The Gay Best Friend

So, hmmm, okay: fiction. This is totally fiction. Trying it out here on the ole bloggy blog...hope you enjoy:

The doorbell rang. I was wearing a black tank top and little white shorts, my hair windblown because of the fan I’d bee sitting front of for the last thirty minutes. I took a quick look into the mirror and saw the ring of red wine around my mouth. I left it there and took a drag of my cigarette. My eyeliner was smudged but whatever, I thought. I wasn’t about to fix myself for him. He wasn’t a boy after all.

Just a gay best friend.

I heard a knock at the door.

“Coming,” I said, blowing my nose into a tissue. I opened the door to find him standing there. Gabe.

“Hi, honey,” Gabe said, smiling at me, a little sheepishly. “How are you doing?” I hugged him right in the doorway. I smelled his cologne and his hair gel and all his other products.

“You smell good,” I said, sniffling into his shoulder. “You always smell so good. How often do you shower?”

“Every morning, after I work out, and after I fuck,” he said, smiling.

“Oh, so like three times a day,” I said. “You’re so active. I need a more active lifestyle.”

“Shut up,” Gabe said, coming inside. “You’re active. Go be active and get some glasses. I brought Maker’s.” Gabe pulled a bottle out a small black plastic bag and I sighed. I kissed him on the forehead.

“Aww,” Gabe said. “So many kisses. Have you been drinking?”

“No,” I said, walking to the dish cabinet. “I’m just leaking desire for human contact tonight. Any and all. I’m achey, Gabe. I’m really fucking achey right now. I feel like I just played a soccer game, or ran a marathon, but like, in my heart, or fuck, that’s so, so dumb…” I wandered off. I stood before the sink, put my head down and started to cry.

“Janieee,” Gabe said, coming towards me. He gave me a bear hug from behind. “You should really not be crying. You should really not be crying at all! You have months to cry! Years to cry! Right now, I am here. And we, WE are not crying.” He kissed the back of my neck. “We are not crying, Janie.”

I turned around to face Gabe and gave him the two glasses. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. “I’m so snotty. I have that crying headache, too. You know that crying headache?”

“No more crying, honey. Hmm. Do you have soda water?” Gabe asked, opening my fridge.

“No,” I said. “I have, like, a pudding cup. And I have ranch dressing. Neither of which mix very well with bourbon.”

“Your fridge sucks right now. The least you can do is go grocery shopping, girl. Fucking nourish that sad little heart of yours with some FOOD. And some soda water,” Gabe said. He got a tray of ice cubes out of the freezer. “Ice will do.” Gabe dropped a couple cubes in the glasses and poured a three fingered shot into each. I was sitting in front of the window fan in the kitchen again.

“You know that scene,” I murmured. “In St. Elmo’s Fire? When Demi Moore is sitting wrapped up in a sheet in front of the open window all traumatized? And she’s like cold. And everyone’s trying to get into her apartment,” I said, moving away from the fan, and taking Gabe’s hand, leading him into the living room.

“Yeah, I remember,” Gabe said. “Vaguely. Rob Lowe played the saxophone in that movie.”

“I always thought it was so funny. So ridiculous. Mental breakdown in a sheet in front of an open window in winter. Like please. No one has mental breakdowns like that.”

“Right…” Gabe said. “What is your point?”

“Oh, right, sorry. Disjointed thoughts. Um, okay, so I’ve been sitting in front of fans all day. Feeling the breeze in my hair. Just because it was comforting. Because, I don’t know. It felt like something else. Besides this ache. Subtle breeze. Really gentle. Just feels nice.

“It’s nice that you can use fans to distract yourself from the ache. Some girls slit their wrists in bathtubs and shit, Janie. Or do massive amounts of drugs!” Gabe exclaimed, lighting a cigarette.

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess you’re right. Demi Moore really is one of the prettiest ladies in the world. I want black hair and blue eyes.” I was drinking my bourbon too fast. I poured another shot in the glass almost immediately. The ice hadn’t even started to melt.

“You have red hair and green eyes,” Gabe remarked.

“Astute. My hair is fake, though,” I murmured. “Can I have a cigarette?’

“Sure, honey,” he said, taking one out of the pack, putting it in my mouth, and lighting it for me. Like I was some old lady, I thought.

“I don’t want to talk about him. I want to talk about anything but him. I don’t even want to talk about NOT talking about him, that’s how much I don’t want to talk about him. Him. He. I thought he was a good guy, you know, I thought he was…” I trailed off and started crying again. I held the cigarette in my hand. My hand was shaking. I heard a kid outside say a Spanish swear. And a car alarm.

“He’s probably a good person. Who makes bad choices. That’s more likely,” Gabe whispered, touching my hair.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, Gabe,” I growled, dropping my cigarette in the diet Coke can on my coffee table.

“What can I say to make you feel better?” Gabe asked, scratching my shoulder.

“Just. I’m sorry…”

“What, honey?”

“Just keep touching me. Lightly. No sudden movements,” I said. Taking a drink from glass. I noticed Gabe chugged his at that moment and poured some more.

‘You’re drinking faster than I am,” I said, giggling. “I’m the dumped one.”

“Yeah, you’re driving me to drink, girl. You and all your boyyy pains,” he whispered in my ear and continued to scratch my shoulder.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “Don’t get drunk, though. I don’t want you to have some sort of mental breakdown, too, because of drunkenness. One of us has to be sane right now.”

“You’re sane, honey. You wouldn’t question your sanity if you weren’t. You’re just, what the southern ladies call, “out of sorts” right now.”

“Do southern ladies say that?” I said, sitting up a bit, and looking into Gabe’s eyes. They were bloodshot, I suddenly noticed.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Why are your eyes bloodshot?” I asked.

“I had a few drinks before I got here,” he said.

“Oh, did I interrupt a date or something? Shit, Gabe, you didn’t have to—“

“Shut up, silly girl,” Gabe said. “Just shut up.” And then Gabe took his fingers and brushed them against my lips, stroked my right cheek, and pulled a strand of hair away from my forehead.

“Gabe…” I said. I bit my bottom lip. “What are you doing?”

“Shut up,” he said again, this time, sweetly. And he kissed me. softly. On the corner of my mouth.

“What?’ I asked the air.

“What?’ he asked the air and kissed me softly on the lips.

“What.” I said again, this time not a question. I suddenly grabbed his face in my hands and kissed him hard. He kissed me hard back.

“What the fuck are we—“ I squealed between gulping down his kisses and tasting cigarettes and bourbon on his lips. He tasted like me, I thought.

“I have no idea what we’re doing,” Gabe said. “Take off those stupid looking shorts.”

“Gabe, I—“ he interrupted me by shoving his hand down the front of my shorts. “Oh fuck, I am—“

“You are so. Fucking. Wet. Do you get this wet for all the—“ he started fingering me and closed his eyes.

“For all the fags,” I said. “I don’t know, Gabe. No fag has ever—“

At that moment, Gabe lifted me up off the couch and pulled down my shorts for me. Suddenly, he bent me over the side of the couch. I felt his cock, through his jeans, prod my ass. Suddenly, I felt the hot flesh of his cock on my ass. I turned around. He’d just taken it out through his jeans. He was still completely clothed.

“Gabe, could you take off your...I want to see…” I got up from the arm of the couch. I turned around and saw Gabe, redfaced. Looking like a different person. “I want to see you.” He kissed me on the forehead. Suddenly, things slowed down. Achingly slowed down. He took off his shirt. I took off my shirt. He took off his jeans. Boxer briefs. I slid them down. I saw his ball sack, high, tight, hairless. A gay boy’s sack. Still, I was intrigued and surprised by all the black chest hair. He really was a man underneath all that sweetness. Though I had never imagined Gabe naked. I had never even seen him with his shirt off. He was so taut. Muscular. I never dated boys that looked like him. I never…

“Stroke my cock, Janie,” Gabe hissed. “Please.” He grabbed my hand and put it on his cock. The precum was dripping.

“Gabe. Why are you? Why are you doing this?”

“Because,” he said. “Because your sadness turns me on.”

“Are you serious?” I asked, giggling. “My sadness turns you on?”

“Actually,” Gabe said, kissing my neck. “Yes. And I want to know.” He kissed my mouth, his tongue prodding, very wet and hot. “I want to know what I’ve been missing. Not because you’re a girl. But because. Because you’re Janie.”

He put his fingers inside me again.

“Do you always get this wet?” he asked. I moaned and stayed silent. “Janie, do you always get this. fucking. Wet.” He started fingering me fast.

“Gabe, you—“

“I’m going to make you cum first, and then I’m going to fuck you, sweetheart.”

“Gabe. Gabe, you are so not making any—“

“Any what, Janie?” he fingered me faster. “Any what?”

“You are not making. You are not. Fuck. Gabe you are not making any sense right now. You don’t like. You don’t like—“

“I like you,” Gabe rubbed my clit, hard and fast. “I. like. You. Goddamitt. You’re my sweet hot little fag hag. Fuck.” His fingers quickened over my clit. “Look at this clit. So hard and fat. Like a little cock. That’s my little cock, that’s my little…” Gabe growled. “Now cum.”

And I did. I closed my eyes and I came hard.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, Gaaabeeee,” I whined. Tears sprung to my eyes and I cleared my throat. “Oh Gabe, what are you doing to me? What are you trying to do?”

“Janie,” Gabe kissed me. “Why would any straight boy want to hurt you?” He stroked my hair. And for a second, I knew where I was again. Gabe is gay. I kept repeating it over and over in my head. Gabe is gay. Gabe is gay. But then I opened my eyes after my pussy stopped fluttering and I saw his face. And I thought it was a beautiful face and then I thought, Gabe is not gay.

Right now, Gabe is mine.

God, I really think he’s mine right now. I really think he’s mine.

“Would you like to fuck me?” I said, blushing. “Hee hee. Really? I mean you don’t have to…” I kissed his earlobe.

“I do. I want to,” Gabe traced my pussy with his cock as we stood in front of one another. “I’m not sure how I’ll do, though.”

“It’s pretty easy,” I said. “Heh. I mean. And I’m really wet right now. You can just slide in. There’s not as much resistance in a pussy as there is an ass.” I blushed. “You’ll probably want to take me from behind…”

Gabe frowned at me and kissed my neck, my collar bone, my lips softly.

“Don’t say that. I want to see you…I want to see you.”

I took Gabe’s hand and led him into my bedroom. He laid me on the bed. I still had my tank top on. He rubbed my tits gently.

“Hee-hee,” Gabe giggled. “Boobs.”

“Boobs,” I guffawed. “Straight boys don’t say boobs. You’re—“ and then Gabe kissed me hard and pulled up my tank top rubbing my stomach. My round little tummy I’d told him was my spot one time. Because I could tell Gabe anything..

“I’m what?” he kissed my tummy. “You’re speechless, now, huh? See, I take note.” He twisted my nipples and I moaned. “I take note, Janie.”

I sighed and rolled back and forth. I reached down to grab his cock. I could feel the pulse in his shaft. I couldn’t believe how hard he was. How big. How BIG. Wow, he was big!

“You have a big cock,” I whispered as he started kissing my breasts.

‘I do, don’t I?” Gabe cackled. He looked down at me. He was kneeling in front of me and started stroking his cock. I gulped. I thought about the time I saw Gabe and his boyfriend one night, kissing outside the restaurant we’d all gone to for dinner. I saw the way Gabe held his boyfriend’s head in his hands and thought I’d like to kiss him someday. Just. Just kiss him. But now.

I had his cock.

I had his cock and his mouth and all those bits of Gabe…all those bits of Gabe.

I closed my eyes as I felt the tears coming on. I wasn’t sure where those tears were coming from. A hundred places, I supposed. I opened my eyes back up when I felt Gabe’s mouth on my mouth.

“Gabe.” His eyelashes were so long. The lights were off in my bedroom but the hallway light was on and I could see his eyelashes.

“Do you have a condom?”

I leapt up from the bed and grabbed a condom out of the drawer. I ripped it open with my teeth and slid it on his cock. I laid down and played with my pussy. Coyly. I giggled.

“Fuck,” Gabe said. “You’re sexy.” He was silent as he stroked his cock. “Janie. I only. I only fucked this other girl…once…like ten years ago.”

“I know,” I said. “You’re gonna fuck number two right now.”

“Fuck,” he said. And he slid his cock, all of it in me suddenly without hesitation. Almost too much too soon but just enough at the same time. I groaned hard and loud. “I guess I am,” Gabe said. His eyes rolled back into his head. He propped my feet up on his shoulders. “You’re…you’re so easy to find…your pussy is like fucking magnetized…you’re so wet. Gahhhh….”

He fucked me harder. I panted. I couldn’t speak. I just looked at Gabe, stared at him. stared at his cock going in and out. And I suddenly thought I would squirt. I moaned.

“You’re really tight, right? You’re really. Oh, no.”

“What?” I asked.

“I’m gonna cum too soon, I don’t want to, I don’t want to,” Gabe whispered.

“Slow down then. It’s not a race,” I smiled.

Gabe slowed down and kissed my calf. He slowed down and sucked my toes. He slowed down and rubbed my belly, lightly. Then all of a sudden he started fucking me harder. Hard thrusts. Smack. Pause. Smack. Pause. Our sex melding and crushing one another. He started fucking me harder and faster now. I put my legs back toward my head, spreading them wide.

“Oh, no, oh god, Gabe, I’m gonna cum now. Are you? Are you gonna?”

“I’m gonna fuck fuck fuck I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna—CUUUUMMM!“ Gabe screamed. He screamed at the top of his lungs. I had never heard anything like that before. Not from a boy while he came. And suddenly, my cunt seared and squeezed so hard and suddenly everything got very very fuzzy and I got dizzy. And I said over, and over again, as his last thrusts nailed me to the mattress, I said:

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you, thank you thank you…” My thighs were suddenly wet with juice. I had gushed. Gabe felt my wet thighs.

“Thank you.”

“Wow,” Gabe said.

And then my cunt stopped shuddering and Gabe fell on top of me and slowly, slowly took his cock out of my pussy. He took the condom off and flung it on the floor. I giggled. Such a romantic gesture.

“Gabe.”

“Janie.”

“Wow.”

“Wow is right.”

“What was—“

“I have no idea.”

“Can we—can we do it again?” I asked.

There was silence. I was scared suddenly. I had pushed it too far. I didn’t even mean can we do it again now, I just meant, can we do that again? Someday? But even that was too much and now Gabe was gonna leave and things were gonna get weird and I, what the hell did I just--

“Give me,” Gabe whispered. “Like, fifteen minutes.”

I smiled. I sucked on his lower lip. “I can do that. I can do that.”