Page 58 of Grave Misgivings
And as a sex-starved twenty-something who felt stifled by his overprotective, image obsessed Christian parents, I think I would have said yes to just about anyone at the time even if they walked up to me out of nowhere and said, “Hey, you’re cute, Geo Graves! You’re my boyfriend now!”
Desperate people do desperate things, right?
I know Mateo is right, Idoneed to do my research. To know for sure.
I mean, watching porn once, for the first time in general, might skew my results, right?
Except, I know I have more evidence than just the one video.
I’ve got my fantasies, and those have only gotten more intense over the weeks, even before I watched the porn.
And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it because it feels really fucking good all of a sudden. Like, I actuallyenjoy it.
And there’s also the thick tension and the lump in my throat when I looked at Zeb in the guest bedroom and realized he was close enough to fuckingkiss.
Thank the lord my sister texted me.
I’m slightly afraid of what might have happened if she didn’t.
A hundred emotions and thoughts filter through my brain as I try to process everything.
Do Iwantto kiss him?
I think about Duncan’s admission from the other night, and the fact I can’t say no, makes me feel a certain sense of nervousness that is on par with the guilt Iusedto feel when I used to pleasure myself. Sure, I still feel some guilt when I masturbate now, but that guilt is more or less because I am slightly worried I’m forming an unhealthy attachment to my cock now that getting to the finish line is easier, than it is about what I’m thinking about while I’m doing it.
I can’t say with full certainty, no, I don’t want kiss him.
But I’m not going to assume just because he’s gay, he’d want to kiss me either, even if it’s just to... you know... help me figure this out.
That sounds selfish, right?
I’m not even sure if or how I want to approach the topic with him.
Would he do it?
For scientific purposes?
Would I like it if he did?
Shit, what ifIlike it and he doesn’t?
What if I’m a terrible kisser?
That’d be super fucking awkward.
My girlfriends never said I was bad, but they never said I was good, either.
I decide to stuff the raging mid-life crisis thoughts down as he parks the car atCarl’s Cantina.
I didn’t even notice that we’d arrived, too tied up in my own insanity, I guess.
Zeb shoots me a glance. “You okay?”
I unbuckle my seat belt, heading for the door. “Yeah, of course. Just, uh... kind of dissociated there for a bit.”
Zeb climbs out, jogging around the vehicle and opening my door before I can, and I look at him where he stands. I step down and he slams the door shut.
Thankfully, my sunglasses and hat keep me somewhat incognito enough that I don’t think we’ll be bothered too much, which I’m thankful for.
