"So, where the fuck is your sister, James?"
"She won't be back for several hours, she needed to go see our mom."
"Oh, so do you want to wait for her here? Have a beer, maybe? Do you drink beer?"
"Yes, of course, why?"
"Well, I thought... never mind. I'll be back."
Was Tom asking that because I was gay, maybe? The guy was a bigger moron than I thought, surely thinking that I was some kind of fairy only drinking Cosmopolitan cocktails. It's beyond me how my sister can be with him, putting up with this macho nonsense. Countless times I had witnessed them talking like shit to each other, the guy treating my sister like a scatterbrained housewife. Did she enjoy being treated like that? Did she really love him? I mean, yes, the guy is physically hot. Very short hair, athletic, big arms, a severe look on his face. An All-American twenty-five years old asshole. But the rest was not appealing.
Anyway, since I knew him, I was sure he hated me. I was clearly the kind of guy he would have bullied in high school. I was short, skinny, not so much effeminate but maybe it was possible to see I was gay, I wasn't sure. After a moment, he came back with two beers, gave me one and sat on the sofa, next to me, at a reasonably safe distance. Jeez, I'm not going to jump on you...
— 1st beer —
"So, we never talked about it, but, is it true that you're... gay?"
What the fuck is this question? And we never talked about anything.
"Hum, yes, it's true."
"Oh, well, that's cool with me, you know."
I don't need your fucking approval.
"Cool."
"It's not really my thing, but you're cool, so I don't have a problem with you."
The guy is a walking cliché. God, where is my sister?
"Good to know. Thanks, I guess."
— 2nd beer —
"You have a... boyfriend or something?"
"No, I'm single."
"Lucky guy. Don't get we wrong, I love your sister, but sometimes I wish I'd be single just for one evening, you know."
Yes, to cheat on her, surely.
"Did you ever had a boyfriend?" He continued.
"Once, but it didn't last."
"Well, you're eighteen, right? It'll come soon enough."
— 4th beer —
"Oh my God, you're right, she did that all the time when we were younger."
We were now laughing, and I was beginning to wonder if maybe the guy was somewhat... nice. The alcohol was starting to have its effect. Was it a good idea to drink next to this guy? I couldn't stop looking at his bulge, and it seemed fucking enormous. And I was not discreet.
"Are you checking on my cock?"
"N-No."
"Hey, I'm not gay, man. What the fuck?"
"Sorry, Tom. I didn't mean to."
"Seriously, man, is this a gay thing, watching every cock you come across?"
"N-No."
"So it's just you? You're a slut, aren't you? I always knew it, since the first time your sister introduced us. Do you like it because it's big?"
"I'm not a slut! Why are you talking to me like that? I said I was sorry."
Tom laughed. "Yes, you're sorry, fucking slut. You'd love to see it, don't you?"
"No!"
"Of course you do. Here, let me show you a real man cock." Something completely unexpected happened, as Tom removed his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. He removed them, revealing his black briefs, that he put down on his ankles. The bulge was real, his cock was huge and thick. And, I didn't know if it was the beer or something else, but he was hard—like really hard. His balls were beautiful, with some hair, massive and tight. I wanted to touch them, lick them. But the guy was my brother-in-law, and even if the beers were making him show his cock, surely we weren't going to have sex.
"Obviously," he said, "as you're gay, you really want to suck it, right?"
"I'm not like that, stop talking to me like that."
"You are. I always saw you giggling your ass, being all fancy and stuff. You just like cocks, and I'm sure your ass is a garage."
God, the more he humiliated me, the more I was turned on and wanted to crawl between his legs and suck him hard. Maybe I could just move forward. The guy was talking like a closeted guy, and he had his cock in his hand. I was sure he wanted me, and these horrible words were his way of saying it. So I slowly moved my hand toward his cock, brushing it slowly at first, and then caressing it faster. I remained gentle, to not brusk him.
"Fuck man, what are you doing? I'm not gay."