Page 52 of Grave Misgivings

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“Tell me you don’t want this,” the friend says.

Boyfriend grabs his friend by the neck and I take stock of the way his fingers grip his neck.

“Please, put me out of my misery,” he begs.

I watch as his fingers grip his friend’s hair.

Boyfriend keeps one hand on his friend’s neck while his other hand frees his own cock.

My breath catches in my throat, and I stare as heshovesthe friend’s face against his gleaming cock.

“Tell meyoudon’t want to choke on this dick.”

I slide my hand beneath my pajama pants, noting my hardness, and the relief is instant.

I swallow harshly as I watch the friend swallow down Boyfriend’s cock like it’s a damn popsicle, and that does it.

It’s like a switch has flipped somewhere inside of me.

I shut the laptop as tears threaten to pool in my eyes.

I failed.

I fucking failed the test.

God, help me.

“Fuck,” I curse as I look out the window.

Does this mean I’m fucking gay?

I pull my hand away from my hardness, sucking in a deep breath.

The silence is deafening as I am overcome with loneliness, confusion, and guilt.

So much fuckingguilt.

My phone chirps, and I glance at it to see the notification.

It’s Zeb.

I grab my phone, trying to quiet my guilty sobs the best I can.

You up?

I debate answering him because it feels like if I do, I’m crossing some invisible line that he doesn’t even know about.

But I do it anyway, because it feels better than the alternative of crying alone on my tour bus over my first experience with porn and a potential mid-life gay awakening.

Fuck.

Yeah. Can’t sleep.

Zeb texts back instantly.Me either.

A soft smile tugs at my mouth, but my eyes are still blurry.

What time are you getting in tomorrow?

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