B: Best Friend Brad

Let's start at the very beginning; in this case, a very good place to start.

The History

We’ll start at the one that every person in the universe experiences: the best friend. Whether you started out as best friends or you somehow became that way, the best friend is someone every can relate to.

Mine was unknown human, turned best friend, turned fuck buddy, turned creep, turned best friend.

My adventures with Brad started my sophomore year in college when I was performing in a show. He was playing the lead and I was playing a supporting lead. Our characters never really interacted so we didn’t get to know each other on stage.

Our first run-in happened back stage in the middle of a rehearsal. We were practicing quick changes for the first time; for those who may not know, a quick change is when an actor (sometimes with assistance) changes from one costume to another as fast as they can so they can get back on stage. My quick change involved taking off my corset top in its entirety to put on another corset.

This is going exactly where you think it is.

I could not find my second top. I had put it with the rest of my things and it somehow grew legs. Since I did not notice this until after my first top was off, I was running around in bootie shorts and fishnets. As I’m running around, completely top-half naked, Brad comes to my side of the stage. Not really thinking, I turned to him and asked if he had seen my black corset.

I had not said more than two words to Brad and he had already seen me half naked.

Being a theatre guy, Brad helped me find my top and helped finish the lacing so I could make it out on stage on time. I thanked him a million times over and said that I owed him big time.

This is a trend that started in our friendship: me owing him a lot for all the help that he gave me. No matter how hard I tried, I could not repay him at the rate of his kindness.

A perfect example is when we promoted our show.

At our college, we had a late night cabaret style club where anything was fair game. The particular night we were there, for example, people did naked jumping jacks while reciting a Shakespearean soliloquy. That’s relatively tame for this cabaret.

To market our particular show, our group decided to do a striptease (if you couldn’t tell from the fishnets and corsets, the strip tease will tell you that the show was risqué). When discussing songs for the striptease, the cast all discussed what level of clothing everyone was comfortable going down to. While I am comfortable with how my body looks just as much as the next woman, I asked that my underwear and bra stayed on. Brad, when asked, said he was not going to strip or dance. Instead, he was put on video taping duty to post the PG striptease on social media for promotional purposes.

When it was our turn at the cabaret, a brief introduction was stating that this performance was for the show. The music started, a wonderful song by Queen about pear-shaped women, and everyone in the cast started dancing. When clothing pieces started coming off, I was down to what I wanted to be: bra and underwear. I continued to dance as other people kept getting more and more naked.

A girl, who had taken five shots of tequila before performing, came up behind me and unhooked my strapless bra (because it was the best looking one I owned). I was standing in front of sixty people top-half naked. Two times in one week is a lot to process.

My head started spinning and my vision went fuzzy. I was livid and could not pull myself together enough to grab my bra. I was standing, awkwardly swaying my hips to make it look like I wasn’t uncomfortable for the audience, and unable to bend down and pick up my bra.

The song finished and I grabbed my clothes to put everything back on. Everyone else was taking their time but I quickly put on my clothes. I headed to the back of the crowd and stood next to Brad.

“Don’t worry. She’s really drunk and just didn’t remember what you had said. You’ll be fine.” Brad pulled out his phone with the video and showed me. “See? You look fine.”

“You’ve seen me half naked, Brad. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Little did I know that Brad was going to see me more than half naked. And not even on accident.

Jump forward to junior year. Brad and I had kept some contact throughout the year that followed me being half naked. We would always remember being in a show together where I was constantly trying to find my top and he was constantly trying to make sure I was okay.

We were fortunate enough to be in our theatre history class together. We elected to sit next to each other and grew closer as the semester went on. Our teacher, Bill, never questioned us sitting next to each other and always encouraged us to work together. Brad and I didn’t think much of it and made our way through theatre history.

When second semester rolled around and we were in class together again, I had started working on a final acting project. I wrote a play and wanted to perform it before the semester ended. The group that I went through asked me to have a teacher be the academic advisor so that I didn’t make an idiot of myself. I asked Bill who agreed; he asked me who the cast was within my show. I had just asked Brad not long before if he would play opposite me as the new boyfriend within the show. My teacher decided it was time to drop this atomic bomb.

“So you asked Brad to play the new love interest in this show?” He reclined in his rolling office chair with his eye brows raised; his arms crossed across his chest and his left pointer finger pursed against his lips.

“Yeah. We have a lot of chemistry and have worked together before.” I shuffled through my script to find the next character to tell him about.

“You know, Riley, you and Brad do work really well together. You know how to work together in class.”

“Yeah, we try to do that so we can enjoy the class more.” I was lying through my teeth but if it meant he would stop talking like this, I was going to go with it.

“It’s more than that, though. You two communicate on a different level than a lot of people normally would. It’s quite intriguing to watch.”

“Thanks...” I shuffled more hurriedly in my seat. Why would he be bringing this up?

“All I’m saying is you and Brad would be good together. And not just onstage. You two would be good through life together. You don’t need to listen to me but I’m just letting you know what I’ve noticed.”

I tried to ignore Bill’s remarks. Brad was a good friend who I always owed something to. But after those remarks, I started to look at Brad differently. He started being really attractive in both personality and looks. I may have rewritten a scene or two so that I could see how romantic he was willing to be. He jumped in to everything I threw at him and I found that I loved rehearsing those scenes more than any others.

The show went well and everyone seemed to enjoy being a part of it. Brad asked me to help him with a few other projects throughout the rest of the school year. I found that my attraction to Brad grew through these projects; however, I didn’t want to ruin the friendship.

Bill’s words kept coming to mind: You two would be good through life together.

Junior year ends as does the summer before senior year. There wasn’t much conversation over that summer between Brad and I. It was a lot of hearing a song and sending it to each other via Facebook. I still found that I was infatuated with him.

Senior year rolls in. Everyone picked up right where they left off, including Brad and I: friends. He came over frequently with his then girlfriend Lisa. He was completely in love with her and would have dropped anything to be with her all the time. She seemed to be on the same page as him.

I’m going to be selfish. It really bothered me. It really did. I had feelings for him and he was smitten for someone else.

Then, I got the phone call I was both prepared for but didn’t know how to respond. Lisa had broken up with Brad.

I hopped in my car to pick him up. He was hyper-ventilating, scared, pale. He was probably the most shaken up human I had ever seen.

And all I could think about was how much I wanted to rip off his pants and fuck his brains out.

I decided to be a good human being and just consoled him with ice cream and Bob’s Burgers. He calmed down enough where I could drop him off at his apartment and text him the rest of the night.

This is where it gets interesting.

The Sex

You have waited this long to get to this point: the sex. The weird, awkward, moments of rolling in sheets with someone who was your friend first. And it won’t disappoint.

I had, had a weird day the time this all started. I volunteered at an after school program where I got told by an eight-year-old boy that I needed to “spread my legs wider because I know you can.”

I knew after that comment that I either needed to get laid or become a nun.

Guess which option I chose?

If you chose nun, you probably need to pick up a different book because you didn’t see where this was going.

There was a comedy show that everyone wanted to go to. It was a student-run show with student-written material. I was seated between Brad and Roger (you’ll learn more about him later). The show was great and Brad appeared to be really into it.

After the show, we all got invited to a theatre Halloween party. We dressed up in random costumes that we had in the apartment and headed out.

Picture a college Halloween party: all girls in slutty costumes (except for the ones who refused to dress up because they have boyfriends back at home) and all the boys put on a hat with their regular clothes for their costumes.

Theatre parties are nothing like that.

If you’ve never been to theatre party, you’re missing out. There’s alcohol, singing, dancing, beer pong, some weed; it’s a frat party that everyone actually wants to be at. Everyone knows everyone and everyone will sleep with everyone by the time they graduate college.

If you’ve never been to a Halloween theatre party, you may be a little terrified.

It’s a contest for who can dress up the best (my best friend is a drag queen, so I never tried to compete with him). Everyone is drinking harder than normal and sex is always happening at every party. There are feathers, sequins, boobs, and weaves all over everywhere.

This party was no exception.

We got there about 10:30 (relatively early for a theatre party). Everyone was dancing and still able to hold conversations. There was even a dog to pet and love if you weren’t too inebriated.

Originally, I was talking with my roommate most of the night; Brad was cycling through people and trying to find someone to take home. No one was biting so I ended up with Brad next to me the remainder of the night. He was slinking his arm around me and grinding up behind me.

We eventually decided to leave around 12:30 AM. Brad had a lighting call (hanging and focusing theatre lights on the stage) the following morning at 8 AM, as did my roommate. Brad had ridden his bike to our apartment so he walked back with us.

We got back and my roommate (who you have probably noticed has not received a name yet) changed into her pajamas. Brad followed me into my room. My roommate noticed.

“Riley, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to bed.”

“Why is Brad going in there with you?”

“Roommate, we’re friends. Brad and I can sleep in the same bed without anything happening.”

And she believed me. Not the “yeah, sure you can” believe it. Legitimately believed it.

I laid down in my bed and put on Hercules on Netflix for background noise. Brad and I had talked about why nothing had ever happened between us.

I regaled my two percent theory.

“I am faithful in any relationship 98 percent of the time. That other two percent is my curiosity of what else is out there. Some people end up in my two percent where I am curious to how they are sexually. I am attracted to them and want to know more.”

He looked at me and wanted to know where he was. He had attempted to guess where he fit in earlier in the night.

Instead of his stupid guesses (which are stupid enough to not write about), I finally told him.

“Brad, you’ve always been a part of my two percent.”

I got the most passionate kiss I had ever received in my life.

We made out, rolled around on my bed, and ended up relatively naked (we both had only underwear on by the time I actually looked back at my computer).

“We missed all of Hercules...” I started to chuckle.

“Is that really a bad thing?” Brad started kissing up and down my neck again.

“Not at all. We probably just want noise in the background to not wake Roommate up.”

I put on Emperor’s New Groove and rolled back to find him staring at me. He starting nibbling my neck and grabbing my ass. I pinned his hands above his head.

“You like it rough, don’t you?” He asked this with a smirk on his face.

Confession #1: I will try anything twice. Doing something once gives you the experience; doing it twice lets you know if you like it.

Confession #2: I’m about to get really unintentionally stupid in this story.

“I do. I have a sex kit in my top drawer.”

He gave me a blank stare in response. “What do you mean a sex kit?”

“Yeah. It has stuff that is supposed to heighten arousal.”

“Let’s give it a try.”

Music to my ears.

I grabbed the kit and pulled out this gel that is supposed to make anything tingly that it is applied to. I explained what it was and put some on his neck.

“I don’t feel anything.”

Brad never did feel anything tingly from that gel. So we tried an apple flavored goop (for lack of a better description) that would make things taste better. I put some on my lips and kissed Brad.

“And that is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted.” He started gagging and trying to get the taste out of his mouth.

We continued to roll in the sheets and make out with each other with random fits of conversation. He finally asked the million dollar question. “Do you want to?”

I wanted to. I was ready to rip off our underwear and ride until the dawn. There was just one problem: I was on my period.

Now, I know girls who wouldn’t have a problem with having sex on their period; I have done it a few times and wasn’t initially grossed out. But, I have left basketball-sized stains on the bed with guys earning their red wings (you’ll hear that grand story in the next chapter). I was not going to do that to Brad as my first time.

“I do, but...”

“But what?”

“I just can’t tonight.” I was hoping he would catch the hint. I wouldn’t have to tell a guy that I was on the rag when he’s ready to hump my brains out.

“Is it something I did?”

“No, I just can’t because well...you know...”

He knew exactly what I meant. He just wanted me to say it out loud. And that’s something that’s not normal for guys.

Women shouldn’t be afraid to admit they are on their period; it’s like how no one wants to admit that they fart. It happens. It’s just a matter of fact and being able to admit it is a pretty big deal.

“I’m on my period.”

“Do you have an idea of when you won’t be? Because I really want to do this.”

“We should be fine tomorrow.” I had no idea if that was true but it sounded promising.

“Perfect.” He started kissing me again until we were both out of breath. We looked at my computer and the credits were rolling for Emperor’s New Groove.

“What time is it?” He tried to find a clock in the room. I pulled it up on my computer.

“It’s almost four...”

“We need to go to bed.” He could see that, that upset me.

“It’s not because I’m not having fun. This is a lot of fun. But I have a lighting call to be at in four hours.”

I climbed off of him and curled up in bed. He laid next to me and fell asleep.

An alarm goes off at seven. In the morning.

Being a light sleeper, I rolled over to him getting out of bed and putting on his clothes. He smiled at me. “I’m going to run to McDonald’s to get some coffee. Do you want anything?”

I could feel my stomach in knots; three hours of sleep will do that to a human.

“No, I’m okay.”

“Okay. We have a break in our lighting call about lunch time so I’ll come back and visit then. Is that okay?”

He wanted to hang out with me. Or fuck me. I was okay with either.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll probably make it to the couch and that’s about it.”

He kissed my forehead, opened the door, and Roommate was just coming out of her room. He nodded to her, grabbed his bike, and headed out.

Roommate barged into my room. “Riley, why do you not have a shirt on?”

I looked down at myself. I had completely forgotten that I fell asleep in my underwear. “I got hot in the middle of the night.”

“And why don’t you have a bra on?”

My bra was at the side of the bed. “Like I said. I got hot.”

“And Brad didn’t do anything?”

“Roommate, we’re friends. We’ve seen each other naked before. It’s not a big deal.”

Roommate nodded and left for the lighting call.

I held true to my word and made it out to the couch. I put on Scooby Doo and dozed in and out of sleep. I kept playing the moments from the night before in my head. I had a best friend and a potential fuck buddy.

About lunch time, Brad was the first one to walk through the door. He wasn’t too hungry and didn’t want to eat lunch. However, I had just woken up from a nap and wasn’t going to get all riled up for a 40 minute lunch break.

He sat on the couch and rubbed my feet. I now had a best friend, potential fuck buddy, and someone who cared enough about me to give me a foot rub.

Roommate, ruining any form of mood, came in with Chipotle in hand. She looked at me and sat at the table in the kitchen (in full view of Brad and I).

Brad didn’t seem to mind. He continued to rub my feet and would select Scooby Doo episodes to watch. When he had to head back to his lighting call, he got up and left.

“Now, what the hell was that?” Roommate was throwing her food away and staring at me.

“He came by to rub my feet and check in with me. That’s all.”

She kept staring as she put on her shoes and coat to head back to the lighting call.

We’ll fast forward because this book is about sex.

Brad came by a few hours later and we frantically made out on the couch. He started biting my neck (a turn on for me) and grabbing my ass. I decided to see how far I could make this go. I kissed his neck.

He grabbed my hair, pulled my head back, and stared at me.

“Unless we are having sex right this second, you need to not do that.”

A sweet spot. Check.

He went to finish his lighting call and get prepared for the show he was working on. I was planning to see the show for a class and his parents were coming to see the show.

Brad texted me: “You are still planning on seeing the show, right?”

I replied with a yes.

“My parents are dying to say hello to you. We’ll see you there!”

I was going to meet his parents. So much for a quickie before the show...

I grabbed my things and headed to the theatre. I sat in my seat and started taking notes about the surroundings (yes, I am that student and audience member). I saw Brad come in with his parents and started to hyperventilate. This was not going to end well. It really wasn’t.

He waved and smiled at me. His parents did the same. I refused to move from my seat. How was I going to say hello to them. “Hi, it’s nice to see you. I’m going to ride your son tonight. I hope you enjoy the show!”

Thankfully, the lights dimmed and the show started.

It was a show about vibrators and orgasms.

Now that is a good way to get in the mood.

Intermission hits and I see that my best friend from junior year (we’ll call her Louise) was in the audience with her parents. I ran down and said hi to her parents and asked Louise to go to the bathroom with me.

“Louise, I have something I need to tell you.”

“Okay, go for it.” She was all ears, listening.

“So, I kissed Brad last night...”

Before I could get more out (such as, that we were going to have sex later on in the night), Louise cut me off. “And that’s all you did, right?”

I realized that Louise was not okay with me being with Brad. She wasn’t okay with any part of it and if I told her any more, she would have just about shit a brick.

“Yeah. I just wanted to tell you because it seemed like the right thing to do.”

We headed back in, my secret still held as a secret, and I sat in my assigned seat. I could see Brad with his family. I started really looking at Brad.

He was in a royal blue shirt with a black tie and vest, black jeans, and steel-toe boots. He had styled his red/brown hair to spike up in the front and his beard was trimmed nicely.

If watching a play about vibrators and orgasms didn’t get me going, all of that did.

He turned, as if he knew I was undressing him, and smiled. He motioned for me to come down to a seat next to him.

If his parents weren’t there, I would have. I would have started to get him excited for the night that was to come. If I wasn’t getting graded on a paper in a class, I would have joined him.

Circumstances suck, so I stayed in my assigned seat.

The rest of the play was fantastic and I waited for Louise and Brad. Louise asked if we wanted to go to the tech theatre bar and we agreed.

A quick theatre lesson in terms of bars: technical theatre people and actor theatre people rarely hang out together outside of the theatre realm (unless it’s a good party). There are different comfort levels and conversations which makes the two groups not compatible.

The actor bar (which some techies go to) is dark wood, warm atmosphere, and relatively inexpensive.

The techie bar has karaoke, $2 pitchers of beer, and all of the townies you could ask for.

Neither one is better than the other. It just has to do with where everyone is most comfortable.

Brad said goodbye to his parents and I went home to change. Brad joined and started getting excited.

“Can we agree on something?” I said from my bedroom with the door closed.

“Depends. I’m not running around with a ball gag on.”

“Can we agree to not drink tonight so that we don’t make really stupid mistakes?”

“I wasn’t planning on drinking anyway. I have another lighting call tomorrow morning.”

We drove to his apartment, which was near the bar, and walked our way there.

That’s where things start to get really weird.

We sat with Louise and the other people who decided to head out. Brad kept putting his hand on my leg just out of Louise’s eye sight. As the karaoke started and the drunk townies got louder, Brad couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m going to have a beer. Do you want anything?”

I shook my head and started talking to Louise. I felt my phone buzz but thought nothing of it.

Brad was gone for a long time which started to have me worried. Had he left? Was he bothered?

When Brad did come back, he was shaken up and not quite himself.

“Did you not get my text?”

I shook my head.

“Three townies were trying to hit on me and were slapping my ass. I told them I was here with my girlfriend and they asked where she was. They’re staring at me and I need you to just go with it, okay?”

Now who would say no to that?

He draped his arm around my chair and I put my hand on his leg. I leaned over to tell Louise what the deal was.

That didn’t mean I didn’t feel the eyes burning holes into my skull. Both from Louise and the three townies who were staring at Brad to make sure he wouldn’t mess anything up.

We finally decided to leave the drunken townies and walked our way back to his apartment. All we could talk about was how weird it was at the bar.

He unlocks the door and apologizes for the mess. He runs into his room and moves some things off of his bed. He started to take off his shirt and vest when he noticed I was still in the living room, frozen.

“You can lie down if you want to.”

I blinked.

“Really, it’s okay.”

I crawled onto his bed and sat near the wall. The window was cracked slightly and there was a cool breeze.

He finally barreled into his bed and laid down, shirtless. He was relaxed, calm. Then why was I so nervous?

“What’s on your mind?”

I turned to see him staring at me, concerned. My stomach flipped.

“I’m nervous.”

“We don’t have to do anything we don’t want to do.”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“You’re not going to throw up.” He smirked.

“No. Brad, I’m going to throw up.”

He sat up. “Sit up and breathe. You’re just nervous.”

My stomach flipped again.

I sat up and could feel the room spinning. I hadn’t even had sex yet and my body was rolling.

“Are you actually going to puke or are you just nervous?”

I had to think about that one. I originally was trying to play coy but I actually might have been nervous.

“I don’t really know.”

He laid me down and kissed me.

“Any better?”

I still needed to throw up but it was because of the anticipation of sex.

I kissed back and pushed him on the bed. I straddled his half naked body and bit his neck.

Sweet spot. Check.

He ripped off my dress (I had a hole in it the next morning so unless he has mice, he literally ripped it) and unhooked my bra. I pinned his hands above his head before he could get to my tights.

“Now, I know I can’t get those off if you keep straddling me.”

The best moment of the entire night is about to happen. I went into downward facing dog, balanced on one hand, and stripped my tights off of my legs. I came back down and took them off of my feet. Brad was staring.

“How in the hell did you just do that?”

To be honest, I had no idea.

Here is the part you have been waiting for: the juicy details. Rated R. I promise. Nothing is about to be left out.

He grabbed my ass and stuck his fingers in my pussy.

I hate when guys do that.

Not put fingers inside me but when they go around my body with their arms to do so.

I bit his neck.

He pushed himself off of the bed and had me on my back.

My stomach lurched.

“Brad...”

“You aren’t going to throw up.”

He put his mouth on my clit.

He stopped and looked up at me with a half smirk on his face.

“I always forget you have this pierced.”

Yes, my dear audience members, I have my clitoris hood pierced. And to be very honest, it isn’t as great as everyone thinks. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve found pleasure in the most random daily activities (stairs in particular can be verging orgasmic if I’m doing it right). But guys don’t get how to use it. I have given them a target of where to put their mouth and they always screw it up. Every guy. Every single time. Even Brad.

He continued to use his tongue which wasn’t impressive.

What was? His fingers.

I can’t explain or replicate what Brad did with his fingers. But I can say that it was the closest to orgasming I had come in a while.

He kissed his way back up to my neck. He bit where he had bit the night before.

And then came his penis.

I have seen penises (watching porn will do that. Unless you’re watching lesbians. Which is more of a Thursday night thing but that’s besides the point). I have had sex with a few of them at this point.

I had never seen or felt something this big in my lifetime.

And it slid right into my vagina.

And felt like it was going to rip through my uterus and come up through my belly button.

That was the closest I had come to orgasming during sex in my entire lifetime.

And it was over in easily 20 seconds.

A real life two pump chump.

A few thrusts and he took his goliath schlong out of my vag and collapsed on top of me.

He crawled up next to me after a few moments of heavy breathing and said give me a minute.

I hate that phrase.

Every guy who says give me a minute really means “You’re good, right? That was satisfying for you like it was for me, right? Great. I’m going to fall asleep and pretend you aren’t there.”

I waited a minute. I waited five. I sat up and looked out the window. He was knocked out.

Typical.

Around minute seven, he sluggishly awoke and looked at me.

“I just haven’t done that in a while.”

What? Two pump chump someone and hope it was satisfying for them?

“It’s also from the lack of sleep the last night.”

A plausible reason, at least.

And then he was asleep. Again.

I laid awake most of the night. Trying to figure out what I needed to do next. Do I try to get myself to have a moment of pleasure or do I wait until dawn to see if I’d actually get something out of it?

I waited.

And realized there was no condom involved.

I’m not on any form of birth control. Not because I’m a feminist who thinks it’s the other person’s job to protect themselves. Not because I’m scared to try it.

I don’t have a good reason. I’m just not on it.

And he knew that.

I waited more and watched the sun rise.

An alarm went off around 7:30 AM.

And he was glued to my side and kissing my neck.

Every thought and concern I had had faded and all I wanted was to feel my belly button breaking again.

He got on top of me, pulled down his boxers, and used his goliath schlong again.

This time for about one minute.

It was relatively enjoyable and I hoped this would be the moment. The moment that I orgasm during sex and be able to have the same pleasure as the guy at the exact same time.

And then he slid out and slammed on top of me.

So close.

He looked at the clock and started to get dressed.

“I have another lighting call this morning. I have no idea how long it’ll go but if you want to hang out here for a bit, you can. Just lock the door behind you when you leave.”

What a douche.

“Actually, I’ll just head to my apartment. Catch up on some sleep.”

“Okay. We can talk later.”

And he left.

What a douche.

Three days later...

Brad and I had talked on and off. Our friendship hadn’t really changed.

He asked if I wanted to come over on a Tuesday night to play NHL on Xbox.

I had never played so he wanted to kick my ass.

I got over to his apartment and we played a few games. I won one of those games.

Every game, I creeped closer to him until I was sitting on his lap. I bit his neck.

Check.

He tackled me to the couch and took off my pants. He did his tongue thing (still unsuccessful) and his finger thing (still very successful). And then he did his two pump chump thing. And body slam thing.

And then things got weird.

I assumed I was spending the night. I had even told a professor that I was not going to observe a teaching class so I could have morning sex.

Nope.

I ended up sleeping on a love seat while he slept on the couch.

When I tried to wake him up for some casually good fucking, he told me no.

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep with Brad again for a while.

But I did after graduation.

It was in the thick of summer and we had been talking about needing to fulfill sexual urges.

He came over to my parents house to try to beat me in NHL and ended up sitting behind me with back rubs and head scratches.

And any time any member of my family came in the room, he acted like nothing was happening.

That’s a turn on.

Even if he was a sexual douchebag.

We ended up on the couch. We were watching The Birdcage and my head was in his lap.

My mom came downstairs.

She asked if I had fallen asleep.

In reality, my eyes had rolled so far into the back of my skull that I probably looked possessed.

He said yeah and continued to scratch my scalp.

When I finally did sit up, my curly mop of hair was a frizz bomb.

My parents started making dinner and Brad and I decided to go get food.

“So what is this?”

We hadn’t talked about this being anything. I thought we were flirty friends. Who had had sex.

“I mean, are we okay with doing this again?”

“I don’t see why not.” I sipped my drink.

Play ball.

We sexted back and forth for a week, trying to find the opportune time for crazy monkey sex. He can talk a good game when he wants to. And it made me excited to see if he was actually going to rock my world.

We decided to meet at his parent’s house since they would be at work. I drove for an hour to end up in a walk in closet-sized room. The room was scalding hot and Bob’s Burgers was playing the background.

“You okay?”

“I’m just nervous.”

“We’ve done this before.”

Well...he had a point.

We started making out and I ended up out of my dress. I had even put the effort into matching my bra and underwear.

And then there was a door slam.

He shot up and threw a blanket over me. He went out of his room and held a conversation with someone indiscernible.

When he came back in, I had started to ponder getting dressed again.

“My brother and his girlfriend are going into his room. We’re fine.”

The suspense was gone which turned me off.

It was the usual beginning. Fingers. Tongue.

And then I was on top.

I thought I was going to puke by how far up he was.

We rolled for a while until he pulled me off.

I bit his neck. This was going to be my time to get pleasure that wasn’t from myself.

Then he asked the dumbest question in existence.

“So are you staying long?”

What kind of douche question is that?

I promptly put on my clothes and left.

I waited three days until I offered for him to come to my friend’s house (I was house sitting while they were on vacation).

He agreed.

I had it all planned out.

I was going to be in my best underwear, waiting at the door for him. I would drag him in by his shirt, strip him down, maybe suck his penis, and have crazy sex.

Why would anything work out like that?

I was sitting in my bath tub when he texted me saying he was sitting in my driveway.

Well, shit.

I quickly finished putting myself together and hopped in my car to lead the way to the house.

I went downstairs to check on the cats and he followed.

I was planning on shower sex. I was planning on leaving marks on his neck.

Plans never work.

We had the same ol’ sex we always had.

Except I scratched the shit out of his back and made him bleed.

We walked around my hometown after that and ate Giordanno’s pizza.

He even paid.

The Moral of This Story

Sex with your best friend can be a really interesting thing. As long as you don’t let feelings get in the way, it can be a remarkable thing.

I let feelings get in the way of this one and haven’t talked much with Brad.

He has a girlfriend now; he seems to be happy.

We talk every now and again. It’s usually the same great conversations we always had.

I wish they were more frequent.

I also wish he was more than a two pump chump.

All sarcasm aside, sex with your best friend can sometimes be a good idea. Know where you stand. Let it happen the way it’s going to happen.

It was a good idea for me and I don’t regret it.

A Closing Message to Brad

I really hope you’re happy. You made me happy and that’s all I could ever wish for someone like you.

Especially since you got me the closest to orgasming during foreplay.