Spring Brea Boys

I was such an idiot.

I knew that's where this night was probably going to go.

Why had I said yes when he gave me the big, chalky ecstasy pill?

Probably because he was my best friend.

His name was Trevor and we'd been inseparable since he'd moved to my cul-de-sac my 7th grade year.

Trevor Matthews and Ryan Turrell, yearbook class clowns for life.

And he always had a way of making me party harder. If my brain was asking me to make responsible decisions, he was the constant devil selling me on various forbidden fruits I'd yet to try.

But I also knew he was bisexual.

This made things more complicated.

He had told me in our junior year of high school and I had been super proud of him for being so confident in who he was, but that had just never interested me, even though there had been numerous instances where he'd made half-moves on me that could've been shrugged off as whatever substances we were on. He was my first friend I ever got stoned with regularly with and we got each other drunk for the first time together growing up too. And now here we were in our freshman year of college and we ended up on the same spring break trip together.

Originally my girlfriend was supposed to come with us, but her parents weren't okay with the implications of a week-long party destination for their 19 year old in a country with an 18 year old drinking age. Trevor and I were both 19, both of us having taken a year off after high school to stretch our limbs from the post COVID trauma. We'd both traveled with family and enjoyed the peace and change of stressful pace. But Gemma's parents were not okay with all the sinful opportunities, so they cancelled their sponsorship of such a trip, leaving us boys in a weird spot.

Gemma begged me to go, though. She loved me and she didn't want her conservative parents to ruin our heavily anticipated spring break.

"Ry...You deserve to have fun," she had told me, and Trevor had been giddy to learn I was still allowed to go.

I should've known he had some devious plans for this trip. He peddled in my rebellion after all.

So now here I was an hour after we taken the pills at a nearby dance spot.

We'd both danced our asses off with various slutty college girls that were on their own chosen poisons of the night.

It was the most fucking amazingly fun night. It was 90 degrees warm outside and after peeing and downing a jug of bottled water, we'd decided to walk back to the hotel room and chill in the jacuzzi.

We danced and laughed our asses off the whole way back to our resort. Mexico was a fucking fantasy land in that moment for us.

He was my best friend and we were drawn to each other like experienced thieves.

We smoked a joint in the spa and no one that worked there even cared. This was the biggest party hotel on the beach, and the hotel could hardly count its incoming cash. Everyone was flagrantly drunk or high on something. The pool was bumping with a DJ and the swim up bars were covered in scantily clad coeds drinking blended Pina Coladas in highlighter bright bikini's that showed off tan skin and tattoos and butts perfected over so many dorm-room squats. It was Candyland for young adults. One could almost imagine why Pinocchio was so drawn in by Pleasure Island.

The roll was beginning a new crescendo with weed and ecstasy working in synergy like serotonin salsa dancers zig-zagging across my emotionally sprawling mind warp.

I felt open to anything and everything. I felt good. I felt loopy and sexy and marvelously free from all responsibilities in life. College was going well. I had a hot 19 year old girlfriend who was fairly slutty with me in bed. My best friend was my college roommate. My family was healthy. And I was on vacation.

Trevor had scooted closer to me in the jacuzzi and I threw a leg over his as he placed his hand on my leg and gently touched me. This felt normal to us. We were always physical with each other. It was an incredibly comfortable friendship. And the drugs just required physicality.

I closed my eyes and then looked over at him and he smiled at me in a relaxed way.

"I feel really fucking good," I said, beaming.

"I know, me too, man," he echoed. We both took a deep breath and enjoyed the sights and sounds of the raucous pool and jacuzzi crowd.

There were five other people in the spa, which was one of five on the property. This smaller triangular design was slightly set back from the main pool and spa areas. A little more privacy was allowed by it.

Three girls took up one corner across from us, and then there was a couple making out in their own nook.

The smell of chlorine and tropical sunscreen was everywhere.

The three girls in the jacuzzi were sexy as hell.

"Dude...we should talk to the girls," he suggested.

"Yeah, I'm so down," I said. I wasn't going to cheat on Gemma...but I could certainly do some flirting.

"Hey guys," he said, as we swam over to the corner.

"Hey boys!" A girl in a lime green bikini said to us. She had curly brown hair and olive skin and freckles. She was a vibe.

"I'm Trevor and this is my best friend Ryan, don't mind him he's kinda dumb but he's very lovable," he joked, and they laughed at his forwardness.

"Ah, well...you guys probably won't like talking to us cuz we're all geniuses," a sexy blonde in a burgundy two piece with big perky D breasts added to the banter.

"Oh, yeah, us too actually," I said. "We actually have already graduated and we just come to spring break now to seduce girls with our many degrees," I finished.

"Oh...are you the MENSA boys everyone has been talking about?" The first girl cut back in. They were drinking a six pack of Corona's and they offered us each one. We declined.

"Yes, that's us," Trevor owned up to the joke.

"So are MENSA boys too smart to drink with cute girls?" The third girl said.

"Oh...it's not that..." I said, "we're rolling right now," I admitted easily to the hot trio.

"OH shit! Yeah I wouldn't ruin that with booze," the blonde said jealously.

"Well damn I wanna be rolling!" The third girl who was a hot, short mynx that had a Middle Eastern look to her. She was wearing a gold and silver striped swimsuit that made me hard just from looking at floral tattoos that peaked out everywhere.

We spoke to them for the next twenty minutes or so, as they plastered us with questions about our roll and our drugs. Trevor apologized for not having enough to share and they said that they were probably already too drunk to truly enjoy it. Their banter with us was fun and didn't hinge on hooking up. We enjoyed their hilarious company. They were sexy and smart and totally engaging with both of us. They were actually from a different college in the same city as us. Crosstown rivals. (I'm not going to list the school because this is a 75 percent true story and I don't need anyone figuring out who we are).

"Would you wanna go back to the room and make a pillow fort?" He said it half-jokingly, but I got his meaning. Pillows and the coolness of the room sounded incredibly fun to my buzzing body.

"Go chill in the room? Absolutely." I got out of the spa as I pushed off his body. I realized I had a half-chub and I remembered all the stories from him about how ecstasy made you incredibly horny. I wanted to be mad but how could I when I was this deliriously happy? I couldn't believe I had never tried this drug before.

We got out of the spa and barely bothered with towels as the immediate heat instantly dried us as we walked back up to our second floor room. It was impressive to see his muscular body dripping with water.

The music that scattered its way over the resort was such a mood-booster. I wanted to dance. Hell, I wanted to be touched. I was having the craziest cravings to be honest and intimate.

When we got to the room he grabbed his bong and repacked a big wad of the Sour Diesel flower fresh from the grinder, and we went out to the patio and got a Northern California level of hella stoned. He had turned club music on in our room and it was such a crazy delicious vibe. We both changed out of our bathing suits and and threw on boxers, sweats, and tank tops.

Now we were rolling AND herbally fogged. I was in such a good fucking mood.

I should've suspected when he asked me if I wanted to go sit on the bed, where it was leading. Or maybe I did? Maybe I was playing a game of cat-and-mouse with my own brain?

I was bouncing my body with a giddy glee from the absolute funk of a song that was playing loudly from our speaker. I was excited and strangely horny and pretending my very best that this was just the drugs causing all the flirtations.

When we were inside he flipped on the AC. The room felt very hot. And fun. And sexy.

"Dude, it's hot in here," I said, and I began to realize how much I didn't want clothes on my very sensitive skin. I wanted to get naked and enjoy the freedom. I wanted to touch myself. But how could I say that to my bi best friend? I couldn't.

"Seriously man, do you wanna strip to our boxers?" He asked in simple agreement with my statement.

"Oh fuck, no, that's perfect," and it didn't feel weird at all. We stripped down to nothing but our boxer briefs, and both of us were framed with our half hard-ons.

"Dude, I feel so fucking good what did you fucking give me?" I asked him as I danced myself beside the tall bed a little.

"I gave you the stronggggggest new type of E they make right now. It's for festivals and all. Night. Naughtiness...you feel me?" He said, as he jumped up onto the bed in nothing but his briefs. I could see his large cock snaking down his leg.

I drank in his muscles and manicured body hair. He was a really good looking guy. Definite frat-bot cocky with a tattoo that ran down his arm and ribcage. I was horny and that was not a good thing because he was definitely noticing it.

I crawled up on the bed and the soft comforter felt good on my body.

He snagged the bong and we smoked again. We were stupid stoned.

I was spinning and everything felt so perfect. I was rolling. I was writhing with a sort of wanton relaxation all over my body. I was excited.

"Damn this is fuggggin' gooood," I practically moaned.

"Yeah, isn't it?" He smiled at me. "Dude, let's change positions and talk about how amazing everything feels. He was so excited and his energy always made me wanna try new things. Trevor just sold me so well.

He got up and pushed his legs out in front of him, and then he guided me into a loose scissor cross with our naked legs.

The contact felt electric and he grabbed all the pillows and the comforter and bunched it up around us.

The song 'Yatch Money' came on, and we were grooving and grinding slowly as we laughed at the sensations of the drug taking us over even more.

"This is amaaaazing," I said, as he nodded at me goofily.

"Can you imagine fucking on this?" He said to me naturally, and I actually gasped a little as I felt his strong legs flex on mine. He raised his eyes and worked his slow magic.

My straight brain was fighting a battle I wasn't even brave enough to admit. I just focused on our blooming connection.

"Okay, okay...stop!" I scolded him playfully as I untangled myself only a little. I didn't want to just give it to him. I wanted him to work for it. I wanted him to overcome me.

"We should play a game," I said, feeling the goosebumps of my legs on his.

"Oh? I like games," he responded with challenge in his tone.

"Let's talk about sex," I said cutely and nervously. I was horny. This was fun.

"That's the game?" He laughed, and I laughed back at my wild train of excited thought. "Sounds pretty simple," he joked playfully.

"I'm sooorrryyyyI'mrollinsooooogoood..." I shuddered and my wor and he laughed, "caaaan we talk about sex?" And this time I flexed my own leg muscles on him a little which made him smile as we vibed together.

"Yessss, PLEASE! We never get to do this anymore cuz your girl is ALWAYS around," he lamented, as his hand stroked lovingly down my arm. I mewed at that. I knew he didn't mind my girlfriend, but it was true that she and I spent a ton of time together. He and I had gotten less time together in our friendship as of late.

"Well...how about I go first. This is what I meant by a game: we trade off asking questions and we have to answer everything the other person asks with complete sexual honesty." I suggested, and he slapped my thigh playfully.

"Okay, I'm absolutely down and very into this right now...let's go, I'm in," he said. I gulped at him as I felt my body l

"So you're like, completely bisexual, yeah? Do you have, like, a preference on what you prefer? Pussy or cock?" I ask him without hesitating, always having been so damned curious about my best friend's sex life but also always a little too nervous to ask. But not on drugs. On drugs I am bold and playful.

"Yes, completely. But I don't like one more. I like them both for different reasons," he explained, as we sat up more and allowed the closeness of our crossed legs to find each other. It felt nice to have him in constant contact while we talked. His bare skin felt really good on mine.

Ecstasy was such a crazy drug of touch. You just immediately needed that connection, and he was my best friend. This felt so easy. Of course there was nothing weird about touching. We'd touched each other plenty over the course of our friendship. We were well acquainted with each other's bodies on a purely fraternal sort of level.

"My turn: what about you? Still totally straight? No girlfriend fingers in your ass during blowjobs or butt plugs on your prostate while she rides you?" The lasciviousness of his playful voice was distracting and strangely sexy. "No curious gay porn internet searches? No dreams of sucking a throbbing dick in your mouth?"

"Ha! NOOO! Sorry to disappoint you. I'm just the straightest straight dude ever," and we both kind of chuckled cuz we were also low-key grinding on each other with the music as we sat on the big bed in nothing but our boxers, while getting slowly hornier on the strong drugs we'd ingested. We pulled the giant comforter around us more and soon I felt Trevor untangle our legs so mine could lazily straddle over the top of his and along his sides. He slid himself subtly more underneath me. He's about three inches taller so it feels like the more natural setup. We have a similar body type. Muscled. Athletic. He's got slightly better abs, especially down near his cock. Damn, it looks big in his boxers.

In this position we are both somewhat leaned back, which brings the edge of my ass against his tenting pouch.

"Ugh, you have NO idea what you're missing though!" He says as he slaps my thigh and jostles me on him. I love every touch he gives me. I want to ask for more but I'm also telling my horny brain that it's the drugs and I need to fight this and keep my fucking cool. I'm definitely straight. I'm latitude but his cock feels longitude.

I'm straight and I'm rolling. That's all. We're just being intimate. That's totally normal.

"My turn: what do you like the most about hooking up with guys?" I really wanted to know. I realize all of my questions are of his gay activities. I knew Trevor was objectively a very hot guy. And I knew he had a big cock from our many best friend sleepover talks growing up. I admired his look a little more now as we talked. As we we vibed and grinded. The energy of another guy was just different. He was right about that. The friction was a little more alive.

"I think I love how much more nasty and raw guys tend to be in bed." He said. I was so into this conversation. I wanted to explore his sexual philosophy.

My cock was fully hard in my boxers as we flirted now. He was strangely hypnotic to me as I rolled with him. My longtime best friend. My very attractive best friend. I ran my hands through his hair out of nowhere with a playful ruffle.

"Yeah I guess that's a pretty good reason. It's hard to find girls that like to get truly nasty. They're a dime a dozen."

"Yeah...and a LOT of guys are like that. They all have these untapped slut fantasies they wanna live out," he said. I gulped a little when he said slut. I don't know why. I liked the way the letters rolled off his tongue.

"I just don't know if I could ever take a cock in my ass, ya know?" I said, explaining my unimpressive straight laced ways. That just seems like it would hurt. "How do you do it??" I asked, truly perplexed about my best friend's preferences that I'd never gotten to really explore with him before this moment.

"Oh...honestly I don't really...that's not my preferred position," he admitted as his hands squeezed my legs.

"Oh so you mean..." I started.

"I'm strictly a TOP," his teeth seemed to punctuate the popping sound in the word.

"I see...so you like to be the one doing the fucking," I gulped a little as I realized how crazy turned on I was with my friend. He was smiling at me, enjoying the conversation and chemistry.

"Dude I'm having so much fun right now," I said to him, with a huge shit-eating grin across my face.

"I know you are," he said, "I am too," he scooted himself closer to me and now I could definitely feel his boner through his boxers. He was size-able, he hadn't been lying. My skin was covered in goosebumps.

"Okay your turn," I egged him on, and I could feel my hard-on throbbing through my own tight boxer-briefs, which clearly showed my horny state. He had to have seen my boner.

Ariana Grande was playing now. The song 'Nasty' flowed through our brains.

"Have you ever tasted your own cum?" He asked me bluntly, and I had zero issue telling him everything. The drugs had made me stupid spunky and friendly towards him.

"Oh, yes...I've cleaned my load up before when I'm really horny," I told him.

"Wait...what??" He asked suddenly.

I laughed at his reaction.

"What?" I was blushing at him. I knew how it sounded.

"You literally have eaten your own cum on numerous occasions but you think gay sex would be kind of weird?" He asked with this devilishly accusatory smile. He was breaking me down.

"I know...I'm a hypocrite...I'll admit it, I don't know why I don't connect the two things, I just like it sometimes," I'm loving telling him this. I'm loving how close we are in that big bed. We are hard and the conversation is getting kinkier. We can both feel it.

"Your turn, cum-eater," he teased, and I had this huge, embarrassed grin across my face. I also strangely buzzed from the word 'cum-eater' being directed at me. He squeezed my thighs in his hands and I loved that he left his hands there and began to massage my upper legs slowly. It felt so fucking sexy. His fingers working my tense aches and pains.

"Umm...hmmm, mmffff...that feels really good, Trev..." I tilted my head back for a moment and a small moan escaped from my mouth. I opened my eyes and saw him looking at me, like at any moment he would have me.

I swallowed and regained myself, but he kept his hands on me, tracing my skin.

It's just the drugs. I told myself again. I lied. It wasn't just the drugs. It was the things he was doing to me.

"I know," he said, cocky as ever.

"Oh, I knew what I was going to ask you next," I said with a nervous chitter of my teeth. "Why do you like fucking guys? Why is that such a turn-on for you?" I interrogated him, feeling my mouth getting a little dry from the situation. I was happy and nervous and horny all at once. I didn't know what I wanted. I wanted more of this though. All the flirtation.

"Oh, I've always been really dominant...with both girls and guys...but with guys, there is such a power play going on, ya know? Because you're taking two people that are both used to being more in control, or in power...and one of them has to give that up and submit...and I dunno...when you see a guy become a slut for you it's the sexiest damn thing. I've had some of my best orgasms pounding hot guys in the ass for hours at a time...especially guys who have to grapple with being submissive for the first time ever," he was so brazenly dominant. I could feel it. I could feel how it made me nervous.