Worshipping my best friend’s boyfriend Pt 2 - The Soggy Biscuit

How does it feel as a straight guy, to have your gay friend jerk off to you on the same bed? To touch your body? To kiss it? What the hell was going through his head?

There were no hints in his behaviour afterwards - I almost would have preferred him to be a bit awkward, at least that would have been some sort of answer. But we just watched cartoons, drank warm out-of-date beer from the back of the cupboard, and waited for Laura to get home.

Things did seem to relax when she eventually appeared, like the whole room exhaled. ‘Look at you two, so romantic…’ she joked when she saw us lying on the bed. I winced internally, but Ieuan just laughed.

They fucked that night, and I managed another wank to the sounds, alone in my own bed as I invariably was. He wasn’t a vocal shagger, but a loud and deep-voiced cummer, and that night his orgasm more-or-less coincided with my own. I gasped as my second load of the night hit my stomach, imaging myself in Laura’s body, imagining looking up at him, at that rugged, muscular body, imagining what his cum face would look like, feeling his sweat, his heat…

Over the next few days I kept hoping for an opportunity to bring it up, to explore his feelings, his perspective on the whole thing. But the right moment didn’t seem to come. The jokes continued - my likely infatuation with his body was Laura’s favourite punchline, her eyes twinkling as as she erupted into her 20-a-day cackle, Ieuan laughing affably along as I just smiled politely and red-faced. How serious she actually thought it was, I’ll never know.

Was I threat to her? Should I be offended that she didn’t seem to think so? God, had Ieuan told her? Did she just find it funny? Was that all I was, as a sexual being - an amusing side character?

About a week after Ieuan’s and my evening together, I came home from lectures and went straight into Laura’s room as I could hear she was home. Our cramped flat didn’t actually have a living room as such, and as Laura’s room was by far the larger it had become the de-facto hang-out place. I crashed on her bed and we chatted shit for a couple of minutes.

She didn’t bother to mention that Ieuan was also home.

He appeared in the doorway, dripping wet from the shower with a towel around his waist. Caught off guard, I actually think I made a little noise, and Laura gave a little giggle.

‘Oh hey, Tommo…’ he said chirpily, striding into the centre of the room without showing any sign of being self-conscious in his nakedness. Laura instantly started humming the theme from The Full Monty, and Ieuan and I both laughed, but I was still mildly shocked when Ieuan casually took off his towel and started drying himself.

It didn’t feel showy, which somehow made me feel even more awkward. The towel still mostly covered his dick as he set about drying his front - that magnificent, sculpted front - but I got flashes that I couldn’t look away from. Even though I knew Laura was clocking me, even though I was desperately trying to, I just couldn’t turn my head away. It was long, much longer than my own, even longer than Ruairi’s, but it was the girth that struck you - the width almost eclipsed the ball sack completely. It was crowned by a full, dark and tightly-curled bush that drew my eye almost as much the meat swinging below it. I was consumed by the impish impulse to bury my face in it.

My brain yanked me suddenly back to reality as some part of it realised that Ieuan was talking directly to me.

‘We’re going back to the Union for a drink if you fancy it - there’s a quiz on later. The Mighty Threesome, eh? Unbeatable…’

God I loved how he spoke, but it had a raspy, almost pained quality - almost like his neck muscles were making it hard for him to get his words out. Or his laugh, which always came out like a guffaw. He sounded a bit like a young Sylvester Stallone but with a thick Valleys accent.

My brain and my mouth scrambled to connect, but I was unable to get out a response for a good few seconds, prompting Laura to laugh again. ‘You’ve turned him on, sweetie… He can’t get his words out…’

At last, some sign of awareness… He blushed slightly and somewhat awkwardly wrapped the towel back around his waist. I didn’t quite know what to do with myself, but went with what I hoped was a casually reassuring half-smile. Laura, however, wasn’t letting it go…

‘Show him what you showed me the other day, that’ll tip him over the edge,’ she goaded. ‘That thing with your chest…’

‘Oh right, OK…’ he said, with a slight laugh. He was looking sideways at the floor and I could tell he wasn’t 100% comfortable. One thing he definitely wasn’t, however, was the alpha in his relationship, and Laura had given her instruction.

‘Go on…’ she persisted.

I was feeling uncomfortable myself. But he looked straight at me, starting to break into a slightly more convincing smile.

I was meeting his eyes, and so hadn’t realised it had started until a second later, but the flicker of movement drew my eyes downwards.

Oh my God, he could do that thing….

You know that thing - where a guy can tense each of his pecs in an alternating rhythm, making them appear to ‘dance’. He could only sustain it for a few seconds at a time, but he put on a good show.

My dick twitched. I gave a little laugh and tore my eyes downwards. Laura cackled, of course, and Ieuan started (slightly gingerly) to dry himself again, being noticeably more careful about how he was angling his body, so I only got another clear view of that impressive cock when he quite swiftly pulled on some fresh boxers.

‘Is that another rugby thing?’ Laura asked.

‘No…’ he laughed, looking through a pile for a t-shirt.

She turned to me. ‘Ieuan was telling me about some of the games they play on rugby tours. Your dick would explode, Tom. Ieuan, Ieuan, tell him about the biscuit one…’

Ieuan gave his snotty laugh and looked a little sheepishly at me.

‘You know about Soggy Biscuit, don’t you?’

I shook my head. His shoulders fell and he sighed a bit.

‘Right so you get a biscuit, right, and put it in the middle…’ he began. They caught each other’s eyes and giggled. He was quite red-faced now but continued through his giggles. ‘ And then you all stand around and….’ He made the jerking off hand motion. ‘And cum on the biscuit….’ His voice lowered, rather charmingly, on the word ‘cum’.

Suddenly Laura cut him off. ‘And whoever cums last has the east the whole biscuit. Can you believe that?’

Ieuan nodded and went back to sniff-testing several T-shirts.

‘You haven’t actually done that, though, have you?’ I asked. Ieuan smiled and looked sideways at Laura, who practically fell about giggling.

‘Did you eat it?’ I exclaimed, my voice coming out high and squeaky.

‘No!!!’ he almost shouted, before lowering his voice to a mutter, ‘it was someone else….’

Laura’s giggles were subsiding. ‘Do the tit thing again…’

Ieuan rolled his eyes. ‘Perform, Monkey…’ he mocked.

But he did it. I felt another instant surge of blood into my meat.

Laura seemed to echo my thoughts. ‘It makes me a bit wet…’ she said in a low, conspiratorial voice.

‘Oh really?’ Ieuan said, raising one eyebrow and starting to shuffle towards the bed, tossing the t-shirt he had settled on back onto a chair. ‘Fuck off Tommo, we’ll meet you outside in a bit…’

I didn’t immediately move, not sure if it was joke, not wanting to appear humourless, but as he lay on top of her and her legs started rising around his hips, I shuffled off the bed and made my way out.

I couldn’t have explained it, but I felt a flash of indignation. I also couldn’t have explained why I hovered on the other side of the door for far too long… as the kissing sounds got louder, as the bedsprings started to squeal their protest, as the moaning rose.

Straight women. They have no fucking idea how lucky they are!

I did rehearse my explanations, however, for why I ended up on the balcony. Why not? I was a smoker, I was waiting around…. Why wouldn’t I be out there?!?

The balcony extended the length of the galley kitchen (the only other room other than a permanently mouldy bathroom by the front door) and adjoined both of our bedrooms, with narrow window-doors from each. A strangely luxurious feature for such an awful flat, but partly the reason we chose it, as two smokers.

There was a curtain over the window-door. Fair enough…

But there was the small side window.

Not that I was looking of course, that would have been weird…

But sometimes, things just catch your eye….

Things like your best friend squatting in doggy, her tits bouncing while the hottest guy you know, the guy you’ve wanked to every morning and evening for the past few weeks, pounds her from behind with impressive speed and rhythm…. His muscly body shining wet once more (Christ, that boy sweated) … his eyes glazed…. his mouth hanging open ….

An image built from fragments, I wouldn’t stare, obviously….

Obviously.

I threw away my cigarette, clambered back into my room, and jerked it, standing up barely one step in from the window. I blew my load a minute later, spilling my seed right on the carpet. I exhaled deeply, staring at the congealing mess as a creeping sense of self-hatred crept over me.

The quiz was mostly uneventful, though The Mighty Threesome didn’t do anywhere near as well as they thought they would. At one point, Ieuan went to the bar to get a round. Laura watched him take a few steps away from the table and then looked pointedly at me.

‘You do know he just wants to be your friend, don’t you?’ she was watching intently for my reaction.

I shrugged, ‘He is my friend. He’s alright…’

I still remember how she looked slightly disappointed. ‘Just don’t take advantage…’

I genuinely didn’t know at the time what she meant. I probably wasn’t ready to accept that I, of all people, could possibly be in a position to take advantage of anyone else. But I was also preoccupied by a different thought, one that wouldn’t leave my head for several days…

The biscuit.

Such a stupid thing. Even at the time I knew it was sort of thing that could only be dreamed up by a teenage boy, and I still wasn’t entirely convinced that anyone would actually do it.

So why wouldn’t the thought leave my head? Why did I even wank to it that evening?

The thought, the wank fantasy, built and built over the next few days, turning into something else, a sort of compulsion.

Looking back, I now know what it was. Somewhere in my horny 19-year-old brain I knew - this was my way back in.

And as it turned out, I didn’t have to wait long. That didn’t stop it being torture, waiting for Laura’s next late shift at the bar, when Ieuan and I would be alone together. Though I wouldn’t have admitted it to myself at the time, I had the whole trap set in my mind.

And true to form, bless him, he walked straight into it…

After an agonising few hours of us watching TV together, he leaned back against the wall and exhaled deeply ‘Bored!’ He declared. My heart started thumping in my chest. ‘What do you want to do?’ he asked.

If I didn’t just blurt it out now, I never would.

‘Do you want to play your Soggy Biscuit game?’

I couldn’t believe I actually just said it, and by the look on Ieuan’s face neither could he. There followed a hilarious (in hindsight) few seconds of us staring at each other trying to process what each other might be thinking.

He broke first. ‘Are you serious?’

I shrugged, ‘It sounded fun. You only live once…’

He snort-laughed, as a look I couldn’t interpret flickered across his face. ‘You actually serious? That’s what you really want to do?’

My whole body was tingling with a sort of nervous energy - I remember gripping and ungripping the bedspread. But I met his gaze and tried to shrug casually.

‘You’re a wrong’un, you are,’ he muttered, but I thought at the time he sounded vaguely impressed, and there was a slight smile at the corners of his mouth. He opened the top drawer of Laura’s desk and started shuffling - Laura made sure to have snacks close at hand at all times - and pulled out the remains of a packet of chocolate digestives. My heart was thumping like a rabbit’s foot, hardly believing he seemed to be going along with it. The thought suddenly occurred to me that I might have made this too weird - I thought about backing out, telling him it was just a joke or something.

Let’s just see how far he goes first…

He took out a single biscuit and placed it on the bed - I remember being struck by the fact he placed it chocolate side down. As if that was the weirdest part of the whole thing!

‘You absolutely sure?’ he asked again, once he was happy with his preparations. I nodded and instinctively rubbed the front of my crotch - I was rock hard and leaking.

He pulled the laptop up from the side of the bed, and put it on his lap angled so I could also see the screen. I watched as he went through the process of bringing up a porn vid. Lesbians.

‘You ok with girls?’ he asked.

‘Of course!’ I said, perhaps too emphatically.

The video started - it was more of a straight-into-the action sort of a video, no tradesman trying to get on with their business, no misunderstandings or terribly-acted dialogue. But I couldn’t even pretend to be watching the screen - my eyes were glued to Ieuan’s face. The micro-expressions flickering across his brow, the way his eyes darted around the screen, how his mouth was slowly opening just a little bit. I was throbbing by now.

A minute later he turned to me suddenly. ‘You ready?’

I nodded, but then couldn’t stop myself from pushing it a tiny bit more.

‘Tops off?’

I cursed myself - that was probably too much.

‘Haha ok buddy, come on - tops off, cocks out..’

He was already standing up and pulling off his t-shirt. I followed and mirrored his position, feeling suddenly self conscious of my pale and pimply torso next to his hyper-toned physique. I’ve only met two people since who were even more ‘jacked’ than Ieuan - my step-son, who uses a worrying range of supplements and looks slightly ‘inflated’, it must be said, and Brendan, my son’s first boyfriend, who in hindsight almost certainly used some of the same. But Ieuan was peak natural - the tightness, the hardness of youth, combined with the more human thickness of a rugby player who hadn’t yet learned to give a flying fuck about what he ate. It was impossible to tear your eyes away - the roundness of this pecs, the breadth of his shoulders, the definition of his abs. But all still so fleshy and touchable - fuck!!!! He fussed a bit with the laptop, getting it into position behind the biscuit, and then he stood back up and, ever so casually, unzipped.

If I had felt self-conscious before…

I’ve never been ashamed of my cock. I’m between 6 and 7” long and know that I have decent thickness - if I top that’s always what the bottoms comment on. But what Ieuan was packing - fucking actual hell. He only had maybe an inch on me length-wise, but the girth was something else - you hear people talk about ‘soda can thickness’ but in his case this was almost literally true. I was instantly reminded of those big salamis you see hanging in delis. Laura had, of course, given me a bit of a run-down - and I’d known he’d be big, but seeing it in the flesh…

He looked at me, his face so serious given his cock was in his hand ‘3, 2, 1, go…’

And he was off. It took me a few seconds to come back into the moment and start jerking it - a string of Precum slowly stretching then breaking off from my tip. There was zero pretence of me watching the lesbian porn - my eyes were fixed exactly on what I’d spend days working up to beholding. And it was everything I wanted it to be - him concentrating intently on the laptop, his brow furrowed slightly, his bottom lip hanging open slightly as his breathing intensified. His chest, starting to expand and contract visibly, his abs tensing at the end of each breath, and that organ - with his hand moving so quickly near the top, but with plenty of inches below for me to admire.

I knew I was being unsubtle when he started to give me side-eye, that corner-of-the mouth smile, quizzical, or bemused, creeping back in. At one point he turned his head around to me and mouthed ‘What?’ All I could do was grin. Nothing was going to take that grin off my face. I even noticed that my body had followed my gaze and I was standing straight-on facing him now, wanking towards him, and I didn’t care.

I saw him shake his head slightly and speed up even more, his look of concentration intensifying. He was a sportsman. Competitive.

So I probably should have disclosed beforehand that I’m a very quick cummer.

I twisted myself back around when I felt the tingle, hunching myself down when it was definitely in the chamber. ‘Aw shit,’ I heard him exclaim behind me, just as my squirt came, thick and opaque white. It gathered at the tip before dropping onto the biscuit mostly in one big lump, rather than ropes, and as I enjoyed the aftershocks I watched it slowly spread and start to soak the biscuit. That’s when I felt his shoulder barge me out of the way.

‘I had sex earlier, that’s why…’ he said, sounding genuinely a bit petulant. His shoulders were down and I could see from the side that his expression had gone a little grey. Losing was not a good look on him.

He seemed to take quite a while longer, which didn’t reflect particularly well on me, and I had already sat back down on the bed, facing him, by the time his eyes glassed over and the first rope fell. His load was watery and practically spayed everywhere but the biscuit, but he hunched over as I had done to get as much of the later ropes on as possible. The biscuit was a mess now - my load congealed and yellowing, Ieuan’s a mixture of consistency sprayed in streaks like a Jackson Pollock.

Reality hit. I never actually thought about the eating of the biscuit - I certainly didn’t think about it being Ieuan to do so. When his breathing calmed, and he slowly squeezed out to the last droplet of cum from his magnificent purple warhead, he looked over to me and broke into a bit of a begrudging grin, ‘You’re a fucking cunt!’

‘You don’t have to eat it,’ I said quickly. ‘It was just a joke, man…’

He was still grinning as he zipped himself up, ‘Nah man, you don’t weasel, Jesus…’

What followed was not exactly erotic, I don’t think, but it was something. I was grimly transfixed as he ate it. He’d smile as he caught my eye, in between bites, his apprehension just flickering across his eyes before each one. At one point, which I’m sure was where the main bulk of my load had landed, pretty much in the centre, he definitely gagged, though he seemed to try to hide it. Towards the end I thought he might be sick - there was a heaving motion in his chest, and his face had turned clammy, but he never once looked like he was going to stop, and he seemed to brighten again as he took the last bite.

He looked straight into my eyes as he chewed the very last bit, his eyes actually twinkling now and his best smile returning.

‘I need a drink,’ he said as he stood up, still shirtless, his mouth still slightly full. ‘Do you want a beer?’

‘Uh…yeah…thanks…’

I’d get my turn. To taste that load, I mean. But the circumstances would be very different, even if I didn’t have that long to wait…