Day One
The mountain air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth as Zack and Kyr trekked along the winding trail toward the cabin. The sun hung low, painting the peaks in shades of gold and amber. Zack, with his broad shoulders and tousled dark hair, led the way, his hiking boots crunching against the gravel. Kyr trailed just behind, his lean frame moving with a quiet grace, his hazel eyes flickering toward Zack whenever he thought he wouldn’t be noticed. They’d been best friends since middle school—two scrappy kids who’d bonded over dodgeball and late-night video game marathons—but now, at 23, Kyr carried a secret that gnawed at him: he was hopelessly, achingly in love with Zack.
The cabin came into view, a rustic single-story retreat nestled among towering pines. It was small, with weathered wood walls and a slanted roof, the kind of place that promised solitude. Inside, there was a modest kitchen, a lumpy couch, and—most crucially—one large bed dominating the single bedroom. Kyr’s stomach flipped at the sight of it. Three nights. Three nights sharing that bed with Zack, the guy he’d fantasized about for years. Zack, oblivious as ever, dropped his backpack by the door and stretched, his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of toned abs. Kyr swallowed hard, averting his gaze.
They spent the first day fishing at the nearby lake, the water shimmering under the afternoon sun. Zack cast his line with practiced ease, his biceps flexing beneath his t-shirt. Kyr tried to focus on his own rod, but his eyes kept drifting to Zack—specifically to the way he kept shifting his weight, adjusting his jeans with a subtle grimace. By the time they switched to hiking, Zack’s fidgeting had grown impossible to ignore. He’d pause mid-step, tug at his waistband, and mutter under his breath.
“Dude, what’s up with you?” Kyr finally asked, keeping his tone light as they trudged up a steep incline. “You got ants in your pants or something?”
Zack barked a laugh, but it was tight, edged with frustration. He stopped walking, running a hand through his hair. “Man, I’m just… fuck, I’m pent up, alright? My girl dumped me two months ago, and I haven’t had pussy since. Jerking off’s not cutting it anymore. I’m losing my damn mind.”
Kyr’s heart thudded so loud he was sure Zack could hear it. Two months. No wonder Zack was a walking bundle of tension. His mind raced, a dangerous idea forming before he could stop it. “I’d, uh, be happy to help a brother out anytime,” he blurted, the words tumbling out in a rush.
Zack froze, then cracked up, clapping Kyr on the shoulder. “Unless you’ve got a pussy hidden away somewhere, I’ll pass, bro. Nice try, though.”
The rejection stung, even if Kyr had expected it. Of course he’d say that, he thought, forcing a grin to mask the ache in his chest. He’s straight. He’s always been straight. Get it through your thick skull, Kyr. They finished the hike in companionable silence, the banter flowing as easily as ever, but Kyr’s mind churned. He’d spent years burying his feelings, convincing himself friendship was enough. But hearing Zack admit his need—it lit a spark of hope Kyr couldn’t quite extinguish.
That night, they climbed into the bed, the mattress creaking under their combined weight. Both were down to their briefs—Zack in black Calvins, Kyr in faded blue cotton. Kyr tucked his legs under the blanket, praying Zack wouldn’t notice the stubborn, thin 4.5-inch erection he was fighting to hide. He stole glances at Zack’s outline in the dim light, the fabric of his briefs stretched tight over what looked like a serious package. Was Zack half-hard, or was he just that big? Kyr’s mouth watered, his imagination running wild with images of peeling those briefs down, tasting the salt of Zack’s skin.
“Dude, you okay?” Zack’s voice cut through the haze, sharp with amusement. “You’re drooling like a damn dog.”
Kyr jolted, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Just tired, man,” he mumbled, rolling onto his side to hide the flush creeping up his neck. Zack chuckled and turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Kyr lay there, heart pounding, listening to Zack’s steady breathing until exhaustion finally dragged him under.
Day Two
The second day dawned bright and cold, the mountain air seeping through the cabin’s thin walls. They hit the trails again, fishing poles slung over their shoulders, but Zack’s restlessness had worsened. He’d barely slept, Kyr could tell—his eyes were shadowed, his movements jittery. Without the privacy to relieve himself, Zack’s frustration was a palpable thing, radiating off him in waves. Kyr noticed every twitch, every curse muttered under Zack’s breath, and it fueled a reckless determination in him.
They traded jabs all day, Kyr testing the waters with half-joking offers. “You sure I can’t fix that little problem for you, bro?” he’d say, waggling his eyebrows. Zack would roll his eyes, shove him playfully, and say, “Keep dreaming, perv.” It was their usual rhythm, but Kyr couldn’t shake the feeling that Zack’s laughter was a little too forced, his glances lingering a beat too long.
By evening, they were sprawled on the couch, a shitty ‘80s B-movie flickering on the ancient TV. The screen was a paradeOfficially parade of big hair and bigger tits, the kind of softcore nonsense that barely qualified as entertainment. Kyr barely registered the plot, his attention snagging on Zack beside him. Zack’s chest rose and fell faster, his lips parted as he stared at a curly-haired blonde peeling off her top. His hand rested on his thigh, fingers flexing like he was fighting the urge to move them.
Kyr’s pulse spiked. Before he could second-guess himself, he lunged, tackling Zack off the couch. They hit the floor in a tangle of limbs, wrestling like they had a hundred times before. Zack’s laughter rumbled against Kyr’s chest as they grappled, rolling across the rug. Kyr’s leg brushed Zack’s groin—accidentally, he swore—and Zack froze, shoving him off with a grunt.
“Time out, dude,” Zack said, sitting up, his face flushed. “I’m, uh… fuck, this is embarrassing. I’ve got blue balls bad, man. I need relief, like, yesterday. Sorry if I’m screwing up the trip.”
Kyr’s mind went into overdrive. This was it—his shot. He wasn’t proud of it, but desperation clawed at him, drowning out reason. He’s your best friend. Don’t fuck this up, his conscience hissed. But his dick had other ideas. He sat back, feigning a dramatic sigh. “Bro, if it’s my duty as your wingman to help you out, I will. Seriously. If you can’t enjoy this trip because of this, either we fix it, or we pack up and go home.”
Zack blinked, his brows knitting together. “Dude, what? You’re a guy. I’m a guy. Wouldn’t that be… you know, gay?”
Kyr forced a laugh, leaning into the absurdity to keep it light. “Only if I take my socks off and don’t say ‘no homo.’ C’mon, we’re tight enough for me to do you this solid. No big deal.”
Inside, Kyr was screaming. Please say yes. Please, please, please. Zack rubbed the back of his neck, his expression warring between doubt and desperation. Finally, he exhaled, a sound of surrender. “What the hell, man. If you’re up for it, I think I need it. Just… don’t make it weird, okay?”
Kyr nearly passed out from the rush of adrenaline, but he played it cool, nodding like it was nothing. “Alright, sit on the couch, legs apart. We’ll watch the hot chicks on TV, and I’ll handle it.”
Zack shrugged, still hesitant, and settled onto the couch, spreading his thighs. The movie droned on, the blonde now topless and giggling. Kyr knelt between Zack’s legs, his hands trembling as he reached for the button of Zack’s jeans. He popped it open, slid the zipper down, and Zack’s cock sprang free, smacking Kyr square in the cheek. Eight-and-a-half inches of thick, uncut perfection, already swollen and leaking precum. Kyr couldn’t stop himself. “Looks like someone’s eager,” he teased, voice low.
Zack’s face went scarlet. “Shut up, bro. You said no weird shit.”
Kyr grinned, wrapping his fingers around the base. It pulsed in his grip, hot and heavy, the skin velvet-smooth over steel. He stroked slowly, savoring the weight, the way Zack’s breath hitched. Precum beaded at the tip, and Kyr leaned in, parting his lips to take the head into his mouth. The taste—salty, musky, unmistakably Zack—hit him like a drug. He sank lower, inch by inch, until his nose pressed into Zack’s coarse pubes, the scent flooding his senses.
Zack groaned, head tipping back against the couch. “Fuck, dude…” His hand landed on Kyr’s head, tentative at first, then firm, guiding him deeper. Kyr’s throat tightened around the intrusion, but he reveled in it, swirling his tongue along the shaft, teasing the sensitive foreskin. Zack’s moans grew louder, raw and unrestrained, spurring Kyr on. He bobbed faster, hollowing his cheeks, his own cock straining painfully against his jeans.
“Oh shit, I’m gonna cum!” Zack gasped, both hands clamping onto Kyr’s head. He thrust up, burying himself deep as his cock throbbed, unloading two months of pent-up frustration in thick, hot spurts. Kyr swallowed greedily, the flood overwhelming but intoxicating, his own orgasm ripping through him unbidden. He came in his pants, a sticky mess he barely registered over the euphoria of Zack’s release.
When it was over, Zack pulled Kyr off, their eyes locking in a charged, breathless moment. Kyr’s brain short-circuited. “Guess I don’t need protein for my workout,” he quipped, instantly regretting the lameness.
Zack gave弱 laugh, breaking the tension. “Yeah, uh… I’m beat, man. Thanks for… that. I’m gonna crash.” He stood, avoiding Kyr’s gaze as he shuffled to the bedroom.
Kyr’s stomach sank. I fucked up. He hates me now. The cum in his belly felt like lead as he trudged to the shower, washing away the evidence but not the dread.
Day Three
The third day dawned gray and heavy, the sky a blanket of clouds that mirrored the tension between them. Zack was aloof, his usual boisterous energy replaced by a quiet distance that sliced through Kyr like a blade. They went through the motions—fishing at the lake, hiking the trails—but every silence felt like a judgment. Kyr’s chest ached with regret. He’d crossed a line last night, and now his lifelong friendship hung by a thread. He can’t even look at me, Kyr thought, casting his line into the water with more force than necessary. I’m such an idiot.
Zack, meanwhile, was a storm of confusion. He’d woken up with the memory of Kyr’s mouth on him, the wet heat, the way his throat had gripped him tighter than any girl ever had. It wasn’t just good—it was the best damn blowjob of his life, and that terrified him. He wasn’t gay. He liked women—tits, curves, pussy. That was his thing. So why couldn’t he stop stealing glances at Kyr? Why did his eyes linger on the way Kyr’s shirt clung to his chest, or the subtle sway of his hips when he walked ahead on the trail? Zack’s dick twitched at the thought, and he cursed himself, adjusting his jeans for the hundredth time that day.
The hike back to the cabin was a slog, the air thick with unspoken words. Kyr tried to lighten the mood, tossing out a weak, “You’re quieter than a monk today, bro,” but Zack only grunted, his jaw tight. By the time they stumbled through the cabin door, the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the interior dim and shadowed. They collapsed onto the couch, the TV flickering to life with some random sitcom Kyr didn’t care to identify. The awkwardness lingered, a third presence in the room, until Kyr couldn’t take it anymore.
“So, uh, you owe me for last night, huh?” he said, forcing a grin, hoping to claw back some normalcy.
Zack scoffed, a flicker of his old self breaking through. Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out: “Bro, just be glad you don’t have a pussy, or I’d have rocked you ragged.”
Kyr’s heart stuttered, but he seized the opening, his voice teasing. “You know there’s more than one type of fuckhole.”
The room went still, the air crackling with something new—dangerous, electric. Zack’s breath caught, his eyes darting to Kyr’s, then away. They sat in silence, the TV’s laugh track a mocking backdrop to the tension coiling between them. Kyr’s mind raced. Did I push too far? Is he pissed?Zack’s fingers drummed on his knee, his thoughts a chaotic spiral. He’s joking. He’s gotta be. But… fuck, what if he’s not?
Finally, Kyr stood, stretching with an exaggerated yawn to break the spell. “Well, guess I’m gonna hop in bed. We’ve got a lot to pack tomorrow for the trip back.”
Zack mumbled, “Yeah, cool,” but his eyes followed Kyr as he walked toward the bedroom. The jeans hugged Kyr’s ass just right, the fabric stretching over the roundness, and Zack’s throat went dry. He’d never noticed how… feminine Kyr’s hips were, how they swayed with each step. His dick stirred, a traitor to his mantra of I’m straight, I’m straight. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought, and followed Kyr, his footsteps heavier than necessary.
In the bedroom, Kyr stripped down to his briefs, the faded blue cotton clinging to his lean frame. He bent over to toss his shirt aside, and the fabric stretched taut, outlining his ass in a way that made Zack’s breath hitch. At 5’7, Kyr was shorter than Zack’s 6’1, his build slighter but defined—especially his chest, where his pecs swelled softly, almost like small breasts. Zack’s stomach flipped, butterflies warring with panic. What the hell is happening to me?
Kyr straightened and brushed past him toward the bed, their bodies grazing for a split second. That fleeting contact—Kyr’s hip against Zack’s groin—was a match to gasoline. Zack’s restraint snapped. He grabbed Kyr’s arm, spun him around, and crashed their lips together in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation. Kyr froze, then melted, his hands clutching Zack’s shoulders as they stumbled around the room, banging into the dresser, the wall, the bedframe. Their briefs strained against dueling erections, the friction a maddening tease.
They broke apart, panting. Kyr glanced down at Zack’s massive tent, a grin tugging at his lips. “Excited, are we?”
Zack leaned in, his voice a gravelly whisper against Kyr’s ear. “About that other fuckhole you were talking about…”
Kyr’s eyes widened, then darkened with hunger. He shoved Zack onto the bed, ripping off his black Calvins with a ferocity that nearly tore them. Zack’s cock sprang free, 8.5 inches of thick, uncut heat, already glistening with precum. Kyr kicked off his own briefs, his thin, 4.5-inch dick bobbing as he knelt between Zack’s legs. He dove down, taking Zack’s cock into his mouth with a sloppy, wet enthusiasm—spit dripping down the shaft, coating it in slick lube as he sucked and slurped, his tongue flicking over the sensitive head. Zack groaned, hands fisting the sheets, the messy sound of it driving him wild.
Satisfied with the glistening sheen on Zack’s dick, Kyr pulled off with a wet pop, climbed up, and straddled Zack’s crotch. His knees dug into the mattress on either side, his small cock brushing Zack’s abs as he positioned himself, Zack’s slick tip nudging his tight entrance. Their eyes locked, a silent dare passing between them. Zack’s hands gripped Kyr’s hips, trembling with need, and pulled him down. The first breach was slow, a wet, stretching burn that drew a hiss from Kyr’s lips and a groan from Zack’s throat. “Fuck, you’re tight,” Zack rasped, his fingers digging into Kyr’s flesh as he sank deeper, inch by searing inch, until Kyr’s ass pressed flush against his pelvis, a faint queef escaping that made them both laugh, sharp and breathless.
Kyr braced his hands on Zack’s chest, the coarse hair tickling his palms, and started to move. He thrust downward, taking Zack fully, the thickness stretching him to the brink of pain and ecstasy. “Goddamn, you’re huge,” he panted, rocking his hips in a rhythm that built slow and deliberate. Zack’s head tipped back, his moans raw and unrestrained. “Fuck, bro, you feel so good.”
Kyr’s pace quickened, his thighs flexing as he rode Zack with abandon, high-pitched moans spilling from his lips in a keening wail that echoed off the cabin walls. The sound—sharp, almost girlish—snapped Zack’s attention downward. Kyr’s thin, 4.5-inch dick bounced with each thrust, slapping against Zack’s taut abs with a wet, rhythmic smack-smack-smack. It was tiny, delicate, unmistakably feminine in its slender shape, and the sight hit Zack like a freight train. Holy shit, that’s hot, he thought, his cock throbbing harder inside Kyr’s tight heat. The contrast—his own massive, masculine shaft buried deep, and Kyr’s dainty little prick flopping against him—drove him wild, a primal surge of lust he couldn’t explain.
Kyr cringed inwardly—I sound like a chick—but Zack’s darkened eyes and ragged breaths told him it was working. Zack’s hands slid up, cupping Kyr’s pecs, squeezing the soft mounds. “Your pussy’s so fucking good,” he growled, the words unfiltered, his gaze flickering back to Kyr’s slapping dick, the feminine vulnerability of it pushing him closer to the edge.
That praise ignited Kyr. He slammed down harder, grinding in tight circles, Zack’s cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside him while his own cock kept smacking Zack’s abs, leaving faint streaks of precum. Sweat beaded on their skin, the air thick with the musk of sex and pine. Zack’s groans turned guttural, his hips bucking up to meet Kyr’s thrusts. “Oh shit, oh fuck, I’m gonna blow!” he yelled, hands clamping onto Kyr’s waist.
“Me too!” Kyr cried, slamming down one last time as Zack’s cock hit his prostate dead-on. They erupted together—Kyr’s cum shooting in wild, hot ropes across Zack’s chest, chin, and the sheets, his thin dick twitching with each spurt; Zack’s orgasm exploding with such force that Kyr felt every pulsating pump, the thick, hot jets blasting inside him with a relentless intensity that stretched his walls. The sheer power of it stunned them both, Zack’s release surging longer and harder than ever, leaking out around his shaft in a creamy mess, dripping down his balls as Kyr’s ass clenched with every forceful spurt.
They collapsed, sweaty and sticky, Zack’s softening cock slipping free with a wet pop and a loud, mortifying fart from Kyr. His face flamed, but Zack’s laughter rumbled beneath him, warm and genuine. Zack pulled him close, kissing him slow and deep, tasting the salt of their exertion. “How was it?” Kyr murmured, voice hoarse.
Zack smirked, brushing a thumb over Kyr’s swollen lips. “Give me twenty minutes, and we’ll try another position.”
Kyr grinned, nestling into Zack’s chest. “There’s so many positions, bro. We’ll be at it all night.”
