It wasn't until I had my buddy Craig flat on his back and was fucking his brains out on the stage of an empty movie theater that I realized one of us was being taken advantage of. But was it him or me?

Let me explain...

I'd never take advantage of a buddy. Not even if he was totally gorgeous, totally hot and totally drunk. I'd had the opportunity a few times in my life, and I was proud to say I'd never done it. It never occurred to me that I might be the one being taken advantage of someday, and by someone I never would've expected.

I was eighteen, out of high school at last and looking forward to college. Myself and a bunch of other friends had gotten jobs at a nearby movie theater to earn some money during the summer. We all hung around together, before and after work. It was fun job -- we got free movie passes and flirted with customers from behind the refreshment counter.

Of course, my buddies were flirting with the girls and I was flirting with the boys.

One of my best friends was named Craig. I'd always felt a little plain next to him, even though I knew I was pretty cute myself. Craig had always been handsome, but as he grew up he got more and more sexy until model scouts were pestering him to sign with their agencies.

He was tall, over six feet, and his body -- once lanky and awkward in early adolescence -- had blossomed into manhood with every muscle and contour perfect as those of a Greek statue. His head of floppy blond hair was wonderfully complemented by rich green eyes that almost glowed in the dark, and his face had broken many a heart with its exquisite beauty.

But the model scouts were wasting their time -- they didn't know Craig. He had a singular goal: to be a pro baseball player, and nothing could distract him from that dream. He loved the game of baseball more than anything in the world, even more than the girlfriends he always seemed to have. But the girls would come and go -- baseball was his true love.

My true love was Craig, even though I'd resigned myself to lusting from afar, seeing as he was straight as an arrow. In any case, knowing my ideal was out of reach just fueled my vivid fantasy life...a life that somehow always included Craig and I fucking each other's brains out.

It'd start with a slow kiss on the cheek, then my lips would move across the angular planes of his face, down to his luscious mouth where I would kiss, gently at first, then gathering strength. I'd reach around him, taking him into my arms, holding him close. The warmth of our bodies coming together would be moist and heady, and one of my hands would slide up into his hair, stroking and caressing its soft fullness. I'd slide my other hand down until I reached his beautiful butt, and massaged it gently. Craig's dick would get hard through his shorts, and its erection would be matched by mine.

We'd press against each other, and then I'd drop to my knees, nuzzling his crotch with my face. He'd unbuckle his pants and let them fall, and his hard cock would emerge from darkness into light. My mouth would open, taking all of it inside me, and I'd caress it with my lips, my tongue, my whole mouth. His pulsating rod would energize me, as if it was rejuvenating my life force. The baseball stud would fuck my face, pumping in and out with violent intensity.

It would feel like the realization of a dream. A dream of the night, hot and sticky, full of primeval passion and primitive delight. Craig and I would suck each other off, we'd fuck each other, each of us plundering the other, taking and claiming each other with riveting concentration. We would fully consummate our passion, joining together in a bond of mutual love and animal lust, forever.


Only in my dreams.

But somehow I managed to survive, loving Craig from afar and dreaming of him at night.

In any case, what actually happened was this:

One night all of us employees at the theater had a party. It was on a Friday night, the same day a big movie premiered. It was a sure-fire blockbuster, something about the end of the world and what a few brave souls do to prevent the catastrophe. It was going to make a shit-load of money for the studio. That's right, the studio, not the theater. The theater only took home the cash from what the snack counter made, that's why the managers were always pushing us to sell so much popcorn, soda pop and candy to the customers. When the last showing was over, when the last customer had been chased out of the bathroom and the last empty popcorn tubs had been picked up off the floor, we all looked at each other and gave ourselves high-fives.

We were done! It was over! Party time!

The manager was tired, so he left the lock-up keys to his assistant Richard and went home, warning us not to mess up his theater with our party. We assured him everything would be cool, not to worry, to go home to get some sleep so he could be back in the morning for the Saturday matinees. Richard was cool, one of us, so we knew we were gonna have a good time. He brought an ice-chest of beer and wine coolers from his car and we were set. The projectionist pumped some hard rock through the theater's PA system and we had ourselves a party!

I don't drink much, so I got myself some soda and had a good time watching everyone else. Soon enough they were all either wired from the long shifts we'd worked or spinning from the booze, or both. Various couples formed, and soon everyone was sitting off in a dark corner making out.

Except me, of course. I didn't have a boyfriend and knew all the other guys were straight. Even though some of them were drunk, and might be convinced to try some male/male action, I don't take advantage, like I said at the beginning. Craig had at least two girls with him, sometimes three, happy as a pig in shit.

Around 4:00 in the morning things started to wind down. I helped Richard round everyone up and made sure that only the sober ones were driving, bundling the drunk ones into the back seats to be taken home.

When we realized that Craig was still in the building, Richard gave me the lock-up keys and asked me if I'd mind helping our last straggler so he (Richard) could get home to his wife. I said sure and headed back into the theater as the last car pulled out of the parking lot.

I found Craig on the 'stage', the raised platform in front of the screen. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling and humming some jingle to himself. I recognized the tune -- it was from a beer commercial.

'All right, buddy, it's time to go home.' I said. He looked at me, surprised, as if he didn't know I was there, like he hadn't heard me enter the theater and walk down the aisle.

'Hey, Chris, is that you?' he said, his speech slurred.

'Yeah, it's me, Craig.' I answered, putting my hand on his shoulder and gently shaking him a little. 'We gotta get you home.'

Craig put his hand on mine. I expected him to push it away, but instead he held it there, like he wanted my hand to stay there.

'Wait a second.' he said. 'Just hold on a second here.'

'What?' I said, a little exasperated. I didn't have time for this, not at 4:30 in the morning.

'Chris...are you really, like, gay?'

I rolled my eyes at him.

'Of course I'm gay.' I said. 'I came out to you in junior high school.' He laughed, drunkenly.

'You came out to everyone in junior high school.'

I had to laugh too, savoring the memory. 'Well, I figured it wasn't anything to be ashamed of.'

Craig let go of my hand and sat up, dangling his legs over the edge of the stage. He was a little wobbly, and almost lost his balance.

'Do you think I'm good-looking?' he said suddenly. 'I mean, am I...attractive to you?'

That took me by surprise. What was this all about? He'd never talked like this to me before. But then I guessed I'd never seen him this drunk, either. I figured the best way to deal with him was to be calm and not let anything distract me.

'Craig, you're drunk.' I said.

'No, I'm not.' he said defensively. 'Are you attracted to me? Please tell me.'

Please? I thought. I didn't think I'd ever hear him say 'please' for anything either.

'Give me a break, man,' I said. 'I've gotta get some sleep -- I have to be back here by 11:00 AM.' But I knew he wouldn't care, he didn't work on Saturdays so he could play his damn baseball.

Craig grabbed my shirt and yanked me close. Before I could react, he'd kissed me, his hot hungry mouth devouring my own. I broke his grip and pulled away, even as I felt my cock harden in my jeans.

'What the hell are you doing?' I said as Craig jumped down from the stage and walked toward me, weaving a little back and forth.

'Something I've wanted to do for a long time, Chris.' he said, as he kissed me again. It was bizarre (he was straight!) and wonderful (so that's what his sexy mouth tastes like!) at the same time. He tried to hug me but I put my hands up between us, trying to keep us separated. I wanted to resist him, but men are men -- he'd gotten my libido started and now my cock and balls were in charge and my brain was on the back burner. With every second it was harder and harder to push him away.

He tried harder to hug me and this time he succeeded. Even though we were the same size, we both knew I was the stronger one. I could've punched him, I could've ran away from him, later I thought of a hundred things I could've done...but what I actually did was wrap my arms around him and squeeze him tight.

'Craig!' I shouted into his ear. 'I know we're good buddies and everything, and I love you as a friend, but we can't do this!'

'Why not?' he said, slurring.

'Because you're straight! And you're drunk! You wouldn't be doing this if you weren't wasted out of your mind!'

His only answer was an unintelligible grunt. Before I could figure out what he meant, he was kissing me again, more passionately this time. As I gave in to my animal desires, I wondered who was taking advantage of who in this situation.

I returned his kiss, sticking my tongue into his mouth, slobbering all over him. When I squeezed him he did the same to me, and we crushed our bodies together, rubbing our crotches against each other through the denim of our jeans. I loved the feel of his body against mine.

My mind was going a mile a minute -- this was incredible, amazing, to finally get it on with this man I'd known almost my whole life, this man that I'd lusted after hundreds of times -- Craig in my arms after all this time! But it was wrong! Wasn't it?

You can't do this I thought. But look at him -- he sure seems to know what he wants -- it wouldn't be like I was forcing myself on him, he wants it and wants it badly. The booze must've loosened him up just enough to try something new. I figured. Now shut up and enjoy yourself!

Was it wrong?

Who gives a shit? I realized, pushing Craig back down on his back, devouring his mouth with mine. I broke the kiss just long enough to yank his shirt off while he did the same to me. The sight of his chiseled physique was breathtaking, but there was no time for sight-seeing. I had to take my chance while it was there!

Then our chests were grinding together and I could feel our bodies heat up and start to sweat. We slithered out of our pants and underwear, discarding them as if they were garbage. My co-worker's dick was beautiful, long and hard and dripping with pre-cum.

'Suck my dick.' I ordered him, and he was only too glad to obey. He took my pole into his mouth and started slurping it obscenely. Feeling his mouth on me was fantastic, and I let my head roll back in sensual abandon. Soon enough my penis was wet and slippery, ready for the main event. I knew Craig was ready from the way his eyes were pleading with me.

Please fuck me his eyes said to me. Please fuck me now!

I needed more consent than that, so I asked him:

'You want me to fuck you, Craig?' I didn't want there to be any doubt. 'You want me to screw that tight little baseball ass of yours?'

'Please!' he shouted to the ceiling. Lucky for both of us, I knew about safe sex, even back then in the late eighties -- I always had a condom, and a tiny container of lube on me. With Craig's help I slid the latex sheath over my hard rod, then slicked it up with lube so I wouldn't hurt him more than necessary. My buddy kept moaning beneath me.

'Do me now! You're driving me fucking nuts! Do it, now! Please, Chris!'

'Tonight I'm pitcher and you're catcher.' I said, and rammed my cock into the magic inverted 'V'-shape of his spread-eagled legs and into his asshole. He grimaced in pain as I entered him, but a second that his exhale was one of bliss.

Craig was loving every minute of this, I realized. I wondered if he'd even been fucked before...but, as all my questions that night were answered: Who cares? All that mattered was the present, the eternal now in which I was living a dream, doing the unthinkable, taking what was forbidden and devouring it like ripe, bursting fruit.

I started fucking him, shoving myself into him and then pulling almost all the way out before going back in. He grunted with each thrust, punctuating every move I made. Whether they were grunts of pleasure or pain I don't know, but what I do know is that my stud buddy's dick was hard as rock, leaking lube of his own onto his flawless chest.

Besides that, there was one other thing I knew for sure.

Craig was smiling, grinning like a pig in shit.

I breathed in deeply. The theater was thick with the delicious smells of the night's business, the smells of 'the movies': popping popcorn, sizzling hot dogs, ice-cold soda and sweet, sweet candy.

Craig and I were having a sizzling candy fantasy of our own, there on the stage. I wondered what the audience that had been there earlier would've thought of the little show we were putting on. I wondered if they'd like it better than the movie they'd seen.

So there I was, fucking my drunk buddy in the early morning in an empty theater. The absurdity of the situation almost made me laugh, and then I found myself laughing again from the sheer carnal joy of it. Well, no matter what he said, Craig was definitely 'batting for both teams', a clever way I'd heard to describe a guy who's bisexual.

Our young bodies tensed and pulled each other back and forth in a tug-of-war of passion and sensuality as we fucked our brains out.

Suddenly I couldn't hold back any longer. It was lucky for us it was the middle of the night -- my yell of ecstasy would've brought people running if there had been anyone else in the theater. I shot my load into the condom where it was safely caught and held harmless. As I shot, Craig grabbed his own stiff rod and pumped it hard. A second later his yell joining mine and he shot all over himself.

All our muscles relaxed as we fell into each other's arms. I slowly pulled my dick out of Craig's asshole and took off the condom. After a few minutes of just holding each other, I returned from dream-land and realized what we'd been doing. And what time it probably was. I looked at my watch and groaned.

'4:30 in the morning?' I said. 'We've got to go. I have to be back here at 11:00 AM!'

After I pulled on my clothes I helped Craig get cleaned up (with some paper towels from a quick run I took to the restroom) and back into his own clothes. He wasn't much help, apparently still wasted.

'C'mon, we're going.' I told him as I headed up the aisle for the exits. 'Gotta get you home.' Looking back, I saw my friend weaving and wobbling drunkenly, trying to follow me without much success. Then he collapsed to his knees.

'Fuckin' hell.' I said as I went back and pulled him to his feet. 'Looks like I gotta do everything tonight.' I picked Craig up and slung him over one shoulder. He didn't resist, so I knew he was wasted out of his mind, probably in a blackout. I'd be lucky if he didn't puke all over me.

I carried my buddy out of there, figuring all the lugging of heavy boxes and big sacks at the theater had been good practice for this. After I turned off the main power switch in the control booth, I locked the place up, closing the doors behind me. Then I shifted Craig's body, trying to balance his weight as well as possible before the long walk through the parking lot. My car was all the way at the opposite end. When I finally reached it, I unlocked it and put my buddy down in the back seat as gently as I could.

Needless to say, Craig's older brother was not happy when I knocked on their front door in the early hours of the morning.

'What the fucking time is it?' he snarled.

'5:00 AM.' I said.

'What the hell is this?' he asked, gesturing at the unconscious man over my shoulder.

'Your little brother. He partied a little too hard last night.'

'Oh God, come in.' he said. 'Dump him on the floor, on the couch, out the window. I don't give a shit.' So I left Craig in the 'loving' care of his brother, wondering how tough he'd be on my friend that I'd shared this amazing experience with. I didn't want to leave him, but I still lived with my parents for God's sake! There was nothing more I could do. I hoped his brother would go easy on him for waking him up so early.

I was back at the theater on time, after grabbing a few hours of sleep. One of my co-workers asked if I had a good time at the party, and we compared notes. I didn't tell him what Craig and I had done after everyone had left, but I did tell him how drunk he (Craig) had gotten. My co-worker looked at me blankly.

'Drunk?' he asked.

'Yeah. Shitfaced. I had to carry him home.'

'But Craig wasn't drunk last night. He couldn't be. He didn't drink anything.'

As I was about to deny what I was hearing, I realized something: Craig had been behaving like he was wasted, but I never actually saw him with a can or bottle in his hand, and I definitely didn't see him drink anything.

What was going on?

'But...' I trailed off. ' you swear to God?'

'Yes, Chris.' my friend said seriously. 'Craig was not drunk last night.'

Without another word, I left the snack counter and went back to the break room. I sat down in shock, trying to absorb what I'd just learned. So just who had been taken advantage of the night before? Numbly, I decided to stop by Craig's house after work, late enough that he'd be home from baseball. I'd take him somewhere private and we'd have a talk about fucking your buddies over, figuratively and literally.

A long, sweaty, sticky talk.

And this time, I'd be the one taking advantage.



Christopher Pierce

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