Funny Things

I was vacuuming my room; the dust was beginning to pile up in the corners, and tumbleweeds seem to roll across the polished boards with every footstep that I took. I found hunky Ben's red jocks under all the junk. I lifted them to my nose. They still smelt like him.

Ben, Tim and I had taken drugs all weekend. We got messy, it's true. Ben, at one stage, was lying across the coffee table illustrating the fine art of the kissing gourami, his complexion is not dissimilar, kicking his legs and flapping his arms and wiggling his fine arse, when his shirt rode up and the crimson material of his jocks appeared just where the crack in his arse started. I love guys in jocks.

I had the next day off and I saw the crimson jocks discarded on Tim's bedroom floor when I went out to get the mail. Well, I was still a bit toey and short of gaydar... so... I can't believe I am telling you this... I spent the next little while lying on my bed with Ben's jocks under my nose. The front was best, I could smell his foreskin.

I thought about the time that we'd all taken far too much. Tim had passed out. I was spinning in my own, lurid world. Ben got up and said he was going to bed, from my position on the floor, I was looking straight at his crotch. His cock pointed straight up. He caught my blurred gaze, looked down and ran his hand over the front of his pants. His cock hardened up, banana'd, if you like. He looked straight at me out of the very tops of his eye slits, his face was flushed red and I could see the expression he would pull when he was getting sucked off. He pulled his head back and tried to focus.

"Good night."

He staggered off to bed.

Or the other night, when we'd also consumed lots of e's and Ben and Tim were sitting on the floor. Ben turned around and pashed Tim, as he did, his cock banana'd in his pants; filling under the denim like water in a garden hose. The head was pushing at the waist band of his jeans, when it was done. Tim lay his head back on the couch. I got the sense that Ben was looking at me. I lifted my eyes to meet his. He leant down and adjusted himself. Smiled and continued to kiss Tim. I went to bed.

I thought about the one time... Ben came out of the shower just as I came out of my bedroom. It was a Sunday afternoon, twilight of one of those weekends. Ben's blue eyes focussed on me. His face was strong and gorgeous under his curly blond hair. Strong neck. Curved chest. Pale skin. I didn't think... I was spinning. I could quite easily have thought Ben was Mat, momentarily, maybe... we were tripping... because I would never, normally...

I remember the light went dark around him. I slid my hand up his towel. He kind of jumped as my hand cupped his balls. I moved them around in my palm. I slid my hand onto his cock, which was stiffening quickly. It was warm, and suddenly thick. Ben's expression didn't change, he didn't move.

"Hey Ben, are you hungry?" Tim called out from downstairs. Ben pulled himself out of my hand. Adjusted himself. His towel tented noticeably.

The light returns to the first floor landing. I shake my head and reality swirls around in my head.

“Are you okay?” asks Ben.

I look at him standing in front of me in his towel, his curly hair wet, his smiling face, waiting for a response.

“Oh, yeah,” I say.

“You were miles away,” asks Ben. “What were you thinking?”

“What was I thinking?” I repeat. I can’t help but smile. “Oh, you know, wicker baskets.”

“Huh?” says Ben.

“You finished in the bathroom?” I ask just because you do to be polite.

“All yours,” says Ben.

“Hey Ben, you hungry,” calls Tim from downstairs, again.

Yeah, maybe I am, he says with his eyes fixed like steel on me. He turns and walks down the stairs, without looking back. "Yeah, sure... I could go breakfast."

I tossed the jocks into the wash.