Way back in the middle of the last century, my wife and I would usually spend part of the summer renting a beach house with some friends. I remember this one year when things started out pretty rosy but went to hell when the weather turned into something awful. First it rained buckets. Then the temperatures dropped so much that it felt more like October than July. Most of our house mates wound up heading back to the city rather than slugging it out with the weather. Our friend David was the one exception who decided to stick around and keep us company. It wasn't long until bored as he was, he developed a predilection for checking out my wife Lisa in the bathing suit that she seemed to always be wearing around the house, cold temperatures be damned. This was the notorious one that had previously inspired so many side eyed glances from the other ladies in the house. Cut dangerously high at the crotch, low at the bust and almost a thong in the back, she had a great figure and this thing looked like it was custom made to show off her every curve and nuance.
Frustrated with not being able to get to the beach Lisa took a day off to do some shopping in town. Dave and me stayed behind, sleeping in late to try and defuse the effects of too much alcohol and the endless rounds of poker we were using to kill the time. He came down from his room as I was nursing a cup of coffee and watching highlights from the Tour de France.
I watched him scan around all the rooms in the house and read the disappointment on his face as he realized that Lisa was nowhere to be found.
"Shopping..." I said.
"Was I that obvious?" he replied. His face looking like a kid that just lost their favorite toy.
"Yeah. She'll be back in a few hours. Grab a coffee and join me."
I couldn't blame him. I was always aware of the effect my wife had on men and how she seemed to always inspire cocks to grow and turn hard. Restricted and bored shitless by the weather, I completely understood how much her cute little bum sashaying around the room must have cheered him up.
I lit up a joint and passed it over to him.
He looked surprised. "Really? It's barely past 9am."
"Look, any other day we'd be on NJ Transit, crawling into Penn station and obsessed with the new business pitches that were ahead of us for the week. There'll be plenty of time to get back to that." For now though, with my lungs inflated with a healthy volume of marijuana smoke, I struggled to find the right words.
"... fuck it."
It didn't take much to convince him. He took a deep drag and passed it back to me. On screen, Greg LeMond and Bernard Hinault were going head to head, sweating crystalline bullets on their way up the Pyrenees.
"Looks like you seem to like her new bathing suit... as much as the girls seem to hate it?"
What do kids look like when they're caught with their hands in the cookie jar? That's the expression he had on his face.
I put him at ease. "It's OK. I get it. She looks pretty fucking hot. You've got my blessings to look all you want."
The weed was just starting to kick in with me. I handed him back the joint as I noticed a bulge starting to make its presence known in his sweatpants.
"Let me guess, you're thinking back to what she looked like when she bent over to pick up the laundry last night?"
"Fuck yeah. You have any idea how lucky you are? I get hard every time she walks in the room."
"... and if had to guess, you probably rubbed one out to her. Maybe more than once?"
He started to apologize. "All the other girls are gone. She's the only one left in the house and my god, she's so fucking pretty."
"It's OK. I know what she does to guys. She does it to me too."
No mistaking the bulge in his sweats now. That hard on was pitching a tent in his pants and looked like it was there to stay.
In the last year, the two of us had gotten jobs at the same startup. It was fun but also really hard work and completely consuming of all our time and attention. Months had gone by since we had any time off at all and with the weather as bad as it was, the level of boredom and missed opportunities to have any fun were starting to make us desperate.
"Want to keep me company and rub one out now?" We'd actually done this before. Back when we were pimply faced teenagers and there were no girls to be had. The taboo of what we were doing seemed to be enough to offset the lack of female attention.
He didn't take long to think about it. He pulled off his sweatpants and leaned back on the couch. I think his cock had gotten bigger since the last time I saw it. Back then it was enough to jerk off to pics in some back issues of Playboy we'd managed to find. I watched as his cock, painfully hard and thick was throbbing up and down in time to his heartbeat. I hadn't expected that the sight of him might make me hard as well.
It wasn't long before he was full on jerking off. I reached under to cup his balls. "You OK with this...?"
Fun fact #32. People are more tolerant of pushing their limits when they're aroused. If I'd done this any other time, he might have shoved me away. Maybe delivered a punch to defend his credentials as a straight male. But at this moment, in mid stroke, with a hard cock and throbbing head, me touching him was just an act of mercy.
It did feel a bit odd starting out. Guys generally need something to jerk off to. Softcore Playboys did the trick when we were in our teens. Internet porn was still just a wet dream at DARPA. And with two of us there, it felt weird to close our eyes and fantasize, like we would have if we'd been alone.
Still, watching him manhandle his junk and jerk off without any inhibitions seemed to be more than enough. We got close enough to sit next to each other and started to jerk each other off instead. The slight discontinuity in sensation from rubbing someone else's cock and the sensations of pleasure that were hitting our brains was shocking. The notion of a separate person started to fade. Suddenly his cock, his balls, his entire body felt like they were mine to do whatever I wanted with. As long as it felt good that moronic, fucking notion of gay and straight was no longer an issue.
He hadn't showered yet. The scent of his sweat, salt air and precum wasn't all bad. Actually, all these years later I still have a pretty complete sense memory of what that combination of elements smelled like. I started to form a random thought about what it would be like to suck his cock. He was about the same size as me but thicker. How hard would it be to wrap my mouth around his glistening purple head...? At this point we were full on exchanging hand jobs. Was there an setting on the Kinsey scale where our status would jump from two horny straight guys jerking off to full on antique shopping, musical theater listening fags? I didn't have to wait long. He surprised me by dropping down to his knees, sat in front of me between my legs and took my cock into his mouth.
Having my best friend suck my cock was never anything I fantasized about but stranded on the Jersey shore, with nothing to do but watch reruns of Mr. Ed and have the kind of quiet, self consciously discreet sex with my wife (small house, thin walls, sound travels) I was suddenly aware of the waves of pressure that had been building up in my balls. That frustration had given me a new perspective. And to be honest, while sex with Lisa was amazing, blowjobs were never her strong suit. She was a petite little thing with a sweet, tiny mouth and an oversized gag reflex. A lot of her going down on me meant holding back the impulses to let go. Dave had no such limits. A minute after he started going down on me I was full on fucking his face so hard I was starting to cum.
I thought he was going to pull away but he seemed dedicated to taking this to completion. I get nostalgic thinking about how much cum I could generate back then. Or remember what it looked like spilling out of his mouth and coating his face and lips and how touching it was to see him devotedly licking the rest of it off my cock.
Fun fact #87. Men completely lose interest in sex immediately after an orgasm. The dreaded refractory period. Doesn't last long but pretty much impossible to ignore for a few minutes. Must be some kind of cosmic joke right? We spend 99% of our time thinking about how and when and with whom we're going to get laid and once we finally do, suddenly it's the farthest thing from our minds.
Poor Dave. I think he fully expected for me to return the favor but suddenly the whole idea of me touching him at all was completely out of the question. I knew myself well enough to know that the feeling would pass in a few minutes but what the fuck was I suppose to do in the meanwhile? I was trying to come up with a plan and an apology when I heard the sound of Lisa's car grinding onto the gravel driveway. She was sure to be loaded up with shopping bags. By the time she could organize them and her travel mug and pocket book and backpack I did a quick mental calculation that we had about a minute or two to clean up. Dave jumped into his sweats and disappeared back into his room.
Sitting across from Lisa, I was flooded with this sense of guilt and tension. I'd never cheated on her and the whole series of events had sort of rolled out without any conscious thought. Really, I thought we were just going to rub one out. Now I had this sense that karma was charging me with two debts to that had to be repaid. I owed David for the time and attention he'd given me and Lisa for not including her in something we'd always ever done together.