Bruce Don’t Go There

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I’m not an author, this is for Scott,

I was 21. Worked for the telephone company at the time. Bruce, yeah that was his real name, was one of my best friends. We had dated girls who were roommates at the U. I’d known him for about three years. He was a funny fucker. Wild man, and we had a blast. When we broke up with the girls we kind of drifted.

Diane was the girl I had dated. We got engaged when we were in our first year of college.

Anyway, I called Bruce up because I had to go to a wedding in Bumfuck Egypt, and wanted some company. Plus we hadn’t seen each other in quite awhile.

I picked him up, he lived about an hour away and we drove to the wedding. On the way there he filled me in on what had happened to Diane after the break-up. She’d gone off the deep end for maybe six months. Party girl. Smoked dope, did other drugs as well, and slept around. Evidently a lot. She’d only had sex with me before the break up. He told me about three guys that I knew that she’d screwed, and although he never said as much, I know he’d had her as well.

I felt pretty bad, I had no idea. He also told me about getting busted for drug possession when he was in California. Ask me about a drug, and I can tell you about it, was the way he phrased it.

After the wedding we headed to the Czech Festival in a small town about 20 miles from his place. At this point we’d started drinking and continued through the rest of the evening. As is often the case he had the chance to hook up with one of the girls we met, but her girlfriend and I couldn’t get anything going. We gave it up and headed back to the big city, hit a couple of bars and decided it just wasn’t gonna happen.

I was way too hammered to drive home so I was gonna sleep at his place. He produced his bong and wanted to smoke some dope. Now, I’d only smoked dope twice before, and it just put me casino şirketleri to sleep. I found out later I was allergic to hemp. I told him no a couple of times, and finally figured, “what the hell,” I was ready to go to bed anyway.

After a couple of hits I was in la-la land. He had a pull out couch, which is where we were laying watching t.v. and shooting the shit. I knew I was going to fall asleep shortly plus my tongue wasn’t working right anymore. He was already in his jockeys, and I stripped down to mine.

Now I wore really cool underwear at the time if I thought there was a chance I might get lucky. So I had on a pair of bright blue nylon briefs. They had a snap on each hip that held them in place. The girls liked them. Bruce had shut the t.v. off, and put some terrible music on that he liked.

It was right about then that things went south. He had a rolled up newspaper and he started to keep time to the music tapping the newspaper against my thigh. Then he said something along the line of, “you’ve got really nice legs for a guy.” I said, “yeah, they’re babe killers,” or something like that.

Then he said, “You know what you need Terry? You need a good butt-fucking.”

Some alarm bells went off, but I really thought he was just screwing with me. I told him, “Yeah right, fuck off Bruce.”

If he said anything after that I don’t remember it. I must have passed out, dozed off, whatever, but when I came around he’d unsnapped my briefs, and was playing with my penis. I was naked. Hopelessly fucked up as I was I tried to talk, although that was just incoherent muttering, and attempted to push him away.

Huge joke. I was 5″ taller and outweighed him by at least 20 lbs. I might as well have been a five year old. He flipped me over and lubed my ass up with his finger. It was Vaseline. I don’t know if it was close by or he’d gotten it casino firmaları while I was passed out.

He yanked me up at the waist, and stuffed a couch pillow underneath me.

Shit. I wasn’t a homophobe, but I didn’t want anything to do with this. Nobody chooses to be gay. Why would you with all the shit, no pun intended, you’re going to have to put up with. I knew without question that I was not gay.

Bruce wasn’t gay. Definitely bi, and this was most definitely not the first time he’d engaged in this sort of entertainment.

I’d like to be more detailed about what happened next, but it’s pretty hazy. It didn’t hurt. I’m pretty sure that as fucked up as I was you could have hit me with a hammer, and it wouldn’t have hurt.

I know he talked to me, and it wasn’t to tell me what a nice guy I was. I know that he was nice enough to do a “wrap around.” He greased my penis up, and started stroking me at some point. I remember thinking it was all a dream and I’d wake up soon. I know somebody was moaning. Probably both of us.

He came in my virgin ass, and I came on the sheets. I don’t know who came first.

Then I passed out.

Later, don’t know if it was an hour, or three hours, I came to. I looked down between my legs and there was Bruce sucking on my very hard cock. Now up until this point I could honestly say that I was just flat assed raped. Fuck. I was hard, and when he realized I was awake, he started talking to me about what a tight ass I had, and what a good fuck I was, how he was right about me needing a good butt-fucking, I must have enjoyed it as I’d cum all over the sheets, etc.

I still wasn’t quite right, but I could have put up a fairly decent defense at this point. Instead I let him move up my body, and he presented me with his semi-hard cock. He was maybe a little bigger then I. He was stroking my penis with his hand güvenilir casino at that point, and he rubbed his cock around my mouth for a little bit. I opened my mouth. He had cleaned his cock off after the taking my cherry. That simple. Nothing forced about it. I sucked, and licked it while he continued to play with me.

He pulled out, and now we were making out. Sometimes that’s what bothers me the most. I was French kissing a guy. He was rubbing his cock against my penis. Then he started playing with my penis again, and when my moaning indicated I was close he stuck his cock back in my mouth.

I didn’t comprehend what was happening when the first jet hit the back of my throat, but I did before the second. I don’t know. I gagged for a moment, and then I just swallowed like it was the most natural thing in the world. People talk about a salty taste, but I remember it as benign, no taste. Which might have had something to do with my taste buds being pretty much shot from the booze and dope. It also pushed me over the edge, and I shot my load over my own stomach. He kept his dick in my mouth until it got soft, and I continued to suck on it until he pulled it out.

He got up, said he was going to bed, and actually said, good night. Damn decent of him.

I didn’t go back to sleep. I lay there until about six in the morning, quietly got dressed, and left. I couldn’t find my underwear.

I saw him one time after that. He was invited to my wedding. My wife knew we’d been friends, and that we hadn’t seen each other in along time so he was invited. He showed up, brought a gift, we chatted very briefly, and that’s the last time I ever saw him.

I did talk to Diane at the wedding, and told her just the first part of story where Bruce said I needed the butt fucking and asked her if she was aware that he was bi. She looked at me like I was nuts, and said, “Bruce, no way.” At least I knew he hadn’t told the entire world about our bonding experience, and no pictures ever surfaced. If he took any they must be stored with my bikinis. Damn, I really liked that pair of underwear too.

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