Page 5 of The Hookup Situation

Step one was porn. Gay porn to be specific. I wanted to know if it’s just the guy at the coffee shop that does something for me, or if other guys do too, and if watching guys fucking turns me on.

Spoiler alert: it does.

I’ve seen guys naked before a million times. But seeing another guy hard, touching himself? Fuck, it’s something else entirely. I’ve gotten off to gay porn almost every night over the past week, and my orgasms have been more intense than they ever were watching straight porn.

Watching one guy get plowed by another guy or one guy suck another’s cock is seriously one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen. Especially when you throw in the dirty talk. That really gets me going.

I graduated pretty quickly from cheesy porn videos to OnlyFans. And watching the guys on there jerking off, or fucking themselves with dildos or their own fingers, or plowing into the guy underneath them, making him beg and whimper and moan, shit, it made me so hard.

Okay, apparently I like gay sex and watching guys get off. Does that mean I’m gay, though, or just that those things turn me on? Would I be as riled up to be with a guy? Letting him touch me, kiss me, fuck me?

I groan and find myself reaching for my cock at the thought of one guy in particular sticking his dick in my ass. Holy fuck, how is having someone buried inside me something I’m just now craving? The idea of being fucked instead of doing the fucking sounds incredible.

I’ve found myself noticing guys more in general around campus, but none of them get my heart rate up or make my dick take notice like Coffee Shop Guy did. I haven’t seen him again, even though I’ve been back to the coffee shop every day since.

If I’m going to approach him though, at some point, I want to be confident in where I’m at with all of this, and not be some shy, blushing, gay virgin who has no idea what they’re doing.

So next on my list is a public outing to the localLGBTQclub, and if I feel anything after that, toys are next. I want to have some idea of what it feels like to have my ass impaled before I actually do the deed with someone else.

I’ve been toRavebefore, a couple times, with Chris, because he’s my best friend and I want to support him, but I’ve never been with myself in mind, so it will be a different experience. I don’t plan on hooking up, but I want to get a feel for it, see if any guy piques my interest.

“Hey, you wanna join me atRave?” I ask, peeking my head into Chris’s room where he’s sitting at his desk, laptop open. He’s been quiet the past week or so and I am hoping he’s okay. He tells me he’s just busy with homework and stressed about his different assignments and projects whenever I ask about him. I’m not sure I believe him but I don’t know what else to do. I think getting out would be good for him, and hopefully he can help me navigate the queer scene if I find myself needing any assistance. I might not know if I’m being flirted with, or what to do or say if a guy does grab my attention.

He stares at me.

“You okay?” I ask.

“You’re going toRave?” he finally says.

“Yeah, it’s next on my list.” I grin at him.

“List?”

“Yeah, my four step process for figuring out if I’m gay, or bi, or whatever.”

“You’re really jumping into this with both feet, huh?”

“Yeah, why not? I’ve already crossed gay porn off the list. Can’t believe you didn’t tell me how fucking hot that was, by the way.”

He runs a hand through his short black hair. “Jesus, Pres, is that what you’ve been jerking off to all week?”

My grin gets wider.

He lets out a breath and turns back to his computer. “Just give me a second and I’ll change.”

“Awesome,” I say, and knock on the door jamb. “I’ll be in my room.”

Chris shows up in my doorway ten minutes later, dressed in black pants that cling to his legs like a second skin, and a white mesh long sleeve shirt that only has buttons at the bottom, leaving the top wide open to expose his toned chest. It looks amazing against his chocolate colored skin and shows off the rose tattoo on his left pec.

“You look good,” I say, and I think it’s the first time I’ve actually acknowledged how good he looks for a night out. Man, I’m noticing a whole lot of stuff now that I never did before. And I’m about ninety percent sure that I am not straight.

I’m pretty sure I hear his breath hitch a little but he just clears his throat and shoves his hands in his pockets as he looks me over. “You’re not wearing that, are you?”

I look down at myself, dressed in track pants and a tank with a ketchup stain on it, or maybe it’s blood, I can’t remember. “Um, I guess not.”

He shakes his head. “Ditch the baseball cap,” he says, then throws open the closet door and starts rummaging through my things. “Hop in the shower while I find something for you.”

“I showered this morning,” I argue.

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