A way to blow off steam.
That’s what he told me because he wasn’t “into dudes”. Not when he had a girlfriend and was the bro-y-ist of bros. Not when he had an image of straight guyness to maintain.
I wanted to tell him we were in 2018 not 1918 and no one gave a fuck who he fucked, but I kept my thoughts to myself. Besides, I knew how many guys he’d let fuck him before he’d expressed interest in our exchange.
My aim was to get my dick in him as often as I could so I could care less about what he told himself. No need to be his conscious when what I wanted was him bent over my coffee table with his khakis around his ankles.
Neither of us was in the mind changing business anyway.
He may have a girlfriend and a bro code he followed outside of my apartment, but in my place he was a different man.
Oh how he squealed, panted, and moaned when I breached the tight ring of his asshole. The way he’d keen when I slid in balls deep, his muscles squeezing me so tight I could barely think.
He’d babble some nonsense as I slammed into him over and over, begging like the good boy he was.
I was happy to give him what he needed every time.
In my house, he bottomed like a champ. He came all over my floor when I fucked his ass so good. He thanked me for my come as it filled him up and dribbled down his beefy thighs.
Bro codes don’t mean shit when all you want is dick, but I wasn’t the man to tell him that.
I was only a friendly fuck after all.