My Straight Buddy

 

Reconnecting With My Straight Buddy

I still think about Calvin sometimes.

 

It's been over fifteen years now, but even here in my mid-thirties, I remember that summer with such clarity and warmth.

 

This was back in 2005 - Bush had just started his second term, the world was mourning the Pope, and I had Mariah Carey's The Emancipation of Mimi on constant rotation as I flew home for summer break.

 

I'd just wrapped up junior year at UCLA, and my dad had come through with a summer internship hookup. Some friend of his ran a tech company that made microchips or something - honestly, I wasn't paying much attention to the details. I was just grateful to have summer plans when everyone else was bragging about their amazing internships and I had nothing lined up.

 

My phone buzzed the moment I landed. I flipped it open to find a text from a number I didn't recognize.

 

Hey dude, how's it going? It's Calvin Jones. Heard ur back in town.

 

Calvin Jones? Now that was a name I hadn't heard in years. We'd been tight back in junior high, but you know how it goes - people drift apart. I remembered him as this sweet, chunky kid with pale skin and hair that was always a little too greasy. He had this thing about always smelling faintly of cheese, and I wondered what had prompted him to reach out after all this time. How had he even gotten my number?

 

Hi Calvin! Yeah, I'm back, just landed actually. What's up? Nice to hear from you.

 

I pocketed my phone and headed through customs. While waiting at baggage claim, another text came through.

 

Came across ur MySpace page and saw that ur in UCLA. That's rad, man. Wanna catch up? I'm free this weekend.

 

I'll admit, I felt a little skeptical. Random texts from old junior high friends usually meant someone was selling something - Tupperware, makeup, insurance. But Calvin had always been genuinely nice, and I've never been good at saying no to people. Besides, it might be fun to catch up.

We arranged to meet Saturday morning at Javier's Cafe, this popular brunch spot known for having the best eggs benedict in town. I'd gotten spoiled by LA's unpredictable traffic, so I arrived about fifteen minutes early and snagged an outdoor table where Calvin could easily spot me.

 

Around eleven, I started scanning the crowd for the pale, heavyset guy with long, stringy hair I remembered from seventh grade. I was half-expecting to see him in one of those Pokémon shirts he used to love.

 

But then I saw him walking down the street, and I literally did a double-take.

 

The man heading toward me was absolutely stunning. And I don't say that lightly - after three years in LA surrounded by aspiring actors and models, my standards had gotten pretty high.

 

The first thing that hit me? His chest. This guy was wearing a navy tank top that showed off what had to be the most perfect pecs I'd ever seen in person. I found myself wondering what it would be like to rest my head against them.

 

Then there were his arms - these incredible, sculpted biceps that looked like they belonged in a fitness magazine. I was so busy staring that I almost didn't notice he was walking straight toward my table.

 

"Kurtis!" he called out with this huge, warm smile.

 

My jaw practically hit the ground. This was Calvin?

 

"C-Calvin?" I managed to stammer.

 

"Man, it's so great to see you!" He reached over and gave my shoulder this friendly squeeze before sitting down. "It's been way too long. How have you been?"

 

I was completely speechless. Up close, he was even more gorgeous - like a young Hugh Jackman, but with these incredible bright green eyes that I swear I'd never noticed before. How was that even possible?

 

"You okay there?" Calvin asked, looking slightly amused.

 

I shook myself back to reality. "Sorry, I just... wow, you look so different."

He laughed and ran a hand through his now-short hair. "You mean this? Yeah, I had to chop it all off. Way too hot and sweaty during ranch work in the summer."

 

I tried not to focus on the little beads of sweat gathered along his collarbone, or how they were slowly making their way down his perfectly smooth chest.

 

"So, what have you been up to?" I asked, desperate to change the subject.

 

"Nothing too exciting - just working with my dad, learning the family business. You know how it is."

 

"That sounds really cool," I said, trying to sound genuinely interested rather than distracted.

 

"Nah, it's pretty boring stuff. I'm sure it's nothing compared to college life in LA. You must be living it up out there."

 

"Trust me, LA isn't as glamorous as everyone thinks," I said with a laugh. "But yeah, I'm definitely having a good time."

 

"I bet you are," he said with this mischievous grin before looking down at his menu. "We should probably order - service here can be pretty slow."

 

After we'd polished off our omelets and eggs benedict (and way too much coffee), I found myself completely relaxed around Calvin. He had this easygoing energy that made everything feel natural and comfortable, just like when we were kids. I'd almost managed to forget about my earlier moment of pure, shameless ogling.

 

Turns out he'd been working full-time on his family's ranch since graduating high school, which explained the incredible transformation.

 

"I can't believe you grew up here and have never been on a horse," Calvin said, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

 

"My family's idea of outdoor adventure is eating on the patio," I said with a shrug.

 

"You should come by the ranch! I could teach you how to ride. We'll start you off with Becky - she's super gentle and patient."

 

"I don't know..." I started.

 

"Come on, it'll be fun! What are you doing tomorrow?"

 

I found myself smiling. "I guess I'm learning to ride a horse."

###

I arrived at Calvin’s ranch early the next day and was greeted with the overwhelming stench of manure the moment I stepped out of the car. A middle-aged man in denim overalls and rubber boots greeted me at the entrance of the main cabin.

“Hello there,” came a friendly voice, “you must be Kurtis.”

“Yes sir,” I smiled.

“Please, call me Dale. I’m Calvin’s father. Calvin’s just around the back. He’s been expecting you.”

I thanked him and followed his directions until I arrived at a large open field. In the distance, I could see a large figure on horseback making its way toward me.

There he was, all shirtless and sweaty, wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a cowboy hat. As Calvin got closer, my eyes zoomed in automatically to his abs, which looked like they were carved out of marble and polished to perfection.

How do some people even look like that? Does he just chug protein shake all day? I felt like I was looking at a cover of one of my mom’s romance novels.

“Dude, you came!” Calvin laughed.

“Did you think I was gonna flake?”

“Kinda.”

“I’m a man of my word, but I gotta say, now that I’m here, I’m starting to rethink things.”

“Oh come on, don’t back out now,” Calvin hopped off his horse and poked me gently in the ribs, “it’ll be fun, I promise.”

Horseback riding turned out to be a lot less scary and more fun than I thought. Calvin introduced me to a small and gentle steed named Becky. With his help, I managed to get the hang of things pretty quickly. (Seeing Calvin’s shirtless body throughout the entire process probably helped a lot too.) However, the fun came abruptly to an end when I fell into a puddle of mud after dismounting.

“Dude, you alright?” Calvin snorted as he helped me up. “You look like you could use a shower.”

“Shit I’m a mess.”

“Let’s pop over to the guest house. It’s closer.”

“You have a guest house?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you. We usually use it as a bed and breakfast but we’re renovating it right now.”

Unlike the main house which looked like it was built in the 1960s, Calvin’s guest house had a modern yet cozy look to it. It had a varnished wood exterior and reminded me more of a cabin that you would find in the mountains.

“What a cute little spot,” I gushed.

“Thanks, I helped design it. I’m staying here while we work on it. Make yourself comfortable, I just have to check on the hot water heater in the basement.”

Calvin had good taste. Even with all the tarps and construction tools lying around, it was a lovely place to be. But oddly enough, I couldn’t find any bathrooms - just a water closet and a sink. Where were the showers?

I continued exploring the place and soon found myself in the backyard. It felt like I’d just stepped into a rainforest in Brazil. The whole place was brimming with wild plants and flowers of different varieties. I half expected a deer to come running out.

And then I realized why this place was popular with couples. Tucked in between a cluster of trees was a beautiful stone shower for two.

“I see you found the shower,” came a voice from behind me. I turned around to see Calvin walking toward me with a smile on his face. “Oh, and good news, we have hot water.”

He began to strip off his jeans. Before I could blink twice, his boxers were gone too. It all happened so fast that all I remember was him walking toward the shower while his firm butt cheeks glistened in the sunlight like two freshly baked dinner rolls glazed with honey. It was the most perfect ass I’d ever seen, exactly proportioned with just the right amount of muscle.

Wait, was I supposed to follow him? Were we… showering together?

I didn’t want to assume anything. The last thing I wanted to do was create an awkward situation or make him feel uncomfortable - especially after he’d been so friendly and welcoming. But then again, would it be rude not to shower together? I went back and forth in my head, not daring to make a single step without thinking it through.

While I was busy overthinking the situation, Calvin had already begun showering. Fuck it.

I tore off my mud-stained clothes and headed toward the empty showerhead. My heart was beating wildly. Goose pimples erupted all over my skin as I felt the warm water flow all over me. Since I was a teenager, I’d trained myself to keep my eyes to myself when I was at public showers or locker rooms - but it took all the willpower in me not to sneak a peek at Calvin. You could always tell when someone was staring at you.

Except I was now the one getting that feeling. In the corner of my eye, I could swear that he was looking at me. Was he? I snuck a quick glance.

He was totally staring at me. At my dick, actually.

Calvin quickly averted his gaze once he realized I was looking. My heart was now beating out of my chest. Oh my god, why was he staring at my dick? Not that I was self-conscious about it or anything. I’d received nothing but good feedback from my exes about my size, especially when soft. One of them even said my dick was in the 90th percentile. Thanks, Mason.

I remembered reading somewhere that straight guys sometimes steal glances at each other in locker rooms—sizing up the competition, checking how they measure up. Maybe that's all this was. But the article had mentioned quick, furtive looks. What Calvin was doing couldn't be called quick by any stretch. This was full-on staring.

 

Curiosity got the better of me, and I risked another look in his direction. Too late—he'd already shut off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist. I turned back to my own shower, trying to ignore the strange mix of disappointment and relief washing over me.

 

Damn it.

I finished up quickly, grabbed a towel, and headed back to the guest house. Clean clothes were waiting for me on the kitchen counter—Calvin had already changed into a tank top and sweats.

"Hey," he said, gesturing to the pile of clothes. "Everything's fresh, including the boxers. Hope that's cool."

 

"Yeah, definitely. Thanks."

 

"You sticking around for dinner? My dad's making his famous cornbread."

 

I hesitated. "I should probably”

 

"Come on, you can't leave without trying it. It's legendary around here."

 

Free food was hard to turn down, especially when I was this hungry. And the promise of homemade cornbread? I couldn't resist. Though I had to admit, the cornbread wasn't the only thing I was interested in sampling. I’m sure Calvin’s ass is like a little slice of heaven.

 

Dinner was torture. Sitting across from Calvin and his dad Dale, I fought to keep my eyes off Calvin's arms every time he reached across the table. Dale was incredibly welcoming, asking about my life in LA with genuine interest. Normally I was great with parents—charming, conversational, the whole deal. But every few seconds my mind would drift to very inappropriate places, making it hard to focus on Dale's questions about the film industry.

 

Somehow, I managed to hold up my end of the conversation, and we ended up talking about movies for most of the meal.

 

"That was incredible," I said after finishing a massive slice of apple pie. "Thank you for having me."

 

"Why don't you spend the night?" Dale suggested. "It's getting late, and we've got this whole bottle of merlot to finish."

"The guest house has plenty of space," Calvin added.

 

Several glasses of wine later, Calvin and I stumbled back to the guest house, both of us more than a little buzzed. Calvin fumbled with the keys, swaying slightly.

 

"I can't believe you've never seen Sin City," he said, collapsing onto the couch. "It's incredible."

 

"Not really my thing," I said, settling beside him. "Besides, there are no hot guys in it. What's the point?"

 

The words slipped out before I could stop them. Even through the wine haze, I knew I'd said too much. But Calvin just laughed.

 

"Tell you what—give it fifteen minutes. If you hate it, we'll watch whatever you want."

 

Relief washed over me as I nodded, not sure if he heard the part about the hot men or chose to ignore it. Calvin grabbed us each another beer from the kitchen before firing up the TV. I hadn’t noticed it right away.

 

“Dude, what happened to your sweatpants?” I asked. Calvin had ditched his sweatpants before returning with the beers. “I wanted to be relaxed, besides it’s just us guys here, but if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll put them back on,” he said.

 

“No, no, you don’t have to do that, I just wasn’t expecting it. One minute you were wearing sweatpants and then you weren’t.”

 

After the initial shock of seeing him in those snug boxer briefs, which left very little to the imagination. I forced myself to focus on the TV. Surprisingly, I found myself getting into the movie—right up until Jessica Alba appeared on screen.

"God, she's so fucking hot," Calvin said, his eyes glued to the TV. "My ex could've been her twin, I swear."

 

Well, that answered that question. Definitely straight. My stomach dropped a little.

 

For the next several minutes, I had to endure Calvin going on about how stunning his ex was, how perfect they'd seemed together, how much it had crushed him when she ended things.

"What happened?" I asked, trying to sound supportive. Whatever had gone down was clearly still eating at him.

“She said I was too much for her sexually, crazy right?”

“What do you mean?”

“She didn’t want to try new things. The hottest people are the most boring in bed. But to be fair, some of the things I asked her to do were-”

“Were what?”

“You know what? Forget I said that.”

“What? Come on, I won’t judge you. I once fucked a guy while he watched Desperate Housewives. He said it was the only way he could cum.”

Calvin burst out laughing. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, he had a nice ass though.”

“Oh so you’re a top?”

“Look at you with the gay terminology,” I said, “I’m actually vers.”

“So you do both? That’s cool.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes watching the movie before Calvin spoke again.

“Out of curiosity, which do you like better?”

Surprised by his interest in the topic, I said, “It really depends, most of my exe’s were bottoms so I topped more often, but there’s nothing like a top who knows what he’s doing. Funny enough, the best sex I’ve had was with this one guy I hooked up with who had the best fingering technique. I swear I passed out from the orgasm.”

“Wow, really?” Calvin exhaled “That good?”

“Oh yeah, it’s like this incredibly intense sensation from deep inside that just courses through your body like an electrical current. I got him to teach me, and then I tried it on my ex. He loved it so much, I ended up fingering him more than I fucked him.”

“Damn!”

This conversation had taken a weird turn. I took another sip of beer and was just about to change the subject when I noticed a large bulge forming in Calvin’s sweatpants.

 

Suddenly my eyes went wide, and I may have made a verbal gasp, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was really hard or if my eyes were playing tricks on me. While trying to ignore it, I chose not to say anything about the enormous bulge now on display. Although I think he noticed my reaction because what he said next, really surprised me.

“You know, I tried fingering myself once and I didn’t think I would enjoy it, but it wasn’t bad,” Calvin said softly, while smirking.

This situation was becoming increasingly strange, but I decided to ignore it.

"Yeah, I've heard plenty of straight guys are into it," I said. "No shame in that."

 

Calvin let out a long breath. "I wish women saw it that way. Bring it up and they act like you've suggested something horrific."

 

The alcohol had left me fuzzy around the edges, but something in his tone made my heart skip. The air between us felt charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.

 

"Nothing wrong with being curious," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "That's how you figure out what works for you."

 

Calvin shifted to face me fully, and I caught something playful flickering in his expression—dangerous and inviting all at once.

 

"So, if I asked you to try it with me," he said, letting the words hang in the space between us, "you wouldn't run screaming?"

Shocked and before I could respond, the next few things happened quickly. In a flash, Calvin’s sweatpants and boxers were gone, followed by his tank top. He sat next to me silently stroking his cock, which looked to be about five and a half inches long but girthy, with a nice pink head that was shiny with pre-cum.

 

Had I fallen asleep or was I about to sample that slice of heaven that was made up of Calvin’s bare ass mere inches from me. Never being in this situation before and not knowing what to say, I said the only thing that came to my mind.

 

"How—how do you want to do this?" I stammered, nerves making my voice shake.

 

"Your call," he said with that same smirk. "Put those magic fingers to work, I’m game for whatever."

 

"Ju… Ju… Ju… Just lie back, I guess." Stammering even more.

 

Calvin positioned himself, lifting his legs and exposing himself completely. The sight hit me like a punch to the gut—he was immaculately groomed, smooth, and inviting. Every inch of him looked perfect, almost too good to be real.

 

"Jesus," I breathed, unable to look away. "You're..."

 

"Yeah?" he prompted.

 

"Beautiful. This is incredible." My hands were already reaching for him before I could think twice. He was clearly enjoying himself and when our eyes met, I couldn’t tell which he enjoyed more, my reaction or exposing himself to me.

 

I was as hard as a rock and my dick was pressing against my pants, struggling to be free. But I kept my clothes on. This was a precarious moment, and I didn’t want to scare him off.

I started out slowly, spitting into my right hand before using my moist index finger to gently massage his eager hole. Calvin let out a soft moan the moment we made contact.

“Slowly,” he said.

I nodded obediently and continued circling that oh-so-delicate area with my index finger, while making sure to lubricate it occasionally with more spit. Calvin’s breathing became more rapid. I watched as his abs rippled up and down as he tugged harder at his dick. We continued like this for several minutes.

Even though I could tell he was enjoying it, I was done teasing. I wet my finger with more spit and slid it in, feeling his muscles contract as I entered him.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

“Is that ok?” I asked, feeling concerned.

Calvin didn’t say anything. In fact, his eyes were closed. Do I keep going? He was still jerking off, so I took that as a sign to continue.

I delved deeper, exploring every inch of his crevasse. He was so warm and tight, like a silk blanket firmly wrapped around my finger. It didn’t take me long to find the spot I liked to call the pinnacle of pleasure. Even the slightest touch caused Calvin to let out a deep moan as pre-cum flowed out of his dick like a leaky faucet.

“Just like that,” he breathed, “right there.”

With my left hand, I started caressing his balls and gradually made my way to his dick. Understanding my signal, he released his grip and placed his hand behind his head, granting me full control. I was now the captain of the ship, and I was going to give my passenger the ride of his life.

His cock was a glorious thing to behold - thick like a tree stump yet smooth as marble. Since I was using my non-dominant hand, I made it a point to grip it firmly, feeling its veins pulsing with blood and giving off heat. I began stroking it up and down, making sure to match the rhythm of my other hand. Each time I got to the tip, I would rub its sensitive pink surface gently with my thumb. Calvin responded to all of this with great enthusiasm, his pre-cum continuing to flow like water from a hot spring.

Time to step things up.

I retracted my right hand, wet it with more spit, and slid two fingers inside. Calvin winced slightly at first but quickly adjusted the deeper I went. Once I arrived at the pinnacle of pleasure, his entire body quivered like jelly for a solid five seconds before erupting.

Jets of cum exploded from his cock like firecrackers on the fourth of July. It splattered all over his abs, and it didn’t stop - Calvin moaned and pumped out at least five more jets of cum. I’d never seen anything like it.

We were both silent for almost a minute before Calvin opened his eyes.

“I’m glad you decided to stay for dinner.”