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Secret Love

Category: Gay Male
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When I emerged from the bathroom, my best friend was on his back in bed, naked except for his underwear, and as I looked at him, arms and legs akimbo and with his eyes closed, I started to get emotional, knowing this would likely be the last time we would ever do what we were about to do.

How many times had we been like this over the years? Dozens and dozens of times over the years, but not nearly often enough to suit me. I remember the first time like it was yesterday…


It began with us finding some dirty magazines his old man didn’t hide well enough, and then he suggested we jerk off, producing a jar of Vaseline from his night table next to his bed.

“Somebody said it feels better when somebody else does it to you,” Bobby said, and although he said he couldn’t remember exactly who said it, I didn’t care. I was in love with Bobby, and had always wanted to do exactly what he was proposing.

“Do me first,” Bobby said as we got undressed, and while I had seen him naked plenty of times over the years, this was going to be different.

Bobby was about a half foot shorter than I was, and weighed probably 75 less as well. His mother called us Mutt and Jeff, and I guess that’s because we were so different. I was the big homely guy and Bobby was the cute kid that the girls loved, and I could see why.

Even his dick was cute, I noted as I looked at the skinny wrinkled tube wiggling around as he jumped on the bed. I felt kinda bad for him because his dick was so small and skinny compared to mine, but the moment I touched it I knew something was different about his.

The was the first dick besides my own that I had ever touched, so I had nothing to compare it with but my own, but when I lifted it off his balls – a nut sack that was really big – I was surprised at how rubbery it was.

Bobby was looking over the magazine at what I was doing, and as I pulled on it, much to my amazement his cock kept getting longer and longer as it stiffened. Not much thicker, indeed when it became fully erect a minute later it wasn’t much more than half as thick as mine, but the length?

“Holy shit!” I recall saying as I held his long prong upright, the shaft slick with jelly and throbbing in my grasp. “How the fuck…”

“What’s wrong?” Bobby asked.

“Your cock – it’s freaking huge!” I exclaimed, looking back and forth at Bobby’s face and the weapon in my fist. “It’s way bigger than mine!”

“No it isn’t,” Bobby said, but then he looked between my legs at my dick, which was hard and fully engorged.

These days, the idea of a couple 18 year old guys never having seen another erect dick before would be crazy, but back in 1970 there was no Internet. Hell, most of the dirty magazines didn’t even show the women’s pussies, so while we grew up seeing everybody else’s limp dicks in gym, you never saw one stiff besides your own.

“You’re right,” Bobby said, sitting up and looking at my cock which was pointing at me friend even though I hadn’t touched it, such was my excitement over what I was doing to Bobby, and he seemed as surprised as I was. “Wow! I always figured yours was way bigger.”

It was then that we both learned about the showers and growers, which are the terms used today. Bobby’s wasn’t twice as long as mine, like I told him it was, but the difference was still very noticeable. We even took out a ruler to find out how different.

“8 and a quarter inches!” I announced as we interrupted our jerking off to measure. “You lucky bastard.”

“It’s only a couple of inches longer than yours,” Bobby said, good friend that he was, but when he had measured me he had the ruler pressed hard into me, giving me probably an inch more than I deserved. “Yours is better because it’s way thicker. Girls like thick better than long.”

I didn’t know about that because no girl had really touched it in my 18 years, at least not one sober enough to remember it. Bobby was the ladies man, but I sensed that he was just trying to make me feel good by saying that, but him being my superior in yet another aspect of life didn’t bother me.

On the contrary, I was happy for him, and when I went back to stroking that long greased dick I made it last as long as I could. I managed to prolong it so long that Bobby had to ask me to make him cum because his balls were starting to ache.

“Oh man, it does feel better when somebody else does it!” Bobby announced as I used both hands to milk every drop out of his deflating dick before letting it go. “Your turn.”

I assumed his position, even though the high point for me was over, and as Bobby greased up his hand and knelt beside me, I reached over and grabbed his dick, which was back to the tiny tube I was more used to.

“Still can’t believe it,” I muttered as Bobby’s hand grabbed my cock, still stunned over how that 2″ had more than quadrupled in size while mine hardly grew at all when erect.

“See? I can’t even get my hand around yours,” Bobby declared as his hand went slowly up and down the short trip from stump to tip.

“I notice you aren’t using two hands like I did with yours,” I mentioned as I tried to not to cum right away, but I was too excited and was spurting my load in about a minute or so.

“Don’t ever tell anybody about this,” Bobby said as we cleaned up, and that was fine with me.

“I won’t. You know, it was better that way,” I agreed. “Want to do it again?”

“Maybe tomorrow night,” Bobby said. “I don’t want to turn gay.”

It was too late for me, I mused. Especially now.


That was then, and years later we were still doing it, even as my best friend Bobby was about to get married. Things had changed a little over the years however, as least part of it. Bobby still gave me hand jobs, but my role had changed over time.

The first time I did it, I claimed I was drunk that night, but I wasn’t. I was curious. I didn’t know how to suck a cock, but a man had sucked mine in his car after giving me a ride home from college, so I paid attention and did my best to remember.

I must have been a fast learner, because Bobby loved it. The only thing was, he could not bring himself to reciprocate, no matter how hard I tried.

“I’m sorry man,” Bobby said after moving his face toward my cock only to back away at the last minute time after time. “I just can’t do it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright Bobby,” I said after I saw he was upset, way more so than I was, and I guessed that might have been a result of growing up listening to his old man rant and rave about minorities, homosexuals and just about everybody under the sun.

“I really want to, but…”

“It’s okay,” I insisted as he reached for the Vaseline. “You don’t even have to do that if you don’t want to.”

“No, I don’t mind doing this,” he insisted. “This is kind of fun. I just can’t – you know? When I came, did you swallow that?”

“A little,” I said, even though I hadn’t planned on it, but when Bobby came hard and fast I ended up with a spurt down the throat before letting the rest of his load slide back down the shaft from my mouth. “It wasn’t too bad.”

“Did you even do that before?” Bobby asked as he watched the head of my cock get redder as he jacked me off.

“No,” I answered honestly, and then I told him about the man in the car.

“I think I might be queer,” I said as tears welled up in my eyes. “Don’t hate me – please.”

“Hate you?” Bobby said, looking at me like I crazy. “I don’t hate you. After all we’ve been through together? Don’t ever tell my old man though, but I don’t care. Hell, I suspected it a long time ago.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, but it didn’t matter to me. You’re the best friend I could ever have,” Bobby said, and that was when the dam broke and I went to pieces, causing Bobby to tear up as well.

“I love you man,” I said when I gained control of my emotions.

“I love you too,” Bobby said.

Just not the same way, I remember thinking even though he hadn’t said it.


This became our regular routine, even when school and jobs caused us to not see each other as much. Even after Bobby met Eileen, the girl who would be his wife, he still would get together with me. Maybe it was because she was a virgin who wouldn’t give him much of anything, although perhaps it was because of something else.

I was a cocksucker. Not just a guy who could suck cock but a true artist according to Bobby, whose cock had been in many a mouth before he got engaged. I was not only good at it, but was able to do something no girl had managed.

“Holy shit!” I remember Bobby exclaim when he felt my lips around the base of his manhood and the tip of his long spear hitting my throat.

How did I get so good? Practice, although to be honest I was inspired by my love of Bobby more so than any faceless other dick that might have come my way. I made love to his cock, maybe in hopes that he would always keep coming back for more. The hand jobs? If he ever stopped giving them to me, it wouldn’t have mattered, because I only wanted to make him happy.


For my 21st birthday, Bobby asked me what I wanted as a present, and I didn’t have to think about it for long, because it was on my mind a lot lately, but I didn’t think Bobby would go for it.

“Damn,” Bobby muttered when I suggested what I had in mind. “And to think I was afraid that you were going to ask me to blow you.”

“I’ve never done this before with anybody,” I said honestly. “I’ll probably never do it again either, but if I was going to do it I’ve always wanted you to be the one.”

“I don’t know,” Booby said. “I’ll have to get really drunk.”

“And then you would be able to get it up,” I complained. “Look, if you don’t want to do it, that’s fine. No harm in my asking, but you were the one that gave me my choice of presents.”

I was stunned when he agreed, and on the night of my 21st birthday he came to my apartment, armed with a six pack and a tense expression on his face.

I had made it easy for him, even going through the lubrication of my back door and not eating for a couple of days prior. I had shaved the hair away from my opening as well, wanting to make it as bearable as I could for him, and a couple of beers later we were in my bed, with the lights down low and the soft music on. It was like my wedding night.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I remembering hearing Bobby say as he climbed behind me.

“It’s okay, Bobby,” I assured him. “Don’t worry.”

Bobby fumbled around back there, probably not trying to look at what he was doing, but when the tip of his member found the balloon knot I leaned back and he slid into me like a knife through butter. While I groaned in ecstasy Bobby kept sliding deeper and deeper until he had impaled me completely, and only then did he pull out almost all the way.

In and out, slowly at first and then picking up in intensity. Bobby felt so good inside of me, and I tried to stay balanced while reaching down and trying to jerk myself off while he fucked me.

“Here,” I heard Bobby say before I felt his arm reaching around me, and after he nudged my hand away from myself he started jerking me off.

I came almost right away, and Bobby came right after I did. It hadn’t even lasted two minutes but they were the best two minutes of my life, and after Bobby’s deflating dick slithered out of me I heard him whisper Happy Birthday and then left the room.

When I went out to the living room Bobby looked very uncomfortable, seeming unable to look me in the eye. I feared that what we had done had scarred our friendship and told Bobby that, but he said wasn’t the case.

I didn’t seem him for a while after that, but then he showed up at my door and we were back to normal, which I was grateful for, but I never suggested doing that again, no matter how bad I wanted to feel Bobby inside of me.


When Bobby told me that he was going to get married, I pretended to be happy, but inside I was hurt and jealous. I didn’t like his future wife, and she didn’t like me either. I think we were both jealous of each other.

Eileen was jealous of me because my friendship with Bobby was so strong that she felt threatened by it. If she ever knew about the things Bobby and I did to each other that dislike would have gone through the roof.

My jealously stemmed from the fact that she would be sleeping with the man I loved, doing the intimate things that I long to be doing with him.

Bobby asked me to be his best man, but I declined because I knew my even being there would upset Eileen and ruin the day for everybody. So after his bachelor party we went to my apartment for a nightcap, knowing that the next time I would see Bobby he would be married.

When I emerged from the bathroom, my best friend was on his back in bed, naked except for his underwear, and as I looked at him, arms and legs akimbo and with his eyes closed, I started to get emotional, knowing this would likely be the last time we would ever do what we were about to do.

I undressed while looking at Bobby, and by the time I got naked my cock was hard. I climbed on the bed and knelt next to Bobby, my hand going to the little pouch in his jockeys, and when my hand began to rub it the bulge grew and Bobby smiled while opening his eyes.

“One last time?” I said as I peeled his underwear down and his long prong swung backwards onto his stomach.

“What do you mean?” Bobby said, but when I said that with him being married I knew he wouldn’t be paying these visits to me anymore.

“Why not?” Bobby said, and he made it clear that he had no intention of our friendship being affected by his being married, and although he said that while he wouldn’t be able to stop by as often, he was planning on continuing to get together.

“For golf, ball games, and… you know,” Bobby said with a wink. “This too. Eileen – I wish you two got along so you could teach her how to suck cock. She’s horrible.”

“And besides,” Bobby added, and as I bent over to give him the best head he would ever get, I felt his hand reaching up between my legs to grab my cock in his fist. “I have to admit that I love doing this. Eileen hasn’t got one of these.”

I couldn’t answer because I had something in my mouth and throat, but as I sucked his cock I heard him say softly, “Maybe someday I’ll get the guts to…”

He didn’t finish, and I didn’t press it.


There was a play and a movie called Same Time Next Year, where this man and woman who were once lovers but had ended up with other people, would meet for a few days each summer in some resort without their spouses knowing.

That was Bobby and I. For the next 40 years we got together frequently, doing all of the things we always did, like playing golf or going to the races or ballgames. The other stuff we did as well, even though it got a little tricky when I got married.

I did it just to fit in, and it wasn’t that bad, although the poor woman deserved better than a gay guy. The sex was alright, but there was a hitch in that as well.

“You think so?” I remember asking my future ex-wife saying when she first met Bobby.

“It’s like we’re related,” Becky said after she mentioned that she looked something like Bobby.

“I don’t see it,” I lied.

She did facially, especially when she had her hair cut short. She had a boyish body, and when she was on her back she was like Bobby with larger nipples and without an 8″ cock between her legs.

Our marriage was okay in the beginning, and Becky made every effort to make it work, even going along when I asked to so stop shaving.

“I’ve got to shave my legs though,” Becky said after I asked her to go natural. “I’d get laughed out of work if they saw me with hairy legs.”

She did go along with not shaving her underarms though, at least for the first couple of years, after I said I was a child of the sixties and thought she would look cool.

What she looked like, in fact, was a lot like Bobby, and like my best friend she had real hairy armpits. Poor woman, there I was trying to make her look like my buddy, and there were very few times when we were having sex that I wasn’t imagining it was actually Bobby underneath me.

Our marriage lasted 20 years and we had a couple of great kids, but in the end she asked for a divorce and I didn’t fight her.

“It’s like we’re brother and sister,” Becky said when she broke the news, and when I shrugged and agreed, Becky added, “I also think I’ve fallen in love with someone else.”

“Oh,” I said, acting a little annoyed even though I wasn’t. “Anybody I know? Not Bobby I hope?”

“No, actually, it’s not a guy,” she said sheepishly. “I know what you must think.”

“No you don’t,” I said, and how I managed to not burst out laughing still amazes me. “I understand.”

That was the end of my sham marriage as I moved out and into an apartment, which as least made it easier for Bobby and I to have our time together.


For my 50th birthday, Bobby took me to a basketball game, and then we went back to my apartment where we undressed.

“Here goes nothing,” Bobby said after I had sucked his beautiful manhood dry, and when his hand went down to grab my cock, instead of jerking me off he lowered his head.

“Pretty bad, wasn’t it?” Bobby said after he had finished me off by hand after sucking my dick for about 5 minutes or so.

“You would get better with practice,” I said, and while it was bad, it was good in another way, and I appreciated him trying so much that it didn’t matter if his teeth had scraped me raw. I felt no pain.


Last fall Bobby had a heart attack. I visited him in the hospital just before he passed away, and I felt so helpless looking at him but tried to cheer him up with jokes, even reaching under the sheet to grab his dick.

“Probably couldn’t get hard – I’m so doped up,” Bobby said as I stretched out that little peanut while keeping an eye out for anybody entering the room.

I had offered to give him head, which at least made him laugh, but then he got serious.

“I have to tell you something,” Bobby said. “Please. I’ve been practicing this speech, and this might be the last time we’ll see each other.”

“Bullshit,” I said while knowing he might be right.

“Remember your 21st birthday?” Bobby asked. “The gift you asked for?”

“Of course, it was the best gift I ever got.”

“You asked me what was wrong after we were done, and I told you nothing was,” Bobby continued. “I didn’t see you for a while.”

“I know. I was scared,” I interrupted.

“I was too. Terrified. I liked it, probably as much as you did,” Bobby confessed.

“You did? Well why didn’t you…”

“I was scared that I was queer,” Bobby said. “All my life I had heard my parents – especially my old man – rant about gays, and how if he ever had a gay kid he would kill him. His brother, my uncle, was gay, and that was why I never even met the guy. He was not welcome in our house because my father hated him for being weak, as he called it. That fucking pepperoni puffer can go straight to hell, he would rant. The way I felt about you, that wasn’t right, even in my mind. It was a weakness.”

“That’s why I got married. Eileen? She’s alright, but I don’t love her. Not the way I felt about you.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” I said, unable to stop the tears rolling down my cheeks.

“I had to. I hate myself. I’ve lived a lie. I should have just told you this when you said that you loved me back over 40 years ago. You made it easy. You did the hard part. All I had to do was say me too, and we could have had a life together,” Bobby said. “I just couldn’t, and now I feel like I wasted my life.”

“Pretty dumb, huh?” Bobby said weakly.

“No. I lived a lie too.”

“At least you admitted it,” Bobby said. “You were man enough to be honest about it. I couldn’t. I couldn’t even after my old man died.”

“Funny thing is, maybe I’m not gay,” Bobby opined after a moment of silence. “I’ve never had any attraction to any other guy but you. Is that possible?”

“I guess it is,” I said. “I mean, I’ve found myself attracted to other men besides you, but never felt anything like what I felt about you. Not even close.”

“For the last few years I’ve had trouble getting it up,” Bobby admitted.

“You?” I said, recalling the dozens of times we had been together over that time period, and I told him I thought he got just as hard these days as he did back in the beginning.

“That tells you something, doesn’t it?” Bobby said with a grin. “Eileen would lay there and tell me that I should get Viagra, and I was dying to tell here that she should have seen the erection I had over at Jim’s place last week.”

“Look, when you get out of here, let’s go away. Just the two of us. We’ll get a secluded cabin somewhere and make up for lost time,” I said excitedly. “I would give anything to feel you inside of me again.”

“If I get out of here, we will,” Bobby said, and after we wiped our tears away he added, “Look at us. A couple of old geezers bawling.”

“You have to get better,” I said before leaving, bending over to give him a kiss. “I’m counting on you.”

“I’ll try,” Bobby said, and those were the last words he said to me.

I went to the wake, walking briskly in and nodding to his wife, unable to look at his body in the casket, and I went to the funeral, standing way in back and shedding tears that no one there would understand.

I love you Bobby, I said as the casket went into the ground. Just like you loved me.

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