Ive kept a dark secret until just the other day when I wrote my story in the thread fondling, sucking a sleeping guy, str8 or gay I know to many somnophilia is creepy and to others just plain rape. Please take a few minutes to read what I wrote in that thread, and then do the poll. Comments are also welcome and appreciated. Here is a copy of what I wrote: I work in a bar and one of the regular customers would often get too drunk to drive home. He 's a popular guy with the ladies and a real mans man. With rugged good looks and a personality that draws people to him. Always fresh with a joke and stories from his work just a fun guy to be with. I would usually drive him home when he had too much to drink and make sure he was safe inside before I would drive away... Over a short period of time we became very close friends, spending countless of time together. He is quite the womanizer even set me up a couple of times on a double date. They were always fun. I was in awe at how relaxed he was around women. Smooth as silk. He isn't homophobic but one time in the bar a guy was hitting on him and he made it quite clear he didn't ride that bus. I didn't want him to ever find out I was attracted to men. On this particular day I stopped after work to have a few, and my buddy had already been drinking at the bar. It was getting rather late and I didn't want to leave him to his own avails nor did I want to drive him home as I had been drinking. He lives several miles away. I live within walking distance. I was ready to leave and I said to him, "come on; you can have my sofa for the night", and with that we drank up, left the bar and headed out to my place. He was pretty drunk and was having a difficult time walking so I put an arm around him to steady his steps. I took a short cut through an alleyway and part way through he said he had to take a whiz. I faced him towards a dumpster and turned my back to him as he did his business, but kept one hand on his shoulder to steady him. The walk home that night seemed to take forever and the cool night air was doing nothing to sober him up. We walked in through my front door and into the living room. He almost hit the floor as he bumped into the coffee table somehow he managed to make it to the sofa. I offered him a coffee and went into the kitchen to put a pot on. When I returned to the living room he was passed out in a slouched position, his butt barely on the edge of the sofa, his legs stretched out in front of him. I called his name several times, but got no response. I shook his shoulder while calling his name, still no response. I bent down in front of him and removed his shoes. I couldn't help but notice the sweet smell of his feet. As I have a fetish for male feet I found the scent very pleasing. I sat down on the coffee table admiring him. It was at this point I realized his button down fly was left open, after his whiz in the alleyway. I stood up, gently took him by the ankles and lifted his legs up onto the sofa. As I did so he came to rest on his right side near the edge of the sofa with his head pushed into the arm. I positioned him more into the center and on his back and placed a cushion under his head. I went into the kitchen poured a coffee and when I returned to the living room he was still sleeping. I turned the television on and settled into my lazy-boy chair with a hot coffee to watch David Letterman. He never stirred from the position I had put him in. I was certain he was gone for the night. From where I was sitting I could see him from head to toe. The open fly in his jeans revealed a bulging patch of white. Although my intentions were to watch television, thoughts raced through my head and I found myself starring at his crotch as he lay there. He is not big in stature, about 5' 8" and around 160 lbs. Dark buzzed hair, a thick five o'clock stubble on his face, full lips and chiseled jaw. His pant leg had ridden up a little on his right leg showing a hairy tanned calf, and his nips are outlined through the tee shirt he is wearing, as it is twisted and tight against his chest. A nice layer of hair shimmers on his forearms. His hands are wide; and calloused, from hard work; he bares the thickest fingers I have ever seen. As I sat there looking at him, I smiled to myself as I remembered him telling one of the bar flies, that what he lacked in length he made up for in thickness. When she pushed further, he held up a hand and said to her, "you know what they say about big hands and the size of a guys fingers. I might not touch bottom but I can reach side to side." Everyone within earshot, sitting there at the bar laughed. I finished my coffee and Letterman was over, so I got up, to go and have a shower and get ready for bed. As soon as I stood up he moved and his right foot hit the floor and he started to roll off the sofa. I made it to his side just as he was slipping off the edge. I put one hand under his torso and the other behind his right thigh and struggled to keep him from falling onto the floor. I called his name and said to him, you have to help me here, roll over". But he was like a dead weight in my arms and never responded to me. In the pursuing struggle to get him back onto the sofa his clothing got all-askew. His tee was pulled up, showing a furry belly and a happy trail jutting into the waistband of his jeans. I tugged his tee shirt, righting it down to his waist. The patch of white was more pronounced now through his open fly. I could clearly see the outline of his package. I had an urge brewing inside of me to slip my hand into his pants. As I froze in the moment, his arm moved from his side where I had placed it; to his stomach. It seemed almost as though he knew what I was thinking, because in one continuous move his hand slipped under the waistband of his jeans. Through the open fly I could now see the top of his hand. I retreated to the bathroom to have my shower. I toweled-off slipped on a pair of lounge pants and a tee shirt. Checked on him, he had not moved. His hand still tucked into his jeans. I turned out the lamp and headed off to bed. I lay in bed but could not fall asleep. I had never had thoughts like this before and the memory of his furry stomach and how it felt as I pulled his tee shirt down, just kept running through my mind. The scent of him filled my senses. I even found myself rationalizing my feelings and the thoughts I had. I felt myself growing hard. I tried to change my train of thought but I was obsessed. I found myself drawn to him like a moth to a flame as I opened the door and walked out of my bedroom. As I walked down the hallway towards the living room the aroma of coffee filled the air. I had left the pot on. I stepped into the living room and in the darkness his form was just visible on the sofa. I picked up my empty coffee cup from the side table where I had left it earlier, walked into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. My hands trembling, knowing what I was about to do. I sat in my lazy-boy chair without turning a lamp on, my eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. I was so nervous my entire body was shaking uncontrollably. The thought came to me to go and get a blanket from the linen closet. If he were to wake up I could simply say I was covering him up. As I reached over him to place the blanket on the back of the sofa I noticed his hand was no longer tucked into his jeans. The waistband button was undone and his jeans wide open. Wisps of pubic hair peaking out from under the waistband of his underwear. The hand that was in his jeans was now tucked up under his tee shirt resting on his chest. His furry inny fully exposed his happy trail showing the way to pleasure below. My heart was pounding, I could hear every beat getting louder and louder in my ears, I placed the blanket up on the back of the sofa. I took a deep breath held it, and slowly moved my left hand towards the bulge in his underwear. My hand was shaking as my fingertips drew near their target. In the blink of an eye his hand jerked from under his tee shirt slid off his chest, and hit the coffee table where it came to rest. I was so scared I made a beeline to my lazy-boy chair. I sat there for quite sometime sipping the coffee I didn't really want, watching and thinking and watching him sleep. As the dawn of a new day started to fill the room with light I made my way back to my bedroom. I fell off to sleep with mixed emotions and the thought of what may of happened. When I awoke he was gone. All that remained was the memory. This story is true. It took place five years ago. Our friendship lives on to this day. Over the years I have spent many a night watching him sleep on my sofa, and just as many a night, fantasying but never touching. Whispering to myself how much I love him. Remembering how close I came to stepping over the line in a moment of heated desire. Thankful that he startled me that first night Thankful for a friendship that will last a lifetime. I have said to him on occasion, you know I love you. His reply is always the same, I know you do. I wish I could, someday find the right words, the proper moment and the courage to tell him about the guilt I carry in my heart; and to let him know my true feelings towards him and just how much I really do love him. He got married four months ago on September 11, 2010; to a wonderful girl he met a year ago while on vacation in Florida. He hasnt spent the night on my sofa since the night before his wedding. We talked about a lot of things that night and in the morning as we were getting dressed he was standing in his underwear and shirt tails, Do you know how to tie one of these? he asked, holding up a black bow tie. Sure. I answered. I walked over to him put my arms around him hugged him tight and whispered in his ear, You know I love you. He answered, I know you do. No. I whispered, as tears filled my eyes, I really love you, and I will miss you, when you when you move to Florida tomorrow. I know. he said, his voice cracking, I know.