The Secret

2. Dave

DaveNow and again I took stock of my life. It was nearly yet another birthday, 23 was almost upon me, and tonight seemed like a good time to open up my list from last year and find out what I had managed to achieve off my goals for the year. I had managed to get a promotion, and done a few of the things I’d challenged myself with – a bungee jump most notably, although there was no way in hell I was doing that again. I knew the one that was going to be put off again to next year. It just seemed to move across from list to list, always at the top. TELL STEVE.

When I first put that on the list, three birthdays ago, it meant ‘tell Steve I’m gay’. Now it meant ‘tell Steve I’m gay and I want to spend the rest of my life with him’. If it wasn’t happening for the first one, I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him that. I used to figure it would come up in conversation sometime, but there never seemed to be the perfect moment, and I was fairly sure now that there never would be. How do you just drop that into a chat?

I’d got myself too deep now, spending all my time with him, working with him and living with him. There was no way we could continue with that if he knew how I really felt, so I just kept it as my secret and hoped he would never notice the way I sometimes looked at him. I knew we were close, but it was totally non-s****l, much to the disappointment of my d**k.

If I ever managed to admit to him that I liked boys he would wonder why I hadn’t told him sooner. It’s not like we just met. I should have mentioned it at the start, or at least before we moved into our shared flat, but like I said, there was never the perfect moment. I loved the time I spent with him and I never wanted it to end. I’d had a few brief flings before we started living together, but since then I’d been living like a monk, scared in case he caught me with a man. And I didn’t want anyone else anyway. A bit of company would be nice sometimes, but at the end of the day I only wanted to be having s*x if it was with him.

I kept hoping for some sign that he might be open to at least an experiment. It would probably kill our friendship if it did happen though. The number of times I thought about getting him drunk and seducing him was ridiculous, but I never dared actually do it. Truth was, I didn’t want to scare him away from me. It didn’t stop me imagining what it might be like though.

Sometimes I caught him coming out of the shower with only a towel around him and the sight of his hairy chest had me heading for a shower myself so I could jerk off with the image fresh in my mind. I don’t think he would believe he had a good body, but even though he didn’t have a six-pack, I just wanted to cuddle up to him. I liked a little bit of padding on my men, and he had that but still some definition. I was just a weed, straight up and down and barely able to keep my trousers up without a belt.

And his hairy chest, that just made me want to run my fingers through it for hours. The one thing that really did it for me was chest hair, and he had more than enough to make me drool. I suspected if anyone played with it he would be moaning his pleasure in no time, and I had imagined doing it often enough. I wanted to be the one that he discovered that turn on with, and pretty much every other thing I could think of that would have him coming in my hand, my mouth, or my ass.

I had a couple of days off at the end of the week ready for my birthday, and Steve was going to join me on Friday so we could do something for the day, although since we had planned to be drinking on the Thursday night it was pretty likely half of Friday would pass by in a sleepy haze and we’d just end up watching Firefly on DVD again. He didn’t know about my thing for Nathan Fillion, but there were some pretty women in it too so I could get away with lusting and it not be obvious. I was actually glad that Steve would be out of the flat for two days, not because I wanted to be away from him but because it gave me a chance to indulge my (very) guilty pleasures.

By Wednesday I was more than ready for Steve to be out of the flat for a while. I got up at my usual time so I could join him for breakfast. I enjoyed sitting there having a chat over a cup of coffee and some cereal and didn’t really want to miss out on that bit of time with him even if we weren’t then heading out together. Once he left I waited for about half an hour, which seemed to take forever to pass by, to make sure he wasn’t coming back because he’d forgotten something. I really didn’t think he’d appreciate finding me, and I definitely didn’t want to get caught.

Very rarely was I in our flat for long by myself, but when I was I took total advantage, like I was going to now. I headed from the living room back towards the bedrooms, straight into Steve’s, and fell onto the bed. I wrapped myself in the duvet, smelling Steve on the covers and the pillow. It wasn’t stale or sweaty, it was just the natural smell of him and it could drive me wild.

My c**k was hard already, the anticipation of being able to do this again was almost enough because the opportunity came so rarely. I inhaled deeply as I started to stroke my d**k, thinking about Steve, but my fantasy Steve who came on to me, or responded to my unspoken desires.

I had already raided his laundry basket and put a couple of pairs of boxers ready for me. I really was desperate, and he had no idea that he regularly lost his underwear to me until I could exchange it for a fresh pair full of his scent. One pair went to my face so I could breathe him in, and the other to my c**k to catch my release when it came. Being surrounded by the smell of the man I needed so badly meant it didn’t take long.

I pictured myself playing with Steve, licking at his face and neck and kissing him hard whenever I could, before I pushed him down my body. I gave my n*****s a few tweaks as I thought about him sucking and nibbling at them. My movements and my thoughts together made pleasure shoot down to my c**k and I started stroking harder and faster, keeping my fantasy going as he moved down over my chest, my stomach, and eventually to my leaking d**k. I moaned loudly at the thought of his hand caressing my balls and shaft.

Fantasy Steve had only just started to lick at my c**k head and I was shooting my load, groaning out loud as I did so. I lay for a while longer, imagining being curled up with him after the main event. I might be doing a pretty sad thing, but it wasn’t just that I wanted s*x, I wanted everything with him. I had to work hard to fight the urge to fall asleep in the little cocoon I wanted to believe was the real him. I wanted to be in his bed all the time, and with him there to do all these things in the real world.