Everyone in this story is over the age of 18.
Grayson had been friends with Ben for as long as he could remember.
They lived across the street from each other. Their moms had given birth at around the same time and had become close. So, of course, Grayson and Ben also had to spend time together. Fortunately, they got along perfectly. More like brothers than buddies.
They wore matching costumes at Halloween. Had group birthdays. Celebrated Christmas and Easter like one big family. In elementary school, Ben famously refused to attend second grade unless Grayson was in the same class.
They made a good pairing. Ben was blond and broad shouldered. Fiercely loyal and protective. Grayson was wiry with dark hair that refused to take any shape but wild. He was creative and just the right amount of different. Grayson liked to laugh. Ben liked to win. They balanced each other.
As they got older, as their friend groups burgeoned and life changed around them, they naturally became more distant. But they both played soccer in the fall and baseball in the spring. They ate at the same table at lunch and played videogames on the weekends (their moms thought it was funny that they were across the street from each other but still had to meet up online). And they were both going to the same college in the fall.
Only one thing had ever come between them. But Ben didn't know about that.
Despite that secret, Grayson thought he and Ben would be friends for the rest of their lives. Any issues would be smoothed by the passage of time. They'd grow up, get jobs, and raise families. Joking and arguing all the way to the nursing home. The world didn't make sense any other way.
But Grayson wasn't in the stall with Ben.
*
Grayson determinedly tried to avoid looking in his own enclosure. Instead, he forced his eyes to go elsewhere. He told himself that he was searching for his best friend. And, in a sense he was. But it was more than that, and he knew it. It didn't help that Grayson's blond buddy was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, Grayson looked out on a spread of stalls, populated by his classmates. All of them naked and paired boy-girl. The women were forced up on all fours. The boys stood behind them. Some of the couples were already going at it. Grayson couldn't blame them.
His own body felt like it was on fire. He had an erection so insistent he swore he could feel it pulsing along with his heartbeat. His balls ached something awful. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to fuck. Anyone. Anything. All the more reason then, that Grayson couldn't look at his own space and who he'd been paired with.
"Come on, Grayso, I'm right here," Emma said.
Her voice brought his attention back to their stall. To her. To Emma.
He'd met her their freshman year of high school. Emma played soccer, too (for the girl's team), along with volleyball and softball. The day they met, she was already on Ben's arm. Apparently, the two of them had met at some sports camp that they'd both attended for a week the July before.
Ben had never mentioned meeting a girl that summer. But there they both were in the high school hallway, grinning dopily at Grayson as he stood by his locker.
It wasn't a passing thing, either. Ben and Emma had stayed together all four years of high school. The dyad of Ben and Grayson had undergone mitosis and added a third.
"Please Grayson," Emma said, back in the stall, "This is bad enough."
Grayson took a deep breath. He turned to look at Emma. Forcing himself to hold on her face only. As if that was going to make everything better.
She'd always been so confident and strong, and yet he was shocked to see that her eyes were red. Her cheeks tearstained. Of course, this had to be heartbreaking for her, too. The love of her life was somewhere else, and she'd been locked into place with the goofy sidekick. Like Veronica finding herself stuck with Jughead. Although, admittedly, Emma was more of a Betty.
Ben was a popular jock, so of course he'd found the stereotypical popular jock girlfriend. Emma was girl-next-door pretty with big blue eyes, long brown hair, and the word's warmest smile. Sports meant she was in excellent shape. She had an athlete's body with a tight ass, shapely legs...
Dammit.
Grayson forced his eyes back where they belonged. Impossibly, his dick had managed to get even harder.
"It's OK," Emma said. Her usual smile returned for a moment. "I'm feeling it too. Whatever they gave us."
"I know," Grayson said, "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," Emma said, "It only makes this worse."
For a moment, Grayson had the urge to rest his hand on her shoulder -- to provide some kind of comfort -- but he held himself back. He knew that was a slippery slope. VERY slippery.
"Sorry," Grayson said, "I mean, not sorry. I mean. Fuck."
Emma giggled, despite herself.
"This is so wrong," Grayson said.
Emma's expression turned sullen, as if his pronouncement reminded her of everything that was going on around them. Already, the room was filled with low moans, the slaps of flesh. The heady mix of pussy and semen. Constant reminders of what they'd been put there to do. Of what their bodies demanded of them.
"Well, it could be worse," Grayson said.
"How?" Emma asked.
"Hang on, I'm thinking," Grayson said. She laughed again and it was musical. Grayson winced.
"That's not helping," Emma said, not in a mean way.
"Ben was always the optimist," Grayson said, "It'd be better if he was here."
Emma made a strange expression when Grayson mentioned her boyfriend, his best friend. He couldn't read it, so he assumed she was wistful. Missing the man who was supposed to be there with her.
"I haven't seen him," Grayson said. It hadn't occurred to him till that moment, but Ben was also in a similar situation somewhere. Paired with some girl he didn't love. This had to be breaking both their hearts. "I keep looking but I can't find him. Do you see him?"
As an answer, Emma gestured to the position she was stuck in. She couldn't see much of anything at all. Except for the face of another girl, one he couldn't quite place -- a blonde with tight curls -- getting railed right in front of Emma's face. Taunting her with what she must desperately want but also frantically fear.
Emma tried to look at Grayson, to meet his eyes. He knelt down to make it easier on her. Again, he forced himself not to look below her shoulders. To her surprisingly full breasts and taut stomach. To the swell of her shaved pussy further down.
"You have a great body," Grayson said, before he could stop himself. Emma flushed and looked away.
"Sorry," he said, "It was just a thought I had. That came out. This sucks. I suck."
"You don't," Emma said, "For what it's worth, thank you. You also, um, look very nice."
Grayson knew pity when he heard it, but he wasn't going to react. After what she had with Ben, Grayson's spindly body, covered in dark hair, wasn't going to be all that exciting. But at least she was trying to be polite.
"So, what do we do?" Grayson asked.
"What can we do?" Emma said. She did her best to give a resigned shrug.
"I can't," Grayson said, "I won't. You're my best friend's girlfriend. I won't do that to him. To you."
Emma let out a long sigh. Her pretty blue eyes fluttered closed, like lost in prayer.
"I know this is awful for you," Emma said.
"For you too," Grayson interjected, but Emma kept speaking like he hadn't said a word.
