Dan Needs A Public Education

It feels weird to be worried about seeing my best friend, but then again Luka has never had to come rescue me from a public bathroom before. In an ideal world, he'll make one big joke about it, and it'll become another chapter in the "Luka and Dan do dumb shit together" story; something we can laugh about later, when I'm dressed, and home, and a lot less sticky. 

Since this isn't an ideal world, what's probably going to happen is I'll have to explain just what I'm doing, naked, in some grimy restroom with cum all over the floor. Because I know for a fact that my best buddy isn't going to be satisfied with excuses or vague answers. 

I still can't quite believe that those guys stole my clothes. Like, I guess it was better that, than them take my wallet, and my phone, and my house keys. But it just seems like a mean thing to do, especially when you've just fucked a guy. 

Then again, maybe it was a lesson that I needed to learn. That even when you're giving in to your libido, you can't drop your guard completely. Maybe I was an idiot for bringing my phone and my wallet in the first place. 

My brain is going round in circles as I wait, and my biggest fear is that someone will walk into the restroom looking for what I was looking for, not all that long ago. Hoping to find someone willing and amenable, whether that's for a handjob or something more. I don't think this experience has soured me forever on public stuff, but I'm definitely not in the mood now. 

I hold my breath, when I hear footsteps. Pull my feet up, just in case someone bends down to look under the stalls and see whether mine is actually occupied, or just latched accidentally. 

"Dan?"

Luka's voice is soft, tentative. As if he's not quite convinced I haven't played some sort of prank on him, some ridiculous joke the punchline to which I'd have to explain. 

Part of me still wonders if I could just not answer. Save myself from having to explain, even if it would still leave me stranded. 

I close my eyes, embarrassed at myself. "In here."

Footsteps again, to the end of the row of cubicles. Chewing my lip, I stand and reach for the latch. 

It's a frown I recognize, one I've faced down so many times during our friendship. No need to decode it, or have its meaning explained to me, which is useful because most of my attention is on the guy standing behind my best friend. Taller, broodingly handsome and with the sort of curious expression that says salacious details are a benefit, not a downside, to any story. Especially one which ends up with you buck naked in a public bathroom. 

My eyes are wide, I know they are, but the guy just grins at me. 

"W-wha..." 

Luka's frown deepens, as if I'm asking ridiculous and pointless questions I've no right to pose. "I wasn't home. And my mom has her car anyway, so I couldn't use it. And it sounded... urgent."

I can't argue with any of it, and yet I can't seem to speak, either.

"Xander," the guy drawls, still smirking. "Nice to meet you." 

Somehow, I need to say something. Anything. "Uh... Dan," I manage. "And... uh... yeah, me... too."

Luka grimaces again. "It's not like you haven't heard about each other, don't make it weird."

Weird, I want to point out, is meeting your best friend's... well, whatever this guy Xander actually is to him, at this point. Fuck buddy, or secret gay gateway drug, I really don't know. Weird is it happening when you're stark fucking naked.

"I thought I'd tag along, figured that'd be okay," Xander says, as if Luka had brought him for coffee or something. 

I nod, slowly. Still feeling caught on the intensity of his stare. 

"So what the hell happened?" 

For a minute, I'd forgotten the price of this rescue. The idea of having to explain to Luka what led to him bringing me clothes pushed from my mind. 

It's almost a relief to look at my best friend's angry expression, though. Because something in Xander's face tells me he doesn't need the explanation that Luka does. 

"I... my clothes got stolen," I admit. 

Luka's staring at me as if I'm an alien of some sort. "Stolen. How... how the fuck do your clothes get stolen?" 

Part of me wants to glance up, to make eye contact with Xander again. Not so much for moral support, not even because I think there'd be something reassuring in his gaze. Only for that sense of not needing to justify the situation, because the other person knows exactly what led to it already. 

"I took them off, and some guys... they stole them."

It is, I know even as the words emerge, a shitty explanation that won't satisfy him. 

"But why did you take them off in the first place?" 

I want to ask him if we can postpone all this until we're not stood in the restroom where I not long ago got plowed by a series of strangers. If I can put on the clothes they presumably - hopefully - brought with them, and then piece together the least-mortifying version of my story somewhere else. Somewhere that isn't a dirty, cum-slicked reminder of just what I've been so obsessed by lately, and how that backfired on me. 

From the look on his face, Luka's losing patience. 

"Dude! Just tell me what the hell happened, okay?" 

I grit my teeth, and for a moment - just a split second, really, hardly anything - I feel some of his anger, his frustration. At my situation, at my own shitty decisions. At having to try to put into words stuff that I still don't really understand myself, and try to justify to somebody else what my brain hasn't managed to justify to itself, yet. 

"I was having sex, okay?" I spit the words out. "I was hooking up."

That deep frown again, laced with confusion. "Hooking up? With... with who?" 

I wish the anger had stayed. Not because I want to be furious at him, or at myself. Just that it'd made getting the words out easier. 

"Just... guys. Who do that shit in here, y'know."

His mouth opens and closes a couple of times, and it'd be funny except nothing is funny any more. 

"You had sex with a guy, in here?" A muscle in his cheek twitches. "Wait, with guys. Guys, plural. You had sex with more than one?" 

I nod, the movement jerky and tight. 

"How many?" 

It's like a Band-Aid, you just have to rip it off else it hurts even more. 

"Four."

Silence. 

"And who were they?" Luka demands, finally. "These... four guys."

I shrug. "I dunno." 

There's something liberating to it, to paring back all the um'ing and the ah'ing and the not-quite-an-answer replies. I know there's every chance I'll regret being so blunt later, but for now, I don't feel much like apologizing. 

"You don't know." Luka's tone is cold with disbelief. "You had sex with guys, with perfect strangers."

Perfect is a poor choice of word, some distant chunk of my brain decides. The only thing that was perfect about it was the convenience for them. My willingness, that's all. 

Luka looks like he's about to explode. I'm so caught up in watching his face purple, I jerk in surprise when Xander interjects.

"Luka, give the guy a break. You know what it's like to be horny."

I can see my friend bristle. He always got offended when our parents accused him of being as irresponsible as I was. "Not like this! Not when it's so... risky."

Xander raises an eyebrow. "Says the guy who boned up when we were getting coffee, making a show of his big dick through his shorts. Says the guy who got me to blow him in the middle of the kitchen, when any of his sister's friends could've walked around the corner of the counter and found out."

I'm staring at them with my mouth hanging open, wide-eyed. Because the guy Xander's describing, and the things he's suggesting they did together, doesn't sound anything like the Luka I know. 

From the look on my friend's face, he's not exactly happy with being outed as that sort of guy either. 

"You're the one who gets off on putting me in those positions!" 

Xander smirked at him. "And yet you're the one who fed me his load, so..."

Luka glares over his shoulder, but just when I think he's going to protest again, I see the hand sliding across his chest. Xander shifting closer, enough that I figure he has to be pressed against my friend's back, and his fingertips slipping down toward Luka's waist. 

"Are you mad at him because of what he did," Xander asks, softly, "or are you mad because you'd be too scared to do it yourself?"

Luka's mouth tightens. "Fuck you."

There's something wolfish, borderline dangerous when Xander chuckles. The way it shows his teeth. His hand is cupping Luka's crotch, now, groping him through his jeans. It doesn't take much to see the thick ridge of cock he's toying with there. 

"If that's meant to be an insult," Xander practically purrs, "it's not a great one. Considering you already fucked me once today."

My mouth is dry, eyes glued to where they're standing in the doorway. It's so weird seeing someone be so tactile with my best buddy. Well, and for him not to shy away from that. Luka isn't normally so good with people touching him, and yet if anything it looks like he's leaning his hips into this dude's grip. 

"Come on, dude." Luka's voice is barely louder than a whisper, like he's embarrassed at me finding out he topped this hot, older guy. 

The stare Xander gives me is intense. "Are you gonna be leaking all over my car?"

It should be mortifying. Both to consider as a possibility, and to be asked. Only those feelings are currently all wound up with the mad intensity of watching my best friend get fondled right in front of me. 

When I shake my head, the motion is jerky. 

'I think we should check, anyway."

Somehow my eyes still manage to widen, in shock. And from the look on his face, Xander knows exactly how I'm feeling, and is actively enjoying it as he leans down to murmur right into Luka's ear. 

"You gonna check your buddy's hole for me?"

Luka's lip is caught between his teeth. He's got that kinda dazed, out-of-it expression I remember from when we were shooting those videos. Clips I know he sent to the man that's currently jerking him off through his jeans. 

"Come on," he whines again, softly. 

Xander's lips brush against the curve of his ear, and I have the hyper-strange experience of watching my closest friend try to chase that tender stroke. Like he's an animal, hungry to be petted. 

"I know you guys fooled around already. You told me that."

It's hard to know where to look, what to focus on. Xander's knowing smirk, or the expression of glazed horniness on Luka's face, or where the fat head of his dick is lewdly outlined through the denim, a thumbnail scraping rhythmically across it. Not to mention my brain is suddenly in a tailspin, wondering just what Luka has said about what happened after the impromptu photoshoots. 

"It wasn't... it wasn't like that." Luka sounds dazed, his protests weak. 

Xander chuckles again. "Just two buddies messing around. No harm in that, right?" He looks up at me, eyebrow raised. "Right, Danny?" 

Nobody calls me Danny, not since I was a little kid. And yet there's something about that name coming out of this guy's mouth which sounds right. Which makes me want to nod in agreement, voice lost, but realizing at exactly the same time that my cock is hard again. Jutting up between my legs, and there's absolutely no way that Xander hasn't noticed that, too. 

"How many guys was it, again, Danny?" 

I have to swallow before I can even think about replaying. "Uh... f-four."

"And you let them all breed you?" 

I can only nod again, cheeks burning in the face of his unwavering stare. 

"That's a lot of cum, isn't it, Danny? But then again, that's part of why it's so hot, too. Right?"

My throat feels thick, as though that last stranger's cock is still plugging my gullet. "R-right."

He glances down, still looming over Luka's shoulder, at the puddle of cum at my feet. Then back up at me, and I can tell instantly what he's thinking. That if there's that much anonymous jizz slicked across the tiles, then there has to be plenty still inside my well-plowed ass, too. 

Xander doesn't even have to ask: I'm already standing up and turning away from them. Skin prickling at the knowledge that they're each watching me, even if my dick is throbbing-hard. 

I can't hold back the shudder when I feel Luka's fingers on my spine. 

I mean, I assume it's my best friend's touch. My gaze resolutely fixed on the wall ahead, terrified of turning and somehow disturbing the strange and precarious-feeling situation that has built up in this dingy little cubicle. Holding my breath as his fingertips trail down to the small of my back, and it's not pressure, not even a hint of a nudge, but I still find myself leaning forward instinctively. Feet spreading, knowing that these two men - one I've only just met, the other my oldest, closest buddy - now have the perfect view of the gooey mess four strangers left of my hole. 

Even after my rough attempts to clean up, I can guess how I must look. Simultaneously embarrassed and turned on by Luka seeing me like this, the escalation of everything he knows about me. 

Because it's not like I haven't told him about the dumb, sexual shit I've tried out. The edging, and the ass play, and hitting my prostate like it's the bumper in a pinball machine. Everything I've done to chase a better orgasm, a bigger one, a messier one. Cum hitting my own face like a spray gun, balls feeling like they're turning inside out. My best friend has heard all that shit, knows how I get hooked on those sensations. But there's a gulf between that, and seeing first-hand the evidence of how I became a slutty little cumdump for a bunch of strangers. 

Luka's fingers brush across my hole, and I can only just chew back the gasp. 

Such a light touch, a barely-there gentle one. So at odds with the way those other guys treated me: their rough, impatient hands stretching and pulling at my body. The bare preparation required before I could be plowed deep. That all felt overwhelming, and yet my friend's cautious stroking seems a million times more intense. 

"So... wet," I hear him murmur. More to himself than for our ears. 

There's no containing the groan as he pushes into me. What has to be two fingers, not that my ass is protesting. Body easily taking this fresh intrusion, as his probing digits hook and twist as if Luka's searching for something. 

I shudder again, legs spreading even further. Wondering if it would be too much, too monstrous, to reach back and pull my cheeks apart. Or if that would simply be the invitation I'd hope he'd see it as.  

"How does it feel?" Xander's voice, low and goading. 

Luka's swallow is audible, even above my panting breaths. "Kinda... slick."

Xander makes a noise of amusement. "Is he tight?"

Luka's laugh sounds brittle, like he's teetering on the edge of something dangerous. "Nah... I guess you got fucked good, dude, didn't you."

I can't reply to that, answer it. My mouth and my brain won't obey. And anyway, he can feel the truth, as the third finger eases into me. 

"You ever think about fucking Danny?" There's curiosity in Xander's tone, but something more there too. Something like fascination, that leaves me wondering again just how much Luka confessed about those nights we jerked off together. Whether he admitted something to this guy who upended his world so thoroughly, that he'd never have told his best friend. 

"Come on..." That same, whining tone; the one I recognize from years of teasing. 

"By how hard you are right now, I'm gonna say the answer's yes," Xander suggests. I can hear the grin, even if I daren't look around. 

"It's not... it's not like that." 

I know I should be listening, not just to the words Luka's saying, but how he's saying them. Pulling out the meaning behind them. Only it's hard to do that above the roaring in my ears. 

Because it's not like I hadn't imagined us fucking. A new curiosity, one some level of my brain knew that I could never raise with him. That he wouldn't understand it: wouldn't be able to process how I could potentially draw a line between someone I was so close to as to think of as a brother, but also feel lust for. Not without also wondering if it had been something simmering away in me for years already. 

It hadn't, though. That was the weird thing. I'd not thought about fucking Luka, or Luka fucking me, or however those pieces fell. Not until I'd held up that phone and taken photos of him. Not until I'd seen my best friend as a sexual object, been asked to portray him as that. As if, even though the real man was in the room with me, it was only when I watched him - naked, and jerking, and fingering his tight hole - on the phone's screen that I could understand him as something pornographic. 

Maybe I really am as screwed up as Luka teases me, because it was as though that pulled a lever, or flipped a switch, or something. And now, with my legs splayed as wide as they can go in this narrow, grubby cubicle, and my ass pushed back and up, all I can think about is how it would feel to have him push his cock in where his fingers are currently flexing. 

I don't know if this Xander guy has somehow read that from my mind, or if it's just a guess, or if something Luka has told him gave it all away. But suddenly I'm not entirely convinced that I'm the only one who has started seeing our friendship through this new lens. 

"I think," Xander says, "it'd be really, really fucking hot to watch you screw your best friend." 

His voice is like syrup, laced with hormones and questionable decisions. Just hearing it is enough to make you wonder whether you've always been too straitlaced, too restrained. Too boring for your own good. 

"But..." Luka's voice is strained, but that at least I recognize. It's the tone I've heard so often: the one which gives away that he wants to do something, only he feels like he shouldn't.

I never thought the thing he'd want to do, in that situation, would be me.

"What's stopping you?" 

It's Xander's question, but I want the answer just as much. 

"I... I just..." 

I know him well enough to hear how he's spiraling. To recognize the stress in with the hunger. 

"You and me," Luka adds, and then the words trail off. Sentence unfinished, and I'm left wondering just what they are to each other, now. What's been agreed upon, the name of it, the terms of their agreement. 

And then I hear the sound - unmistakable, unbelievable - of kissing. Have to turn my head, craning back over my shoulder, to watch as my best friend makes out with the taller guy standing right behind him. Hunger in that kiss, Xander's fingers cradling Luka's jaw as their tongues duel, even as the fingers pushed into my ass still twist and probe. 

"I think," Xander says, sounding a little breathless as they pull apart, "that it'd be so fucking hot, to be able to talk with your best buddy about what it's like to get nailed by you."

Luka looks like he's forgotten how to breathe. Mouth hanging open, eyes glazed and pupils vast. Chin still cradled in those long fingers. 

He doesn't move when Xander leans in. Their cheeks brushing in a way that's almost primal, animal; more about warmth and contact than anything else. 

"He's your best friend," Xander continues, voice still a thick purr, "and I'm your boyfriend. He and I are both sharing you already, in a way, aren't we."

It's not like I didn't know, but at the same time it hadn't been said. Not in so many words, not with such bluntness. Not in a way that can't be taken back, or explained away, or demurred as misunderstanding.

Luka has a boyfriend.

Luka's boyfriend is willing to share.

He turns, when I push back against his hand. As though he'd forgotten I was there, despite the way my insides were squeezing his fingers. As if Luka's whole world was the tall, dark, intense man who's pressed in against him: the man who just confirmed that yes, they're boyfriends, and yes, that needn't mean two best friends can't fuck. 

I push back, because I can't ask for it. Can't beg, like I begged earlier. Can't bring myself to shape the words in my mouth and release them: to demand he grip my waist in both hands and ream me. All I can do is hope that he reads more than just compliance in the way my hole flutters around his hand.

Turning forward again, arms braced ahead of me, I listen to the sound of his jeans unzipping. The rustle of fabric. Presuming Xander is helping, probably easing out the fat cock that I know he himself was fucked with earlier. And soon, so very soon, we'll be able to share notes on what it's like to get your hole turned out by my best friend's thick inches. My fifth load of the day, and the one I never imagined I'd be taking. 

---

Thanks for reading - This is a spin off from "Xander Shows Me My Prostate": it, and more stories, are over on my site. My latest, "College Wrestler Secrets", is on Amazon, too. Appreciate you checking them out!

-Alex