Hidden Desires

Chapter Three

Levi

Stupid guy at the stupid sex club kissing me. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I told him to kiss me, too. What the fuck? I was not gay. I liked women, only been with women, and I'd end up with a woman too.

You couldn't live your life, have that happy family dream with a man. It just wasn't possible. I mean, you see it everywhere, but it felt weird changing myself right now.

I was twenty-three years old. I wasn't allowed to all of a sudden change my sexual preference. It just didn't make sense. I was a man. Men liked women. Right?

It's not that I was homophobic because I couldn't care who you hooked up with, but the idea that I was suddenly into guys was scaring me. It scared me to remember how much I wanted it, wanted him.

I've never been kissed like that before, so wantonly, so desperately, with such greed and lust that it clouded every thought in my mind. I'd never been touched by a man before, and he knew how to touch me, speak to me, and dominate the entire situation.

It was hot. I got home with blue balls, and whenever I tried thinking about anything but him, I couldn't get off. The only way I reached my orgasm was by imagining how he touched, kissed, and spoke to me.

It was crazy how long I've gone without masturbation because nothing got me going. I thought my dick was broken, and at my age, I was seriously considering going to the doctor. Then this man, this handsome and very strong man, waltzes into my life, and I'm hooked.

So fucking hooked by his eyes, his face, his voice, his touch, and the immense power and sex that radiates off of him. I didn't even get his name. I didn't even think to ask him for his. He knew my name.

I wonder if he touched himself thinking of me or moaned my name as his cum erupted out of him. I wonder how it would feel if I were to let him touch me. If he were to get on his knees before me and suck, lick, and taste me.

This man speedily and irritatingly was the only thing I'd been thinking about for the past few nights. I was frustrated and cranky and too embarrassed to tell Vanessa about him. She wouldn't judge; I knew she wouldn't even care.

She'd support me, but the saying it out loud part freaked me out. If I were to admit that I liked kissing him and thought about him late at night, didn't that make me gay?

I remember how he spoke about how labels didn't matter when you were drawn to a person, but they mattered to me. They mattered because society forced us to look, point, judge, and ridicule.

There was a knock on my bedroom door, and then Vanessa barged in.

"Spill it."

"Excuse me?" I put my schoolbooks away and sat up on my bed. "Spill what?"

"Whatever the fuck you've been thinking about since we left that club."

"It's none of your business."

"Levi, we're friends. I wouldn't care or judge what you tell me, and I'd take it to the grave if you asked me to. You've been off, and I saw you at baseball practice while waiting for you. You fucked sucked."

"Thanks," I muttered. "Fine, you're right. I'm off."

She sat on my bed and gave me a soft smile. "You can tell me anything."

"I don't even know how to say it. I...I was having a drink, and then this guy showed up. He takes me to this room with double-sided mirrors."

"Graham took me to one of those rooms, too. We watched three guys mount and fuck this girl." She said casually. "So what?"