Page 11 of Tough Guy and the Show Off

“Yeah, right. Whip out your dick, Show-Off, that’ll solve everything.” He rolls his eyes, then reaches back to grab one of the pillows off his bed. He chucks it at me and I deflect it, sending it flopping onto the floor between us.

We’re both quiet for a minute, looking at each other. He doesn’t think I’ll do it. I suggested it without thinking, but actually, it’s kind of brilliant. Tit for tat, or whatever. I’ve seen his O-face, now he needs to see mine if he’s going to feel comfortable again. I think that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for the sake of our friendship.

I lift my ass up off the bed and shove my briefs down around my thighs. My dick isn’t hard yet, but I’m a show-er, so even soft I’m not embarrassed for anyone to get a peek at it. Beau’s eyes go wide and his cheeks get even pinker.

“Dude, what are you⁠—”

“Saving our friendship.” I shrug and wrap my hand around my cock.

I groan as soon as my fingertips graze my shaft. It really has been too damn long since I’ve bothered to take care of myself, and my dick has been in a state of horny confusion all day, which is probably why I go from zero to raging boner in ten seconds flat. It for sure doesn’t have anything to do with the sharp, surprised inhale Beau makes or the fact that I can feel his eyes on me even with mine closed.

Yeah, I could get into this. In the name of friendship and everything.

I shove my briefs down farther and kick them off so I can get more comfortable, spreading my legs just a little and bracing my free hand on the bed behind me. I work my hand lazily up and down my length, thumbing my crown when I reach it, dragging the pad of my finger through the little trickle of precum that’s oozing from my slit.

A moan builds in my throat, and I start to swallow it down, but fuck it, this is about being vulnerable and shit in front of Beau so he won’t feel so embarrassed, right? I let the sound roll off my tongue and I open my eyes just a slit, just to see if this is freaking him out or if it’s working like I hoped it would.

He hasn’t moved an inch, I’m not even sure he’s breathing. His eyes are fixed on me, following the shuttle of my hand up and down my cock, while both of his hands are balled into fists on his thighs. I can’t be sure, but it looks like his dick might be hard too.

I get it. It’s surprisingly hot to watch someone get themself off, even if it’s a dude doing it. Is horniness contagious like a yawn?

“You can do it too, if you want.” My voice comes out a little deeper and huskier than I intended, my breathing getting faster and more ragged with every jerk of my wrist, every squeeze around the base of my cock, every tease of my sensitive, drooling tip.

“I don’t…” Beau mutters, giving a sharp shake of his head, unblinking as he watches me.

He shifts his weight, balls his fists tighter, and lets out a quiet groan that almost sounds like he’s losing some kind of battle with himself. He lifts his ass off of the bed and shoves his pants and briefs down around his thighs. I was right, his cock is already rock hard, standing at attention between his thick, hairy thighs. I’ve caught glimpses of him changing in the locker room or washing up in the showers after a game or a workout often enough to know that not only is he packing, but he’s uncut. I couldn’t see his dick very well in the dark last night, but I can definitely see it all now.

He wraps his hand around his shaft and my cock jerks in my grasp, a fresh spike of heat rushing through me and settling right into my full, aching balls. This feels dirty, but in a stupidly hot way. Maybe I’ve got some kind of voyeurism kink going on that I just never knew about? I file that away to think about later and match the pace of my tugs to Beau’s. He isn’t taking his time, he’s not going for the long build up. He’s stroking himself like he’s desperate to get to the finish line.

My toes curl against the carpet and I scoot closer to the edge of the bed without any conscious thought. Beau does the same and his knee brushes against mine. A jolt of electricity zings through my body and another spurt of precum runs over my knuckles.

“Fuck,” I grunt, clawing at the sheets with my free hand, snapping my hips to fuck my cock right into the tunnel of my fingers while my balls tighten and ache. “Fuck,” I grunt again, grinding my heels into the carpet.

Beau’s eyebrows knit together and he’s got his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. His eyes still haven’t left me, still boring into my skin like he can’t make himself look anywhere else. It’s not like last night when he didn’t know I was here. He’s restrained, quiet, squirming and panting but refusing to let out a single moan.

That’s fine. It’s not like I was hoping he would moan or anything.

He does finally groan, letting out a quiet, muffled sound through his clenched teeth right before a spurt of cum shoots out of his cock and lands on his belly. My balls clench at the same time and I shout, slamming my hips forward one last time as heat explodes in my gut and my cock starts to pulse. Unlike Beau, my cum drools out over my knuckles and down my shaft as I jerk myself through every twitch and shudder of my release until my balls are drained and my cock is oversensitive. I sag back on the bed, panting, trying to catch my breath.

I can hear his ragged breathing too, and the rustle of his clothes. I sit up on my elbows, holding my hand awkwardly so I don’t get my jizz every-damn-where. He’s using his pajama pants to wipe the cum off of his chest and belly, and when he sees me watching, he gives me a shy, crooked smile.

“Feeling better?” I ask.

He barks out a laugh and his shoulders relax.

“Surprisingly, yeah, I think I am.”

“I’m a genius.” I snatch his pajama pants from him and wipe my hand on a clean spot that isn’t already sticky with his jizz.

“Hey.” He tugs them back.

“What? It’s not like you were going to put them back on. Why should we both ruin our clothes when we can just ruin one pair of pants?”

I grab my briefs and pull them back up, then settle onto my bed again with a contented sigh.

“You could’ve gone to the bathroom to wash your hand,” he points out.

“That’s, like, ten whole steps.” I wave my now-clean hand dismissively, then pick up the remote and unpause the show.