Dan Needs A Public Education

I left you hanging on this one; I'm a terrible monster of a smut-writer. Just as a refresher: this is a spin-off from "Xander Shows Me My Prostate" from the POV of Luka's best friend Dan. Who is not only an amateur photographer for his buddy, but has some simmering kinks of his own. This story explores the mischief they get him into (and the ways they get him off).

Comments appreciated, feedback treasured, and eager readers welcome to check out my site for more stories. Oh, and I (finally) have two up on Amazon now, if you're a Kindle reader: "I Knew I Was In Trouble" and "A Rumor and a Grebe" 

Happy reading!
-A

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Dan Needs A Public Education

Chapter 2

Luka likes to say I'm a pervert, but I don't think that's fair. I'm just open minded. 

I mean, I get it, from his point of view anyway. I love my best friend, but he's kinda wound pretty tight; always has been, really. Self-conscious, hung up on shit, that sort of thing. Whereas I... well, I guess I'm just a bit more willing to go with the flow, y'know.

Like, if I know something stands a decent chance of making me feel good, then why wouldn't I try it? Assuming, like, nobody is going to get hurt or anything. 

In some ways, growing up with the internet always being there is the very best and the very worst for that. On the one hand, you can pretty much guarantee that if you search for the thing you're worried only you might be curious about, there'll be thousands of pages of results from thousands of other people who have wondered the same thing. 

Like, the first time I had the urge to try tasting my own cum, I was starting to wonder if I was broken in the head somehow. Then you go online, search a bit, and bam, there are so many people out there doing exactly the same thing. And so suddenly you know that no, you're not a total sicko. Or at least not a solitary sicko, anyway.

The downside is that there's always something out there to tempt you into going that little bit further. Like, suddenly the idea of having a quick, tentative lick of the jizz on the back of your hand after you've jacked off isn't some big deal any more. Great. Only now you're reading about how hot it is to give yourself a facial, and so suddenly you're staring up at your dick while your spine curves into a capital 'C' and you end up looking like a glazed donut. 

Like I said, there are pros and cons to all that information being so easy to find. 

I know Luka thinks that I tell him every weird, messed up, out-there thing I find and try, but really I don't. He doesn't know about the facials thing, for a start, because I knew he'd think that was going too far. Well, right up until tonight I thought he'd think that, anyway. Now, with this new guy on the scene, I'm not so sure any more. 

My rule of thumb is basically, as long as I can imagine him just blushing red when I tell him, rather than passing out or storming from the room, then it's probably safe to share. And I'd be lying if I said there wasn't some part of me which kinda enjoys his shocked outrage. 

I just feel like, y'know, it's my body and it seems dumb not to figure out all the different ways it can feel. If I find I don't enjoy something, well, I just don't do it again. 

It sounds a lot like Luka is going through something similar; a crash course in it, really. And now that he's gone upstairs to bed, and I'm down in the basement going over the shit that happened this evening, I can't say I'm not fascinated by how things have played out. 

I love the dude, like a brother. Better, actually, than my real brothers, who both enjoy being dicks as often as they can. And so that has meant I've worried, a bit, about him dating and shit like that, because I know for Luka he takes that sort of stuff seriously. Not that he's had a proper girlfriend yet. 

Me neither, for that matter. But that's a whole other can of worms. 

The problem with my best buddy, well, he's pretty damn obvious. Or, maybe that's unfair, and it's just because I know him so well that I can read him so clearly. It gets that way when you grow up with a guy from when you're both three or four years old. 

Even as he was talking about the physical stuff him and this "X" dude have been doing, though, I could see the cogs crunching in his head. I dunno, maybe he was too busy getting stressed out at the possibility that I'd freak on him for hooking up with a guy - as if - or maybe he's still in that internal freak-out stage I know he gets caught up on. Whatever it was, it was one hundred percent clear that, for Luka at least, the shit they've been doing hasn't stopped at just physical. 

In a way, that makes me happy. Because I like the idea of my boy catching feelings, and it doesn't really matter, I reckon, whether that's with a girl or another man. The downside is that I'm not sure Luka can handle discovering his brain might be wired that way. 

I stretch my legs out, under the sheet. This old couch is battered to fuck, but I honestly think it could be more comfortable than my actual bed. Maybe over the years I've just worn a Dan-shaped indentation in it, progressively carved out as I grew up and got taller, wider. If Luka's parents ever say they're getting rid of it, I'm totally taking it for my room. 

Part of me wonders if things went too far, tonight. Not with the photos, I still think that was a fucking epic idea. And, judging by that guy's replies, he was pretty impressed, too. It felt great to be able to show my buddy off as the hot stud I know he is, and it's about fuckin' time someone else realizes they should be appreciating that. 

So no, that part was all good. I'm just... well, I'm just having second-thoughts, kinda, about us jacking off together. 

I mean, it's not news that I do it, or that he does it. And we've had enough conversations (most of them initiated by me, yeah) about the stuff we've tried (most of it initiated by me, yeah) to have a pretty solid idea that we both get horny and we both take care of that like any other eighteen-year-old guy might. 

It's just that we've never done it together, at the same time, in the same room. Watching each other stroke themselves. 

It felt right at the time, I can't argue with that. As in, I was seriously, overwhelmingly turned on, and Luka was too, and neither of us was really trying to hide it. He already had his dick out for the photos, had been dripping all over the couch, while my sweatpants weren't doing a single thing to hide the fact I was bricked up. There was zero chance that either of us was going to end the night without cranking one out. It just wasn't entirely clear that we'd do it together, thighs touching and my fingers tugging his hair. 

I could kinda see him regretting that. Laying upstairs, in bed, with that post-cum clarity and asking himself what the fuck happened. In fact that's just the sort of hang-up that I could see Luka really having a problem with.

Which is why I really can't tell him about some of the other stuff I read about online, read about a whole lot, to the point where I had to try it myself. 

Like the whole "cruising public restrooms" part.

Yeah, there's no way my uptight best buddy is gonna be able to understand that. 

If I'm being honest, I don't really understand how it got to that point myself. Like, we're talking slippery-slope shit, mixed with my own personal brain chemistry that seems to dig hooks into the weird sex stuff I read about and not let me forget. 

It gets me into trouble, anyway. 

It's not that I particularly want to hook up with guys. I know that's gonna sound like bullshit, but it's true. And when I say cruising, I don't mean I'm hanging out there looking for people to hook up with. 

I just made the mistake of reading about understall stuff, is all. 

Like I said, it turned into one of those things which just bury their way into my brain, and then suddenly it's all I can think about. An anonymous hand reaching underneath the partition, fingers wrapping around my dick, and suddenly I'm getting jerked off by a stranger. Something about not being able to see their face, or really see any of them at all.

Guys post stories about it, about how their first time went, about how they plucked up the courage for it. Either to stick their cock into the next stall, or that they were the willing and eager hand, or sometimes both. I knew I shouldn't read them; knew it would only help the idea of it burrow further into my imagination, but somehow the knowledge of it being a bad idea only made me want it more. 

So I read, and read some more, and then suddenly it didn't seem like a huge leap to go from that to, well, thinking about trying it myself. Not that I have, not yet anyway. But Luka likes to tease me that I have a one-track mind, and while I know he mainly says it to wind me up, there are some times I think he might not be wrong. Because how else can I explain why I keep thinking about finding some out-of-the-way restroom at the mall and waiting for a dude to tap his foot to show me he's interested?

If Luka knew what was going on in my head right now, I'm not sure he could ever look me in the eye again. Which means it has to stay my secret. 

And, I mean, it's not like I'm 100 percent okay with the idea either. This isn't just like giving myself a facial, or playing with my ass sometimes. There's definitely something kinda skeezy about doing sex stuff in public; in fact, from what I can tell, that whole skeeziness is a big chunk of why a lot of people like it. You can't really separate the two, because if it wasn't risky then it wouldn't be such a turn-on. 

And there's zero way I could deny I'm turned on. 

Enough that, even though I blew my load twice before coming over here, and then again all over Luka's dick after I'd finished taking his photos, I'm hard right now and considering going for a fourth. Not like it would be my jack off record for most in a day, but there's something undeniably weird about doing it in my buddy's basement. Or, not weird maybe, but disrespectful somehow. 

If, y'know, you ignore the whole "cum on him so he can jerk off with your jizz lube" thing. The memory of which isn't doing much to help the fact that my dick is tenting out the sheets.

My hand slips down there, into that warm gap between my thigh and my balls, pretty much on instinct. Before it really consciously registers I'm kneading on my nuts and wagging my cock around with my thumb. Feeling the rough-smooth rub of the bedding against my tip. 

A quick jerk wouldn't hurt anyone. Like, nobody is going to come downstairs. Nobody is ever gonna know. And it'll mean I can maybe sleep some, rather than laying here thinking about the shit that Luka has got himself into. 

I spit on my palm, ease that slickness around my shaft. Hear the rasp as I start stroking, the rustle of the sheets, then use my feet to kick them down until I'm laying butt naked on the couch. It's weird, but I can't get off so easy if I'm covered up. Just means I'll have to go quicker, as it's gonna be harder to hide if Luka - or, god forbid, his parents - do decide to come down here unexpectedly. 

There's no shortage of porn on my phone, but my brain is doing a better job of turning me on tonight. A blend of the shit I've been fantasizing about lately, all mixed up with what happened with Luka and hearing about him hooking up with that guy. It's so out of character for my buddy, and that only makes it hotter. 

It's not like I want to have sex with him. That'd be hella weird. But at the same time, it's like being curious about seeing what people look like naked or something. You don't have to want to fuck them just to be interested. At least, I don't, anyway. 

Maybe Luka's right, and I really am screwed up when it comes to sex. 

I could dwell on that some more, and delay sleeping even later, or I could think about my best buddy losing his V-card to a dude and how it might feel to get my dick sucked by a stranger. Not exactly two things I'd want to tell Luka I was imagining as I jacked my dick in his basement, but I can't argue that they're not doing the trick. In an ideal world I could push a finger or two in my ass as well, reach for that spot I know always gets me off fast, but that seems a step too far. 

Instead I replay some of the stuff I told Luka tonight, as I was having him pose. At the time it wasn't meant to be any more than just getting him into the best positions for the sexiest photos, but now I think about it more there was definitely something hot about giving instructions and having him follow them. Repositioning him on the couch, and telling him exactly how he should be contorting himself, touching himself, in order to please the camera. 

I had to wonder just how far I could've taken it. Like, my buddy seemed willing to go along with a lot more shit than I expected him to - clearly that guy he's fucking with has some serious dick game to get him hooked like that - and I get the feeling I wasn't really reaching the limits of what he'd have done, if I'd kept adding pressure. It's a thought that has my belly simmering with excitement. 

I'm giving myself full, long, hard strokes now. My cock feels thicker than usual, swollen at the mental picture of someone obeying me so directly. Even if that person was my best friend, even if he was thinking of another guy while he did it. Just the fact that I could tell him to play with his ass while he spread his legs and jacked his pre-dripping boner was pretty incredible. 

There's no way to resist it; I rub my fingertip around my hole, feeling the muscle dimple at the light pressure. Not enough to push inside, no, but definitely enough to get the sparks flying in my groin as I pump myself through my fist. Remembering Luka's eyes on me as I erupted all over him. The way he hardly paused in his own stroking as I splashed across his shaft. 

I just about manage to swallow the grunt as I spray cum over my belly. Not as much as earlier, no, but enough for a big, creamy smear, and the rest sliding down my dick and across my fingers. 

Fuck. No tissue.

The closest bathroom is upstairs, in the hallway off the kitchen. I was confident enough - or, well, horny enough - that nobody would come down here and find me jerking it. I'm definitely not eager to try my luck and see if I can get away with dashing up with cum dripping off me. 

Double-fuck. Guess it's DIY cleanup time. 

It's not like I haven't tried my own before. I'm not going to say it's my favorite thing in the world, but I don't, like, hate it. Although, I know from past experience that cold cum is a lot harder to swallow than warm, no matter how hot an idea licking it up seemed before that orgasm. 

I squeeze up, along my shaft, coaxing out the last few few drops onto my finger. Quickly lift that to my mouth and slide my tongue across the goo. Swallow, before I can overthink it. 

Then it's a case of wiping up as much of what's on my belly as I can, and lapping it off my fingers. A tissue is generally quicker, but there's certainly some weird, circular logic about consuming what your body just produced. 

Finally, I'm about tidied enough that pulling up the sheet isn't going to make a mess. And, even better, I'm definitely colliding with that post-climax sleepiness that I was hoping for. 

I fall asleep with the taste of myself on my tongue. 

Wake up, wondering if Luka is going to pretend he forgot the whole evening. Claim vodka wiped his short-term memory; attempt to squeeze back into whatever box he thinks I had him pegged for beforehand. Before I knew that my best buddy has a far more experimental side than I ever gave him credit for. 

Quite honestly, I don't want that to happen. Don't want, for one thing, Luka to think that he has to hide that part of himself from me. Not know that he's opened up, trusted me with the truth. 

And, well, there's also the fact that I do love teasing him, and this is - handled carefully, of course - prime teasing material. 

I give him a wink as I head to the coffee pot. "You excited?"

Luka rolls his eyes at me, and I just about swallow my chuckle. "Don't make me regret telling you."

"You weren't complaining when I was helping out last night," I remind him. Take the way his face instantly flushes red as a sign of victory. I'm curious if he kept the rest of the photos I took, if he's looked through them already. I know I wouldn't have been able to resist, if I knew there was a whole gallery full of dick pics of myself just sitting there on my phone. But asking that seems like it might be a little too much for him right now. 

I glance at the time instead. Wince, at just how close I'm cutting it to getting to work. 

"Anyway, asshole, I'm gonna go somewhere I'm actually appreciated," I tell him. Luka laughs; he knows just how shitty my job at the gas station actually is. How tempted I am pretty much every day to tell those assholes to go fuck themselves, right up until the point that I remember that it pays for my own gas when I borrow my mom's car, and for cheap alcohol when I don't.

I can't just walk out, though. Not like I normally would. Because, for all Luka clearly got himself into this situation with whoever this guy is, I've definitely pushed him further. With the photos, yeah, but with the message I sent on his behalf as well. 

And so, if he's nervous about it, or scared, or - and I really, really hope he's not - regretting it this morning, well, that's kinda on me, now, too. 

"Let me know..." I don't know how to end that. How to tell him that I want to hear how things work out, but not just because I need the dirty details. "Well, just... y'know," I hedge, voice trailing off. 

"Don't," Luka says, softly, looking down at his mug. I don't know why, but the idea of my best buddy getting all wound up and antsy makes me feel... protective, I guess. 

I nudge him in the shoulder, just gently. Enough to get his attention, even if he still isn't willing to make eye-contact.

"Look, he's hot, but..." I try to think about what I want to say. Fuck, it's so much easier when we're just bullshitting each other. And yet the only reason that works, that it's so much fun, is because I know Luka has my back and he better fucking know that I have his. All day, every day. "Well, you're a catch too, okay, dude?" I tell him, hearing an unexpected forcefulness in my voice. "Don't forget that."

I couldn't hang around to hear his reply.