Manuel and Jon had been best friends since they were kids. Their families lived 3 doors down from each other and they just seemed to gravitate toward each other and one day Manuel came how after a day playing outside on the block with a little white boy seemingly attached to Manuel at the hip, much to the confusion of Manuel's Columbian parents. They went to school together, discovered girls together, and lived through some of the most important moments of each other's lives. None of their differences seemed to matter. Not even college was enough to keep them apart when Jon dropped out half way through his Freshman year and Manuel stayed on to get his master's degree in finance. At thirty-two they still hung out every chance they got, between work and girlfriends they made it work. That's how they ended up in Miami one weekend attending a Marlins game. It was Manuel's team and Jon didn't really care either way, a boys weekend in Miami sounded fucking great. They'd spent most of the earlier part of the beach drinking and then they had gotten even more drunk during the game. Things escalated even more when Manuel's team actually lost and he wanted to drown his sorrows in a bottle. Jon, of course, had to match his efforts, not be outdone by his friend.
They were blackout drunk by the time they made it back to the hotel. In their stupor they'd stumbled into Jon's hotel room and collapsed on the same bed, immediately falling asleep. That was how Jon ended up waking to the best smell he'd ever smelled filling his nostrils. Dark, musky, carrying a heavy spice. He remembered thinking he wanted to breathe this in forever, the heady scent of something familiar. He could almost taste it. It felt heavy on his face. Something was heavy on his face, he realized as he slowly began to wake. He nuzzled his face deeper into the scent and breathed in before he fully opened his eyes and started to gain full awareness of where he was. He felt polyester across his cheek, breathed in the familiar scent and felt the weight shift underneath him. He heard the sound of someone groaning their in sleep.
Suddenly a flash of the night before hit him all at once. Both of them were drunk as fuck, stumbling to his room. He remembered Manuel trying to get his own pants off and then giving up when he got his zipper down and pulled halfway down his thigh. Manuel then collapsed on the bed. Jon remembered not even bothering to get comfortable, only climbing in bed and immediately falling asleep where he landed. He must have moved around in his stupor, because he was waking up with his head in Manny's crotch. His face was practically buried in Manny's open boxer fly. He'd been breathing in the scent of Manny's pubes in his sleep.
The shock hit him fast. He wanted to jump away quickly, but then he realized that if he moved he'd wake Manny who was still deep asleep. Manny knew what happened he'd never let Jon live it down for the rest of his fucking life.
He carefully got up and removed himself from the bed. He successfully tip-toed his way to the bathroom without waking Manuel who was so out cold he was still snoring at the head of the bed by the time Jon turned on the shower. As he stood under the showerhead letting the water hit him, Jon decided he would never bring this up and he would never think about it again.
Except, about a week later, he realized he couldn't not think about it. The smell.
Whenever he found himself alone, whether it was while he was doing something at work, when he was alone in his car, eating food, or laying down to sleep at night, he couldn't stop thinking about the smell. It was crazy and gross, disgusting even, but he had never felt a desire as strong as something like this before. It wasn't as if he had never smelled a dick before. He was a dude. He'd scratched his balls and sniffed his fingers a thousand times, but this was different. Manuel's scent, It was insanely potent. He could only describe it as incredibly masculine. It was like spending a day at the gym and not bothering to shower for another day. That smell wasn't unfamiliar, he usually was disgusted by it when it came from him or the smell of an unwashed stranger on the street, but in this case it had elicited a totally different reaction. The memory of it haunted him.
When he was alone with Manuel things were awkward as hell. He had difficulty looking Manuel in the eye, afraid that he would somehow suddenly remember. He didn't feel any different about Manuel as he had previously. He wasn't attracted to Manny's body, or any dude's body for that matter. He still loved women, although he'd been in the middle of a dry spell for a while, he still loved women and their bodies. It was just something about that smell.
About a week after the incident he and Manuel decided to go to the fitness center together for a game of pickup basketball. It was something they did often when their schedules seemed to lined up during the week. They'd just finished their last game and were in the locker room, chatting. Jon was watching as Manuel, with a towel wrapped around his waist, pulled off his gym shorts and underwear in one movement from underneath the towel. Except it wasn't a pair of boxers that he'd pulled off, but a plain, white jockstrap. Manuel tossed the clothes into his locker and haphazardly closed it before heading to the showers.
Jon's thoughts raced. There was no way he was going to do what he wanted to do. There was no way! It was insane. Manuel was his best friend. It was crossing the line. He felt his body moving as he creeped closer to the locker, There wasn't anyone else around. His hand was on the lock which was not even properly secured shut. He opened it and reached his hand into the pile of clothes pulling the jock from the pile.It felt slightly damp with Manuel's ball sweat.
There was a cup in the jock. He stealthily leaned forward and put his nose to the pouch and sniffed. The smell hit him like a shot of dopamine to the brain. The scent was still fresh and strong and it made his brain light up.
He needed this. He wanted this. He....His thought was broken by the sound of someone coughing a few rows away. Without thinking he grabbed the jock and put it in his bag, closing everything up as best he could remember it. He felt a cold sense of dread as he left the locker room without showering and drove home. Manuel texted him later asking what happened and he made up some excuse as to why he had to run. Manuel didn't mention that his jock was missing. Jon had to get over this.
