The Basement Pt. 01 on HotGuySecret
I’m sure there are some couples that can make a long-distance relationship work, but my high school girlfriend and I weren’t one of them.
She got a generous scholarship at a big state university 75 miles in one direction from our home town, and I got a full ride at a smaller liberal arts school 100 miles in the other. We planned to get together on frequent trips home, but with one thing and another we managed to meet just three times in our first semester.
Things were strained at Thanksgiving — I sensed her attentions were drifting to some other guy — and at Christmas we decided to break up. By that time I, too, was interested in someone new, and I regretted the breakup less than did my girlfriend. We parted as friends, though, and still are.
One thing I did get out of that relationship was a friendship with her cousin, Will, who attended the same college I did. She had told me to look him up when I got to school, and since I knew almost no one at first I thought, Why not?
I texted the number she gave me, and it turned out that Will lived in a dorm close to mine. We met for coffee, and I liked him right off the bat. He was whip-smart, with a wicked sense of humor, and we had a common interest in outdoor sports and EDM. He, too, was winding down a long-distance relationship, and that gave us something to talk about.
We started hanging out fairly often. On Friday nights one of the local bars had EDM night, which became a regular stop for us, and once in a while we’d go for a bike ride in the flat countryside outside town.
We also started playing one-on-one basketball at the rec center. Neither of us was good enough to compete in the hard-core pickup games that were always going on in the main gym, so we gravitated to the smaller gym, where we could almost always find a half court free.
I really enjoyed these games. What we lacked in skill we made up in intensity. We played hard — a foul had to be pretty blatant for either us to call it — and we both went for loose balls aggressively. There was a lot of bumping and elbowing, and sometimes we flat-out wrestled over the ball. But it was all in fun, and I don’t remember either of us ever losing our tempers.
One day we got tangled up going for a rebound and wrestled over the ball for several seconds until I lost my footing and sat down hard on the floor. In the process Will got the ball away and held it in triumph over his head.
When I looked up at him, I couldn’t help but notice that he had a tent in his shorts.
Shit, I thought, does he have a hard-on?
Will had to be aware of it, but if so he didn’t let on. He offered me a hand up, and we played a few more minutes before quitting for the day.
On the way back to the dorm I wondered briefly why Will had gotten a boner. Then I remembered what a wrestling friend in high school had told me: that getting an erection while grappling with another guy wasn’t uncommon, and most people just ignore it. I thought no more about it.
Although we always worked up a good sweat in these games, we usually went back to the dorms to shower. But one day I had to go to a special class afterward on the far side of campus, so I had brought my gym bag with clean clothes to change into.
It was unusually hot in the gym that day for some reason, and both our shirts were soaked with sweat when we finished.
“Jesus I stink,” Will said, sniffing at his armpits. “If I had my stuff I’d shower, too.”
I rummaged around in my bag.
“I think I have an extra shirt in here if you want it.”
“I don’t have a towel, though,” he said.
“Mine’s fresh, we can share,” I said.
He shrugged, and we went into the locker room.
Some guys seem to like parading around naked in locker rooms, but I’ve always been fairly modest, and I thought it might be awkward for Will not to have a towel to wrap around himself. But he acted as if it were not a big deal, which I suppose it really wasn’t. He shucked off his damp clothes and strode off boldly toward the showers.
This might be a good place to mention what good shape Will was in — compact and muscular, with a powerful-looking chest and shoulders, and dark hair on his arms, legs and chest.
I, by contrast, am taller and slimmer, with good muscle tone but not much definition, and my body hair is light and very blond.
The shower stalls in that locker room are arranged in bays on both sides of a central hallway, and none of them have doors or curtains. Will took one on the right side. I took the one opposite, hung my towel on the hook, got some shampoo out of the dispenser and began to lather up.
I was rinsing the suds out of my hair when I opened my eyes slightly and caught Will looking at my crotch. His gaze was so intent that he didn’t realize I’d caught him.
I turned back around to finish my shower, a little shocked. What was that about?
When I was done Will had his back to me and was rinsing shampoo out of his own hair.
I took my towel off the hook and stepped outside the shower room to dry off. When Will came out I glanced down — I couldn’t help myself — and noticed that he had a partial erection.
“Here,” I said, throwing him the towel. “You’d better cover that up.”
I meant it to be a lighthearted remark, but Will turned about seven shades of red. I was actually a little sorry I’d embarrassed him.
I went back to my locker and busied myself dressing. He followed a minute later, and in two minutes more he tossed the towel back to me and we were ready to go.
We said an awkward goodbye, which was stupid, really. For two guys to scope each other out in a locker room is hardly an unusual occurrence, and I knew as well as anyone that guys can’t control when they get erections.
I’m telling you all this not because it seemed like a big deal at the time — it didn’t — but because of what came later.
At this time — early in second semester — things were heating up with my new girl. She was keenly interested in sex, and taught me a thing or two I hadn’t learned from my previous girlfriends. I didn’t see much of Will during that time, because he had a new girl, too.
Eventually, however, both our affairs petered out, and we started hanging out again. I had totally forgotten the two incidents in the gym, if you could even call them that.
Sometime in early April Will invited me to come home with him for a weekend. His younger sister had a big role in her high school musical, and the whole family was turning out to see her.
“I know it won’t be very exciting for you, but I could use some company,” he said. “Besides, a friend of mine is having a big party that same weekend, and I promise you will have a good time there.”
I said yes. I’ve always been the type who’s up for just about anything, including hanging out with strangers.
When the big weekend arrived, we left campus after Friday morning classes and got to his house about 4, a few hours before curtain. The house was in a bit of an uproar — Will’s sister was equal parts excited and terrified — but his parents were friendly and welcoming and quickly made me feel at home.
Will’s bedroom had been given to his grandparents, who were in town for his sister’s big night, so he and I were relegated to two big couches in the basement, which was finished and pretty comfortable as basements go.
The musical was a big success, and Will’s sister sang beautifully. Everybody was happy and proud afterward, and it was a genuine pleasure to accompany the family to the town diner for a celebration.
The next day Will drove me around town, pointing out the homes of the two girls he’d fucked in high school and a third who’d given him his first blowjob. We watched part of the high school baseball game, and went home to an early dinner. Everyone but us was going to see the musical again, so we peeled off to pregame for the big party.
The party was just as good as Will had promised. There was all kinds of booze, a decent DJ and many hot girls. I danced several times with one girl who seemed a possible candidate for a one-night stand. I was just about to make my pitch when some dumbass friends surrounded her and dragged her off to another party.
By the time Will and I left, well after midnight, we were both in that state of drunkenness where you are happy and loose but well short of shit-faced. Still, since it was only a few blocks back to Will’s house, we decided to walk back rather than risk using his car. We could pick it up in the morning.
It was a balmy spring night, with the trees already leafing out, and the moon was nearly full. As we walked along, we talked about the party and whether we’d really been close to getting it on with the women we’d met.
“All I got out of that was blue balls,” I said.
“Same here,” Will said, tugging the front of his jeans in a way that suggested he was making more room for a hardon.
Seeing him do that made me aware that I, too, had a boner, so I made my own adjustment.
Did I imagine it, or was Will watching as I did so?
Halfway home we came to a small park, which was little more than a baseball diamond, a couple of picnic tables and two or three clumps of trees.
“Let’s smoke a doobie,” Will said.
We made our way into the shadows under one clump of trees where we couldn’t be seen from the street. Will lit up, and we each had a couple of hits. It was dark where we stood, and the only light was from the burning end of the doobie.
“Jesus, I’m horny tonight,” Will said.
“God, so am I.”
I felt my boner stirring again and wondered if Will’s was, too. Then I wondered why I was wondering that.
Another hit or two, and the doobie went out.
“Let’s finish this at home,” Will said.
We left the park and walked the last couple of blocks to his house. Will led me to the side door and down to the basement.
One dim table lamp had been left on for us. While I spread the blankets on my couch, Will went into the tiny bathroom to pee.
When I came back from my turn in the bathroom Will had stripped down to his underwear and was sitting on the other couch. He was wearing dark-colored boxer briefs, like I usually do, and even in the dim light I could see that he still had a bulge.
I stripped down to my briefs, aware that I, too, had a bulge. Again I sensed Will was watching me, and I felt an odd tingle of excitement as I sat down on my couch.
Something was in the air, though I couldn’t say exactly what it was.
“Dude, you want to finish this doobie?” Will asked.
“In here? Won’t your parents smell it?”
“We can stand on the couch and blow the smoke out through here,” he said, indicating a window well that gave a little ventilation when the laundry was in use.
He stood up, slid the window open and lit the joint. I climbed up next to him.
It felt a little strange standing there half-naked with my good friend, both of us stoned and more than a little drunk, but on the other hand it didn’t feel bad, either.
Kind of exciting, actually.
To this day I have a hard time describing what was going through my head at that point. I had never messed around with a guy and wasn’t consciously hoping to now, but at some deeper level I was excited. My cock was in that state where it isn’t exactly hard but feels heavy, as if the slightest stimulation would turn it to a full-blown erection.
We passed what was left of the joint back and forth, then got to talking again about the two women we’d met at the party, and about our both having blue balls. That led to a series of jokes about how blue they were — blue as the sea, cobalt blue, Carolina blue, blue as Smurf butts — and soon we got the giggles.
Will elbowed me in the side, I elbowed him back, and soon we were butting each other with our shoulders, in the playful way guys do sometimes.
The next thing I knew, Will had snaked out an arm and got me in a headlock. I tried to break away, shifting my legs to get better leverage, and in the process my bulge rubbed against his hip.
I hadn’t done it intentionally, but I realized in a flash that Will might think I had.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t ….”
Before I could finish, Will flexed his arm and pulled me closer to him. That brought my crotch up against his hip again, and we both froze, my rapidly hardening cock pressed against his side.
In one part of my mind, I knew this was something straight guys didn’t do — or at least shouldn’t do. But in another part of my mind I was thinking how good it felt.
Will moved his hip slightly, putting some pressure on my dick.
I caught my breath. That felt really good, I thought.
Will paused, then moved again, rubbing against me some more. There was no doubt now he was doing it on purpose.
Now, this is the point where a lot of guys, maybe most, would have pushed the other guy away. But I couldn’t seem to make myself do it.
I waited to see what he would do.
He released me from the headlock but kept an arm on my shoulder, then turned slightly so that we faced each other.
I looked down. Barely an inch of space separated my bulge from his.
The sexual tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife.
I raised my eyes. Will was looking at me. Neither of us said anything, but something nevertheless passed between us.
Will moved his hips forward, and his bulge bumped against mine.
I felt a thrill go through me.
Another long pause. The only sound was of our breathing. Mine sounded ragged to me.
For a few seconds we just stood there, transfixed by the sensations we were feeling. Then, seemingly by mutual consent, we started grinding our crotches together.
Good Lord, it felt good to have his dick rubbing against mine, even through two layers of underwear.
Will pulled me a little closer, and we started moving a little faster.
I remember thinking, “I shouldn’t be doing this. Will is a guy, and I’m straight.”
But if anything, the fact that I was grinding my cock against a guy instead of a girl made it even more exciting.
My cock was straining against the fabric of my underwear.
The next thing I knew, Will reached in, hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and pulled them partway down. His cock sprang upward, slapping against my stomach.
I looked down again. The head of my cock was poking above the waistband of my underwear, and a sheen of precum glistened in the half-light.
My move, it seemed.
I hooked the waistband with my thumbs and pulled them down to my knees. My cock was pointing straight up.
I leaned in. Our naked cocks touched, and this time both of us gasped.
“Oh, my God, dude,” he said in a strangled voice. “That feels so fucking good.”
The feeling of skin against skin, hardness against hardness, was indeed intensely erotic. Every nerve in my body seemed connected to my dick, and the pleasure it was feeling flowed everywhere from my toes to my scalp.
I looked at Will. His mouth hung open, and he had a hungry look in his eyes.
I looked down again. Precum was leaking my cock and spilling down the shaft. Will thrust his cock into the stream and coated himself with it; he seemed to know instinctively that it would act as lube.
I lifted my hands to Will’s ass and pulled him into a tight embrace. We were now moving steadily against each other, grunting like animals.
I had never been so turned on.
Will rested his head on my shoulder for a moment, then looked up at me. The next thing I knew he put his lips on mine.
My first reaction was shock. I started to pull away, but then something in me clicked, and I decided to go with it.
It was not like the first kiss with a girl, the tentative kiss you exchange to gauge your interest in each other. It was a raw, full-on, passionate, open-mouthed kiss, the kind that says My interest in you is total.
I don’t know how long we ground against each other, but it wasn’t long before I felt that familiar tingling in my balls. I broke the kiss enough to say, “I’m going to cum soon.”
‘So am I,” he said. “Let’s try to cum together.”
His mouth found mine again, and we soon had a grinding rhythm going.
Then he made a grunting sound, and I realized I was making the same sound, and I felt my cock swelling and my balls contracting and Will groaned and his body shook and I felt his hot cum squirting into the space between us. Then I was coming, too, in one long steady eruption that I still think was the biggest single cum of my life.
Will’s orgasm seemed to go on forever, too, wave after wave of cum pouring out of him, as if his balls would never be drained.
When it was finally over, we clung to each other, gasping for breath, our legs shaking, cum streaming down our legs.
Again by unspoken consent, we let go of each other long enough to lower ourselves to the couch. We settled side by side, our hips touching.
For a long time neither of us said anything. Then Will spoke.
“Dude, that was so hot.”
“Dude, that was so gay.”
“Yeah,” he said matter-of-factly, “that was definitely gay.”
“Have you ever done anything like that before?”
There was a slight pause before he said, “No.”
After a pause, he added, “Be right back. Hang on.”
He got up and headed for the bathroom. I watched as he walked away, noticing again what great shape he was in: strongly muscled in the back and thighs, with a firm butt that I found oddly attractive. In the soft light his skin took on a soft golden tone.
I heard water running, and after a minute he came back, holding a warm washcloth. My eyes were drawn again to his body: solid, well-defined pecs, well-developed arms and thighs. A big thatch of dark hair surrounded his cock, which was still somewhat hard and swung from side to side as he moved.
When Will got back to the couch he sat down and began cleaning the cum off me with the warm washcloth.
First he wiped my pecs, then my sides, then the front of my thighs. All the time he was doing this, however, he was gazing at my dick.
“Dude, you have a nice cock,” he said.
I had to smile. What guy doesn’t like hearing that?
It’s not that my dick is particularly long — it’s maybe six and a half inches hard — but it’s a good deal thicker than most, with a nicely proportioned head. My balls aren’t that big, but they hang loose in the sack. I had got in the habit on the swim team of trimming my bush, so I always had a neatly clipped look.
Thinking back on it now, I realized that my dick had always drawn glances in the locker room, and that some guys gave me a second look. However much they prefer the female anatomy, guys are fascinated by cocks, other guys’ as much as their own.
Maybe that’s why Will had given me that look in the shower a few weeks earlier. At any rate, he seemed captivated by it now.
He gave it a long look, then reached with one hand and wrapped his fingers around it.
I drew a sharp breath.
Wow, did that feel good.
The girls who had touched my dick usually did so tentatively, as if they might get bitten, but Will’s grasp was firm. He started stroking, very slowly, and it immediately became obvious that guys have a better idea what feels good to another guy than girls do.
But good as it felt to have him stroking my cock, it was nothing compared to what it felt like when Will leaned forward and slipped it into his mouth.
Oh my God.
I hadn’t expected that.
He wasn’t tentative about it. At least four inches went down his throat on the first try, and I felt him working the underside of the shaft with his tongue. But instead of coming up to take a breath, he went down a little further. I could see his eyes watering, but he seemed determined to get me all in.
And soon he did. The last inch of my shaft entered his mouth, his nose touched my pubes, and I seemed to feel his throat muscles squeezing me. No girl had ever managed to do this, and I damn near passed out from pleasure.