4. Trey
4
Trey
I think that may have been the most fun wedding I’ve ever been to, and helping with the cleanup made me feel much more like a part of the event in some weird way. Mandy’s family was great, and her dad was seriously attractive. Not that I’m going to tell her that or that it matters, but he pushed every one of my buttons, and unless I was reading the signs wrong, I pushed at least some of his. The bottom line, though, is that he’s Mandy’s dad, and I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the most important relationship of my life.
Mandy spends the entire ride talking about everyone who was there, what they were wearing, how good the food was, and how much fun she had. I love listening to her enthusiasm. She’s like the human equivalent of a giant ray of sunshine. I’m watching the road and listening to her commentary, and so she manages to slip past my guard when she asks, “So, my dad’s really hot, huh?”
“Yeah, he is,” slips past my filter before I catch it, and Mandy howls with laughter.
“Oh my God, you should see your shocked Pikachu face!”
Rather than try to justify myself, I wait patiently for the laughter to die down. “Look, it’s not that I’d ever…”
Mandy interrupts me. “I know, I know, it’s just that I know all your tells, and it was funny to see that with Dad.” She lets me off the hook and drops it, talking about going shopping with Lee. Knowing Mandy, she’ll tease me about it a few more times, but I’m not worried about it now that I know it doesn’t upset her. In fact, if it doesn’t, maybe . . . I let my train of thought drift a little bit, imagining all the ways that I’d like to see if I could make Ben shiver again, but eventually, I cut it off. There are a lot of attractive men in the world, and I only have one best friend. But if Ben’s blue eyes, beautiful smile, and tight butt happen to hang out in my fantasies, that’s not really a problem, right?
“Have you decided what you’re going to do about a place to stay this summer?” Mandy asks.
I’ve been an RA in the dorms for years, which has secured me a place to live, even through the summer, ever since my freshman year. Unfortunately for me, the college has decided to remodel the dorms this summer, and I need to be out at the end of the school year with everyone else.
“I haven’t really come up with a good solution yet,” I tell her. I work and volunteer at a shelter for at-risk youth, but I volunteer more than I work paid hours, and when I had free housing from the college through my RA job, it wasn’t a problem. I cooked and ate at the shelter and made just enough money to buy necessities. I don’t make anywhere near enough money to pay for an apartment, and I don’t have enough hours left over between work and school to work another job.
“You know you can stay with me,” Mandy offers, as she has before. I love her for it, I do, but she has a couple of roommates at her apartment, and I can’t imagine they’d be okay with me crashing on the couch all summer.
“I know,” I tell her, “I love you for offering. I’ll figure it out soon.”
I pull up outside her building and get out to walk her to her door. She lives in a pretty good area, but still, it’s just the right thing to do. Just having someone my size walking next to her could save her from getting hassled. I drop her off with a promise to see her tomorrow, and I make my way back to the dorms.
A couple more weeks, and I’ll have to figure housing out. There’s a chance if I pick up overnight security shifts at the shelter, they can find a bed for me to crash in, but I don’t want to take one away from a kid who needs it. I’ll just have to redouble my efforts to look for a sublet room and get another job the instant school is out for the summer.
As I let myself into my room, I dismiss the worry about my housing situation. There’s no point in focusing on that unless there’s something I can do, and there's nothing at midnight on a Saturday. I hang up my suit, leave my t-shirt on, and pull on a pair of shorts to sleep in. I pad down the hall to the communal bathroom, brush my teeth, and make my way back, nodding to the kids I pass. They get younger every year, and I fleetingly wish that I didn’t need to live in the dorms. I feel ancient next to the freshmen now, like there’s a lifetime between eighteen and twenty-eight.
Thinking about living in the dorm next year when I’m twenty-nine bums me out a little, and I lay down to go to sleep feeling a little sorry for myself. One of the upsides of pursuing a degree in psychology, though, and going through years of treatment and counseling, is that I know all the tricks to get past it. I go to my peaceful place in my mind and begin listing things that I am grateful for today. This is usually how I put myself to sleep, going over the positives from my life.
When I get to all the good things from the wedding (my best friend, wonderful food, the opportunity to meet great people, seeing Lee again, and him being so obviously happy and settled), Ben’s face floats into my mind, with his warm, friendly caring smile, his beautifully sculpted shoulders, his . . .
This is the opposite of relaxing, but I don’t spend any time worrying about it. I picture Ben holding and caressing my hand, and I slide that same hand into my shorts. I run the tips of my fingers over my dick as I think about the delicious tingle I got when he caressed my shoulder. My dick, which has been extra sensitive since that encounter earlier this evening, jumps in my hand, and I stroke it to full hardness, picturing Ben in my arms, imagining how incredible full-body contact would feel if just a brush of his hand makes me shiver. I start to imagine taking off the suit he was wearing piece by piece and sliding my hands down his back to cup that incredible ass. I had planned to draw the sensation out and really enjoy it, but just thinking about him makes my hand tighten and speed up without conscious instruction, and I’m barreling toward orgasm so fast I can’t stop it. My back arches involuntarily off the bed, and I come shockingly hard, enough to make me fuzz out briefly.
I come back to myself boneless on the bed, panting. The voice in my head that likes to make up things to worry about points out that orgasm rivaled any sex I ever had in my life, and I hadn’t even gotten to the penetration part of the fantasy. I dismiss the negative voice, clean myself up haphazardly, promise myself I’ll shower in the morning, and fall into a relaxed, easy sleep accompanied by visions of blue eyes and happy smiles.