kissed him. I had to. He tastes just like he always does. Like life. Like fun. Like electricity. 

The way his hands caress my waist tells me everything I need to know. He feels the same way. He knows that we can't deny this chemical thing that's happening between us.

It kind of reminds me of the first time I got with a girl. Man, I could not get enough of her. I thought about her all day long and suddenly all my fantasies had her as the main character. 

“Shit,” Drake says as the door opens, and a couple of teammates enter the locker room with loud conversation. I watch him tuck his boner in his waistband, and I do the same thing before opening my locker. 

Thump! Thump! The sound echoes in my chest as our friends pat us on the back on their way to their spaces. 

“Yo, where were you guys last night?” Tim slaps Drake’s ass in a playful way. “Everyone was at the pub except for y’all.” A pang of something flashes in me as I watch him touch Drake’s cheeks. 

We were in his bed, our body warmth reaching an equilibrium between us. My knees were pressed in the nooks of his legs.

I share a smile with Drake, and Tim ruffles the back of both of our heads. 

“Y’all gotta stop jerking off with each other. Time to get some hair on your chest and get with some real women,” Tim says. 

“Hair on your chest?” Drake drops the shirt he had half put on. “I think I have everyone beat in that department.” He turns around and rubs his thick chest hair. 

“So you're the man in the relationship then?” Tim teases us, and the rest of the guys laugh. Drake fakes a couple upper cuts at him and Tim backs off. 

If only they knew. I change out of my sweats, and leave my bulge in my boxer briefs for a long time as I pretend to search for my shorts.

I know Drake is looking. I want him to look. 

On the field, we start with jogging. It's great because although we start off in a big group, we eventually break into smaller sections as some of us are faster than others. Tim, with his long legs, soars way ahead of us. Since Drake and I are about the same height, we naturally kind of fall into the same section. 

“You alright? That didn't bother you, right?” Drake says as the rest of the guys in our section take a stretching break. We trot forward, finally earning ourselves some privacy. 

“Tim? Nah, man,” I say. Not 100 percent true, but not 100 percent wrong either. “Do you think they know?” 

“Probably not,” Drake pants. “How would they?”

“Iunno, maybe we're acting different.” 

“I'm pretty sure they think we've been gay for each other since the beginning,” Drake says with a laugh. “We kinda are.” I shoot him a serious look as we jog. 

It could be the fact that we're both sweaty from the run, and if you run, you know it's hard to keep your facial expressions in control. 

What does he mean? 

“Don't slow down on me now,” he says as he puts his humid arm around my shoulder to push me along.

Bam. Boner. I didn't know I could get one while running. 

“Are we gay for each other?” I say with a ragged breath. My legs are burning and the blood going to another part of my body isn't helping. 

He smells just like when I fuck him. 

“If we are, you're definitely the man in the relationship,” Drake says. “Alright, break.” We stop at the bleachers and jog up to the middle.

“I'm pretty sure we're both men,” I say as I watch him stretch his legs. Without the breeze generated by our running, I start sweating enough to need to wipe my face with my shirt. 

“Yeah, but you're the one…” He looks past my shoulder and waves at some guys running by the bleachers. “You're the one…”

“Does that bother… Does that matter?” I ask. I give up on trying to wipe my sweat and just take my shirt off. 

“It's different,” Drake says,sitting down on the bleachers and raising one hand to block out the sun to look at me. “I think it's making you more ripped.” 

“Fuck off,” I chuckle. I do like what I see in the mirror these days. I think some of it is just confidence though. 

“I'm serious, man. When I was fucking cheerleaders, I had it going ON.” He lifts his shirt and pats his abs. 

“You still do,” I say honestly. “You've got a great body.” 

“I'm doing a lot more laying around these days.” 

“So you're not fucking girls anymore?” I ask, taking a seat next to him. 

“No. Shit, man. Are you? How much cum you got in these tanks?” Drake reaches over and grabs my crotch, which of course responds immediately to his touch. 

“No, I'm not.” A sense of pride rushes into my body as I take into account that I'm fucking him so good that Drake, the usual horndog that he is, is subdued. 

“Thank fucking god, man. If I was fucking as hard as you, my shit would be all chaffed up.” 

“Do you like getting fucked hard like that?” I ask.

Then, we looked into each other's eyes. He didn't answer me, but his hand rubbed the length of my shaft through my shorts. It's enough to show me his appreciation. 

“Yo, speed it up, ladies! This is our second lap.” he shouts at some friends, smoothly displacing his hands from my crotch as they come into our line of sight. They give us middle fingers as they run past.

“I like fucking you,” I say. 

“Why wouldn't you? All guys like fucking.” 

“No.” The newfound confidence comes out of me again. “I like fucking you.” 

“That's the kind of shit I say when I want a girl to put out,” he says softly. As often as the new confidence comes out of me, this look of submission happens to him. 

“I’m trying to say that you’re special to me, man,” I say, creeping my hand closer to him so that our pinkies touch. 

That's it. That's the look he has before he admits he wants me. 

“You're special to me too, dude. Always have been.” His pinky hooks around mine. “You know you're my best friend. Life would be shit without you.” For just a brief second, all our fingers intertwine. 

“Let's go,” I say decisively. “Come on!” I get up and he follows me. We trot down the bleachers and then I push him to get him to go under the huge metallic structure. 

“Okay, I could use at least some food before you treat me like a whore,” Drake says with a laugh. 

“You can buy me some later,” I say as I strip out my shorts. I walk slowly in my jocks to a more discreet area and lean forward onto a metal pillar. Then, I slowly peel off the sweat soaked underwear. 

“Wait, man. Are you saying…”

“We share everything, don't we?” I look back at him and he approaches me. Placing both hands on my bare asscheeks, I lean forward on the cold pole.

“Damn, man. These white cheeks are pretty.” Drake squeezes them firmly. 

“Go for it.” I arch my back for him. “All for you. Take your best shot because I'm going to do exactly the same thing to you after.”