Blowjob From My Gay Friend (Patreon)

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Chapter 1: Dick Ego

Two texts stacked on my screen, almost at the same time. I read them both a few times standing at my desk.

Wes: Me and Kayleigh are gonna need the room till like 2, sorry bro

Teddy: Bring that big dick to my room, twink

My gay friend Teddy called me "twink" a lot. It started freshman year during a group project, when he was basically a gay bully to me the whole time, and somewhere along the line it stopped being an insult and turned into the word he used instead of my name. He was a cool dude, and it was sort of a term of endearment. I think.

It was also an accurate epithet, which I had learned over time. "Twink" means a cute, boyish guy, but it's specifically a gay thing, which makes it a joke because I'm straight. My masculine inner ego hated to admit it, but it was on point. I had been on the skinny side my entire life, a swimmer's build, flat stomach, narrow hips, a small hard ass that girls called cute, but only guys ever grabbed my ass, both gay and straight. 

I looked different in the mirror now than I did at the beginning of last school year, and a decent amount of that was because of Teddy. The only reason I lifted at all after leaving sports behind in high school was that he started dragging me to the rec center in the morning sometimes.

Teddy had two inches of height on me and a lot more meat. He was thick and "juicy", thighs that rubbed together in gym shorts, a chest that filled out a white tee, a thin waist and a big shelf of an ass that was honestly the first part of him anybody noticed when they saw him in workout gear. It was round and wide and bubbly, two meaty mounds his shorts clung to when he squatted, and he knew it, and he stuck it out on purpose whenever he caught me behind him on the stairs. I noticed it the same way I noticed any guy's body, just a decent piece of muscle on him. 

One thing I had over him, at least based on his inappropriate comments, was that I had a "big dick." I wouldn't say I was huge, but I held my own. A little over seven inches, thick enough that girls usually paused for a second before they got started, and it hung heavy and long in my basketball shorts even soft, which is the only reason Teddy ever saw it in the first place. He liked to say mine was a monster, usually loudly, usually in front of other people. And he offered to suck me off whenever he got drunk, "whenever, wherever."

I turned him down every time. "Don't say that."

But he still kept doing it, every time he started with the drinking.

But sadly, I only liked girls. To be more specific, I only ever got hard for girls. I always thought that if I could be gay, I would. Guys were easier to hang out with and easier to talk to, and had less drama. But when my hormones would rage, my instinct was to find a pussy connected to a soft body with some titties and hit on her. Failing that, I would watch some hardcore porn on my phone of a girl getting destroyed by multiple dicks and beat my meat in a bathroom stall. I liked tits, hips, and recently I had a fantasy of a girl bent over in leggings at the library, letting me "free use" her in the stacks, and she couldn't stay quiet while I railed her. Besides some occasional weird hentai stuff on twitter, that was basically the whole list of what my dick responded to, and it had never once wavered. I had never had a single confusing thought about a guy in my life.

But Teddy remained unconvinced. Even when he was sober, he would pull his own dick out to mess with me sometimes, just flop it out at his desk chair and go back to working. I had never once looked at it directly. Out of the corner of my eye I knew it was cut and pale pink and hung heavy off him, thicker than I expected on a guy who called me the big one, but I genuinely could not have told you how we'd compare, always successfully avoiding looking at it directly. 

What I had with Teddy was what I had with all my guy friends, just more of it. I loved the guy. Not like that. He sat with me in the ER until sunrise one weekend when I thought I was dying and it was a kidney stone, and I sat with him next to a toilet while he vomited from drinking too much more times than I ever had with a girl. I would have done anything for him, and he would have done the same for me, and everybody who knew us knew that.

The walk to his building took a while, since I lived on the cheap side of campus and he had a premium dorm on the rich kid side, all suites for one or two people. I made the walk with the pillow under my arm, ready to let Wes have the room. I didn't mind when he sexiled me, really. It was nice to see him getting laid.

I texted him from outside his building.

Me: Is your floor empty?

Teddy: Dead. Everyone's studying or fake studying

····[]····

He opened the door in a tight white tee, and dark gym shorts, barefoot, showing off the muscles in his chest, arms and legs, and his room was lit subtly by the fancy lamp. 

"My roommate's gone for the week," he said. "You should stay the whole time."

I chuckled as I walked past him into the room. He swept an arm across the bed to knock his laundry onto the floor and told me I could take the wall side.

As I sat down, he moved a hoodie off the mattress and asked me if I wanted water. 

"I'm good." 

We talked about the sociology midterm and the essay portion nobody had studied for and whether our prof even actually read them, and I kept waiting for him to make a joke about trying to suck me off, or blow me or whatever, but he didn't do it. I kept bracing for it anyway, out of habit.

We ended up on our backs on his full size bed, both of us on top of the comforter, heads at the pillow end. Me on the wall side, him on the door side. Our shoulders pressed together because the mattress was thirty-six inches wide and there was physically nowhere else for two guys' arms to be. His hips were wider than mine and rounder, and his thigh sat warm against my thigh through both our shorts.

He played his Switch held up over his chest with both hands. The little clicks of the stick filled the room. I scrolled Twitter one-handed with my phone up above my face, my other arm pinned between us.

A thirst post got me. Some girl in a bathroom mirror. I was hard fast, tenting my basketball shorts, and I didn't move to fix it. I didn't want to draw attention to it.

But of course, Teddy being Teddy, he turned his head on the pillow and looked straight down my body at it.

He set the Switch down on his stomach, still running, rolled onto his side facing me, and reached to the foot of the bed for the blanket bunched up down there. He dragged it up over both our legs before he did anything else. 

I looked over at him, waiting for the joke, and it didn't come. He just tucked the blanket around my knee like it was cold in there and picked his Switch back up off his stomach with one hand.

I let out a breath I didn't make any sound with. He had seen it, he had covered it, and he wasn't going to say a word about it. I figured that was it. He would play his game and I would go back to my phone and we would lie there doing our separate things until one of us fell asleep, and the tent would take care of itself.

I went back to scrolling.

I stopped scrolling for a second when the blanket moved, then made myself start again. His hand slid under it and across my stomach, warm from the Switch, and hooked two fingers into the elastic of my basketball shorts. For some reason, I didn't stop him. The vibe was different tonight. He didn't joke about it. He just made me feel wanted, in such a subtle, sober way, that I was caught off guard. It didn't seem wrong. It didn't seem weird, so I let it happen.

He tugged them down slowly, working the waistband over the head of my dick and then past the base, all the way under my balls, so everything sat out heavy on my thigh with the blanket resting on top of it. My thumb kept flicking Twitter. My dick jumped against the fabric once. He shifted himself down the mattress until his shoulders were level with my hip, propped up on one elbow with his chest against my thigh, and went under the blanket completely.

I kept scrolling.

His mouth closed over the head of me, wet and warm and a lot softer than I expected, and then he sank down slowly, taking me a couple inches at a time until his nose pressed against the bottom of my stomach. My thumb stopped moving on the screen. No girl had ever done that on the first try. Girls started at the top and worked their way up to it, if they ever got there at all. He was already there, holding me deep with his throat flexing around the head, and then he pulled up just as slowly, his lips tight around the shaft the whole way, and started over.

I stared at my phone and didn't see anything on it.

It was better than my fantasy position. A girl riding me, the one I pictured every time I jerked off, was still just a pussy dropping onto me and pulling off, the same movement over and over. This was different. His tongue moved on its own while his mouth moved, pressing flat against the underside and dragging up, curling around the head at the top, and his cheeks hollowed with real suction on every pull that a girl on top could never manage. He kept one hand wrapped around the base to feed the rest of me in, squeezing firmly, and I felt his spit run down over his knuckles and pool at my balls.

I felt more talented technique in the first minute than any girl had ever given me in an entire night. All of them combined, honestly.

My hips lifted off the comforter on their own and he pushed them right back down with his forearm across my stomach, and kept me there, and took me all the way down again to prove he could.

All I could see was the shape of his head moving under the blanket. All I could feel was his mouth.

I switched over to my lurking alt twitter account, the one with no name and no picture that only followed porn accounts, and scrolled straight into the stuff I actually gooned to. A girl on all fours getting spit-roasted by two guys. One of the weird hentai posts I would never admit to liking. A girl in leggings bent over a bathroom counter with her phone propped up, exactly the library fantasy but with worse lighting.

Some part of me wanted to keep my brain aimed at pussy while my dick was in a guy's throat. Like if I focused hard enough on the girl on the screen I could pretend that was what I was feeling.

It didn't work at all. It got worse, or better, I couldn't tell. The girl on the counter took it from behind on the screen above my face, and Teddy took me down to the base under the blanket, and my brain couldn't hold both at once. It kept flickering. Tits, then his tongue dragging flat up the underside. Her ass bouncing, then his throat closing around the head and holding it. I was watching a girl get railed and feeling a guy work my dick like he was getting paid for it, and my whole body couldn't decide which one it was reacting to, so it reacted to both.

My thumb kept flicking. A video autoplayed with the sound off. Teddy hummed around me without knowing it and I twitched hard in his mouth, and I felt him smile around the shaft, I swear I felt the corners of his mouth pull.

My head swam. It was like being drunk in a good way, right before it turns to being too drunk, where the room's edges get soft and I stop caring who's watching. I lowered the phone an inch, and the lamp light came into the top of my vision, and under it, the blanket rose and fell over his head in the slow rhythm he had picked, and I had to put the phone back up to have something else to look at.

A couple minutes in, it started bothering me that he was down there breathing his own hot air in the dark while I lay on top of the covers with a phone in my face like a guy pretending he wasn't there for this. I reached down and hauled the blanket back off him and pulled it all the way off the side of the bed onto the floor.

He had taken his gym shorts off at some point without me noticing, and he was in a jockstrap. The waistband sat white and thick across the small of his back, the pouch stretched full and grayish in front where it disappeared under his hip, and behind it nothing at all, just two straps running down off that band and around the outsides of his butt cheeks and vanishing under him. And with the shorts gone I could actually see the rest of him, the tee ridden up his back, and he was cut everywhere, lean and dense like a swimsuit model, the two long muscles running down either side of his spine and the thick slab of his thigh flexing every time he shifted. I had never really appreciated it. He was just Teddy, the guy who dragged me to the rec center. 

But lying there with his mouth on me, as I sank into horny, lustful pleasure, it counted for something. In my head I took it as a W. If I was going to let a guy blow me, at least he was an A+ specimen. He was still on his side across the bottom of the bed with his mouth on me, and his ass was right there in the lamp light, two straps framing it, everything round and bare between them. I had barely ever seen one in person. Nobody on any team I played in high school bothered with them.

He didn't come off me and he didn't say anything. He kept working and his hips shifted a little, and I continued to stare at his ass. It was full and pale and the mounds of glute moved separately when he moved. There was a shadow between them the lamp couldn't reach.

He worked me from his side across the bottom half of the bed, one arm folded under his own ribs, his free hand flat on my hip bone holding me down against the comforter. I stayed flat on my back with my head on the pillow, and put my phone back up over my face.

And he just kept impressing me with his skills. He dragged his tongue firmly along the underside on every pull up. He took me deep and held there instead of bobbing, which no one had ever done to me before, and he hummed when I twitched, and he backed off every time my breathing got loud, pacing me on purpose. Every girl I'd been with had approached the whole thing like a chore with a time limit. He was working it patiently, like the point was the working.

I held my phone up with my right hand and kept scrolling.

He came off me for a second, wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist, and said, "You wish a girl was as good as me, twink."

He was back down before I could answer. I had no answer for that anyway.

He found a rhythm and stayed in it, and my abs started tightening, and my heels dug into his comforter. He took that as positive feedback, and went harder. One hand stayed pinning my hip. His other came up and gripped the base of me firmly, and he took me in on the downstrokes further than anybody had before.

I exhaled hard through my nose and squirted into him, four or five long pulses that made my legs straighten out and my heels drag across his comforter. He held me deep and took every one of them, his throat swallowing around the head while I was still pumping, and his hand stayed clamped around the base until the last twitch passed. My phone had dropped face down on my chest at some point. I stared at the top of his head and caught my breath.

He pulled off me slowly, swallowed one more time, and sat back on his heels at the foot of the bed and wiped his mouth with the hem of his tee, the fabric riding up over his stomach as he did it. 

Post-nut clarity hit fast. I was already halfway into a sentence about how I should probably go see if Wes and Kayleigh were done, already picturing the walk, already picturing getting up and leaving and neither of us ever bringing it up again.

But Teddy ignored my mini freak-out, crawling smoothly back up the bed and laying down flat next to me again. He picked the Switch up and resumed his game.

My whole body came apart at the seams. I pulled my waistband back up over my hips and lay there, shoulder against his shoulder, thigh against his thigh, staring at the ceiling tile above his bed.

"Didya like that?" he said, not looking over.

"Yeah."

"You made a noise, like a baby horse."

"I did not. What does that even mean..."

"You did. It was boyish. High-pitched and boyish and embarrassing." He mashed a button. "Just sleep here. I'll wake you up for the gym."

I stayed on my back, and didn't move for the door, and a while later he beat whatever level he was on, said something victorious under his breath, and turned the lamp off with the Switch still in his hand.