My Dirty Little Secret (2)

This is the proper second chapter and, as you will notice, there is loads more sexual stuff in this than the last one. Enjoy 😀

My Dirty Little Secret (2)

The problem with making out with your straight friend while he’s piss-drunk and you’re tipsy is that you will remember it. This might cause you to evoke some feelings about him inside, but I quickly shot down these feelings because I knew they weren’t going to get me anywhere. The morning after, a surprised Alan called me, waking me up from my fitful slumber.

“Dude, where are you?” he said when I picked up the phone.

“I walked back home,” I replied sleepily.

“Why?” He sounded genuinely shocked. “Wait, what happened last night?”

“Don’t worry, you’re not gay.” I didn’t know if I was saying the truth or not. I could vaguely remember him making out with me and kissing my boner, but his own boner had become limp after a short while.

“I’m not?” he asked rhetorically, sounding relieved. “Well, I guess that means I should concentrate on girls. I won’t ask you for the details.”

“Don’t. Take some medicine for your headache and let me sleep. Bye!” I hung up and plopped my head on the pillow again, falling asleep almost instantly. It wasn’t late into the afternoon that I woke up, and I felt a really mild throbbing at the back of my head.

Nothing really interesting happened for a few weeks. I tried to speak with Alan as normally as I could, trying to act like I had not made out with him and he had not almost given me a blowjob. This was surprisingly easy, to be honest. It was great that David and I shared no classes together, because that would probably have been more awkward. When we passed each other in lunch or between different classes, we acted like we didn’t know each other.

Of course, this strategy could not work forever. David and I had many, many mutual friends. Once, as I was heading off to English class with my friend Tammy, I saw David walking towards us. We avoided eye contact, but Tammy shouted, “Hey Dave!”

David’s face broke into a half convincing smile, “Hey Tammy!”

“I’ll catch up with you later, Tammy,” I said curtly. I speed-walked to our English classroom. Tammy arrived five minutes later and took her accustomed place beside me.

“Has something happened between you and Dave?” she asked.

“No, nothing really,” I said, “Why are you asking?”

She chuckled, “You’re such a bad liar. Tell me, I’ll talk to him about it.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know and I’m not going to tell you. And don’t tell anyone about it.”

She didn’t, but apparently it was rather obvious how David and I were avoiding each other in breaks and between classes because we were close friends once. Luckily, I didn’t hear any rumours popping around school. I thanked the Universe for making my life easier.

Enter Saahil.

Salman Papar has always been an interesting character in my life. I first truly met him two years ago when we were put in the same group on a hiking trip. Back then, he was arrogant and annoying. Nowadays he was arrogant and mature… and his body was looking much better as well. Although he didn’t have a six pack or nice biceps like mine, you could still see that he went to the gym. In fact, he had often been very prominent in my thoughts recently.

This goes back to the party David had had ages ago at his place. Almost all of our year had been there, including Saahil. This was the first time I’d seen Salman properly out of school, and I could say that his fashion sense was slightly better than your average straight guy’s. He was also well-shaven all around, with smooth legs and thighs. In the changing rooms, people used to talk about this behind his back, but he never seemed to mind.

But obviously, you can get straight guys like that. The main thing that made me question his sexuality was that once he’d gotten sufficiently drunk at Dave’s party and we started hanging out in a small circle of friends, he was often prone to say, “I love you Ali, you’re great!” Then he’d keep a hand on my shoulder and lean on it.

This was also normal drunk behaviour, I suppose.