Knowing Dave

I really wanted to put my arm around him; to pull him close to me, press my chest up against his back and stroke his chest hair with my fingers. To make circles around his pink little nipples. To play with his belly button.

To say, "It's alright, Dave. Whatever you're feeling, it's alright."

But I knew he'd either cry or hit me.

So I left him alone.

Next morning, while he was drinking coffee sitting up against the headboard, he'd laughed and said, "I'm surprised you managed to keep your hands off me, Wes. If I had a girl I thought was cute in my bed... well, it might have been a different story..."

He'd chuckled to himself but I hadn't even pretended to laugh.

He'd looked up at me, surprised at my serious expression.

I'd said, "Dave... come on... you know I never would do anything like that. I mean, if you want us to get together, it has to start from you. Until then, I have to assume you're straight and out of bounds. And I keep my hands well off you."

He'd looked surprised at my honesty.

But then he'd looked down at his coffee and nodded.

After a few seconds, he'd said, "Yeah. I guess that's fair enough."

We saw a lot of each other in the week that followed. We went out to the pub three nights that week, and on the others he came round to my flat. He'd phone me on the internal line at work, four or five times a day, and send a dozen or so e-mails. His reasons were usually ridiculous, like his evidence for why the guy who worked in the sandwich bar was an "agent", but I loved to hear from him. Whenever the phone rang and the grey LED read "382", or whenever my computer flashed up a message box saying "New internal mail from d_ronson", I'd smile.

It was on the Friday night that he asked if he could stay over again.

Of course, I’d agreed. I said, “Same terms as last time?”

He grinned and, without committing himself, took a swig from his can.

Then, as I took a gulp from my own, he said, “What would you do – right – if I…”

“What?”

He giggled. “No. You’d think I was being weird.”

I smiled. “No I wouldn’t. What were you going to say?”

He paused and then opened his mouth to say something. Then he snapped it shut and giggled again. “No. I can’t…”

“Come on, Dave. What?”

He paused again. “Well – I’m not gonna actually do this – but what would you do if I said I was gonna sleep naked…?”

I looked at my drink. I felt a little disappointed. While what he said was interesting, it wasn’t as interesting as what I’d hoped he was going to say.

I said, “I wouldn’t be bothered. I’d probably do the same. That’s the way I usually sleep…”

He smiled.

Then he said, “Would you see it as a come-on?”

“No.”

“What would you see as a come-on?”

I considered. “I dunno… I’ve never really thought about how a straight guy gives a gay guy a come-on. I guess you’d have to use your imagination on that one.”

He smiled more broadly. “What sort of things, though?”

I shook my head, smiling back. “I honestly don’t know, Dave. Like I said last time, I’ve got to assume you’re straight until you let me know otherwise. And your letting me know has to be fairly unambiguous… I don’t want to get a smack in the teeth…”

He looked more serious. He said quietly, “You know I’d never lay a finger on you, Wes. You know that, don’t you?”

I was surprised by the intensity of his expression. I said, “But if I made a move on you…”

He shook his head. “No. Never. No matter what you did.”

Dave undressed while I was brushing my teeth. When I walked into the bedroom he was just getting into bed. I noticed he’d kept his briefs on – taken his teeshirt off, but retained the briefs.

Progress, but not enough progress for my liking.

I did the same as he had done. Took my teeshirt off, exposing my almost hairless chest (I noticed he was watching closely), but kept my underpants on.

Then I said, “Night then, Dave.”

And turned off the light.

We lay there for a minute or so in the darkness.

Then he said, “Wes. Would this be unambiguous enough?”

And he reached over beneath the duvet, grabbed my forearm and directed it across to his crotch. He placed my hand right on the bulge in his briefs.

He had a hard-on. That much was obvious instantly.

I caressed the mound in the front of his underwear gently. His cock seemed thick but fairly short. Five inches or so.

I said, "Well... I cant' exactly accuse you of being subtle..."

He rolled over towards me. I turned my body towards him.

Then he pushed his face forwards, trying to kiss me. His lips, warm and wet, landed on my left cheek and he moved them downward to find my mouth.

He kissed in a way that was surprisingly aggressively. His tongue pushed into my mouth, forcing its way between my teeth. He wouldn't let mine do anything: he seemed to want his to be the one to take charge. His breath was hot and clammy inside my mouth; it tasted of lager and my Listerine mouthwash.

His tongue seemed to search around inside my mouth; it moved about and pressed against mine; then it swept across my teeth, his lips sucking gently against mine all the while.

After a minute or so, he pulled back and said, his voice almost a whimper, "Fuck, Wes. I've wanted to do this so long. I think of you all day... I can't wait to talk to you, to see you... it's like I've got a crush on you or something..."

I whispered, "There's nothing wrong with that, Dave..."

“But it is for me. This has been totally screwing me up. I’ve never even thought of being in bed with another guy before… but now… I dunno… I really want it… I’ve been imagining how it would feel… to do stuff with you…”

It felt wonderful to hear him say that. But my elation was tarnished with the thought that, with just one badly-chosen line, I could mess this up irrevocably.

I said, “Dave… if you want to have sex with me… you know how much I’d love that… and if you want to just play around a bit… totally non-serious… you know I’d love that, too,…”

He kissed me on the lips again and then said, “I dunno, Wes. I dunno how much I can do with you…”

He groped down my body, past my stomach, to my briefs. Felt the front of them.

He said, “You’re not even hard.” He sounded really hurt by that. Like my limpness was a direct rejection.

I explained, “I’m nervous, Dave. I mean… if I fuck this up, I fuck up you and me. Our friendship. There’s no way I’m gonna get hard like this…”

That seemed to slow him down a little. He seemed to realise how much pressure I was under; seemed to become aware that he wasn’t the only one with a lot riding on this.

He whispered, “Wes, mate. Even if I’m not gay – even if this doesn’t work out – you know you and me will still be mates. You know that…”

I put my arm around his shoulders.

I said, “You might totally hate me in the morning…”

He said, "Nooooo..." It was a long, soothing sound. "You know I never could. Even if we don't get it together in bed, Wes, you know I think you're the best mate I ever had... nothing's gonna change that..."

I kissed him gently on the lips and he held me close to him, his fingers running down my back, caressing my skin.

Then, after a few gentle pecks of lips against each other, he opened his mouth and pushed his tongue into mine, forceful and insistent. I pushed mine back against his and I felt him smile and heard him gently moan in encouragement. He wanted to tongue-wrestle!

We started fighting for dominance with our tongues, our saliva mixing in our mouths and our lips rubbing almost painfully against each other. He moaned again in pleasure and, pressing his hips towards mine, started rubbing his erection against the front of my briefs. I ran my hands down to his arse and pushed them inside the back of his briefs. His cheeks felt round and muscular; warm and smooth. I could feel them flexing slightly as he worked his crotch into mine.

I gave into his tongue - he was way too strong - and our kissing became less aggressive and more passionate. He started gently biting my lips with his teeth and then made soft pecks against my bottom lip.

Still doing that, he whispered, "I never thought I'd ever enjoy kissing another guy... if you'd have told me two months ago I would be kissing another man, I'd have been totally freaked out..."

I smiled and gently worked my fingers into his arse crack. It was very hairy and felt hot and wet with his sweat.

He pulled back. He didn't like that.

He said, "I dunno whether I can do much else with you, though, Wes. I mean, not yet..."

I thought, "Oh shit. You made him think of anal sex. You made him think you were wanting to fuck him."

Bad move.

I took my hands away from his arse and put one around his back; with the other, I gently played with the thick hair on his chest. I could feel his nipples through it; poking upwards like hard little beads.

I said, "There's no rush, Dave. If you just wanna lie here and kiss that's fine by me... well it's more than fine... it's fucking fantastic..."

He grinned.

I went on, working my hand down his stomach, "But if you want to do a bit more... well, whenever you don't feel comfortable with something, we stop... and that's a promise..."

I reached the front of his briefs and gently rubbed the thick stem of his cock through the material. He made no attempt to stop me; I didn't think he would.

I whispered, "I'd love to wank you off..."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. That'd be good. Yeah."

I pulled his cock out from the front of his underwear. It was so hard that I could hardly move it to free it from the material. It just wanted to point upwards toward his stomach and I found it almost impossible even to move it from side to side.

I gripped it with my right hand, tucking the waistband of his briefs under his large hairy balls with my left. His cock felt hot and thick in my palm. Like I said, it wasn't very long, but it was easily the thickest I'd ever held.

I gently worked his foreskin backwards, exposing his bulbous cock head. He gasped gently. I ran my thumb across the moist tip of it and he sighed, "Wank me off, Wes..."

I squeezed it inside my palm and started gently working his foreskin up and down the shaft of his cock.

With my left hand I played with the large paired mounds of his balls. I almost, through habit, went to push my fingers down between his thighs to find his hole, but remembered that, for the time being at least, that would not be a good idea.

He seemed to really enjoy what I was doing, gasping gently in time with my hand, and began bucking his hips upward to meet each stroke.

Then he turned his face towards me and started kissing me again, pushing his tongue back into my mouth and breathing heavily against my lips.

I couldn't believe I was masturbating Dave; that he was actually letting me. Even after our conversation before bed - even as I was getting into bed with him - I'd thought, "He's straight so nothing's gonna happen... he might be horny enough to feel a bit curious, but there's no way he's going to want to do anything..."

But now he was lying right next to me, getting wanked off by me! And panting into my mouth like he'd been waiting for this since we'd met.

By now I was achingly stiff; my cock was almost tearing its way out of my underwear. I wanted to pull it out and masturbate myself, but my urge to show Dave how well I could I handle his cock and balls was stronger.

I moved my mouth away from his and down to his neck, kissing it gently and feeling the roughness of his stubble chafe against my lips. Then I pushed my head underneath the duvet that was over our bodies, and worked my face into the thick hair on his chest, smelling his musky odour in it.