First post, so be nice and leave feedback. This is based on a true story about my best friend in high school. Everyone mentioned is 18 or older.
I had always suspected I was gay. But growing up in a pretty conservative household with parents that considered being gay a horrible offense, I never really allowed myself to believe it until senior year of high school, when I began to fall so hard for a guy that I could no longer deny it. He was the image of perfection, beautiful flowing hair and a smile that made me weak at the knees. We were in gym class together, and seeing his perfect body in nothing but boxers made me pretty sure I had to be into guys. To cope with my overpowering infatuation, I came out to my best friend. He and I had been friends since middle school, and though we'd always been a bit competitive, it never got too far since I managed to beat him at almost everything. He was the silly type who you could never take seriously, which complimented my serious demeanor well and allowed us to get along exceedingly well. He was a bit shorter than me, and lacked the attractiveness I found in myself.
My mother was italian and my dad scandinavian, giving me a striking olive tone with complimentary dark honey curls, as well as a naturally lean physique. I know this is sort of a stereotype, but I also attribute my above average endowment to my italian roots. At 7.5 inches (7.75 when throbbing hard), I was no giant, but I was well above average and had always considered myself quite large. (inappropriate age removed) Maybe I was a bit conceited, but I definitely thought of myself as a stud.
In any case, being the jokester he was, he took my news lightly and even made fun of me a bit in the way he always did, which comforted me since I quickly realized this wasn't gonna change our relationship in the least. For a while, I went on to him about how attractive the boy I had fallen for was, going as far as calling him the Adonis of our generation. I worried overplaying this blond beauty to my best friend would freak him out or make him uncomfortable, but Tristan always rolled with it and joked about my infatuation. When I talked about how muscular he looked in the locker room or how impressed I was during class when he seemed to perform the hardest exercises with ease, Tristan joked about how weak I must be for finding him impressive, his way of trying to help me get over my obviously straight Adonis.
To be fair, the one thing Tristan always seem to have me beat on was muscles. Before I moved to New York (upstate, I didn't have the luck of having my parents move to as exciting a place as New York City) Tristan had started gymnastics. His parents thought it would be good for him, and though he only stuck to it for a few years, quitting towards the end of middle school, his body did seem to gain quite a bit from the experience. Our first contest was arm wrestling, shortly after I met him. We were arguing about what to watch at my house, and not being able to agree, he suggested we arm wrestle for the remote. At the time, we were just becoming good friends and I didn't know he was a gymnast (not that I would have known back then what that meant for his physique). Since he was smaller than me and a bit of a goofy kid, I obviously thought I had him beat. Like I said, I had always been pretty lean, and I worked out from time to time. At first, I didn't give it my all. I wanted to give him some time to try to beat me, and I thought it would be too mean to slam his hand down immediately. I slowly tried harder and harder, with our hands not moving all the while. Finally, I was giving it my all, staring at his hand trying to will it into losing. I couldn't let this kid beat me, I thought, but after about a minute of trying as hard as I could I eased up a bit, admitting defeat. Our hands still didn't move. I looked up to find a slightly bored face meeting my gaze.
"Are you even trying?" I asked, a bit shocked.
"No, are you?"
"Well I was…"
"Really? That's all you got?" He seemed surprised.
I went all out again, focusing all my strength towards trying to make his hand move even slightly.
"Now it is"
"Oh," he seemed about as shocked as me, "I thought you were kidding when you were panting so hard." He slammed my hand down with ease.
"Wait, let's go again," I suggested, this time planning on cheating and hoping I could turn this into a joke.
We repositioned ourselves.
"Ready…Set…." and with that, I brought my second hand up and gave it my all……but still our hands didn't move.
"Go," he announced and began slowly bringing both of my hands, and a significant effort from my entire body at trying to beat him, down to the table.
"Guess I win!" And with that, I realized strength wasn't a thing I should ever compete against him on.
After that, we'd compete on everything. Like I said, I usually won. I was the first to get a girlfriend, the first to have sex, I was faster and better at most games and sports. But whenever it came to wrestling, arm wrestling, or anything related to strength, I never stood a chance (and I tried to avoid)….which is why I say I USUALLY beat him at everything.
"Haha, that's not even that many! I can probably do twice as many chin ups!" He liked showing off, and I think he thought it helped show me my Adonis wasn't as perfect as I thought. We were cutting through the park to his house, so he ran over to the pull up bar at the kid's jungle gym and proceeded to pump out 35 chin ups.
"Not quite 40, but I get your point." I said, trying to hide how impressed I was. I could only do 15, which for me seemed pretty legit, and had just been raving about how impressed I had been seeing this beautiful athlete do 20 chin ups in class.
He flexed his bicep in a last effort to express his superiority, and from his skinny arm (slightly smaller than mine), a large baseball sized and shaped mass popped up. It always surprised me when he performed these feats of strength. He was usually a goofy kid, and looked quite young, being both short and having a baby face (probably part of the reason he lost his virginity so much later than me…not to mention most girls in our classes never took him seriously).
"Yeah, well he's super hot and has a great body," I reminded him.
"What are you trying to say? Am I not the sexiest guy you've ever seen?" He did another bicep flex and made one of his silly faces.
"Haha, nope! If you were the only guy, I'd probably go straight," I joked, hiding how surprised I was by his bicep. It seemed crazy, but I'd never seen him shirtless despite the fact we were best friends for years. I wondered if he was as muscular under the shirt.
"Ouch! Sorry not all of us can be as manly as you," he said grabbing his crotch. I'd told him about my childhood comparisons, and he always joked about my boasts of a huge manhood.
"MMMMMh, I bet he has a beautiful penis," I said, mostly trying to annoy him and drop the subject. His usual response to my blatant gayness would be an ew and a change of subject. His response surprised me.
"Not as nice as yours, I bet."
"Haha, probably not," I responded, a bit shocked he went so far.
"So, umm, no homo, but how big are you?"
I was surprised he would ask. We had never talked about this, but I guess all guys wonder how they measure up to others.
"About 8 inches, give or take, last time I measured. You?" I realized this was gonna be another contest as soon as I told him. And I was obviously gonna win, as usual.
"Oh cool, me too! I guess I'm pretty big too!"
"Guess we're tied!" I can't say I wasn't surprised. How could this little kid be as big as me?! I figured he was either lying or exaggerating, so I let it go. "I bet my Adonis is way bigger than both of us!"
"Ew! Don't be so gay!" There it was! Just like that, our conversation was back to normal and we continued on to his house to play video games.
I had always suspected I was gay. But growing up in a pretty conservative household with parents that considered being gay a horrible offense, I never really allowed myself to believe it until senior year of high school, when I began to fall so hard for a guy that I could no longer deny it. He was the image of perfection, beautiful flowing hair and a smile that made me weak at the knees. We were in gym class together, and seeing his perfect body in nothing but boxers made me pretty sure I had to be into guys. To cope with my overpowering infatuation, I came out to my best friend. He and I had been friends since middle school, and though we'd always been a bit competitive, it never got too far since I managed to beat him at almost everything. He was the silly type who you could never take seriously, which complimented my serious demeanor well and allowed us to get along exceedingly well. He was a bit shorter than me, and lacked the attractiveness I found in myself.
My mother was italian and my dad scandinavian, giving me a striking olive tone with complimentary dark honey curls, as well as a naturally lean physique. I know this is sort of a stereotype, but I also attribute my above average endowment to my italian roots. At 7.5 inches (7.75 when throbbing hard), I was no giant, but I was well above average and had always considered myself quite large. (inappropriate age removed) Maybe I was a bit conceited, but I definitely thought of myself as a stud.
In any case, being the jokester he was, he took my news lightly and even made fun of me a bit in the way he always did, which comforted me since I quickly realized this wasn't gonna change our relationship in the least. For a while, I went on to him about how attractive the boy I had fallen for was, going as far as calling him the Adonis of our generation. I worried overplaying this blond beauty to my best friend would freak him out or make him uncomfortable, but Tristan always rolled with it and joked about my infatuation. When I talked about how muscular he looked in the locker room or how impressed I was during class when he seemed to perform the hardest exercises with ease, Tristan joked about how weak I must be for finding him impressive, his way of trying to help me get over my obviously straight Adonis.
To be fair, the one thing Tristan always seem to have me beat on was muscles. Before I moved to New York (upstate, I didn't have the luck of having my parents move to as exciting a place as New York City) Tristan had started gymnastics. His parents thought it would be good for him, and though he only stuck to it for a few years, quitting towards the end of middle school, his body did seem to gain quite a bit from the experience. Our first contest was arm wrestling, shortly after I met him. We were arguing about what to watch at my house, and not being able to agree, he suggested we arm wrestle for the remote. At the time, we were just becoming good friends and I didn't know he was a gymnast (not that I would have known back then what that meant for his physique). Since he was smaller than me and a bit of a goofy kid, I obviously thought I had him beat. Like I said, I had always been pretty lean, and I worked out from time to time. At first, I didn't give it my all. I wanted to give him some time to try to beat me, and I thought it would be too mean to slam his hand down immediately. I slowly tried harder and harder, with our hands not moving all the while. Finally, I was giving it my all, staring at his hand trying to will it into losing. I couldn't let this kid beat me, I thought, but after about a minute of trying as hard as I could I eased up a bit, admitting defeat. Our hands still didn't move. I looked up to find a slightly bored face meeting my gaze.
"Are you even trying?" I asked, a bit shocked.
"No, are you?"
"Well I was…"
"Really? That's all you got?" He seemed surprised.
I went all out again, focusing all my strength towards trying to make his hand move even slightly.
"Now it is"
"Oh," he seemed about as shocked as me, "I thought you were kidding when you were panting so hard." He slammed my hand down with ease.
"Wait, let's go again," I suggested, this time planning on cheating and hoping I could turn this into a joke.
We repositioned ourselves.
"Ready…Set…." and with that, I brought my second hand up and gave it my all……but still our hands didn't move.
"Go," he announced and began slowly bringing both of my hands, and a significant effort from my entire body at trying to beat him, down to the table.
"Guess I win!" And with that, I realized strength wasn't a thing I should ever compete against him on.
After that, we'd compete on everything. Like I said, I usually won. I was the first to get a girlfriend, the first to have sex, I was faster and better at most games and sports. But whenever it came to wrestling, arm wrestling, or anything related to strength, I never stood a chance (and I tried to avoid)….which is why I say I USUALLY beat him at everything.
"Haha, that's not even that many! I can probably do twice as many chin ups!" He liked showing off, and I think he thought it helped show me my Adonis wasn't as perfect as I thought. We were cutting through the park to his house, so he ran over to the pull up bar at the kid's jungle gym and proceeded to pump out 35 chin ups.
"Not quite 40, but I get your point." I said, trying to hide how impressed I was. I could only do 15, which for me seemed pretty legit, and had just been raving about how impressed I had been seeing this beautiful athlete do 20 chin ups in class.
He flexed his bicep in a last effort to express his superiority, and from his skinny arm (slightly smaller than mine), a large baseball sized and shaped mass popped up. It always surprised me when he performed these feats of strength. He was usually a goofy kid, and looked quite young, being both short and having a baby face (probably part of the reason he lost his virginity so much later than me…not to mention most girls in our classes never took him seriously).
"Yeah, well he's super hot and has a great body," I reminded him.
"What are you trying to say? Am I not the sexiest guy you've ever seen?" He did another bicep flex and made one of his silly faces.
"Haha, nope! If you were the only guy, I'd probably go straight," I joked, hiding how surprised I was by his bicep. It seemed crazy, but I'd never seen him shirtless despite the fact we were best friends for years. I wondered if he was as muscular under the shirt.
"Ouch! Sorry not all of us can be as manly as you," he said grabbing his crotch. I'd told him about my childhood comparisons, and he always joked about my boasts of a huge manhood.
"MMMMMh, I bet he has a beautiful penis," I said, mostly trying to annoy him and drop the subject. His usual response to my blatant gayness would be an ew and a change of subject. His response surprised me.
"Not as nice as yours, I bet."
"Haha, probably not," I responded, a bit shocked he went so far.
"So, umm, no homo, but how big are you?"
I was surprised he would ask. We had never talked about this, but I guess all guys wonder how they measure up to others.
"About 8 inches, give or take, last time I measured. You?" I realized this was gonna be another contest as soon as I told him. And I was obviously gonna win, as usual.
"Oh cool, me too! I guess I'm pretty big too!"
"Guess we're tied!" I can't say I wasn't surprised. How could this little kid be as big as me?! I figured he was either lying or exaggerating, so I let it go. "I bet my Adonis is way bigger than both of us!"
"Ew! Don't be so gay!" There it was! Just like that, our conversation was back to normal and we continued on to his house to play video games.
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