(All characters are over 18)
It all started with me tasting my roommate's sweat when we were at the gym.
My roommate Lucas was my sister's ex-boyfriend. The break-up was as friendly as they come, with both of them just deciding it was the best thing to do. We moved in together after.
In fact, we were so like brothers, it was a relief when he stopped screwing my sister. I can say our friendship got better after the whole thing. And since he accepted me at his place, I had a lot more freedom.
Sometimes I thought I was taking away his freedom. He was older than me, 27, and not all of his friends wanted a 20 year old around... or at least that was how I felt. But Lucas always insisted in bringing me along to every party, meeting, hanging out. He was my big bro.
We spent too much time together, so we were bound to share intimacies. For example, Lucas naked body was something I was very used to, and so was he to mine. It was never weird. Long seconds, even minutes, staring at his bulge whenever I could had been a habit of curiosity, nothing more.
We were so close, that any curiosity I had should be towards him, it felt natural. We had so much opportunities together, going to the gym, practicing sports like soccer, jogging. There was absolutely nothing wrong or worrying about looking at your bro and recognizing that he was hot. It didn't mean you were attracted to him, just that he was attractive.
There was an instance that would be hard to explain; it happened at the gym. I was laying down on the equipment and about to lift weight.
— Lucas, come... — I said, — A little help here.
He had been talking to a girl. He smiled at her, touching her arm, and then he came.
— Sorry, bro.
— Yeah, I get it. Just help me alright.
I grabbed the bar and lifted with his help, and he slowly guided me up and down. I was looking up at him, looking at his glistening sweaty face. He was looking sideways, distracted with the girl, but still helping me. And through out the exercise, the sweat from his face was falling down, dropping from his chin and straight to my lips. I was so surprised at that first drop, I couldn't react, I just cleaned my lips with my tongue, tasting the salty musk. I decided to never mention it had happened. But it kept happening. Drop after drop, straight to my lips. When I was done, I called his attention quickly. I raised myself from the equipment and strode to the bathroom, locking myself and waiting for my erection to go away.
Those erections, men. They were so inconvenient sometimes. I guess my body got confused with the whole situation. I had tasted my bro's sweat, and I didn't want to explain why I took so long to say something. The fact that I didn't hate the taste was another matter, but that could easily be that Lucas was my bro, I was used to him as a person, close to him, I loved him as a bro. Nothing weird about that.
But I still decided never to tell him.
He came after me.
— Tiago, are you okay? — he asked through the stall door.
I opened it.
— Yeah, dude. Why?
— You got out of there pretty quickly.
— I'm fine. I just needed to come. — I scoffed. Then I realized what I said could be interpreted in another way. — You know. To the bathroom.
— Uh, yeah, you're in the bathroom.
— Let's go.
He payed more attention to me during the work out. And I was fine with that. Not that I didn't want him flirting with girls, but we were faster, more effective, when we didn't have any distractions. Every other time I asked him to come and help me lift the weight, I was anticipating more sweat on my face, but it didn't happen. Fortunately.
When we came home, Lucas left his sweaty shirt on the couch. I was the one to usually carry it to the bathroom later. This time, while he was showering, I just decided, out of nowhere, to smell it. And I expected to hate it. But just like the taste of the sweat, the smell of my bro wasn't all that bad. I stared at the shirt for a while, trying to think about what was happening. And I came to the obvious conclusion that I was too used to his smell to dislike it. If I started to freak out over everything, I would have left this place a long time ago. I smiled at my myself, at my silliness, at my insecurities. I smelled the shirt once more, lingering inside that scent, enjoying the maleness of my incredible roommate. My cock got hard. I disregarded it. I rubbed the shirt on my nose, really hard, just to prove that there was nothing wrong with it.
He almost caught. I heard the bathroom door opening, and quickly threw the shirt away as he came to the living room, towel around his waist, all wet.
— Are you making something for us? — he asked me, his long hair glued to his wet face. — Or do I order?
— I'll make you something. For us.
He nodded, and left me. My heart was beating so fast, so goddamn fast.
I took his shirt again, and this time, I took it to the bathroom, and sniffed it really good, before throwing it on the bowl of dirty clothes.
I did not worry about my behavior, so I did not try to change it.
From dirty sweaty shirts, to dirty underwear. The smell of his cock was so strong, so powerful, it resembled his sweat but in a more forceful way, more intruding, more abusive, more vulgar.
I loved that fucking smell so much.
Mind you, I still didn't think it was that bad of a deal. In my mind, I was just being an asshole, joking around, acting weird, but nothing too serious.
So I started to licking the cum marks he left on his underwear, those small white marks you left when your cock was hard but you couldn't do anything about it. I was licking my bro's cum, in a way. That idea made me hard. But just because it was so crazy, so wild, so wrong. There was nothing more to it other than the curiosity to be doing something that I knew I shouldn't. I comforted myself with those thoughts, while enjoying the smell of Lucas's cock and getting hard doing it.
My mind raced with fantasies of getting caught by Lucas.
Many times, he had been so close to me, a few paces from the bathroom where I was locked in, smelling his dick. It was enough to make me cum even without beating my meat, which I started doing it every day. I had to look at my bro's face every time, knowing what I had just done, and I could only manage by reminding myself I was not doing anything wrong, because nobody would ever know, specially Lucas.
Maybe I would grow out of it. No, no, not maybe. I would totally grow out of it. So why should stop right now?
It was only natural to observe Lucas' bulge after knowing what the cock behind the print smelled like. Suddenly, his gym shorts were not enough to hide the monster. Lucas seemed to always be hard, it was the only explanation for that volume. Either that, or it was really a monster cock. But I had seen it before, so why was I so impressed now? I hoped to grow out of that too. Until then, I convinced him to free-balling our jogging routine. Underwear was so oppressive for our buddies down below sometimes. Lucas loved making his big cock roll free. We got dirty sometimes, making jests, talking about girls, making ourselves hard while in public. We were just two straight buddies having fun.
Things started to dawn on me when Lucas began to meet with some girl every night. Some secret girl. I fucking missed him so much. I would try and watch some TV without him and then turn it off quickly and hunt for his smell in his used clothes from the day. Then, I decided to go beyond that, and lied down on his bed, rubbing the pink head of my hard cock on the mattress where he slept, while stuffing my nose on his pillow.
— You smell so good, man. So good. Wish you were here. — I would say aloud.
Okay, maybe I had a little attraction. Didn't meant I was gay. Didn't mean I was a sissy. I just had to hide, fuck some girls, and get rid of this obsession. I would have to find something new to occupy my mind. I was proud of my ability to pretend nothing was wrong, and our friendship, Lucas and I, we never suffered, we never changed. I never slipped. I was his bro.
I should have fucking slipped.
I should have let him catch me sometime, smelling his underwear like a slut.
I should have begged.
I'll explain.
Someone started a rumor in our neighborhood, something about Lucas that made my blood run cold at first, then hot, filled with rage. People were saying that he was fucking some faggot. I was outraged, mad beyond belief, and even snapped at my sister for telling me.
She had been giving me a lift to our parent's house when she told me.
— Don't hurt the messenger! — she said to me, smiling.
— You shouldn't be spreading this shit.
— It wasn't me.
— You just did.
— To you. Are you telling anyone?
— Of course not — I was avoiding eye contact, waiting for the burning on my cheeks to cool down. — It's not true.
— I know, I know.
Anyone who saw me would think I was offended for Lucas, or disgusted by the idea, or in denial. I could not even pretend to myself that it was anything other than jealousy.
But I still did not believe it, because I believed in Lucas masculinity more than anything. The rumor was false, and the people who started were probably some wishful-thinking sissies out there. There was no way in hell my bro was fucking another man's ass. No way. I even calmed myself later, knowing that that was true. My jealousy I disregarded completely, it wasn't even worth considering.
It took a while for me to confront him. I was expecting him to snap at me and deny everything. I remember his face clearly. It was late at night, and we were sitting down at the front porch of our place. The rumor was hanging on the air between us. I knew it, he knew it, but we managed to avoid it for a great deal, talking about every thing else.
Then he smoked his cigar, and looked at me.
— It's true, man.
I didn't want to believe it.
— What?
— You know what, come on. — He avoided his eyes, so I was to stare, my heart beating so fast. Lucas seemed so calm, so neutral, so nonchalantly. — I'll understand if you want to leave. But it is true. I'll deny it to everyone else, but not to you, because you live with me.
— Fucking hell.
Lucas threw away his cigar, and looked at me with wide eyes, and now he was showing some instability.
— I'm not a homo, alright. I fuck girls too. I like them. I know what I am. — He expected me to counter him, but I was too damn shocked to say anything. — Yeah, I'm fucking this guy. Feels good. It's a hole. A hole is a hole.
