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It was1984. We were in eighth grade. Most of my friends and I had turned fourteen, a couple were still thirteen. We were all geeks. You know, brains that didn't look like the 'good looking' kids. I had plenty of dorky friends, but not all of them played D&D. My closest friends all did.

There were five of us. Sometimes Brad made six, but he didn't always play with us much at that time. He used to, but now he had chores and things to do with his family a lot. So usually it was Dan, Steve, Mark, Paul, and me on weekends, playing D&D from Friday night to Sunday night. We'd take breaks for Saturday Night Live and Doctor Who and a few other programs, and for food or sleep.

Paul's house was the usual place we played all weekend. He had a big basement with a room that had some furniture and things that made it a nice place to play. His older brother had fixed that basement room up like that, but he'd gone to college a couple years before, and hardly ever came home anymore. Even when he did, he was barely at the house, and he didn't care that we had took over his old party room. So now it was Paul's, and the only partying it saw was weekend D&D parties. Paul's folks were really lenient. He was never in trouble at school or anything, got great grades, and did chores, so they weren't helicopter parents or anything. They left us alone all weekend, except to make sure we ate something.

One of us would sleep in the old recliner, two of us on the big old couch, and one of us would go sleep on the floor in Paul's room with him. Some blankets on his bedroom floor was way better than the basement floor. We rotated places so that it was fair. We also rotated who was the dungeon master. Steve was the best one by far.

Man, we'd play all day and all night all weekend long. It was great!

That weekend, Dan had stuff to do with his family, so he wasn't going to be able to play. We had begged Brad to play, so we would have four adventurers. He liked to play, it was just that his parents were stricter than most of ours. So we thought. He said he had to do chores and things with his family quite often, and only played with us that weekend after we begged him.

It was a lot of fun, as usual. Steve was DM, which meant it was a very tricky and challenging and rewarding campaign. Tons of fun.

We'd played all Friday night, of course, and had a really good time. But we were getting punch-drunk and silly, and so tired, so we called a break when we found a place to secure our party for a rest period, did all the things you do for a rest period, and put the game on hold.

We sat around, talking about the game, like you do, until we began to pass out.

It was my turn to sleep on the couch, which was almost as good as the recliner. Steve, as the DM, got the recliner. Paul went up to his room with Mark. They were sort of best buds, so usually Mark went up to Paul's room with him.

I still don't know to this day whether Paul and Mark were getting up to stuff in his room. Looking back at how often Mark talked us into sleeping on the couch, or trading his turn on the recliner, so he could sleep in Paul's room with him, I really do think they were up to stuff. Especially as neither of them ever got married. I've thought of asking him, and about him and Mark, but that's their business. We both lost contact with Mark, and we haven't heard from him in many years now.

Anyway, that left Brad to share the couch with me.

On the couch, we slept head-to-feet, almost like a sixty-nine. It was sort of a joke, that. When we were figuring out who was sleeping where, we'd say, "So-and-so is sixty-nining on the couch with so-and-so this time."

So, Steve had passed out kind of early on the recliner, drained from running the game. It was mentally taxing to run a D&D campaign. Paul and Mark went upstairs.

I stretched out on the couch, and Brad was sitting up watching television on a chair at the table. Those chairs weren't very comfortable, being just old kitchen chairs. I was fine with falling asleep and Brad could climb on the couch when he wanted.

I woke up having to use the john. I saw Brad actually asleep on one of those old kitchen chairs. He was all slumped and about to fall off it. Dumbass. So when I came back, I shook his shoulder and woke him up.

"What?" he asked, and tried to get more comfortable on that chair.

"Get on the couch, orc-brain."

"I will," he said, and put his chin back on his chest.

I went back to the couch and laid out. He didn't come to the couch. I rolled on my side and saw him still on the chair. Steve didn't wake up easy, so I said, "You're gonna be sore if you fall asleep in that chair, you know."

He shrugged.

Okay, fine.

So I went to sleep.

I was woken up by the guys talking, and sat up. Damned if Brad wasn't still asleep in the chair, his head back, mouth open, half-slumped to the side. That had to suck!

He woke up later, and was obviously sore all day! Kind of miserable because of it.

We played all day again. Until we got so tired we had to sleep.

Since Steve was DM, he got the recliner again. He usually got the recliner, as he was so often the DM. Running a campaign was hard work, so he passed out.

Somehow, Mark talked me into sleeping on the couch again. I don't have a clue how. Really can't remember. I really didn't mind, since the couch was softer than blankets on Paul's floor, it wasn't a hard sell.

So I was on the couch again instead of Paul's bedroom floor. And it was Brad's second turn on the couch. You always did two couch nights in a row on the rotation. Unless Mark traded or talked one of us into a trade.

Steve asleep in the recliner, Paul and Mark upstairs, and me on the couch again. And Brad was sitting up watching television on a chair again.

I was a pretty considerate kid, and the idea of Brad sleeping in that chair again bothered me. He was sore and sleepy all day from doing that last night.

"Hey, Brad," I said.

"What?"

"Come sleep on the couch."

"I'm fine."

"Bullshit. Come sleep on the couch or I'll push you out of that chair overnight."

"Shut up."

I waited, but he didn't.

"Come sleep on the couch or I'll pour water on your lap while you're asleep and the guys'll think you peed in your sleep."

"No you wouldn't."

"Wanna bet?"

He turned and looked at me, and I guess he believed me. Something like that wasn't beyond any of us.

So, he sighed, turned off the television, and came and laid down on that huge couch next to me. Upside down. That couch was so wide. When you sat on it, the cushions were so long from front to back that they almost propped up your legs. So the two of us fit just fine. We touched a bit here and there, but no big deal.

We kind of chatted a bit, and then fell asleep.

I woke up feeling massively horny. I mean, I was ragingly horny. I had a boner so hard it was almost painful.

It took me a second to notice something.

There was a pressure on my lap. Right on my boner.

Then the pressure moved.

Then I noticed my pants were open! The fly and the button were undone! And a hand was gently feeling my boner. Then my balls. Then my boner.

I could feel the cool air of the room on the wet spot in my underwear.

I was so shocked that I just laid there, unmoving, and starting to shake.

I mean, this was in-fucking-sane!

Brad was groping my junk! He'd even opened my pants!

I don't know why I didn't jump up off the couch, or react in some way. I just didn't.

I laid there, very still, in the dark, and let his hand feel out every last bit of me down there.

I sort of felt a regular movement to my side. The couch was very slightly moving, in a very regular way. A way every pubescent boy knows very well.

'He's jacking it off' I thought in shock.

That was even more shocking than the fact he was playing with my junk with his other hand.

But, well, it kind of felt... you know... pretty damned good.

I mean, what teenaged boy doesn't like the feeling of a hand playing with his hard-on?

I distinctly remember a huge shiver running through my entire body. I felt my dick bend and probably leak more.

I was so shocked that I was enjoying it that I almost pulled my underwear down so he could actually jack me off. I mean, I was really curious what that would feel like.

Then I thought how gay that thought was.

Only then did I think of him being gay.

I wondered if he was. I was sure he had to be.

I'd been curious about boys, more than a bit. I was sure it was normal to be. I was smart enough to know boys could be curious about other boys and not be gay.

But to grope a buddy in his sleep while jacking yourself off?

Oh, that had to be gay. Right?

Was it gay that I was letting him? Shouldn't I stop it?

But... man, it felt so good.

And, besides, no one would know. He sure wasn't going to tell anyone he'd done that. It was totally dark in the basement, and even if Steve woke up he couldn't see a thing. The only light was the little one in the kitchen that barely shined down the steps that you could see them through the basement door, and that didn't make any light in the room we were in. It just acted like a beacon so we could see the door and get through it and go upstairs if we needed to pee.

No one could possibly find out.

And, shit, I mean, I was so horny. I was a horny little fourteen year old anyway. And waking up with a major boner being groped? By a really good friend? In the dark? And no one could possibly know?

So I laid there and let him. And, frankly, I really liked it.

So, when his hand actually lifted the elastic legband of my underwear, and slid under it, and actually wrapped around my hard dick... well, I let him.

When he started actually jacking me off... holy crap!

I felt my entire body shiver! All over! And my dick swelled up and got even more sensitive!

He let go after a few tugs, and then felt my balls, one at a time, then both, then rolled them around a bit. Then he felt my pubes by moving my dick to the side a bit. Then he grabbed my dick again, and stroked it.

Shit! I leaked a ton! It got his fingers wet. His hand slid out of my underwear then. I thought he was done. But I heard him moan a little, really softly. Then his hand came back, up through the leg of my underwear, and he grabbed my head, got his fingers wet again, and then his hand slid out again. After a couple of seconds, I started to wonder if he was done and wasn't going to close my pants up. He had to know if he left them open, I'd suspect, at the least, right?

But then his hand came back, on my thigh. Then it slid up my thigh and up through the leg of my underwear again, and he grabbed my dick again. Man, his warm fingers felt really good as he stroked me some more.

I felt the couch bouncing again. He must have been whacking his pud something fierce!

The idea of reaching over and groping around to find out sort of formed. I was like, 'no way!'

But, that idea became more and more interesting as he his warm, soft hand stroked me off.

I mean, what was he going to do? Jump up and call me a fag for touching his?

And this was fucking hot! My first hand-job! It felt incredible!

It was too tempting. My guts churned as I lifted my hand from my chest, and slowly moved it over toward him.

My first contact was with his hand, I think, as it rose upward. Our hands hit. His stopped. Both of his hands stopped moving.

Too late now. I lowered my hand and felt his hand. And a lot of heat. And then something soft and spongy and wet. Slippery and slick.

I instantly knew it was the end of his knob, all slick with his pre-cum.

I wondered why I wasn't grossed out. Hell, if anything, I was even more turned on!

I slid my hand down some more, and his hand moved away. Then I closed my hand around his dick.

For the first time ever, I felt another guy's dick.

It was huge! Way bigger than mine! And mine wasn't small at all. I had a really decent one. Judging by the other guys in my grade, anyway. I was at least average from what I saw in the showers. But, fuck, Brad's felt like it was at least two inches longer than mine. Fatter, too. Especially the head. Fat and spongy and hot and wet and slippery...

I gave it a stroke. Almost experimentally. Mostly to see what he'd do. Maybe. Then I gave it another stroke. Then another.

Then his hand began stroking mine again.

Holy shit! It felt even better now! My legs stretched out in pleasure.

I remember feeling so hot and turned on! It was almost insane how good it felt. Way better than just jacking it myself.

I even dared to move my underwear down with my other hand and tuck them under my balls so he could do it to me better. And he sure did it better! Now it felt so much better than I was totally getting into it.

We started really going at it. Really jacking each other off. Faster and harder. I felt his hand slap my balls, and that made me jerk a bit. It was awesome. So I tried it until I got it right, and the side of my hand slapped his nuts. He jerked too.

Then I leaked more, and his fingers wiped it all around my head. Wow! I sucked air in through my teeth. I remembered to be quiet. Steve might hear!

But pretty soon we were beating each other off hard enough that we were making those slapping noises. I really sort of didn't care. It was way too awesome to care!

We rubbed pre-jizz around on each other's pounding cocks and really went at it!

I was really enjoying this a lot! Which surprised me. It was so gay! I remember rationalizing it as just experimenting. Boys did that kind of stuff. Right? Just experimenting. Health class said so.

Besides, we were good friends, and it was awesome!

I heard him grunt a bit, and felt his dick flexing in my hand, and then I felt it get all wet and slimy. I knew he was jizzing and it was fucking wild! He moved around a little, making small grunts of air as his dick danced in my fist. So fucking cool!

Feeling him cum in my hand was so wild! I was about to jizz now! I worried that it would be too gay to let him get me off. A few seconds later, I let it happen. I wanted it to happen.

Fuck! I must have shot more than ever before in my life! I know I felt it land on my shirt at least three times. I must have pumped it up like three feet into the air! My cock and his hand got all cummy and slick, and his hand worked my head, and I was twisting and contorting and doing my best not to groan out loud and wake up Steve.

The only sound, though, was that wet, sticky, cummy sound as both our hands squished fresh semen around each other's thrashing dicks.

We both let go at about the same instant.

I laid there, Brad's warm cum cooling all over my hand, my cum all over my deflating, still-tingling dick, running into my pubes.

I felt him moving, and heard the rustle of clothing being put back into place. I did the same.

I don't know what he did with all that splooge, but I licked my hand clean. Nothing new to that, but this time it was Brad's jizz. I not only didn't mind, I really liked it.

We didn't say a thing. We just laid there. I sort of wanted to say something, but I had no idea what.

I wondered if he was gay. He pretty much had to be. Right?

I wondered if I was gay. I pretty much had to be. Right? Except I was sure I still wanted to have sex with girls. I was positive, maybe, sort of, that tits and pussy was still hot.

But... getting a hand-job from a guy was sure as hell hot, too! For sure!

Did I like it? Really? I wondered.

Would it turn me gay?

I worried until I fell asleep.

When I woke up, I had a boner that could rip my pants open! Steve, Paul and Mike were watching television. Brad was gone.

I was almost too embarrassed to say anything, but I managed to ask where Brad was.

Steve said, "Don't know. He wasn't on the couch when I woke up."

"He went home?" Paul asked. "How are we gonna play?"

"He'll be back. Probably had chores to do or something," Mark said.

I was so worried! What if I'd dreamed he had been jacking me off, but I'd actually jacked him off, and he'd freaked that his buddy had done that? All kinds of shit ran though my head. Man, I was worried.

We hung out and waited for him to come back, but by noon, he hadn't. I was almost a wreck! I was trying to think of some way I could get away from the guys and go home.

Paul went upstairs to call him. He came back and said, "He's sick. Says play his character for him."

So we did. But it was sort of dumb. Plus, I was so worried!

We ended up getting killed around four or so. Suck!

So we decided to make new characters and start a new dungeon next weekend, and Paul would make up an adventure.

I was worried the whole time. Once we got our characters ready, and talked about what kind of adventure we wanted next, I really had to go.

There was something I really needed to do. I told the guys I might be catching what Brad had, and I'd better go home and have a lot of juice and get some rest.

I started riding my bike home. The only thing on my mind was Brad, and what we'd done, and the fact he'd left.

I was sure we'd actually done it, but I wasn't so sure how it had happened.

I was kind of worried that I had liked it so much. Was I going to be a fag? Was Brad? Did I still like girls? Yeah, I was pretty sure of that.

But, then, how come I'd liked it so much?

I was pretty confused about it.

But I was way more worried about Brad leaving like that.

My guts were shaking when I got to his house.

 I wasn't sure what I'd say, or anything like that, I just had to make sure it was cool. Especially before school tomorrow.

I knocked on the door. Only then I remembered that his folks would be at church. I wondered if that made a difference.

He opened the door.

I could see how surprised he was.

He just stood there and looked at me, like he'd never seen another human being before.

I only had one question foremost in my mind.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"Are you okay?"

"Uh..."

Man, it was awkward! I didn't know what to say. My only real worry was if he was okay or not.

"Why are you here?" he asked, finally.

"I was worried. You left. I mean, we weren't done with the campaign or anything."

He started to look like he was getting mad or something. Like he was going to slam the door in my face. I didn't want that to happen. I liked him. He was a really good friend. I'd missed him playing with us lately.

As I thought that, I suddenly understood. Like a light had gone on in my mind.

"That's why you don't play with us so much anymore!" I blurted out.

Now he looked afraid. That wasn't any better! Maybe even worse!

"Dude! We're not gonna care!"

"What?"

"The guys ain't gonna care! I know I don't. I mean..."

I liked it. I might even want to do it again!

Oh, shit! Did I really just think that?

"You didn't tell?!"

"No!" Then I thought, and added, "No way! I mean, I didn't even mean about that!"

"Then what the fuck did you mean?"

"If, you know, if you're, you know... gay."

He got so pale! And then he started to lean forward, and his eyes rolled up, and his head fell forward. I suddenly realized he was going faint!

I barely caught him in my arms and turned him and pulled him inside. He wasn't passed out, but he was fucking close. He could barely move his arms or legs. I got him to a chair and fanned his face with my hands, trying to give him air.

"You okay?" I asked when he raised his head back up and looked around.

"Huh?"

"You okay?"

"Uh..."

He looked around, probably remembering where he was and what had just happened.

Then he started crying.

I knew in that instant, solid and total and without a doubt, that he was gay.

"Man, it's okay," I told him, feeling so bad.

I probably shouldn't have come over, I thought.

"No it's not!" he yelled, crying.

"It is!" I yelled back.

I really hated to see a friend crying or anything. It was that much worse because of everything. I thought I shouldn't have come. Then I thought that I should have, but I wasn't doing this right.

"It was okay, Brad!"

He clearly didn't believe me. So I had to be more direct.

"I liked it! I really did! It was great!"

He looked at me like I was insane, tears streaming down his face.

"What?"

"It was great," I told him again. "Honest!"

"I don't mean that!" he yelled at me.

"Then what?"

"I'm a fag!"

"So what?"

He stared at me for so long, still sort of crying.

"You really don't care?"

"Fuck no!"

I really don't remember a lot about the next few minutes, just that I got him to talk, and stop crying, and he told me how hard it was to deal with, and how much he hated being gay, and how much he wished he wasn't.

Somehow, during those next few minutes, I told him that if he ever wanted to again, I would.

The biggest, most clear thing about that entire episode at his house that evening was the way he looked at me when I'd told him that.

How he smiled at me, and said, "Really?"

I said, "Yeah! It was pretty fucking intense, dude! Any time!"

I remember him actually laughing at that point. The first laugh since yesterday. It was sort of a milestone. I knew he was going to be okay now.

He asked if I was too. I wanted to tell him I was, so he wouldn't feel alone, but I knew I wasn't.

"I don't think so. I still like girls. I'm pretty sure. But, I don't care if you are. We're too good of friends. And the guys won't care, either. And, dude, if you wanna do that again, I sure will!"

He hugged me like I was a life preserver and he was overboard in raging seas! I'd never hugged a guy before, and especially not under such circumstances.

It was a bonding moment that went well past any other moment of my life so far, and wouldn't be rivaled again.

We were talking and having a good time when his folks got home.

He was sort of moody and quiet at school all week, but not too bad. The guys put it down to him having a bug or something. But at least he'd come to school. Not that his parents would have let him stay home without at least a fever or something anyway.

He did come play with us a bit more often after our private talk, once we'd become even closer friends. Still, he remained a bit quiet and a bit of a loner. Only I knew why.

I kept his secret, of course. He kept mine.

Eventually I learned from him why he'd been staying away from us so much back then. He was gay, and knew it, and was terrified that if he hung out with us, he'd say or do something that would tip us off he was gay, and we'd  make fun of him or hate him. He was horrified he'd be figured out. Even more horrified he'd lose his friends. So he stayed away from us a lot.

So of course he was horrified of the D&D weekends, particularly because sooner or later he'd have to sleep on the couch with one of us.

So I asked him why he'd done it then. Why he'd reached over and did what he did that night. I remember telling him I was glad he had, for sure, I just wanted to know why.

He grinned, got all red-faced, and said, "It was like fucking fate. You guys talked me into gaming, and then I had the couch, and even worse, it was with you." He hesitated a bit, got even more embarrassed, and said, "And I liked you the most by far. You know, liked you, that way. If it was one of the other guys on the couch with me, I wouldn't have done it."

I was so flattered that I leaned over and gave him our first kiss. Honest.

A while later, some weeks or so, I asked him if he had been worried he would wake me up. He said he was scared as hell he might, but he was sure I was so sleepy from being up so late. And he just couldn't help himself.

It was a couple of months, at least a few weeks, before he asked me if I wanted a blow-job.

Holy shit, was that wild!

Yeah, I gave him head, too. And, yes, I really liked sucking his dick. A lot! Yes, I swallowed.

I have no idea how many times we jacked each other off or blew each other before eighth grade ended.

We did actually do the real deed. Over the summer after that first time. We went camping, just the two of us, in the woods outside of town. He asked me to do it to him, and he didn't have to ask a second time. He was a bottom, no doubts. He did it to me a couple of times, but I could tell he wasn't very into it. Neither was I, really, though I enjoyed fucking him quite a bit. Hell, I enjoyed everything we did together. A lot. Even the hugging and cuddling and kissing after. It was blissful and satisfying and wonderful.

We did it quite a lot over the next five years, before we graduated high school and went to college. But never again during a D&D sleepover. At his house, my house, and quite a few times camping in the woods.

I was enough of a dork that I didn't date in high school. Well, there was the senior prom, and I went with a girl I liked a lot. We did some heavy petting, but nothing more than that. I didn't get pussy until I went to college. I got a ton of cock there too! I told him all about them when we were home on breaks.

Brad got into an even better college than I did, and hooked up with a couple of guys he told me about.

Over breaks, we were right back at it.

Then he got a serious guy not long after getting his degree. I was with a girl I really liked at the time.

We lived almost across the country from each other after college, working great jobs our degrees got us. We were both really happy and stayed in touch. Most of us met up from time to time for years.

He died in a tornado in 1999.

Now twenty years after his death, and thirty-six years after that first time in Paul's basement with Brad, I was looking around the internet for stories of other guys who'd had their first sexual encounter with a guy. Mostly reminiscing over Brad.  I was curious how unusual or how common it was. I found Ray's Stories, and I was swept away by many of the stories on the site. I was far from being alone in my experience.

The urge to tell our story was so strong. It was almost like Brad was telling me to tell it. There were times, as I told Ray our story, that I could almost swear I could hear Brad's voice telling the story. Ray would ask why I was so near tears, and all I could think to tell him was it was so great to relive it and finally share it.

I never married. I'm not the type. I've lived with several women and a couple of men. When I look back over my half-century of life, nothing compares to the time I spent with Brad.

Did I love him? Yeah. In a way. More than any of my other friends back then. Obviously.

There was no doubt he loved me. He told me more than once. My only regret is that I never told him I loved him back.