Sean Takes Leap, Shares Gay Desires

The following is a very real letter that I sent to my best friend. We had been close, but platonic friends for sixteen years. That is not to say we had never "danced" near the line separating friendship and romance. Convention and obligations kept us in line, but one night brought me to the breaking point. This letter was written that night.

Note: In case you're curious, we are very different physically. He stands about 5'11", has a strong, broad chest, solid middle, thick arms and legs, and wavy auburn hair. I am just over 6'8", with a slim, runner's build, long legs, and light brown hair. We are both sensitive, but by no means effeminate.

*

"Dear Brad,

It is late Friday night, and you just dropped me off. Obviously, I am still wide awake. I just went to the bathroom and discovered that my dick was soft but thick, and that my shorts were damp in spots. Of course, this is all due to the last few hours spent talking, and driving, with you. For the past hour I struggled to hide my hard on, as well as my escalating arousal. In the immediacy of these reflections, I find myself returned to that same state.

All of this is directly related to the intimacy of our evening. It's not just the veiled homoerotic imagery I kept slipping into our semi-normal conversation, but the emotional intimacy fostered by the substance of our talks. This has brought me to the miserable, but beautiful state I currently find myself in.

You are my best friend. You are my brother, and my closest confidante. Sometimes, though, in spite of or because of all this, I ache for you to be my lover. Tonight this ache has all but consumed me. I harbor no shame as I openly share my feelings. My heart beats too loudly, and demands too much, to quiet these expressions.

I have a feeling you knew I was on fire when I left you in your car. I just wonder if you knew it was you who lit the fire. Did you know that the slightest pass on your part would have elicited uncontrollable passion from me? I have to guess you sensed some of this. So, I wonder, are you a master of self-control or am I undesirable? Let me be clear, I want you. I want your friendship, and I want to be your lover.

As I left the car, you touched my back, and I almost collapsed against you. Instead, I gently rubbed your arm and got out. I refuse to be quiet any longer, though, even if my only voice comes through this letter. (In affairs of the heart, I am often better on paper.) Likewise, I will not give up my fantasies for you. Not tonight, and not tomorrow. Yes, as tawdry and inarticulate as it might sound, the rest of this evening will find my mind filled with you, and my hand filled with my hard cock.

Let me leave you with a few thoughts on where my mind is going. Partly I do this in hopes of selling you on "us" as lovers, and partly I do this because it heightens my arousal. (Our talk was totally frank, why shouldn't this letter be?)

In my mind, and a better world, you would not have taken me home tonight. It is expecting too much, I know, but you would have seen my heart and driven straight to your place.

In my mind, as we now drive that path, I find we are holding hands, stroking forearms and thighs, and still talking. Gentle touches, and caresses, in your garage give way to tentative kisses at your door. Nibbles on necks, ears and lips, are accompanied by roaming hands and pounding hearts. Walking the stairs to your room, I playfully grab your ass, giggle, and kiss you hard and open mouthed.

At the door to your room, I no longer hesitate, as I slide my hand into your unbuttoned sport shirt, and stroke your hairy, auburn chest. Your hardening nipples catch under my fingertips, and I pause to explore with fingers, tongue and mouth. You smell, and taste so right, as I hungrily lick your chest.

Finally, our mouths find each other again, and I feel totally in sync with you. I am loved by you, at home with you, cherished by you, and at peace with you. The peaceful feeling is rooted in the knowledge that we share the same feelings, and intimacy grows from this. I am now aware that my still clothed, and straining, dick is cupped lovingly in your hands. I push your head down, and you commence to licking my hard pants. There is no skin contact, and yet the image and pressure is so exquisite. I fall to my knees, and hold your face, look in your eyes and give vent to pent up expressions of tenderness and love.

But now I need you to dominate me. Narcissistic? Yes. A little girly? Yes. But that is what is natural and right at this moment, and we both know it. We both need for you to take me. As I find the bed, and lower myself onto my back, our eyes lock once again. The fires are being stoked even higher. You are my man, and I need to submit to you. Managing to get my shoes, socks, and undies off, you begin to lubricate my hole. When your pinky enters me, I gasp, but then this gives way to slow moaning. Assuring you I am "OK", you rise to your knees and allow me to observe you blissfully, but briefly, masturbating as you get up the nerve to enter me. "Please!" I choke out. Further hesitation makes me desperate, and I blurt out the raw entreaty to, "Fuck me now!" I love you with a tender heart, but right now I need you in me.

My asshole strains and burns, but it's what I need. Gradually, and thoughtfully, you pick up the pace and the intensity grows. Kissing me, assuring me of your love, you rapidly slide in and out of me. Your cum enters me, and as your efforts subside, my cum spreads between our sweaty bellies. You slide off of me. There is no sound, but only labored breathing, from our heaving bodies. After a few moments, I reach out, find your hand, and our fingers interlock. Nothing needs to be said. We are both finally home and at peace.

That is about as clear as I can get.

No matter what your response, I love you.

Sean"