Huey and Me


“Do you think I’m hot?” The question pretty much floored me. Well, it would have if I wasn’t too drunk to see right there and then what was going through Huey’s head. It was the far side of a pretty awesome night out on the town. Me, my best mate Huey and the usual selection of work colleagues and old friends. We didn’t all get to go out en masse all the time, and months would go by between nights out for me. I really liked the group of friends I’d managed to build for myself. All of them knew I was gay. None of them gave a shit. To them I was just one of the lads. I think in some ways it made it harder to meet guys – or at least long-term boyfriends – because they were pretty protective over me. Especially Huey. On more than one occasion after, uh, entertaining a gentleman friend for a night I’d walk in on Huey grilling him in the kitchen. Often the poor guy looked too stunned to say anything back to him. On those occasions I’d lurk in the doorway, listening, waiting for someone to either grow a set or a backbone. Still waiting. I should also point out that, yes, Huey and I share a house together. No, nothing’s ever happened between us. Nor am I secretly lusting after him. Well, only in the same way that you’d lust after some filmstar or something. Pointless and unobtainable. So I didn’t bother. Sort of. So I sat there trying to calmly finish my slice of pizza. Anything to soak up some of the booze whizzing around my bloodstream. “Uh, what?” I didn’t even bother turning to look at him, sprawled on the sofa next to me, muscled thighs spread, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, hair messed in that oh-so-careful way. Nope. No secret lust here. “We didn’t hit any gay clubs, yet you copped off with … how many guys?” “Two or three.” Five. “But how many did I get?” “Guys?” He snorted. “Fuck Maltepe Escort off. Not once. Not even a look in.” “You’re getting old. Losing your skills.” “Fuck off. I’m twenty-eight, and I’m younger than you.” “Are you going to get all melon – melly – sad on me?” “Answer my question. Do you think I’m hot?” “Huey …” “No, mate, I’m serious.” He jumped up and stood in front of me, pushing the coffee table – and my pizza – out of reach. “What the fuck, man?” “Seriously. Am I hot?” “I really don’t -” That’s when something a bit weird happened. I’m not sure in what order. It could’ve been simultaneously. His hands went to his chest and he pulled his shirt up over his head, throwing it down onto the sofa next to me. It landed with a soft whoosh of his aftershave. The second thing was that I started to get hard. Like I said. Pretty much simultaneously. I swallowed, suddenly unsure where to put my eyes. “You’re supposed to be looking at me.” Without really wanting to – whilst at the same time desperately needing to – I looked at him. I looked at his beautiful blue eyes, the way his nose had that little kink when he’d broken it in a fight aged eighteen, the way his lips were parted as his breathing increased. Down to the soft skin of his shoulders, his nicely defined biceps and arms with their covering of soft brown hair. His chest. His nipples. His stomach. “Huey …” I felt like something was about to burst inside my chest. I couldn’t describe it. Adrenaline. Booze. Serotonin. Dopamine. All the good hormones tempered by a solid bout of what the fuck was going on? I dropped my eyes, stared at the floor between my feet, tried to fight the aching throb that was between my legs. His voice, when he spoke again, was lower, huskier. “Look at this. If you saw this Maltepe Escort Bayan in a club, you’d want to pick it up, right?” I looked up again to find that he’d turned around so his back – and his ass – was facing me. He bent slightly at the waist, pushing it out. I heard a noise that sounded like a zip being undone and then he was lowering his jeans, pushing them down over his ass. Red Calvin Klein waistband. White Calvin Klein boxers. I gulped, wondering if I might actually throw up. “So?” “Hnn?” Okay, it wasn’t the cleverest response, but it was the only one that my brain could provide. If this wasn’t Huey. If this was anyone else but Huey … He turned again, facing me. I’d seen his undies before. I’d seen him in his undies. I’d never seen him hard in his undies before. I gulped. My eyes were riveted to the thick-looking tent. I could make out the head, the ridge, the shaft and his balls. All of it. “So, do you think I’m hot?” I did the only thing I could do. I nodded. “Yes. I think you’re fucking amazing.” “Do you … Do you want to?” My gaze left his cock and met his blues. I closed my eyes, shook my head. “Huey, you’re drunk. You don’t … You’ve never …” “Does it look like I don’t want you to?” I shook my head again. His arousal was more than apparent. My stomach swirled around and around. “Please.” His voice was barely above a whisper. An urgent plea. For release? Maybe that was it. He was just drunk and horny. Two buds. Helping each other out. All lads togevver, kind of thing. Sure. I could deal with that. It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t change anything. It was just … cock. I moved forward on the couch and leaned forward until my lips met the taught white fabric. He let out a moan. I kissed his swollen tip gently. Worked my way up and Escort Maltepe around, using my lips and my tongue to soak the fabric, moving down his shaft until there wasn’t an inch of the bulging pouch of his boxers that wasn’t almost transparent. I allowed my hands then to reach out and stroke his thighs. Through them I could feel the vibrating tremble of his flesh as his desire and need rushed around his body. I moved them up whilst continuing the slavering assault with my mouth. Northward they roamed, gently stroking until they reached up and behind. There I grabbed his ass cheeks, one in each hand, and rubbed and massaged. Again there was a moan from above my head. My hands shifted again, to his hips, to the waistband. They pulled the soft cotton down, away from his waist, sliding down his hips, at first exposing his ass to the cool air. They bunched around the sturdy pole that jutted out from his body. I devoured it, enjoying the warmth of his cock through the cotton. This time the moan that met my ears was harder, throatier. I unhooked his shorts and finally released his cock. I sat back slightly, leaving my fingers idly playing through the hair on his thighs, to relish the view in front of me. In all honesty, I’d never actually imagined what Huey looked like naked. More precisely, what he looked like naked and fully aroused. Even if I had, this was far better. His cock was thick, the length … I’d say the length was perfect. Perfectly in proportion to the rest of him. It leaned slightly to the right but rose up at a good angle. He took another step back, and I gasped, wondering if he’d come to his senses. Instead he stepped out of the bundle of denim and cotton that entwined his ankles. Now he was completely naked. “Stand up.” “Huh?” What can I say? I’m a true wit. He laughed and held out a hand. “I’m not going to be the only naked man in the room.” “I don’t see why not. You make such a good job out of it.” “Never say never.” He let out another laugh and gestured with his hand to hurry up. I reached for his proffered hand and used it to lever myself out of the sofa.

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