A Long Distance Gift

"Oh, a package."

I pick up the orange box that have been under the doorstep of the apartment. I shake it near my ear. I can tell there is only one item inside.

I look at the name that is written on the box. "Wyeth Grit." And then under it I read, "From Lady Geneva." I laugh. I decide to take it with me inside.

Upon opening the door, I find my roommate sitting on the sofa, watching Netflix on the television while drinking soda.

I raise the box and declare, "hey. Didn't you know that there's a package here for you?"

Wyeth's eyes widen, "oh shit! I didn't notice that! Give me that!"

I throw the box to him. He catches it. He reads the writings. He looks flustered.

I grin, "so, who is this Lady Geneva? Another cougar you're playin'?" I joke.

"Shut up, Blane," he grumbles as he puts the box away.

I laugh.

Wyeth has been my friend for the longest time that I can remember. We had been classmates in high school. We have been staying in this apartment since college. We went to different universities, but within the same city. Eventually, we were able to find jobs in the city, so we never left the apartment and had been roommates ever since.

"You're just jealous because you're too busy with your job to get pussy," he mocks me.

I roll my eyes, "I'm happy being single, than put my cock in prehistoric vagina." Then I point to the box, "so what's inside."

"None of your business, man," he snaps.

Ever since my friend discovered his charm for older ladies, he used it to his advantage. At first, he would go on dates with local women and ask them to buy him things. Most of his relationships with these older women were short lived.

Then he decided to make it his side business. He started actively seeking foreign sugar mommies online. I would cringe every time I catch him flirting with old women on Facetime.

But he did get luxurious stuff from the old rich ladies that took interest in him. And he did not really have to have a romantic relationship with them. Everything was transactional from the get go.

I am can almost call Wyeth a prostitute, but he is still a full time employee as a files manager at a law office. And if I do, he might just retort and say I'm jealous of all the perks he's been getting with whatever lifestyle he has.

"Why do you look so guilty," I taunt him, "when you get your stuff you always open them in front of me and brag about your new gadget or designer shoes."

"Tch. Just mind your own business, Blane. I'm watching TV!" he responds angrily.

I shrug. "Chill Wyeth. What's up with you today?!"

I drop my bags on the other side of the sofa. I yawn and stretch. It's rewarding to be an accountant in a large outpatient psychiatric and counseling unit, but it's just so damn tiring. I relax as I watch the comedy show with him.

Then Wyeth stands up, "hey you want something to drink? I'm going to the kitchen to get beers."

"Yeah. A can for me please."

Then he walks out.

My eyes quickly dart to the box. My curiosity about the package grows because of his reluctance to open and show it to me. I decide to get it and quickly open the box.

"HOLY SHIT!" I bellow when I find out what's inside.

"FUCK YOU BLANE! I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH THAT!" I hear Wyeth growl.

He storms into the living area and seizes the uncovered box from me.

"What the fuck is that?! Why did she send you a fucking dildo?!" I ask in shock.

His face was furious, "and why should I tell you?! You did nothing but make fun of my fetishes!" Then he started walking away.

I stand and rush to him, I hold his arm to stop him, "okay. Okay. Okay. I'm sorry. I won't judge you. But if you don't tell me- whatever that is or why that is- or whatever- I'll just think you're crazy. I really just wanna know. Because I am honestly worried for you. You chase old women for money- some of them married. And now you have a dildo? Do you have another secret life that you're not telling me?"

Wyeth sighed. "No, I'm not crazy- it's just- if I tell you, you promise not to judge me?"

I hold up my hands, "I promise. I won't be an ass."

We both sit down on the sofa. We tame our emotions.

"Okay this Lady Geneva. She's from Norway. We met in- yeah- well you know the sites I go to to search for my ladies," Wyeth explains, "and she's really sexy, man. And she's soooo fucking loaded. Like she literally owns a castle. And she gives me so much money."

I butt in, "then why are we still in this medium sized apartment?"

"I'm saving for Law School. You know that," he answers, "anyways, she is also like- the kinkiest lady I've been with. She likes to dominate me and stuff-"

"-Eeeek."

Wyeth glares at me, "fuck you. Now you're judging me."

"I'm just fucking surprised okay. So... again. Explain that dildo."

"She wants me to use it... on my ass..." he mutters, embarrassed. "And she'll pay me like ten thousand bucks or more."

I raise my eyebrow. "And you're gonna do it?"

"Didn't you hear me? Ten thousand dollars!"

"You didn't answer me." Then I pointed at the box that had the image of a flesh colored dildo with the label "seven inches" on it. "You're willing to fuck yourself with that?"

"I'd eat your ass for ten thousand dollars," he replied sarcastically, "I bet you'll do worse things if you get offered the same amount."

"Nah. Won't go that low to get high." Of course that was a lie. Who knows what I'll do if someone offers me a huge sum of money?

"Look, you're not the one who's gonna put a fucking dick in his ass. It's me. And it's not even a dick. It's just a sex toy," he explains further, "and it's not like I'm gonna be ass-playing in front of you."

"Yeah, but I can hear you moaning in your room sometimes," I retort.

He sighs. "Okay, I'll schedule my calls with Lady Geneva when you're not here. Happy now? I don't care if whatever you think of me. I need the money. I don't think silicone in my ass will make me a faggot and make me rape you. I'm doing this for women okay?"

I hold up my hands, "okay fine. I'll let you be. You do you. I'm just saying, you don't really need to screw yourself so much because of these fleeting women. I've heard stories of sex addicts patients at work ending up in deep therapy because it really ruined their lives."

He taps my shoulder. "I'll be okay. Okay?"

"Okay. Just- if this sideline or hobby or fetish of yours starts to mess you up, let me know, I can hook you up with counselors at work," I tell him.

He smiles. "Thanks dude. You've been always judge-y about my life choices, but I know you care."

I get the fallen can and open it, "just don't go gay on me when you found out you like plugging your ass with cock."

"Fuck you. This is just going to be a one time thing okay? I'm just gonna get the money and then throw this stupid thing away," says Wyeth. He picks the box and start marching to his room to keep it.

I sip on the can then shout, "just don't do your ass plugging session when I'm here."

——————————————————————————

Sunday morning, three days after.

I wake up early to jog. I return to the house to cook breakfast.

While frying eggs, I hear the door from Wyeth's room open. He walks out and comes to the dinner table wearing a white tank top and his gray briefs. His hair is a mess. His face crumpled in a mix of frustration and disappointment. He walks funny.

"You look terrible," I tell him as I start placing the eggs on a plate to serve.

He holds his head, "ugh. Fuck. The dildo was so fucking painful. Shit." He tries to sit, "aw! OUCH!"

"Oh shit. So you already tried it?" I ask him.

"Yeah. Last night. Geneva and I did it online. She watched me impale myself on that wretched thing. I didn't want to go through with it but she already wired me the money. Ugh. It's a good think I didn't bleed but fuck it my ass is so sooore!" he complains.

I want to feel sorry for him but a laugh escapes my mouth instead.

He darts an angry stare at me, "nice going Blane. Real sympathetic."

I choke, stopping myself from chuckling, "I'm sorry. I just couldn't believe you really went through with it."

"If it really weren't for the cash. I would not have done it. I feel injured. I feel like hell," he exclaims remorsefully.

"We have a stash of Tylenol in the medicine cabinet," I say as I serve him the foods that I cooked, "and eat up. You're gonna need energy to heal."

"Yeah. I don't think I'll have energy to go to the gym with you today," he grumbles, "ugh. I'll just stay in bed, I think."

"So, what are you gonna do now? You still gonna hook up virtually with that Lady Geneva of yours?" I inquire.

He shakes his head firmly, "uh-uh. No way. After we were done last night, I firmly told her that I am cutting our ties. If she was okay with me writhing in pain for her viewing pleasure, god knows what else she'll make me do for her creepy kinks." Then he munched on a toast. "And I'm fucking throwing away that fucking dildo. I really wonder how the gays do it. Ugh."

"Yeah. Maybe you should stick to your other ladies who aren't as crazy as her," I advise.

"Nah. Maybe I'm just gonna rest for a little bit from whoring myself out to rich women," he says. "I've enough savings anyways. Maybe I could just use that to- I don't know, begin a start-up? Or maybe start finding a decent law school."

"Yeah, that's a good idea," I agree with him, "I don't want you turning this place into a BDSM sex den."

"Yeah whatever. You're just a workaholic man who can't get laid because he's too busy!" he snaps back.

We just laugh at each other and continue our breakfast.

——————————————————————————

Wednesday afternoon, three days later.

I return home early that day. I unlock the front door and get shocked upon opening it.

"HOLY SHIT!" I bellow.

"AGGHH OOHHH BLANE I'M SORRY SHIIT OHHH OHHH! SHIIIIIT! AAAAAHHH!"

Wyeth is on the sofa, completely naked. His right hand is on his hard member. His left hand's two fingers are inside his asshole. In front of him is the television playing porn. The woman is being fucked by two men. One dick is in her ass. The other is in her pussy.

And coincidentally, I opened the door at the exact moment of his orgasm. I watch his body writhed and shuddered as large blasts of cum fired from his engorged cock and splattered on his well-built pectorals and abs. His face paints a mixture of expressions of embarrassment and elation.

"What the hell are you doing, Wyeth?!" I demand, still flabbergasted at what I just witnessed.

He tries to turn away from me but his hand is still not moving away from his cock and ass, "what the fuck?! Why are you home so early?!"

"It's the boss's birthday! He gave us a half day work-free bonus!" I respond irritably, "how about you?! Why aren't you at work?!"

"I'm off today! SHIT!" he shouts.

I point at his bottom, "are you fucking fingering yourself?"

He panics, "what?! No- I?!" He immediately pulls his fingers out. There were actually three inside. His hole is open and gaping- and hairless. Just like the rest of his crotch.

"And you're shaving your groin now?" I ask with a heavy tone.

"Damn it! I was just jacking off! We've seen each other naked before! What's the big deal about it?!" he retaliates.

"And you really had to do it on the sofa?!"

"I didn't know you were coming! I was gonna clean up! I do this all the time!"

While in the middle of our heated exchange, I could not take my eyes away from his pinkish pucker in the middle of his well formed muscled ass. It winks at me, like it's inviting me to do something to it. It looks like a wet pussy to me.

While it is true that I have seen Wyeth naked many times before- we have been gym buddies since high school, and maybe have shared circle jerk offs with friends when we were younger- but seeing him in today in a solo sexual bliss, showered by cum all over his body is just so- different. My heart races.

I shake my head trying to shake the thought. "I'll take a shower. Please clean up. And let's just talk about this later."

Then I march into our shared bathroom, take my clothes off and let the cold water flow onto my body- hopefully to dissipate whatever weird heat that is already starting from my insides.

——————————————————————————

But we never really got to talk about it. After that extremely awkward situation, we rarely saw each other. We had our respective jobs. And whenever he was home, Wyeth would just lock himself inside his bedroom, with loud lo-fi music blasting until midnight. Maybe he is still embarrassed by that awkward situation.

Of course, I know that what happened would not really mar our friendship. But I think some time apart would help me too. I have been overly scandalized by my last images of him. Sometimes, my mind replays his gaping hole like a gif. I don't know if I should worry for him or me. Maybe it's all just part of the trauma of being unprepared to see my friend fingering himself and cumming, and also not getting any sex from a girl in almost a month as I am always busy and tired because of work.

Friday. Two days after the incident. I do not have the energy to party as my body has been craving for sleep as that week have been hellish at work.

I knock first before I enter. I don't want to catch him in any form of shocking act again. I do not hear anything from the other side of the door. I assume that it must be safe. When I come in, I immediately hear the lo fi music coming from Wyeth's room. He must already be at home.

I decide to walk to the bathroom to take a shower. However, when I get in there I am shocked by an object that is suctioned on the wall in front of the shower.

It's the dildo that was delivered to him. It's just wobbling there.

"I thought he threw this away already?" I whisper to myself.

This is the first time I have seen a dildo in the flesh- and it really is made of flesh-colored stuff. Damn. I can't believe Wyeth put this in him for money. But what is this doing here? My first suspicion is that he is using this to a girl.

But I remember his gaping hole again. I remember how his three fingers probed his own hole a few seconds before he came when I entered the house two days ago. I remember how he kept fingering it even if he finished his orgasm.

Is he still using this on himself?

I am appalled by the sex toy dangling in the space where I am supposed to wash my body. But I am more curious now. It is more lifelike than I imagined. I come closer- cautious, as if it is a snake that is about to bite me.

My dick is six inches. I remember the label in the box this dildo came in: seven inches. Mentally, I compare the length of my cock with the toy dick in front of me. I am awed at the difference that an inch can do. And also, this dildo suctioned on the wall is much thicker than my member.

I wrap my fingers around its girth. It's so life like. It's like I'm handling an actual cock.

My other hand fumbles through my own pants. I open the fly of my pants. I reach inside my briefs and feel my own cock. I try to make a comparison of the two dicks I am handling. I decide that my own dick is hotter, wetter and harder than this dildo. My hand jacks off both members.

Then I come to a realization. "Wait? Why am I hard?"

Before I could even address my own curiosities, the phone in my pocket vibrates. I release the two cocks in my hands and get my phone. Wyeth's name is registered.

"Hey," I answer quietly, almost in a hush. I don't know why I did that.

"What time are you going home tonight?" he asks. I can hear the lo-fi music from his room on the phone.

"Ahh... Maybe after midnight. My coworkers and I are heading to the bar." I don't know why I lied.

"Oh okay. Copy. Just asking," then he drops the call.

I panic and leave the dildo alone. I stand up and tiptoed to my bedroom.

A few seconds after I close my door, the door from the other bedroom opens. I hear footsteps walking to the bathroom.

I can hear Wyeth talking aloud, "shit. I almost forgot I left you here! Damn. We'll have good times tonight. Blane is gonna be home late!"

"Is he talking to his dildo?" I ask myself.

My mind is racing with images and possibilities. And I really know what is up with my friend.

I take off my clothes. I cannot open my air conditioner because its hum might make him suspect that I am here. So, I stay in my tightie whities.

I stare at my engorged member strained in front of my briefs. I'm really horny now. I try scrolling through my social media feeds silently to distract me from my erection and while waiting for- I don't know what.

Then I hear a loud grunt from the outside. "OOOH FUCKING SHIT!"

I drop my cellphone and quietly open my door. I have to see whatever Wyeth is doing. And boy am I shocked at the sight.

Wyeth is on the sofa, naked. His legs are up. His left hand is holding the dildo that is inside his ass. His other hand is on his dick.

Wyeth flinches when he sees me, "fuck! I thought you were out?!"

I don't address his question, "wow. You're really taking it all in."

He bites his lip, "man. I don't care what you think okay. This just feels good. Judge me all you- oohhhhh shit..."

He is already too into whatever he is doing. He is whimpering like a dog in heat. He starts plugging the dildo in and out of his gaping ass.

And I just stand there. I am not looking away.

He glares at me while he ravages his own asshole, "stand and stare all you like, I am not stopping this is- oooooohhh fuuuck..." His toes flex as a sign of the pleasure he feels.

I swallow as my curiosity consumes me, "you need help?"

Wyeth pauses. His eyebrows meet, "what do you mean?"

I walk to him the kneel beside the sofa. My hand replaces his on the dildo. I push it inside. I can feel the tightness inside, but I am awed at how his hole stretches to accommodate the girth and the additional inch.

I feel his body shudder, "ohh man... that's soooo deep!"

"You want me to keep doing that?" I ask.

"Yes please. Ohhh shiiiiit..."

I continue moving it in and out. I watch intently as I see his ass lips quiver and stretch as it accommodates the girth. I am fascinated. I can hear the squishing sound of the lubricating fluid he coated the dildo and his insides with.

Wyeth shudders again and whimpers, "oh shit! That's so good ohhhh..."

I look at him intently, while still thrusting the toy in and out of his hole, "what has happened to you?"

"I... ohhh... After I broke off with Geneva... I... ohh... I just tried using it again... and shit... ugghhh... it started feeling different... it started to feel good... I played my ass with it since then... Ughh... shiiiit yeaaaahhh... my ass feels sooooo gooood... ohhh..."

He slides his hands from his sweaty pecs down to his abs then his hands handle his erection. I have seen his cock hard before. But never this close.

"Doesn't it hurt?" I ask.

"A little but the pleasure I get is... ohhh... all worth it," he cooes.

I try different strokes. Fast. Slow. Sometimes I'd rotate and then change the angles. Sometimes I'd pull it out completely then slam it back in. I enjoy hearing the different moans he creates whenever I make new insertions.

He jacks off his dick faster now. Then he warns, "Blane... Blane oh my goood! Oh my goood! I'm cumming!"

I decide to thrust the dildo in and out of him at a faster pace, mimicking his beating of his meat.

Wyeth arches his back then bellows, "shiiit ohhhhhhhh my gooood!" Then cum shoots out of his cock. The first fire lands on his chin. And the four volleys of semen shower his torso.

I pause after he climaxes. "Should I stop?"

He bits his lips, "no. Just keep going."

"Damn. You're getting gay over this dildo," I tell him as I continue stuffing him. I can stop if I wanted to, but I am just too fascinated at his ass.

Wyeth laughs, "aggh shit man. Yeah. Maybe, maybe I'm getting gay. Now I know why they like getting fucked."