Growing up, I had a lot of friends that I was really close to, mostly guys but a few girls, too. In today’s vernacular, we just clicked; we connected instantly and not being friends wasn’t an option.
Having sex with them seemed like the most sensible thing in the world. Not intentionally as it would be with my other male friends, you know, raging hormones, availability, being bored silly; no, these friendships started out as genuine friendships without, um, such interests. A friendship that was so close that if you saw one of us, you’d automatically start looking for the other one. Gemmi72 wrote a story that accurately describes how sex between close friends can happen (https://corruptingmrsjones.wordpress.com/2023/03/15/joined-at-the-hip/)
I say “accurately” because with those close friends, that’s how we wound up having sex. I have some very fond memories of hanging out with them and just enjoying their company and no matter what we were doing or, since we were boys, wondering what kind of trouble we could get into. There was nothing we couldn’t and wouldn’t talk about; we knew each other’s family as if they were our own family. In the heat of summer days, we’d go skinny dipping along the creek – we had favorite places and some with rope swings – and seeing each other naked wasn’t a big deal.
Gemmi’s story really resonated with me because it was a moment of drying off in the sun – and on a rock – where one of my really close friends asked me, “Do you wanna have sex with me? I want to with you.” There was none of the “trepidation” or fear on my part but this friend was demonstrating all of it: Excited, uncertain, afraid of a lot of things including me saying no.
Which didn’t even cross my mind. In fact, I had zero thoughts about having sex with him. I just said, “Sure, okay…” I knew how to give a blowjob and, boy, did I give him one! I had the honor of being the person he ejaculated with for the first time and since I’d already gone through that scary moment, I was able to let him know that he was okay, nothing was wrong with him, and it gets better the more that happens.
He gave me a blowjob. He… fumbled through it for a few moments but like other guys who were doing this for the first time did, he figured it out. I told him that I was going to shoot and just like he did – girls made it very clear that if they were giving a blowjob, I’d better tell them that I was gonna do this so they could not get it in their mouth. He just nodded. He kept sucking me and fondling my balls and… I shot. I happened to be looking at him so I saw the look on his face and if I hadn’t been in the throes of my release, I would have been laughing my ass off.
“It tastes funny but not really bad,” he said after swallowing my stuff. I’m looking at him and he seemed… different. It would take me some time to figure out what that meant but kinda understood that we were now even closer than we were before. We both knew and felt it. We jumped back into the creek because, now, we were all hot and sweaty and had collected… stuff from the rock on us. We never had a problem being in each other’s “personal space” but after what we’d done on the rock, I wanted him in my space and I felt that he felt the same way because we were body to body in the water and it just felt right.
Out of the water, back on the hot rock and he asks, “Do you know what we have to do now?”
I did. We had to fuck. I needed him to fuck me and, at the time, I didn’t understand it but it made all the sense in the world. I had to tell him how to get it in me and, kinda funny, he zipped right into me so fast that I threw up a little but I assured him that I was okay. It was kinda awkward for me to reach behind me, grab his butt, and move him up and down; he caught on instantly and there we were, on a hot-assed rock on a hot summer day and he’s screwing me and… there was no other place I would wanted to be than under him and with his dick in me.
“This feels so good,” he said into my ear. “How come we never thought about this before?”
“I dunno,” I said. “I’m glad we did, though. It feels really good!”
He… had another moment when he shot his stuff into me but he didn’t “freak out” like he did in his first ejaculatory experience. He shot it in me and kept fucking me because, to me, his dick was even harder than it was before. It was so dreamy and I almost nodded off but he was shooting again and it was heavenly. He withdrew and said, “Back in the water!” I agreed but, honestly, I wasn’t really ready to get wet again; I just wanted to lie on the rock and enjoy what I was feeling including all of the stuff he shot into me now oozing out and making me feel very squishy.
Yeah, okay, back in the water. Thinking back about this particular moment, we were feeling that our friendship had changed and in a good and special way. We’re splashing around in the water, trying to dunk each other but, as I recall, it all felt… different. I think we were messing around in the water for maybe ten minutes when he said, “We have to get out so you can screw me now.” Back on the rock. Trying to generate enough spit to put on both of us. Him lying on his stomach and saying, “Hurry up. You gotta do it…”
I slipped into him, he gasped and tensed up for a moment but relaxed. For me, this obviously wasn’t the first time I’d screwed a boy, but this felt… different and I mean really different. You would have thought that we’d been doing this from the start and were used to each other.
“Wow, this really feels good,” he said and in a rather dreamy voice that I recognized since when I was talking to him as he screwed me, my voice had been just as dreamy.
“I’m glad it does,” I said. A couple of minutes later, I shot my stuff into him and… he giggled.
“That feels funny but it feels good – do you know what I mean?” he asked
It took me a moment to be able to answer him but I’d said that I did know. I’m about to pull out and probably hit the water again but he says, “Let’s do it the other way.”
That meant doing it the way I’d do it to a girl and it never occurred to me to ask him how he knew what “the other way” was because, in that moment, I didn’t care how he knew. My dick was still kinda hard (and what was going on with this?) and I slid back into him easily and the moment I was all the way in him, he wrapped me up with his arms and legs and pulling me close enough to kiss him… and I did. It made my head swim. Tongues got involved and I thought I was going to pass out. I was feeling like I’d shot my stuff but I knew I hadn’t and while I kinda remember feeling this weird thing before, this time, it felt different. Stronger. Better.
“Shoot it in me again,” he whispers into my ear. “Shoot it now and gimme all of it again.”
It felt like I wasn’t going to stop shooting. Today, the word I’d use to describe how I felt in that moment would be… intense. It had never felt like this with other boys. But I did stop and he’s all wrapped up around me, I’m still in him and… we’re both giggling because he said that he could feel my stuff going out and I could feel it, too and, well, it was funny.
“We should swim one more time,” he said. “But I don’t want to move – that’s weird, huh?”
“Yeah – I don’t want to move, either,” I said. I knew we had to and for a lot of reasons and beginning with that damned rock wasn’t exactly comfortable and my knees had gotten a little skinned from screwing him both time. But move we did. We dove into the water, got close to each other and… kissed again.
“We have to do this again tomorrow,” he said after we got out of the water, spent a few minutes getting sun-dried, and got dressed. He now looked the way I felt: Sad but happy and sad because we had to stop doing it because it was getting a little late. As we walked toward his home, we were… quiet. Today, I would say that we were… assimilating what we’d done and how it changed our friendship.
“We should have done this before now,” he said and he even sounded angry. “But I’m glad we did. I wanted to have sex with you.”
“I’m glad we did, too,” I said. Again, I had never thought or felt that way about him but when he said what he did, I knew it was the right thing for us to do. “It really felt good to me – did it feel good to you?”
Yeah, that part. I had to know if it felt good to him and I was afraid that he would say that it didn’t. Really afraid.
“It all felt really good to me and I liked everything we did,” he said.
I wanted to hold his hand while we were walking. Badly. We’re walking along and… bumping into each other and not in that intentional and playful way we sometimes did and trying to make each other stumble. This was… different. Like our bodies had to be close to each other. I… didn’t understand it but I liked it. We get to his house and we both greet his parents and… I didn’t want to leave him; the last thing I wanted to do was to go home but I knew I had to.
“See you tomorrow?” we both asked at the same time and… giggling like idiots.
The next day was a lot more of the same. At every turn, he kept saying or asking why we had never done this before we did and I kept saying that I didn’t know. Ditto for the next day. And the one after that. Almost every day for two weeks. Spending the night with him and neither of us getting much in the way of sleep.
One day – and after sucking and screwing each other silly he said, “Would it be weird if I said that I think I love you?”
My head swam. I felt so dizzy. I’m pretty sure that I told him that I loved him, too. I think. He kissed me with lots of tongue. My head swam even more. He sucked me again. Laid me down “in the other way” and screwed me and kissing me the whole time. Shot his cream into me. I felt like crying for some reason. Switched. I sucked him. His dick, for some reason, felt and tasted better than any other dick I’d sucked. He shot. I think he might have been crying.
“Do it to me now,” he said.
I did. Beyond amazing. I would later think and remember the times I’d actually felt this exact same way with the other close friends I had and we had sex… because it just felt like the thing we had to do. I didn’t understand it; didn’t understand the way I felt as I screwed him; felt like passing out when I shot my stuff into him and he’s clinging to me and just like some girls did. When he let me go, I saw that he had shot again; it was all over his stomach and mine, too.
We giggled. Went for a last swim. Dried off, got dressed, and started walking. He mentions that we are going to have to do it a lot more often because he heard his parents talking about moving but he wasn’t sure what was going on. My heart… skipped a beat or two; I wanted to barf for some reason. I knew this feeling, though, because every time I got to be this close to a friend, they wound up moving away and to another part of the city that there was no way my parents would let me walk to. I felt sick. He wasn’t looking all that good either.
We… had so much sex that we almost got caught quite a few times. There was a great urgency because he confirmed that they would be moving. We were in his room one day and going for it like tomorrow would never come. We’d just got done doing it for the second time, had barely gotten our clothes back on and… his dad knocked on his door. I knew this moment, too, and it was a scary one but that time, um, his dad sat me down and explained some “facts of life” to me. His dad asked us to do something for him and we went to do it but my heart was somewhere around my eyeballs and waiting for him to yell at us because he knew what we’d been doing… but that never happened.
Whew. Close call. The last time I saw him was both joyful and, like such things were before, one of the worst days in my life. We had sex in our favorite place. We laughed. We cried. We promised to write each other. He was gone the next day. I think the only thing that kept me from failing into despair was… I had other friends that I was that close to. Close enough that having sex… was the thing we had to do even though we’d never given it any thought before. And I didn’t know why.
I’m recalling all of this, and I can feel the sadness that I felt but I can also feel the joy and, dare I say, love that I must’ve really felt for him. I remember running into another of my really close friends – a girl this time – and I was telling her about why I was looking like somebody stole my lunch and her empathy and compassion was amazing.
“You need to have sex with me,” she said with authority. “Right now and because it’ll make you feel better… and I’m horny after you telling me how you two had sex.”
We went to have sex. Lot of oral; she knew that I ate pussy because I had told her all about that one. I screwed her twice. She was right: I did feel better and not because of all the sex we’d had but because I still had a friend – friends – that I was that close to. With her and the other girls, it wasn’t like we were going to be “going together,” and as we used to call it. We were friends. Really good friends and good enough that we could have sex and it didn’t mess up our friendship.
It would take me a lot of years before I was able to understand this better. That… connection that just happens and it’s such a wonderful feeling even though trying to figure out why it happens… is something I don’t think about anymore. Being friends and being, let’s call it, being intimate but not in a sexual way but then, that moment arrives and having sex… just makes all the sense in the world. One girl said, “What are friends for?” and on an occasion where the boyfriend she had… dumped her. I wanted to go beat him up for hurting my friend’s feelings.
“If you’re really my friend, um, you’ll have sex with me,” she said.
I’d never had a single thought about having sex with her. I… hesitated and that’s when she hit me with what she said and… we had sex. I remember her asking me, while I was screwing her for a second time, “Does it feel like this when you’re screwing a guy?” and… I couldn’t answer her. I actually stopped screwing her so I could think about it. Realized that with the friend who had moved, yeah, it did feel like this and said as much to her.
“Good. I think this is the way it’s supposed to feel,” she said. “And you wanna know the good part?”
“What’s that?” I said.
“We’ll still be friends,” she said.
Gemma’s story brought back a lot of memories. Good ones but kinda sad ones, too. I knew others who were close and like Gemma’s story was about and they’d gone through the same moment she wrote about; indeed, she could have been writing about quite a few girls that I knew.
This was about bisexuality but, in a way, it really wasn’t about that. It was about that very special intimacy that really close friends can share and… sex can happen. My friend “wasn’t like me” in that he had said that he’d never thought about having sex with a boy and when we had sex, it was his first time. It wasn’t about “liking boys” but very much about two guys who were very good friends… and even better friends afterward. He did say, oh, maybe after the third time we’d had sex, that he wouldn’t do this with anyone else, well, except girls. It made me feel… special. I could have sex with someone else and talk to him about it which usually resulted in us having sex because what we were doing was… different from being friends with someone else.
What a wonderful memory. Thanks, Gemma!
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