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"Dude. You Too?" Chapter 2: "Nothing's Impossible" by Dave Brumaste
"Ready to get back at it?"
Sam's text made my heart stop beating entirely.
It was 10 PM Sunday night and this was the first time I'd heard from him since Friday afternoon when the security cam in the condo we were flipping revealed me as a Bateworld user to him. Things had gotten kind of explicit between us during that incident when he also came clean about his BW membership.
Were we about to `go there' again, right now?
I started typing: "Haha. Yeah, man. Penis is keeping me up. He demanded pornography and an Albolene massage. You?"
That is, honestly, what was happening in my home office when my phone dinged... but should I go there? Too soon? Too weird?
I panicked. `No, no, no... delete, delete, delete.'
If I'm being honest, since I learned that my business partner of several years was a `bator' who shared my kink for clinical penis talk... that's pretty much all I'd thought about. In fact, I was thinking about it when, 30 minutes ago, I pushed the waistband of my boxer briefs down so it was held snugly behind and under my testicles, sat down in my bate-chair, unscrewed the lid of a half-used tub of Albolene, and settled in for a proper, porn-fueled, penising session.
But as honest as we had been with each other on Friday... this was still a very new aspect to our friendship. Was it too soon for total honesty?
All this second guessing was taking a long time. Sam, apparently, got sick of looking at my typing notification on his screen and started typing himself... I caught my breath and waited to see what he'd say.
It was super boring.
"I'll be at the condo by 8. Gonna try and get the last of the demo scraps out by the time you get there so we can start the week with a clean slate... literally."
Relief? Disappointment? My chest felt hollow--too full and too empty at the same time.
I replied: "Perfect. I got an appointment in Roswell at 10:30, but I'll be down after that. Noon-ish. I'll bring lunch. BK OK?"
"You KNOW BK is OK!"
Sam fucking loved Burger King. Apparently there was one close to his house when he was growing up and he went there all the time. He may have even worked there... I'm not certain.
"Right on, Whaddaya want?" I replied.
He texted back: "Surprise me," and added the winkyface emoji.
A winkyface? I scrolled back--two American flags, a birthday cake, a toolbox. That's it. This emoji was uncharted territory. Was I reading too much into it? Probably.
I long-tapped his last text, gave it a quick-reaction thumbs up, and put my phone face down on my desk.
Sam and I had a long professional friendship. We were, for lack of a better term, work buds.' We would occasionally hang out at a bar after a long day on the job, but I wouldn't call us close friends.' Never been to each other's homes, didn't exchange birthday or Christmas gifts, no joint vacations or anything like that. Now, suddenly, one of the MOST personal and private parts of our lives was a part of our partnership. The thought of seeing him in person again made my chest feel hollow. In a good way, like my lungs were overinflated, waiting to exhale a sigh of relief.
But, that was tomorrow. Tonight, I was in my bate chair and I wasn't going to let my anxiety cause this time to go to waste. On my widescreen monitor one of my favorite Chaturbate models was putting on an amazing show, and my JustFor.fans feed was filled with amateur, verbal edger, content I hadn't yet consumed. I was ready to fall into a deep bate-hole. But even with all that distraction, all I could think of was Sam. Was he masturbating too?
Sam had never been `bate-fuel' for me. I can honestly say I never even once thought of him while I masturbated, and I masturbate a lot. Now I found myself wondering all kinds of things about him. What kind of porn did he watch? What kind of lube did he use? Did he even USE lube? Was he a popper-bator? A gooner? And of course... what did his penis look like? It occurred to me, I didn't even know his foreskin situation. Was Sam intact? My penis was almost impossibly erect at the thought that he might be uncut.
I was circumcised as a baby, but it's a fairly loose cut. When I'm flaccid the head of my penis is almost totally covered, just the tippy top peeks out. But once I am fully erect my glans and its flared coronal ridge is fully exposed. It's probably because I don't have my full foreskin that I am absolutely obsessed with uncircumcised penises. You always want what you don't got, right? I love watching an intact man slide all that skin up his shaft and all the way over his dickhead. Pinching it at the top, giving it that über-masculine `snout.' Ungh. So hot.
I focused on the leaking, uncircumcised penis that `IndependentMark' was stroking on Chaturbate and started to drift. I felt my mouth go slack jawed as I slowly but methodically pumped my fist up and down my greasy, hairy, adult erection and began to imagine the moment I would see Sam's penis for the first time... picturing the outline of it visible through his underwear. Fuck... another question almost pulled me out of my trance--What kind of UNDERWEAR does Sam wear?
All that Sam-speculation had caused my penis to become achingly erect. My testicles, which normally stay pretty tight to my body were pulled up so high they were sitting next to and on each side of my shaft.
I was deliberately keeping a slow and steady pace. I knew I was getting overstimulated and could easily rush this session so as I fell deeper into my bate-state, I made sure to pace myself. Using my full fist to slowly stroke from the base all the way up and over my head and then back down. Sometimes I let go at the top, spread my fingers wide, and admired the thin strands of pre-ejaculate fluid mixed with Albolene spiderwebbing between each digit. Did Sam use Albolene? If not, how fucking cool would it be to introduce him to it. How amazing would it be to scoop a thick glob of it out of the tub, reach over, and use my own hand to apply it to his penis for the first time... making sure to keep eye contact so I could watch his eyes light up at the new sensation?
My own eyes rolled back in my head as a surge of penis pleasure pushed me over the edge into bliss.
"Is this OK bro?" I hear myself asking as I wrap my fist around my buddy's erection.
"Very OK dude," I hear Sam reply as the muscles in his shoulder flex, telegraphing the motion of his own hand toward my penis. "Can I stroke your penis too buddy?"
"Yeah man. Masturbate my penis." Were the words really coming out of my mouth, or were they just in my head?
I feel his hand make contact with my erection, and the circuit is closed. The electricity starts to surge. It's too much for both of us. Sam breathes, "Dude, you're gonna make me ejaculate semen bro."
"You gonna ejaculate semen bro?" I echo, nodding and looking pleadingly into his eyes.
His dark eyebrows raise, his lips pout, and he nods back, "Uh huh. You're gonna make semen squirt out of my penis. Fuck dude... here it comes Dave. You gonna ejaculate with me bud? Let's semen together man. Oh fuck, bro... ready bro?"
I can't edge it any longer, my penis has never been this hard, "Fuck Sam, you're gonna make me ejaculate bro..."
A sharp breath pulled me out of the fantasy--back to my chair, back to reality, and just as I look down at my swollen penis the first blast shoots from my urethral opening and hits me in the face. Every single nerve ending in my body is shimmering. The wave of orgasm literally crashing down on me, knocking the wind out of my body. Oh fuck it feels so good... Sam's phantom fist continues to squeeze and pump and the next three squirts strafe my well worn white undershirt that has been the final resting place for so many spermatozoa before now. I run my other hand down my face and wipe it on my shirt, adding to an already massive ejaculation. I'm fucking exhausted. What the fuck just happened? I'm normally not a shooter... but damn.
I shudder, and let my body melt into my chair. Dream-state-Sam relinquishes control of my right hand and I slowly start to let my fingers relax and release their grip on my dick. I'm too exhausted to even keep up with my clinical terminology kink.
When I'm able to refocus, I look back at my screen just in time to see `IndependentMark' shoot his load for the hundreds of people in his Chaturbate room. The little "dings" from people's tips help bring me further out of my trance.
Then realization of what I just did starts to hit me. A weird mix of guilt, joy, relief and anxiety. Was this the smart thing to do before seeing Sam in person again? Honestly I don't think I had any choice in the matter, it was subconscious. It was Sam's fault really. If he hadn't texted, `IndependentMark' would probably be to blame for orgasm... but I doubt I would have soaked my shirt.
I heaved a heavy sigh, sat up straight in my chair and quit Safari. Yeah, I live alone, I could just leave it running... but I'm a bit of a worry wart. What if I die in my sleep? I don't want my family to be confronted by porn when they find my body. That's also why I always use incognito mode... no browser history left behind.
As I hit the power button on my monitor and blow out my Bourbon Vanilla & Oak scented flame from Harlem Candles... my phone dings. It's Sam.
"Hey man, I've been thinking about tomorrow... I think we should try something."
I think my brain just turned off at that point. I had just exhausted my semen supply imagining what it would be like to "try something" with Sam. I couldn't type so I just long-touched his text and hit the `?' quick response.
He continued: "I've been sitting here, having alone time, and I think there's something we should experiment with, together. You game?"
We both admitted on Friday what we do when we have `alone time' -- but again, maybe I'm reading too much into a normal turn of phrase. My shrink says I "what if" too much, I need to let things play out rather than trying to assume I can see the future.
Was I `game'? Somehow my penis, abused and exhausted as it was, started to rally.
I finally pecked out the words: "Yeah. I'm game. Whaddya have in mind?"
The little bubble that showed me he was typing stayed up a very long time. Then it disappeared. Then it appeared again for just a second, followed by just two words.
"Impossible Whopper."
I squinted, wrinkled my nose and tilted my head like a puppy hearing a new sound for the first time.
"What?" I replied.
"From BK. I wanna try that meatless Impossible Whopper you've been trying to get me to taste. And onion rings."
"Dude... you scared the crap out of me!" I typed, letting out a sigh and running a hand through my hair... then rolling my eyes realizing I'd just basically `Something About Mary'd' myself with Albolene residue and cum.
Sam wrote "Nothin' scary about lunch dude." And added that fucking winkyface again. "See you tmw."
I gave his text a thumbs-up, pulled my waistband back up to its proper place at my waist, and made my way toward an extremely hot shower.
"Do they even make the Impossible Whopper anymore?" I wondered aloud as I closed the door to my home office, pushed my hand under my waistband, gave my still semi-erect penis a tug, and padded down the hall.
to be continued