Warning: Somewhat nonconsensual m/m sexual activity
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I wasn't even stoned that night. Oh sure, I was drunk, but I
wasn't flying too high. Joe probably thought I was as coked up as
he was, but that's the way Joe is. Was. Always was. He
saw what he wanted to see, when he wasn't busy seeing more than he should.
Cryptic enough for you? Yeah, well, nobody could possibly explain
Joe Dick, least of all Joe himself. I knew that man for 22 years,
closer than a brother, but I don't claim to understand him.
But this is supposed to be about That Night, isn't it? That Night that changed everything. That fucking Night.
So I'd been drinking whiskey all night, and the mellow feeling from that offset the adrenaline rush I got from being on stage. It had been a great show. The band was like a well-oiled machine, and the crowd was pumped up and wild--just the way we liked it.
There were at least two dozen girls in the club I could have fucked that night, but I went back to the hotel alone. Just didn't feel like being with a bunch of people who didn't know me and I would never see again. By that point, there had already been too many strangers in my life and I was getting tired. Tired of all the bullshit. Not tired of playing music though, never that.
Whatever the reason, I went back to my hotel room. Hot and sweaty from the gig, I stripped off my shirt and t-shirt, but left my jeans on. I figured I'd go take a shower later, but first I turned on the TV and sacked out on the bed. One of those old black and white horror pictures was on the late show and that's what I was watching when Joe showed up.
He walked in like he owned the place. I've been accused of having Attitude-with-a-capital-A, but that's nothing to what Joe... just radiated. He seethed and crackled with it. He walked into a room and established it as his.
Joe walked in, helped himself to one of my cigarettes, then sat on the bed next to me. He asked what I was watching and we talked about the movie for minute or two. Nothing profound, just shooting the breeze, like always.
Joe was reaching across me to put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the nightstand when he just stopped. Leaning across me, his chest against mine, he just stopped and looked at me. He looked me straight in the eye and said, "Billy."
That was it...just "Billy". Kinda quiet, not teasing or taunting like I might have expected. He just said my name. Then he crushed out his cigarette and went back to sitting on his side of the bed. I didn't say anything. What response do you make when a word is not even a question? I just glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, and then settled back into the pillows to watch the movie.
At some point after the swamp monster dragged his third maiden away from the village, I dozed off. Hey, it was late, I was tired, and I was in bed. Not too surprising, is it? Anyway, I was having an incredible dream about a woman with long curly hair. Maybe it was Mary, but I was never sure. Whoever she was, she was hot and sensual and going down on me with incredible skill. It felt so real. You know those dreams where you think you wake up, but you're really still dreaming, and it feels so real that you're sure that you're awake until something freaky happens?
That's what it was like to wake up to find Joe with his mouth on my dick doing a damn fine impression of a vacuum cleaner. I stared at him in shock--he was really good, but I had never had a guy do that before. Lotsa girls had sucked me off, but never another man. I'm ashamed to admit I *yelped*. Not a cool response, but it was the first thing out of my mouth. I kept staring at him like I had never seen him before.
Joe looked up at me with a wet-lipped smirk, but his eyes--those damned blue eyes that cut into my soul-- were serious when he said, "Come on Billy. It's all right."
"Joe, what are you doing?" I finally found my voice, and this was the best I could come up with? Well, I guess it was better than stating the fucking obvious which was what I almost did, 'You're sucking my dick, you cocksucker.' But instead, I asked again and left it to Joe to state the obvious. "What the FUCK are you doing?"
"It's all right, Billy. Just let me." Then he started pulling my pants down.
I think I muttered, "No, no." But Joe, as usual, didn't listen and continued with what he was doing, which was stripping me naked. And I let him. I said no, but I let him do it anyway.
I guess I should mention that I was hard as a rock at this point. My cock was unaware of how crazy and fucked-up the situation really was I guess. My brain was protesting everything that was happening, while my body wanted more, more of his mouth, more of everything.
Joe got my jeans completely off and sat back on his heels just watching me, and I'm shaking my head wondering what the fuck is wrong with him. And he lunged forward and went down on me again. He was deep-throating me like a fifty-dollar hooker, and all I could do was arch off the bed and try not to scream. Yeah, it was that good, even if I was weirded out by the whole scene.
I was close to coming when Joe pulled off me and stuck his fingers in his mouth. I didn't have time to wonder what he was doing. He pulled a finger out of his mouth and worked it into my ass. His other hand was working on getting his own pants open and I knew what's coming next. I mighta been a virgin of sorts, but I've never been stupid.
"Joe! No, no. Don't do this, man." I was saying no, but I wasn't fighting him off. Sure, Joe was bigger than I am, but I'm strong for my size and he was not in peak condition at that moment. I could have kicked him right off the bed. I think I could have, but I don't know because I didn't really try.
He didn't say anything as he worked his jeans down to his knees and started rubbing his cock with his spit and my pre-ejaculate. He was silently getting himself ready to fuck me and all I could do was lie there and say "Joe, don't do this."
I closed my eyes when he shoved my legs apart, and then he was there, sliding his cock inside me. He wasn't particularly rough, but it hurt anyway, at first. I let out a little groan, but I tried not to make any noise. Couldn't have anyone outside thinking there's a couple of fags in there, goin' at it, I guess.
His sweat was dripping on me, mixing with my own, as he lifted my legs up on his arms, getting better leverage. He slipped one hand around and grabbed my dick, jacking it as he's thrusting into me. I bit my lip hard enough to bleed and nearly passed out as I came on my belly.
He kept shoving into me, feeling bigger by the second. And then he yelled so loud that I know people three doors down must have heard him. He grinned up at me as he pulled out and said, "Damn, Billy. That was fucking fantastic."
And then he pulled his clothes together, and stumbled out to his own room next door.
I was numb until I took a shower, then I felt betrayed. Betrayed by my best friend and betrayed by my own body. Joe knew it and that's why we fought so much the next day.
The band broke up and I left Canada, but he was still my friend and I still loved him. I miss him every day of my life, and I probably always will.
And he never even kissed me.