Date: Sat, 13 Dec 2008 11:35:46 -0800 (PST)
From: Marc McClean <mj_mclean2001@yahoo.com>
Subject: Figuring it out

This is an erotic story about man-to-man sexual activities. If you are
offended by such material, too young to read such, or it is illegal in your
community, stop here and find something that won't get you in trouble.
Otherwise, please enjoy! If you do, please drop me a note at
mj_mclean2001@yahoo.com

Thanks!

FIGURING IT OUT

By M.J. McLean

It was more of a cottage, really, than a house -- one bedroom, a cozy
living room, a bright eat-in kitchen, a tidy little yard -- but to me it
was paradise. That's because it was mine, at least as long as the landlord
cared to rent it to me.

I'd waited so long to get my own place and this fall, I finally matched my
meager college student budget with this little cottage, a gem I found with
the help of a co-worker.

Now maybe I could figure out what my life was supposed to be about. I was
two years back from a botched Mormon church mission and in that time, I'd
come out for real, to myself first -- even though I knew I was gay even
before I donned my white shirts and ties -- then tentatively to a few close
friends. I lost my virginity in a somewhat awkward coupling with a guy in
high school who moved away a month later (not my fault, I swear) and I
fooled around with my mission companion, who went home early (again, not my
fault). I had experimented further with other guys in college (OK, two
guys, one at a time), but with an apartment full of straight roommates, my
options were limited.

I needed my own place.

Which is why the call from my friend Chris so quickly dampened my spirits.
Chris was about to get married. He'd planned to move into the house he was
building -- how a newly minted college grad could afford a new house, I
could only guess and the guess involved his parents' money -- but summer
rains had slowed construction and, well ...

"I'm homeless, guy, no place to go. Sara's parents would freak if I moved
in with her before the wedding and so I was wondering, since you're living
alone now ... "

"You want to live with me," I said.

"It's only for a couple of months, if that long," he replied.  How he
managed to convey his brown puppy dog eyes over the phone, I still don't
know, but he did.

"I only have one bedroom, so you'd have to bunk on the couch," I said,
secretly hoping that would disuade him.

"I can do better than that," he shot back. "I have a nice sofa bed I can
move in there, give us a little more furniture ... How about it? It'd be a
lifesaver. And between work and the construction and Sara, I probably
wouldn't even be around much."

I sighed.  Not aloud, I'm too nice for that, but inside, I sighed. My
freedom. My cottage.  My bachelor pad. I was never going to get laid again!
On the other hand, Chris was one of my closest friends. We were both
Mormons (he still faithful, me not so much) in a town where there were few
and we had a lot of shared experiences, including the church mission. I
came out to him before anyone else and he shrugged it off, telling it me it
didn't matter, and it hadn't. In fact, he'd become one of my most ardent
supporters as I came out to others.

He was also really cute. Damn, did I think that? I wasn't supposed to. He
was straight and my close friend and I'd naively sworn I'd never do a
straight guy or a friend. On the other hand, living in such close quarters,
there'd undoubtedly be a lot of incidental nudity -- I'd never seen Chris
in the buff before -- and maybe that could make up for the other nudity I
wouldn't be getting.

"Of course you can stay," I said. "I'm glad to help."

We made plans for Chris to move his clothes, a few other essentials and the
sofa bed to the little cottage. I hoped that maybe, just maybe, I could
squeeze in one last, um ... squeeze before I lost my privacy again, but I
had to settle for a few leisurely sessions with my right hand.

We made a nice dinner his first night as my roomie and sat around talking
until after 1 in the morning. I was a little surprised when he admitted how
nervous he was about his impending wedding. I'd never known Chris to be
anything but confident and deliberate about what he did. I wrote it off to
jitters and announced that I needed to get to bed.

I brushed my teeth, washed my face and, without really thinking, stripped
to my boxer shorts while Chris took his turn in the bathroom. I was turning
down my bed when I heard him gasp behind me.

"Whoa, those aren't standard issue skivvies, dude! When did you stop
wearing the Gs?"

I turned around, surprised. Chris stood there in what I assumed were his
nightclothes: his mesh garment top and sweats, under which I assumed he
wore the garment bottoms.

"I dunno, not long after I got home," I replied, my face just a little red.
I'd shed my Mormon underwear – garments or Gs among the faithful –
for good not long after my first sexual experience, figuring that I was
headed down a path where I didn't need them. I'd turned into a typical
underwear queen since then, filling two drawers.

Chris laughed, shaking his head. "Guess I hadn't thought about it. Must be
nice."

We said our goodnights and went to bed. I didn't see him the next day -- he
left early for work and stumbled home after I'd turned in, but the next
evening, he came home early. He seemed quiet. When I asked if everything
was OK, he mumbled something about Sara and the wedding preparations and I
let it go.

The next day was Saturday. We both slept in. I was reading in bed, when
Chris walked in to the bathroom. He showered and walked out with a towel
wrapped around him, which was unusual; he usually came out in his Gs. I
wasn't getting as much nudity as I'd hoped.

"Dude, if I ask you a weird question, will you promise not to get all upset
or anything?" he said quickly, as if he was afraid he would lose his nerve
if he paused.

"Shoot," I said.

"Well, uh, I've been thinking ... it's just that ... well, I've been kinda
wondering since the other night and, well
... canItryapairofyourunderwearforaday?"  He blushed, but I figured out
what he said and, before he could escape, replied, "um, yeah, sure."

"I just wanted to see what it felt like again. It's been a while and once I
get married, well, you know ..."

OK, so it was a little odd, but underwear is a big thing for Mormons, so
who knew.

"Top drawer," I said, trying to supress my smile.

Chris opened the drawer and pulled out a pair of striped boxer shorts. He
looked at them, then shrugged with a sheepish smile. He dropped his towel
and I got a glimpse of nice thatch of hair and a cock that looked healthy
even soft. I tried not to stare, but damn!

He shifted a little and smiled. "Nice," he said. "Too bad you don't have
some briefs -- that's what I think I miss."

This time I smiled. "Second drawer," I said.

He stared at me for a second -- "Boy, you don't mess around, do you?" --
then turned around and fished out a pair of black briefs. He dropped the
boxer shorts. This time, I got a view of his ass, which was tighter and
rounder than his usual khakis ever hinted. He pulled the briefs up and left
the room quickly.

I listened to him dress. He called out that he was heading up to the house
and would probably be there all day, supervising the plumber or
something. When I heard his car pull away, I pushed the covers back and
shucked off my shorts.

That little show -- not to mention the thought of Chris in my underwear --
had given me such a hard-on. I stretched out on the bed and closed my eyes,
running one hand across my chest while the other one stroked my cock. I
found myself doing what I'd tried to avoid for so long -- fantasizing about
my straight friend -- but I couldn't help it. I imagined Chris coming home
and stripping down to his underwear -- my underwear! -- before coming into
my room.

"Guess you'll want these back," my fantasy Chris said with a leer. He put
his thumbs in the waistband and slowly pushed the shorts down, freeing his
cock, which was growing harder. I watched him stroke himself, staring
straight at me as I stripped and stroked. I imagined him walking over to
the bed and sitting next to me.

We were almost the same height and weight, I knew that. His brown hair and
brown eyes contrasted with my blonde and blue. He was better defined than I
was -- I could see his stomach muscles ripple in my mind as he stroked --
but our cocks looked about the same length.

"Those shorts must have some special power," my fantasy Chris said as he
reached down and grabbed my cock. I reached over for his and we stroked
together. He leaned down and  planted a kiss on my lips, sliding his body
into bed with me. I imagined us kissing deeply. our arms finding each
others' bodies, our legs twisting together, our hard cocks bumping,
grinding.

"I want you to suck me, I want to know what it feels like," I imagined
Chris saying. I kissed him again and then ran my tongue over his chin,
tracing a line down his throat, toward his chest. I paused and licked his
nipples briefly. In my mind, he shuddered. I continued licking down his
stomach, until I reached his cock. It was rock hard, at least seven inches,
I imagined, dripping with precum.

I took it into my mouth and let it slide on my tongue, wrapping my lips
around it. I began to suck and he began to move his hips. I grasped his ass
and helped him fuck my face. He grabbed my head and groaned as I sucked
harder.

"I'm gonna come any minute," my fantasy Chris whispered. "I wanna see you
come too."

I pulled my mouth away and we sat up next to each other. I imagined him
grabbing my cock as I took his and we stroked, staring into each others'
eyes. "Yeah," he growled, "it's time." I felt his cock tighten and then
begin to shoot streams of come, just as mine did the same.

And then I collapsed back on my bed, alone, exahausted, sticky with
come. So much for that rule. Have to figure that one out later.

Chris didn't mention the underwear that night, but two days alter, I found
the plastic wrapping for three pairs of mixed color Fruit of the Looms. I
grinned, but also wondered what was going on.

_________________________



For the next week or two, Chris spent most of his time either at work or at
the house, but I noticed a change in him when he was home. One night, he
admitted he'd been sneaking a beer now and then and even a shot or two -- I
knew he'd been a bit of a drinker before his mission, but didn't know he'd
started again.

"Um...  " I began. "Chris is there anything you want to talk about?"

Chris sat silently for about five minutes. He shook his head, got up, then
sat down again.

"Dude, I don't know if I love her. Sara. I don't know if this is
right. We're fighting way too much. Way too much."

"Is that why you've had a few drinks?" I ventured.

"Mostly.  I don't know. We're fighting a lot."

"About what?" I asked.

"Everything.  She was furious when she found out I'd had a beer, said we'd
have to repent and maybe even postpone the wedding. I told her that was
silly, it was just a beer, but that night, I had two more cuz I was so
pissed at her."

He sat for a minute.

"Then a few nights ago, she surprised me up at the house. I'd been working
pretty hard and I was hot and I'd taken my shirt off and ... and I wasn't
wearing my Gs. I kinda don't wear them all the time now. Figure I may as
well enjoy the freedom while I can, right?" He laughed nervously.

"She asked me where my top was and I was pissed at her attitude and said it
was with the bottoms back at the house and a showed her the waistband of my
briefs and she flew into it. Bawling about how I didn't respect the church,
the temple, her, whatever. Said maybe we couldn't get married. I told her
to relax, that I'd wear the Gs once we were married, but she wasn't having
any of it."

Chris walked over to the fridge. "I thought I saw this in here," he said,
pulling a bottle of gin out of the freezer. I was experimenting, though not
often and not with much enjoyment yet. "You want some? I could use some."

He didn't wait for me to answer, just poured two shots and topped it off
with the tonic water he found in the lower compartment. He handed me mine
and sat down next to me on the sofa.

"I don't know if I should tell you the rest," he said slowly.

I looked at him, worried about what he meant. "It's up to you, but Chris,
you're my friend and nothing you say is going to change that. Besides," I
said with a chuckle, "I think I've set the standard for shockers, dontcha
think?"

He smiled. "Yeah, that was a big one," he said. He paused. "What's it like?
How did you know? Was it tough to like, you know, try something to see if
you were, you know, gay?" Chris had not taken a breath the whole time and I
sat stunned for a moment.

Finally, I said, "OK. Um. Well. If you're asking what I think, I just
knew. It was sort of in there. I fought it for a while and, well, I told
you all this when I came out... "

"Yeah, I know, that I know. But what's it like? I mean, you know, being
with a guy? Is it weird? What do you do?" He gulped down the rest of of
drink and shifted uncomfortably.

"You know what we do, I think, it's kinda not too complicated," I said.
"As for what it's like ... well, I haven't had a lot of experience, but
it's just right. I feel good when I'm with a guy. Really good..."

Chris turned to me suddenly. "Listen, dude, promise you won't get all
freaked out, but .. well... I wanna know what it's like, for real. I want
to, you know, do something with you. I want to see what it's like, if it's
right for me."

I was floored. I didn't expect this at all and I was about to launch into
my "never gonna have sex with straight guys or friends" speech when I saw
the mixture of fear and confusion in my friend's eyes, which were now
filling with tears. I realized what it was taking for him to say this.

"Chris," I began. "If you really think you might be ..."

"I don't know if I am and I don't know if that's what this means, but I
need to know before I get married, I just need to know," he said, a little
more confident.

"I don't want to ruin our friendship," I said.

"It won't, I promise," he replied. "Just think of it as getting really
close with one of your best friends. It's us sharing something no one else
can.  Just this one time. I have to figure it out."

I sat for two or three minutes. He'd obviously thought about this a lot,
but it was still a mistake, I was certain. I loved Chris as a friend and
the last thing I wanted to do was ...

I barely saw his hand as Chris reached for my face and pulled it toward
his. He kissed me, hard and deep, catching me off guard. I kissed back and
finally he pulled away a little.

"Whoa," he said.

"Whoa," I replied.

We sat again, and then fell into each other's arms. If this was a mistake,
it sure didn't feel like one at that moment.

I felt his tongue push against my lips and  I let it in my mouth. I pulled
him closer to me and ran my hands through his hair. I felt his arms
encircle me, his fingers digging into my back. I squirmed and writhed as he
found a pleasure spot on my spine. I guess I thought I'd be taking the
lead, but suddenly, Chris reached down and pulled my shirt up and off.

"Do I lick your nipples?" he asked quietly.

"If you like," I said. "I like it."

So he said. He was a little awkward and he bit a little, but he sucked a
little on each nipple. I reached down and helped him pull his shirt off. I
carressed his chest, tracing his muscles lightly with my fingers. I licked
his nipples a little and he giggled.

"Maybe we should go in the bedroom?" he asked.

I took him by the hand and led him back. We stopped by the bed and I
embraced him, pulling his bare chest to mine, planting my lips back on
his. As we kissed, I began to grind my hips into his, which surprised him,
I think.

"Wow, dude, is that you down there?" he said. I looked down -- yeah, I was
already hard and the sweats I'd been wearing did nothing to hide it.

"Let's see," I said slyly. I pushed my sweats down and then dropped my
boxer shorts. I was naked in front of one of my best friends, who looked
little shocked, I think. My cock was rigid and I stroked it a little as I
kicked my clothes away.

"You wanna touch it?" I said huskily.

He didn't hesitate. I wrapped his hand around it, then pulled it away, then
grabbed it again and began to stroke.

"Wow," he said, grinning. "This feels ... well, different." He stroked a
little more and smiled at me. I looked down at his khakis. Not all the way
hard, I guessed, but there was something there.

"Last chance to blame this on me," I said as I reached for his belt. I
unbuckled it, unbuttoned and and unzipped the pants and, in one motion,
pushed them and his black briefs to the floor.

"Not exactly standard issue underwear there, buddy," I said, but stopped as
I saw his cock. It was definitely growing harder and it was bigger than I
had imagined. He was an impressive "shower" but a better "grower."

He stood almost shly, but let me reach in and stoke his cock as it grew
harder. I pulled him closer and put his cock next to mine, stroking them
both as I kissed him again.

"Tell me if you want to stop or if I'm going too far," I said, hoping he
wouldn't. He said nothing. His cock was fully hard now. I slowly sank to my
knees. I looked up at him. He nodded. I took his cock with my right hand
and pulled it to my mouth. I swirled my tongue around the head and heard
Chris moan. I eased his cock into my mouth, as far as I could, and began to
suck.

His hips bucked a little, not as smoothly as my fantasy, but he knew what
to do, more or less. I sucked slowly, fondling his balls with one hand,
kneading his ass with the other. I felt him flinch a little when I reached
his ass and I decided not to push things.

His hard cock filled my mouth as I sucked. Finally, I stood up and guided
him to the bed. He sat down and I sat next to him. We kissed and I felt him
tenatively take my cock in his hand. He stroked for a minute and squeezed
my nipples.

I leaned back against the pillows and stretched out on the bed.

"C'mere, I want to try something," I said. He looked a little nervous, but
I said, "don't worry." I pulled him on top of me and kissed him as I used
my legs to pull him close. I thrust my hips against him, feeling our hard
cocks together.

"Now you're going to fuck me," I said. I saw the shock in his face and
smiled.  "Not for real, not for real, don't worry. Just imagine that you
are.  You're on top, between my legs, now just thrust against me." He
looked doubtful, but then determined. He began to thrust his hips against
me. I wrapped my legs around his ass and met his thrusts with mine. I
grabbed our two cocks and stroked them against each other.

He thrust faster and I stroked in rhythm. Finally, with no warning at all,
he stopped, threw his head back and let out a muffled yell. His cock began
to shoot cum all over me. I stroked my cock a few more times and found
myself wracked in an orgasm more intense than I'd ever felt with someone
else. I was covered with cum.

Chris rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes.
"Wow," he said at last. "I can't believe I did it. I wasn't sure I had the
nerve. But I needed to try, to figure it out."

"Did you?" I asked. "Figure it out."

"I figured out a few things, maybe not what I thought. I know one thing:
You're still my friend and I still love you. I...  um ... I ... dude, don't
freak out, but I don't think I want to do this again."

I didn't think we would, but I felt disappointed for a minute.

"That's because I don't think I'm gay. I mean, this was hot and I could do
this and maybe have some fun, but it was fun. I don't think I'd ever feel
what you do."

He pushed up on one elbow, leaned over and kissed me deeply one more
time. "I'm gonna hop in the shower and hit the hay. Gotta finish a few
things on the house tomorrow. Think it's gonna be ready next week."

I listened to him shower and I did the same later. He moved out a week
later. We had a big last-night dinner and he pulled out a bottle of
champagne at the end.  We toasted each other and then he told me he had
news.

"Sara and I called it off. It wasn't going to work. It wasn't right. I
figured it out after ... after that night."

I must have looked horrified because he quickly said, "No, dude, it wasn't
that, it wasn't what we did. That was fun -- " as if to punctuate the
point, he reached over and tweaked my right nipple -- "but it wasn't why we
broke it off. It just wasn't right. I think I have other things to figure
out and I couldn't do it with her. I think  I need some distance from her
and maybe from the church too."

We were quiet for a minute, then finished the bottle, laughing as we talked
into the night.

About a year later, Chris called. He was getting married and wanted me to
be his best man. Of course, I accepted and helped him prepare for his
wedding. Connie, his bride-to-be, was lovely and Chris was happy.

The night before the wedding, I came home to find a package leaning against
my front door. There was a card attached. It was from Chris.

"Thanks for a night I'll never forget and for helping me figure things
out. I think these are yours."

I couldn't figure out what it all meant. I tore open the paper and out fell
... a pair -- my pair, I guessed -- of black briefs.