Hey friends! I don't know what it is about cocky guys in gray sweatpants, but it's fun to imagine how much further their exhibitionist streak could go. This is part one; more to come soon.
Riley's Basement - Chapter 1
"Dude, are you boned up right now?"
Even when he's talking normally, Chance's voice doesn't seem to have a "low" volume setting. When it's just the five of us in his brother's basement, that means he's basically a foghorn.
"Fuck off, bro," I tell him, flipping him off.
I mean, he's not wrong. He's just an asshole for calling me out like that.
"Lemme guess, the dick-tease sent you a photo of her wearing a wedding dress."
The guys laugh, and I kinda have to laugh along, too. Partly because they'd give me even more hell if I got uppity about this shit, but mainly because it's true. My girl's a fucking dick-tease, and I've got the blue balls to prove it.
"Fuck you, dude. It's not a fucking wedding dress."
Actually, it's her in a bra, and not even a sexy, "stole the catalog from your mom when you were 15 and super-horny" bra. Just some plain white thing, and it's a testament to just how long I've gone without sex that just the sight of it was enough to get my cock stiff.
"Dump her," Aidan suggests, just like he's suggested a thousand times already. He just shrugs, when I glare at him. "Are you gonna marry her?"
My glare becomes a scowl, because he knows the answer to that already. Just like I know it, and Chance does, and so does his brother Riley, and Harper too. In fact, the only person who seems to have missed the memo that I have no intention of putting a ring on Haley's finger, is Haley herself.
"Put the poor girl out of her misery," Harper suggests.
I'm not entirely sure whether he means dump her, or propose. The problem is, it's nearly impossible to imagine doing either.
"Twenty-two is too young to settle down," I point out, taking one last glance at the photo she sent me, then locking my phone and tossing it down on the couch.
It'd be different, I think, if I thought Haley was bottling up all her sexual urges, waiting for us to walk down the aisle, and say vows, and then have a proper wedding night. Only I have the horrible feeling that this is about as sexy, as risqué as she'll ever get. Selfies in bras that have industrial-strength shoulder straps.
"When did you last get laid?" Chance is giving me a look like he already knows the answer, or at least the general shape of it.
"Fuck," I hiss, knuckling my eyes in frustration. "Too long, okay, dude? Too fucking long."
It's been more than half a year, I know that. Because Haley and I just celebrated our six month anniversary, and us getting together ago was definitely the official start of my dry spell.
"You know Kathy would spread her legs for you," Chance points out. "No questions asked."
It wouldn't be the first time, either. Though it'd be the first time I'd slept with another girl, while I was meant to be in a relationship with Haley.
"She'd find out, somehow," I say, with a grimace. Because she would. Sometimes it's like there's a secret whisper network among girls, a way for them to trade information on which guys are assholes. Even if they're not friends, and that's important because I'd definitely not class Haley and Kathy as friends.
"Sucks to be you, then," Chance crows, and then laughs when I flip him off again.
Which does nothing to make me feel better, frankly, nor do anything to address the erection currently throbbing angrily in my pants.
"We could put some porn on?" I suggest, hopefully.
Harper snorts, but it's Aidan who speaks. "Go jerk off on your own, pervert."
I look at Chance, who - though we like to give each other shit as frequently as possible - is, I'd like to think, as close to an ally on this topic that I have. "Come on, dude, it'd be hilarious."
He gives me a look, which says he's unconvinced. "You're asking me to put porn on, in my brother's basement."
I shrug. There's part of me which is embarrassed, sure, but the part of me directly wired to my dick is needier.
Chance glances at Riley, with a knowing smirk. Then back at me. "And just what sort of porn do you think my brother has, idiot?"
I look between them, frowning at Chance's "you're a fucking dumbass" expression and Riley's grin. Then it dawns.
"Oh. Oh, yeah. Right."
Chance's brother is into dudes.
Riley winks at me. "Sorry Lincoln. I guess I'm seeing even fewer titties than you are."
There's no way not to laugh at that, and the whole room cracks up.
He's a nice guy; much nicer than Chance, quite frankly. Smarter, too, and not just because he's three years older and has had longer to get his shit together. Sometimes I think Chance could have a two decade head-start, and still not achieve half of what his brother has managed.
The only thing Riley seems to struggle with is making friends. Which means we usually have a place to crash, in his basement, since I guess we just about suffice as placeholders for that.
One day - though I've not brought this up with Chance, or any of the others - Riley's going to find himself a boyfriend, and then I have a feeling it'll be the end of our basement hangouts.
Anyway, I can't help it, I have to squeeze myself through my sweatpants.
"Dude!" Chance sounds genuinely outraged. "Are you seriously gonna start jacking off in my brother's house?"
Riley snorts. "Don't hold back on my account."
The look Chance gives him is so disgusted, I can't help but laugh. It's not like he's got a problem with Riley being gay - I can confidently say that none of us give a shit about it - but I guess that doesn't extend to even the vague idea of him flirting with his friends.
And of course, anything that I know gets Chance worked up and steaming mad, I can't resist.
I grab a handful of my junk, through my sweats, and shake it. Legs splayed wide on the old sectional we helped Riley drag down here last summer. "Look, he can't help having good taste," I tell Chance.
As predicted, he's not impressed. "Keep your little stub to yourself, idiot."
I pull the soft gray fabric around my crotch, gripping my dick at the base and wagging it. I don't need to look down, to know how lewdly it'll be outlined. "This 'little stub' is bigger than anything you've got."
Chance rolls his eyes, still looking unimpressed. No way to miss the way his brother is staring between my legs, though. Gaze locked on the stiff ridge of my erection.
I guess some guys might get freaked out, knowing a gay dude was checking them out, but if you ask me it's about the biggest compliment you can get. Haley treats just the idea of my dick as a dirty topic. Even Kathy - who, Chance isn't wrong in saying, would probably be happy to hook up with me, if I showed the slightest interest - would see sex as a sort of performance that you can 'win' at. If you make all the right noises, pretend wide-eyed fascination at what the guy is swinging between his thighs.
I don't think Riley is even into me, not that way, but just from the expression on his face I can see he's curious about my cock. Not like some grudging acknowledgment, like a girl knowing that she'll need to pay my junk some attention or I'm gonna get bored and dump her, or play around. No, Riley just really likes dick, and that interest extends to all corners. Even his brother's idiot friends.
I wink at him, when he glances up at my face, wondering if he'll look bashful about getting caught staring. He doesn't, though. Just grins back, and I'm not sure whether that's meant to be shared amusement at Chance's overreaction, or some unspoken compliment about how good my erection looks.
I throb some, in my fist, as my dick decides to just take the compliment whether it was really there or not.
"You're so fuckin' uptight," I tell Chance, letting my head loll back against the beat-up arm of the couch.
He makes a grunting noise, something like disbelief. "Because I don't want to whip my dick out and circle jerk? I think that says more about you being a pervert, dude."
"Nobody asked you to join in."
It'd be so fucking easy, just to push my hand into my sweats and start stroking. Not even to jack off properly, but fuck, just the feeling of my hand would be so damn good. I've tried to be a nice guy, and not put Haley under any pressure, but that's required some pretty frequent Lincoln-alone-time. We're talking two or three times a day.
"Oh, so we're just meant to all watch you do it."
I flash him a withering look. "Riley already said he didn't care. I don't know why you're so fuckin' worked up about this shit. It's not like I've got my dick out."
Chance has such a pissed-off expression on his face, I can't help but feel like I've won the argument. He pushes himself up, off the couch.
"I'm getting more beer."
Harper and Aidan chuckle, as he storms up the stairs to the kitchen, but Riley just smiles and shakes his head. I guess, even though we've all spent plenty of time with Chance and seen his shitty moods before, his brother knows them better than anyone.
"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, dude," I tell him, and I mean it. I like Riley, he's a really nice guy. And I don't think he's got a problem with anything that's happening, but all the same, it wouldn't be the first time that I'd screwed up and missed something obvious to everyone else.
He shrugs, and pushes his hand back through his hair. It's buzzed on the sides, but longer on top, and it kinda has a habit of falling down across his forehead every so often. "Who's uncomfortable?"
I look, pointedly, at the stairs that Chance just stomped up.
Riley laughs. "Okay, point taken. But I dunno what my little brother is getting so worked up about, on my behalf."
"Exactly," I say, grinning. "Not like you've got a problem with seeing dicks."
I can feel Aidan and Harper watching us, listening to us talk, but it's like they're background static in the room. Riley's smirk is so much more interesting right now.
"I've seen a few," he says, still sounding amused.
"But not mine," I remind him. My hand's still loosely wrapped around my crotch, and suddenly there's a part of me which really, really wants Riley to look down again.
He doesn't, though. "I hate to break it to you, Lincoln, but while I'm sure you're very fond of it, a dick's a dick."
I feign outrage. "Wow, rude."
Riley laughs again.
"I'm not getting any complaints," I add.
"From who," Aidan interjects from further down the couch, "your right hand?"
I scowl at him, but he just gives me that "you brought this on yourself, idiot" look that I know so well, now.
"You realize you're leaking through your sweatpants, right?" Riley says, casually.
I look down, momentarily horrified, and sure enough there's this dark patch where the head of my cock is pressed against the fabric. Precum soaking through, turning the light gray much darker.
"Oh yeah, and why're you looking?" I fire back, automatically.
Then my brain catches up, catching sight of his expression. Idiot, Lincoln; you know exactly why he's looking.
Riley doesn't need to say a damn thing, for me to know he's entirely aware of what I'm thinking right now.
"Chance would be furious, if he came down here and found me jerking off," I point out, grinning lopsidedly.
"My couch, my rules." Riley gives this half-shrug.
I know that Aidan and Harper are still there, are still listening. But I also know they won't say a damn thing.
"You make it sound like I wouldn't be the first," I tell Riley.
The smirk makes me think that, while it might not be a boyfriend exactly, there's every possibility that he's getting a whole lot more action than I've been seeing in a long while.
It seems really easy, to lift my ass off the cushion so that I can shove my sweatpants down. Watching Riley, his stare still casual - interested, but not fascinated-interested; not the way I'd be if a girl was stripping off in front of me - as I kick them down my legs, and then past my socked feet.
"Dude," Harper murmurs, his voice low and ripe with disbelief.
Riley picks up the remote and, not looking, clicks on the TV. Some sports channel, teams I can't even muster the interest to glance at. He tosses the remote to where the other guys are sitting.
It's a "knock yourselves out, kids" move: a clear out for them, something to occupy their attention, while the grown-ups have their fun.
Honestly, I don't really give a fuck whether they're watching or not. When I spread my legs a little wider, it's really just to make sure Riley gets a good view between them. Right up to where my fat erection has slapped up against my shirt.
You can't ask your best friend's gay brother whether he thinks you've got a pretty dick. Or, at least, you can, but it feels kinda desperate and pathetic.
He's looking, though. Making no disguise of it, either. And I'm hardly discouraging it, when I push my thumb at the base and lever it upright. The head all glossy and red, slicked with precum, and my balls pulled tight.
There's a challenge in his stare, an element of "well, are you just gonna sit there?"
Maybe I should feel guilty, because Chance isn't totally wrong when he says this is kinda fucked up, but all I can think about is that wet, sticky, squelching sound as I run my hand down my cock for the first time. The way it feels, smearing all that natural lube across my palm, and how thick I feel, how heavy. Something unmistakably masculine and lewd, as I milk a tight stroke from root to tip, and squeeze a fresh bubble of gleaming pre out of my slit.
By the fifth or sixth stroke, it just feels good, and not so weird, even.
Like, it's still strange to be laying here, legs splayed and naked from the waist down, while Riley watches me as I jerk off. Harper and Aidan are doing a good impression of two guys just watching TV, but I can see them looking across. Sly, fast little glances. I'm almost positive they're both straight, not a single thought about doing anything with another guy, but I guess the same reason this is so hot to me - that hyper-sexual, forbidden feeling - has seeped into them, too.
And so I spread my legs a little more, one half-hanging off the edge of the couch, now, and tug gently on my balls some. Y'know, the sort of shit I wish Haley would do, if she ever pulled that stick out of her ass and decided it wouldn't be a mortal sin to give me one measly hand-job. Even though I know, well, fuck, no girl can do it to you quite like you know how to do it yourself. That's just reality: it's your body, your junk. A guy knows what a guy likes, right?
From the expression on Riley's face, right now he likes watching me play with myself.
I grin back at him, pleased somehow that he's not treating this like Aiden and Harper are. That it's not some surreptitious, forbidden thing for him: he's happy to just sit there, across the room, while another dude strokes. I've never really talked to him about guys, though I figured he must be getting some action. You don't have to be gay to see he's a catch; the family resemblance between him and Chance is there, but Riley looks more mature with it. Like the three years difference have given his features time to solidify, get more confident. His brother still has that boyish edge; he gets pissed when girls say he's cute, though I know he'll happily take advantage of that opinion.
My dick makes a fun, sloppy sound as I slap it against my palm. My hands are as greasy as my shaft is, now, and I can't remember the last time I was pumping out this much pre.
It's loud, too, as I give in and start stroking again. I mean, obviously I'm close to the action, but I'm pretty sure Riley, and Aiden, and Harper can hear me jerking myself. Even over the noise of the TV.
"Are you fuckin' kidding me?"
Yeah, Chance is pissed.
Standing at the bottom of the stairs, a six-pack in his hand, but the bottles forgotten. Too busy staring, open-mouthed and wide-eyed in disbelief, at where I'm going to town on my dong over on his brother's couch.
"What the actual fuck, Lincoln?"
There's something in his tone that says he wants an actual explanation, for me to put into words exactly what he's just stumbled into. Problem is, I can only imagine that he'd be even more angry, if I explained that what you see is what you get: I was horny, so I got my dick out and started jacking it.
Riley holds out a hand. "You're letting the beer get warm."
For a moment, his brother just goggles at him. Like he's opened his mouth, and a completely different language has come spilling out. Frozen there, until Riley opens and closes his fingers, pointedly, a few times.
Chance stomps over, and practically slaps a bottle into Riley's hand. The glare he's giving him looks enough to kill.
Riley pops the cap off. "What're you looking at me like that for?"
Slamming down the rest of the drinks on the beat-up coffee table, Chance throws a pointed look my way. "Are you telling me you're okay with this shit?"
It'd be rude, to interrupt what's clearly a family matter, I decide. So I just keep stroking instead.
"When did you get so uptight?" Riley doesn't sound so much amused, as bored with his brother's attitude.
"It's not 'uptight' to not want to watch some guy jacking off in the middle of the room."
Riley flashes me a look, as if to say "some people, right?"
I grin back, a little goofily because it feels really good to swirl my palm around the head of my dick. Like I'm polishing a pool ball, the rough parts of my hand adding a very-nearly-too-much friction that has my ass clenching.
"So don't watch him," Riley suggests.
Neither of them are looking my way right now, but I know they must be able to hear the slap-slap-slap of my sticky fist.
Chance looks like he's torn between storming out of the room, or throwing himself down on the couch like a moody kid. Like, it's so close, I wouldn't want to risk a bet on it, either way. Well, not until Riley puts his finger on the scale.
"It's not like you don't do it," he says to his brother.
Chance opens and closes his mouth a few times, apparently lost for words. It's because of that silence that I can hear Aidan snort in amusement from the other side of the room.
Honestly, I almost forgot that he and Harper were there, what with the drama going on in front of me, and how good it feels to stroke. Aidan shoots a glance my way, expression unreadable, but I can see his eyes dip to check out how I'm playing with myself.
"Dude, shut up!" Chance apparently found his voice, though I can't say it's the most imaginative response.
It's not effective, either. "Mom used to say your sheets were stiff as cardboard, didn't she?" Riley says it so plainly, but you can just hear the smirk in his tone. Like he knows, with zero doubt, that this is the perfect way to wind his younger brother up.
"Dude!" Chance has to know he's being played, but maybe that doesn't matter, or maybe the knowledge of it isn't sufficient to actually diffuse his reaction. "Shut the hell up!"
"You almost burned through the college fund, all the extra laundry detergent she had to buy," Riley adds.
"You didn't fucking go to college." The words grate out of Chance, like he's in physical discomfort.
His older brother glances up at him. "No, and you never stopped jacking off, so lose the fucking prissy attitude and sit your ass down, idiot."
With a hiss of frustration, Chance sits his ass down. Reaches for a beer.
"I just don't want to see his spotty ass beating off in front of me," he grumbles, after taking a gulp.
Riley leans over, to turn his brother's head. Two fingers pushing at his cheek, angling him to look at the TV. "So don't look."
There's a part of me that wants to defend my ass, point out that it's not actually spotty, but it doesn't feel like the best time.
His brother might not be happy, but that doesn't seem to have spoiled Riley's mood. Or, at least, not put him off watching what I'm doing. Just casually staring at me, sipping from his bottle. He has this real laid-back expression, like it's not actually all that weird for him to have some guy stripped from the waist down, playing with his cock while a football game runs on the TV. Something about that makes me want to impress him even more.
I easy myself down a little further, leaning against the arm of the couch. Hips tilting up, pushing my cock higher; my legs spreading slightly wider. Small movements, really, but there's no mistaking that I'm trying to give Riley a better view.
Actually, not just Riley. Though the fact that Chance apparently can't help glancing around, like he still can't quite believe I'm doing this shit, is something out of my control.
"Please tell me you're not getting off on this," he whines to his brother.
Riley chuckles. "I'm gay, and Lincoln's cute. What do you think?"
"Oh, come on."
Chance's frustration is, I think, maybe more to do with the fact that this screws up the familiar dynamic, than anything else. Stops it from being just five buddies hanging out, or at least threatens to make it something more than that.
I can't exactly say I hate hearing that Riley reckons I'm cute, though. I mean, from a guy or a girl, who doesn't want to be told that?
"It's just... weird." Chance keeps grumbling, but he keeps up with the little looks my way, too. I'm trying not to let it show that I've noticed, though, because I'm pretty sure he'll explode again if he thinks I've clocked him. And frankly, the only exploding I want this evening is from my dick.
"You must've done this shit when you were kids, or something," Riley says.
"No," his brother says, frostily.
Aidan's snort is quiet, but still audible.
Chance glares at him. "Fine. One time. But just that one sleepover."
I can't stop my frown, even though the feelings radiating out from my crotch are really rather lovely, because I'm pretty sure I'd remember a sleepover where we jerked off at the same time. And yet I don't, which clearly means I wasn't invited.
"What the hell? When was that?"
Chance gives me a withering look. "I'm not having a conversation with you, while you're playing with your dick."
It's difficult, because who wants to stop stroking when they're in the middle of it, but I lift both hands up. Hold them there, slick-palms outward, as if to show that I plan to give him my full attention.
Chance looks down, to where I know my cock is throbbing with a sort of "what the fuck, play with me!" urgency, then rolls his eyes. "You're ridiculous."
"So, this one time sleepover?" I prompt, refusing to be distracted.
Maybe it's the fact that I'm naked from the waist down and still drooling precum. Maybe it's his older brother sat next to him, with an expression of what I can only describe as amused curiosity. Or maybe my buddy is just so fucking uptight, there's no circumstance in which he'd be happy discussing this stuff.
"For fuck's sake," Aidan says, from across the room. Not even turning around from the screen. "We were fifteen; it was, like, some gross old 'Playboyl' magazine or something; the three of us jerked off, and then Chance got all self-conscious and said we could never talk about it ever again."
Chance's face is beet-red. Riley looks like he's about to bust out laughing.
I marshal my face, into as close to a serious expression as I can manage. "I can't believe I wasn't invited to witness your first ever orgasm."
His eyes narrow. "Go fuck yourself, Lincoln."
Riley apparently can't keep the snort in any longer.
I tilt my hips, on the couch. Flopping my erection from side to side. "We can recreate it now," I suggest, "that glorious moment when you first drained your balls. Riley, you must have at least one 'Playboy' around, right? Just to read the articles."
Looking at his brother - and the twist of furious disgust on his face - is apparently too much of a risk, if Riley wants to keep from laughing. He gives me an exaggerated, apologetic shrug instead. "Sorry, dude. I think I put them all in the recycling."
"You both think you're so fucking funny, don't you," Chance spits.
"Horny," I correct. "So fucking horny."
"We're not all fucking exhibitionists, Lincoln."
I nod, like he's talking perfect sense. "If you've got a tiny dick, it's okay, dude. We're not gonna judge you."
It's an outraged grunt, one that suggests Chance is wishing he and I had never sat down next to each other in kindergarten, and ended up friends ever since.
"Average, I reckon," Aidan calls out, still not turning around.
"I was fucking fifteen!"
It's tough to keep my face placid, given how easily triggered he is. After all these years, Chance still hasn't figured out that getting wound up only makes him a better target.
"Right, so an extra inch a year makes, what..." I make a thoughtful expression, then widen my eyes. "Dude, whip that footlong out and put us all to shame, already."
Chance pushes himself up, only to have Riley grab his arm and tug him back down onto the couch.
"Are you ever gonna learn that he just wants to provoke you?" Riley says, tiredly.
"Hey!" A yelp, like I can't believe he'd betray me like that.
Riley winks. "Sorry Lincoln. What's the saying, 'bros before himbos'?"
"Am I a 'himbo'?" It's not an entirely unpleasant accusation, I decide.
"You're certainly something," Riley says, looking me up and down conspicuously.
There's something about the way he stares that makes my cock throb. I doubt he missed it, either.
"If you two are quite finished flirting," Chance says, icily.
I'm not sure I'd call it that, but Riley isn't protesting and he's cooler than his brother.
"I wouldn't dare steal him away from Haley, anyway."
Oh yeah, Haley. I know I was meant to be thinking about my girlfriend, but somehow it got more exciting to have Riley's eyes on me. Partly that's because he's not claiming me getting boned up is disgusting, and disrespectful, and something that'll only be grudgingly accommodated after we get married.
It's been six fucking months, very nearly seven, so my dick kinda belches out this fresh bubble of precum at even just the idea of sex. Still, I can't say the concept of a once-per-week missionary fuck with the lights off is thrilling.
I bet Riley wouldn't put up with once-a-week sex in the dark.
"What kinda guys are you into, then?" I ask him, because suddenly it feels a whole lot more exciting to live vicariously through his life, compared to how mine is shaping up.
Riley ignores his brother's snort of displeasure. "You trying to hook me up with someone, Lincoln?"
I shrug. I'm not sure when, exactly, my hand found my dick again, but I realize I'm stroking myself. Not so much jerking to get off, but just rubbing the fresh trickles of slime along my hard shaft. "Just asking."
He nods, thoughtfully. "I like all types. But you can't really go wrong with muscles, a cute face, a cocky attitude, and a big dick."
"Dude!"
Chance clearly doesn't want to hear all this shit, though I'm more intrigued by Harper's snort and the way he nudges Aidan in the ribs.
"You just described Lincoln," he says, flashing me a pointed look.
I wag my cock at him, appreciating the compliment. Expecting him to roll his eyes, like Chance would, only he winks instead.
"I already said Lincoln's cute," Riley reminds us.
There's something about being objectified by him that makes me just want to flail at my dick. I bet, if I focused and if he kept staring, I could get off in under sixty seconds.
"No." The word comes out of Chance like a bullet. "You're not hooking up with one of my friends."
I want to laugh, to point out how ridiculous that would be - more ridiculous, even, than me being half-naked and jerking off with the rest of them in the room - but Riley speaks first.
"I'm not sure that's down to you, is it?"
The look Chance is giving him, I know it so damn well. Like he could explode, start shouting and cursing, or he could go cold as ice. Shutters slam down. A 50/50 chance, toss a coin for it.
"Fine. Whatever." He looks away, at the TV. "I don't fucking care."
It's so obvious he fucking cares.
Not that that's the thing I'm really focusing on right now. Not with the smirk curling on Riley's face. It's not aimed at me, not at first. It's only when he turns, and I shiver under the weight of that long, flowing stare, that I feel it like a sucker-punch.
"What do you say, Lincoln?"
And it's ridiculous, so fucking ridiculous, that I don't say no. That I watch him as he stands, and hold my arm out. Let myself be pulled up - some part of my brain conscious of the fact that Riley is holding my hand, and that's covered with sweat and precum - as Chance stares at the game with an intensity that feels like it could burn holes in the screen. Aidan and Harper casting these quick, nervous glances over at me.
Riley squeezes my hand, dragging my attention to him. All I can see is his stare and his smirk.
He leads me up the basement stairs.
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Thanks for reading!
-Alex
