Dan Needs A Public Education

This a spin-off from "Xander Shows Me My Prostate" from the POV of Luka's best friend Dan. He's experimenting with a newfound fascination with getting off in public - this story explores the trouble a "straight" boy can get into chasing his first gay experiences.

Comments, feedback, and ratings always appreciated. If you're looking for more stories, my site has several, and I just released a new one called "You Can Look" that also dabbles in public play...

-A

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"You offering to be cameraman again?" 

Honestly, I expected him to say no. Laugh it off, maybe, or roll his eyes in that so-very-Luka way as he branded me a pervert. I knew I'd pushed him further than he expected last night, with the photos I took of him. Coaxed him past whatever boundaries he'd thought he might have for himself. 

Clearly the payoff of driving that "X" guy wild with the end result was enough positive reinforcement. Something I knew all too well, from the way my brain kept looping back to how good it felt pushing my cock under the restroom partition and feeling a stranger's fingers wrap around it.

"I mean, you said he liked the photos," I point out. "He'd like video even more."

I finally get the eye-roll, but it's not quite like the usual one. Acknowledging my mild attempts at persuasion, but not dismissing them either. Luka sits back, then glances down at where I'm not really making any attempt to hide the fact that I'm still jerking off. 

"Maybe you should be the video star," he suggests, with a sly smile. "Record your epic attempt at four fingers."

There's no way my brain can't instantly wonder how that would look. The angles Luka would film me at: on my back on the couch, with my legs yanked apart perhaps, or on all-fours as I reach under my body and force my hole to stretch around my hand. I don't have a secret guy to show the footage to, but I can't help but wonder what some adventurous stranger might do, were I to present my ass under the stall rather than my dick. 

No, I don't need to wonder. I know exactly what that would be inviting, and my cock throbs in my fist at the idea of it. 

"I think," I say, trying to sound thoughtful rather than suddenly overwhelmed by mental images, "I'm just too tight, dude."

Luka winks, and there's something knowing and pointed about it. "Oh, trust me," he says, and his voice is a little deeper, huskier. "You can take it."

I want to tell him what I did. The urge to spill it all - how I'd accidentally initiated something, how I'd gone through with some random guy's invitation and then found myself getting jacked off by him until I blew all over the restroom floor - if only to see the way his expression would change. Try to measure how fucked up I was by the look on my best friend's face. 

"He doesn't want to see me, though," I remind him, swallowing my sudden urge for honesty. "We both know what he wants."

Doubt flickers across his face, but it's quickly followed by something more curious. "What did you have in mind?" 

Got him. 

"Gimme your phone," I say, holding out my hand, "and lose the shorts."

I watch him as he stands, pushes his shorts down his legs. Trying to look him over with a videographer's eye, taking in the the shape of his thighs and the way his cock is already tenting out the front of his boxer-briefs. Not just picture what he'd look like, legs splayed as he humped an anonymous fist. 

"Turn around so we can see the goods," I instruct, before he can sit down again. Watch approvingly as Luka holds his arms out and rotates on the spot. "You're hard already." 

He squeezes himself through his underwear, the touch almost tentative, as though it's news to him that he's already worked up. 

"What got you boned up?"

A blush. For a moment I think he'll balk, rebel at this altogether more intimate exposure. Not just his body, not just still images, but an insight into the way his arousal has been fired. 

"Thinking about getting fucked," he admits, finally. 

"You got hard when you thought about him breeding your ass." It's a question but also a statement, because we both know the truth. 

Luka nods anyway, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

I try to hide my smirk. "Take your shirt off." 

It's not a striptease, or at least not as you'd think of one, but it's hot anyway. Like, I can imagine someone watching the video I'm shooting, and getting off on the sight of Luka's body being slowly exposed. The way he's obeying instructions. 

"Show me your biceps," I tell him.

He snorts, softly. I know it's more about his own self-image than any other reluctance. "Come on," he whispers.

"Show me."

Finally, after a beat, he lifts his arms. Tenses his muscles, the swell of his arms like some smooth, undulating landscape as I sweep the camera's lens along them. My best friend's no gym-rat, no bodybuilder, but he's all in proportion; I can't help but reach out, watching my hand enter the frame on the screen, and squeeze his bicep. The touch divorced from my own body, somehow, the phone adding a layer of distance. 

Then I'm panning the camera down, across his chest and stomach. Until it's centered on the big patch of precum where Luka is soaking through his boxers.

"There's already a big wet pre spot here, dude," I tell him. Not even needing to look up to know that he'll be blushing like a tomato at the idea of it. "Now turn around and show me your ass."

He obeys again, and I wonder what I'd do if a voice from the neighboring stall began to give me instructions. Whether it would be a turn-on to have someone guide me that way, put me on my knees for him. How far I'd let that take me, even; if I'd be an obedient boy and present my mouth, my hole.

There's a new rasp to my voice when I next speak, that I hope Luka doesn't notice. 

"Fuckin' peachy butt, bro," I tell him, admiringly. "No wonder it's popular." Chuckle at his mewl of half-hearted protest, and then ignore it completely as I reach out again and tug down his underwear. "Well fuck, look at this... talk about a perfect ass."

I just point the camera at him for a while, because while I'm teasing him it's the truth, too. His butt is pretty damn perfect, just the right degree of firmness and softness. The sort that - even though he's your best friend, and even though you're not really into him that way - you still want to reach out and squeeze, just to see how it bounces. 

And if I want to do that, I know the guy Luka wants to send this video to is going to want it, too. 

"Take 'em off, dude," I instruct. Watch him skin off his last piece of clothing; wonder if he'll take the initiative and turn around, then grin as I realize he's waiting for my next instruction. "Show me the goods, buddy."

I'm sitting on the edge of the couch, and it's the perfect height for Luka's cock to be centered in the frame. Thick and rigid; twitching, even, he's so turned on. Looking at him like this, it's impossible not to imagine how it would feel to be on my knees in a stall, watching someone's precum-drooling erection get pushed through to my side. 

My palms are itching.

"Now show me how you stroke that thing," I tell him, if only to stop me from reaching out myself. 

Focusing on the video makes it easier, pushes some of the more intrusive thoughts to the periphery. For now, anyway. I pan the lens around him, taking in all the angles as Luka slowly fists his dick. Gesture for him, eventually, to sit back down. 

It's a repeat of one of last night's poses, the camera peering up between Luka's spread legs. No less potent for being video rather than still images, mind. "You like playing with your ass?" 

He shrugs. "I like having it played with."

The honesty makes me chuckle. "Show us, then."

I can tell he feels awkward, but he still does it. One hand still holding his dick as he eases his hips down on the cushions, ass tilting as his other hand pulls at his cheek. The tightness of his hole already obvious. 

"I said show us," I repeat, letting a little extra weight seep into my voice. Enjoying the way he jolts slightly at hearing it, the reaction almost instinctive. 

Obedient, too, his fingertips rubbing at his entrance.

"Get your fingers wet," I suggest, expecting him to spit on his hand, but Luka rubs them across the head of his cock instead. Gathering up a slick of the copious precum he's been leaking, that started even before I got him naked and posing. Then pushing a greased finger inside himself.

There's a twist of his lip as he does it, but zero sign of discomfort. Then again, I remind myself, he took that guy's dick today already. Compared to that, this is nothing.

"Don't stop with one, dude," I tell him, chuckling. Hear him grunt as the second finger digs in alongside the first. "You took some dick today, didn't you."

"Yeah," Luka admits. 

"But you're still horny now," I needle.

"Yeah. Maybe because I got fucked."

His fingers are moving faster, hand pushing a little deeper now. Knuckles pressing against his skin. 

"Thinking about getting plowed turned you on?" I ask. 

He wags his dick around, gripping it at the base, like that's a clearer answer than any words could be. 

I grin at the screen. "That's two fingers in you now. How many did you take today?"

His body says it before his mouth can catch up, a third fingertip already easing around his stretched muscle. "Three," Luka says.

"And how did that feel?"

I know how three feels. How it feels to me, anyway. Laying back against the headboard, hand pumping as I jack myself. Only when I've done it, I haven't just had some guy unload inside me.

"Wet," Luka says, sounding distracted. Then again, he's probably focusing on how that third finger is squirming in alongside the other two. "Soft."

I swallow. "Because you just let someone breed you, right?" Something about hearing him say it, admit it, makes my untouched erection throb between my thighs. 

"It felt so good," he blurts out, and when I glance up at his face I can see the shock there. The surprise, at his own blunt honesty. 

He's getting off on this more than I thought, I realize. Not just aroused by the exposure, by his fingers and his fist, but by recounting what happened. The scale of the disparity between how I know my best buddy sees himself, and how this guy has him thinking and feeling. 

"Pull yourself open for me," I tell him, "show me where he sprayed all that goo." It's crude, the sort of gross thing he'd normally scold me for, and yet now there's no protest or complaint. Just Luka's fingers scissoring inside himself, and the softness of his hole opening like it wants, desperately, to get fucked again. 

The precum is dripping down his cock in a pretty much constant stream, now. Trickling over his knuckles as he grips himself, and yet it's almost like he's forgotten about it. Too caught up in the pleasure of having himself stretched so eagerly. 

"You're so fuckin' hard and needy, aren't you." Almost unable to recognize my own voice, the misplaced hunger in it. Because I'm not lusting over my best buddy, no matter how hot he might look now, putting on a show for the camera. No, my brain is too busy swirling with the knowledge that I could just as easily be describing myself. Hard, and needy, and so overwhelmed by that, I'd do anything: expose myself and offer myself for whatever hand is within grabbing reach, just so that I could get off right now. 

"Are you gonna cum like that?" I ask him. When Luka's eyes meet mine, the thickness of his glistening shaft in-between his face and the camera, it's as though something animal in him has taken over. Something I recognize all too well from within myself.

"Please..." 

There's desperation in his voice. Beyond playing it up for the video, more than just aping some porn video or the blunt idea of one. For a moment I can see just what this other guy sees, when he's toying with my best friend.

"Put on a good show, then," I remind him. 

He grunts, fist speeding. Fingers pumping inside himself, spreading his hole as though he's so much meat on show. Like he's selling himself, making sure everything he has is crudely on offer. 

I'm reaching for his wrist before my brain catches up with my hand. Still holding up the phone, but using my grip on him to fuck Luka with his own fingers. Jabbing them even deeper still, the sloppy, sticky sound of his body and the slap of his fist as he jerks himself filling my ears, until I hear the rasp of breath that sounds like something in his chest has twisted, wetly. 

Cum sprays across his belly, Luka's legs and chest twitching as he gasps for air. And then another noise, of shock this time, closer to a yelp as I roughly tug his hand out of his ass. 

"Push it in your hole," I tell him, and then pan the camera across his creamy fingers as he gathers up his load and eases it inside himself. Sliding and dipping, over and over, until there's nothing left to clean.

I'm light-headed as I tap the button, end the recording. 

"Holy fuck, dude, that was awesome." I'm smiling at him, probably looking ridiculous, but Luka's grin in return is equally lopsided. As though he's exhausted, wrung out from such an epic orgasm. 

I watch as his gaze falls, to my crotch. My erection still jutting out of the leg of my shorts. Very nearly forgotten, even, though now the urge to chase after his climax is strong.

"Jerk off, then," my friend tells me. Smirks at my own grin in return. "Come on, cum. I know you want to."

I could pretend to be bashful, that I'm second-guessing it, but neither of us would be convinced. Shove my shorts down instead, cock springing free and fitting so perfectly into my fist. Wondering, too, what it would feel like if my hand was that of a stranger; how my straining skin would be against that palm. 

"Send him the video," I remind Luka. "Don't wuss out on me, dude." 

He gives me an eye-roll, as though I'm just being paranoid, but I know there's some thread of reality there too. Felt it today, even; that post-cum clarity when the truth of what you just did becomes obnoxiously, catastrophically clear. "He's gonna love it," I insist. See him wavering. "Dude..."

Then grin at the 'whoosh' of it being delivered. 

No take-backs, no refunds. Whether it's an amateur porno or some anonymous guy's fingers tugging your dick and stroking your balls. 

"Fuck, you looked so slutty," I tell him, grinning. "Like all you could think about was getting nailed again."

Luka chuckles. "Who was encouraging me into that? I'm starting to wonder who I was filming that video for, him or you." 

He's kidding, I know he is, but I don't stop myself from giving his sweaty, naked body a pointed stare. "Can't a guy want his closest buddy to look his best?" 

He doesn't look convinced, but then again I'm more focused on the waves of pleasure radiating out from my crotch than I am at building a cohesive argument. 

"And I look my best when I'm jerking off and finger-fucking myself?" 

"I think so," I say, winking at him, "but we'll have to see what lover-boy's review is, won't we." 

I'm teasing, but there's something about the way he glances off as I say it. Like, for all he's described this shit he's doing as physical, there's still something more beneath the surface. That he can't admit to me, and maybe can't even admit to himself yet, either. 

I guess we both have our secrets. 

Luka shakes his head. "Just get off already, I know you're close." 

He's not wrong. My cock feels fatter, more swollen than before, pumping through my fist as my hips jerk back and forth. The way I'm kneeling between his spread legs makes it almost look as though I'm pounding him. 

The guy today didn't touch my ass, but if I'd turned around, would he have? I shudder again at the thought of it. 

"Stop thinking about putting it in my ass and just cum, dude, come on," Luka teases. Demanding, and there's something in his voice, some element of his tone, that reminds me of what the guy said today. That barely-audible "nice" he whispered from the other side of the partition, such a bland word but enough now, the memory of it, to topple me over the edge. 

The first splash hits Luka's belly, ruining all his efforts to clean himself. Not that I'm too concerned about that, can hardly keep a thought in my brain, as my muscles clench and I send haphazard sprays across his thighs and down between his legs. I'm basically hosing down his hole, some barely-cogent slice of me realizes, cum slicking across his soft, puffy entrance and joining what's left of Luka's own load. 

Grinning at him, head still spinning, I brush the last drops of it against his inner thigh. Laugh when I see his unimpressed expression. "Hey, no point in us both needing to shower, right?" I point out.

Luka doesn't appear to be a fan of my logic. "Thoughtful of you," he deadpans. 

I decide it's probably best not to push the joke; focus on pulling up my shorts, instead. "Has he replied yet?" I ask him, nodding at his phone. 

The look he gives me is probably meant to be dismissive and unbothered, but it's not hard to see the nerves in there too. "Not everyone is glued to their phone like you are," Luka tells me. 

No, I could tell him, but that doesn't mean you don't wish he was. Because the signs of anxiety are so obvious, I don't need to be his best friend to see them. 

I catch the exact moment he breaks, eyes flicking down to check the screen. 

"So?" I ask him, grinning. 

Luka shakes his head. 

"Damn, you gotta tell me what he says, dude."

My legs are complaining as I get up off the couch, angry at the crouch I've been holding. Absently I push my hand back through my hair, only realizing too late that it's probably kinda sticky. Then again, it's not like the rest of me is much better, the heat of what just happened only adding to the sweat from the day's work. 

"Oh, so you cum and then you leave," Luka teases. "I see how it is." 

There's a twist in the pit of my stomach at that. Because I know, really, that he's joking around, that those particular words aren't serious. Only that doesn't mean my best buddy isn't also still worked up about all the shit that's happening in his life right now, all the new stuff he's trying to figure out. And if I know him like I think I know him, he's probably not going to want to talk about it until it all boils over. 

Problem is, I'm not sure I'm in the right state of mind to work through his shit right now. Not when I have so much of my own to try to understand. 

"I can't fall asleep a second night, dude," I tell him, grasping for an excuse I know he'll believe. "My mom has a list of shit she needs me to do, that's about a mile long." 

He buys it, I know he does, but his sigh is still real. 

"If your dude is rich you should totally run off with him and be a kept man," I add, trying to lighten the mood. "Easier than this bullshit."

Luka's expression twists. Like I've just inadvertently stepped onto some sore point. 

"It's not like that, dude," he says, and I can't help myself. The look I give him is rich in skepticism. 

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," I scold him. "Or, y'know," - I try to lighten it with a grin - "you could stop being a little bitch and tell him the truth."

It's like he's a kid, caught stealing cookies but unwilling to own up to it. No longer able to meet my eye. "What truth."

I could push it, or I could let him have his feigned-ignorance. Or, some disloyal part of my brain points out, I could recognize my own unconvincing attempts at self-deception that are now getting mirrored in my best buddy. 

"If he was a girl, I'd be telling you that you need to move in on that hella quick, yeah?" 

Luka shrugs, the gesture jerky and uncomfortable. 

"So," I add, "what the fuck does it matter that he's a guy?"

For a minute I think he's going to actually respond, to give me a reason - either for, or against - and then we might even talk this shit out. Not that I'm kidding myself that I have the answers he's looking for. Hell, I don't even have the answers to my own problems right now. 

He eases himself up off the couch, instead, reaching for his t-shirt. It makes a pretty ineffective cloth; Luka glares at me as he swipes at the mess I've left over his chest. "Fuck, you totally hosed me," he accuses. 

I can't hold in the snort of laughter. "It's meant to be good for the skin, right?" I tease him. "You should be paying me." 

Then duck, just in time, for his sopping shirt to go sailing over my head.