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Part One

It was the 27th December 2003, in south east England and my sister and her
boyfriend of five years had invited me and my parents over for dinner. I'll
get descriptions and stuff out of the way before I go on;

I'm Thom, a 22 year old skinny, lanky, dark haired poof who happens to still
be a complete virgin. Insecurities and neuroses are my excuse. Avoiding
reality is my speciality. My ideal type of man is in their 30's, very
masculine, muscular, rugby build, dominant and protective; the father figure
or big brother type. From a very early age I've had dreams about a big
hunky man with a chiselled jaw holding me in his big arms and sheltering me
from the big bad world. I've always been a bit dramatic! Well, Ben is the
living embodiment of my dream man, and the fact he is real and not in my
head only increases my lust for him. He is 29, 6 foot tall, a beefy rugby
build, very straight, a real lad and a classically handsome face, the kind
of man who turns head when he's sitting on the tube in London on his way to
work in his designer suit. He always made me melt when I saw him in a suit!

So, we go round and have a hearty meal of christmas leftovers. His parents
are there too and the drinks were flowing till after midnight. I hadn't
been as drunk in ages and I was finding it hard to control my thoughts as I
kept stealing glances at the object of my desire. As I admired his thick
biceps and barrel chest straining against his sports tshirt I remembered
all the times I've fantasised about him roughly kissing me and tearing off
my clothes, using phrases like,

`Oh Thom, I've wanted to fuck your faggot arse ever since you were 16 and I
saw you checking me out' and `Now get on your knees and suck my fat cock,

Of course I knew Ben would never say or do those things to me or any other
man; he is the straightest man I've known. And a very horny one too. I'd
been very naughty a few years back and searched his house for anything that
would turn me on. After smelling his aftershave and his worn Calvin's I
found his stash of porn. I realised he must wank as much as I do judging on
the ever increasing hardcore DVD and magazine collection. He had some
pretty extreme tastes to my surprise, but nothing gay or bi which I naively
hoped to find.

I knew it was all just in my wildly over imagined fantasies but the vodkas
he kept pouring me were making it hard for me to keep control. Gradually
everyone left and about 20 minutes later I was the last to leave. It was
about 2am. My sister saw me out and I heard Ben called down his goodbyes as
I left with my mind in a whirl. It was lucky we live close to them as I
found it a challenge to stumble home. I eventually got in and immediately
ran to the loo and chucked up all the food I'd enjoyed earlier. This lasted
for about an hour; I think we've all been there. I staggered up to my room
trying to keep quiet as not to wake anyone. Feeling terrible I slid into

All I wanted was to sleep but after my night of drunken ogling I was horny
as fuck. I couldn't get him out of my head and all I wanted was him kissing
me and touching me and.... I had grabbed hold of my mobile phone and without
any restraint I proceeded to text him saying,

`I'm so sorry but I really fancy you and I'm really drunk and you can tell
me to fuck off but I need to tell you I'm sorry.'
It's surprising how coherent the message was despite me being anything but.
I watched the text send and rolled over to sleep, not thinking about what I
had just done, clutching my stomach. A few seconds later my phone vibrated.
He had replied. I was half shocked, half confused. It read,

`Don't ruin things. Try not to drink so much.'

I fell asleep without even attempting to think about my stupid mistake.

I didn't wake until midday, feeling TERRIBLE. Hangovers are something I
don't experience often so when I do it's doubly hard for me to shake off. I
lay there for a few minutes until I felt my rock hard cock. I'm actually
not too bad in that department, a good 7" and quite thick too. As I moved
my foreskin over my juicy cock gland my mind inevitably drifted to Ben. My
hunky, almost big brother who I was totally besotted by, and had the sexiest

`Oh fuck!'

It all flooded back. Regret was overwhelming me. That and the pain from my
stomach. I turned to my side feeling dismayed and saw my phone. There was
a new message. It was from Ben.

`We need to talk about this. Don't come over here, I'll come to you when
I'm ready.'

I didn't know what to think. I was scared, angry, sad and suffering from
the worst hangover I've ever had.

The next few days were spent recovering and thinking, something I do far too
much of. I analysed every word of the text and went over the events of the
previous evening again and again. For no reason or outcome. Just because I
could think of nothing else. My parents were going on a holiday to Australia
at the beginning of January and New Year came and passed. Luckily I didn't
have to face Ben or my sister as they went to Scotland for Hogmanay. I had
no idea if he had told her or how he was dealing with it. Just my own
terrifying scenarios in my head. I knew that Ben could easily beat me up.
Even though I'm taller than him, he is twice as wide as me. I had no idea
how he really felt about me because, even though he knew I was gay, he never
spoke about it even to take the piss out of me. I suspected he was
homophobic and I'd given him the prefect excuse to show me what he really
thinks of queers. It wasn't helping that it had been over a week since his
ominous text.

It was the morning of my parents departure to Oz. The taxi picked them up
early morning. This would be the longest I have been alone and I was
looking forward to the freedom. It was Thursday and the rest of the world
had been back at work since Monday. I worked from home so I did just that.
It got to 5pm and I finished up my paperwork when I heard a knock at the
front door. I wasn't expecting anyone, especially on my first day alone. I
went down and recognised the broad outline filling the glass panes. I knew
it was Ben coming to do whatever he felt fit to do to me. I took a deep
breath and opened the door. He stood there in one of his expensive designer
suits, dripping wet from the apparent rain.

`Oh, hi', I said nervously.

`Can I come in?', he asked in his deep lad_about_town voice.

`Of course.'

I was shaking from a mixture of fear and lust.
His broad frame filled the hallway and I shut the door behind him. He bent
down to put his bag on the floor and I lost myself in his thick rugby toned
thighs and footballer's arse that stretched his trousers perfectly.

`Are you alone?' He said staring into my wide, fearful eyes....

To be continued....

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