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Paul & Jacob part 1

by rightone

Chapter 1

Paul & Jacob.  Warning:  This story involves a straight man, a gay man, some very enjoyable weed, and experimentation beyond the straight man’s dreams or comprehension.  I’ll attempt to take you along with me in this journey.  It’s my first time writing and would love constructive criticism.  This story is not complete, merely part one.  With that out of the way, let’s begin….

 

“Hey Paul,” Jacob said to me from across Starbuck’s dining area.  It was 2 pm so the coffee joint was not a happening place.  The tables were empty, the store was quiet, and the smell was that delicious coffee aroma that always made me smile.  I could hear Jacob clearly from my table in the back corner where I had a full view of the place and more importantly, the baristas.  There was a hot number wiping down tables, not at all interested in doing actual work.  She just kept taking the wet rag and moving it in small circles on the square tables, going ever so slowly to draw out the activity.  She did not want to return to work anymore than anyone else.  Today was a day for relaxing, not caring about dirty tables or filling drink orders or acknowledging distractions.  I could see the water pattern left behind on the table as she moved her rag.  The juxtaposition of the spiraling water marks around the square tables was indeed mesmerizing.  I couldn’t help myself from staring, the spirals were pulling me in as she went around and around and around…

 

“Dude.”  

 

“Oh hey, sorry Jacob.”  

 

“You look like you were off in some other world there bud.”  

 

“Hah, no, just enjoying the view,” I said, nodding in the direction of the slow moving but gorgeous barista cleaning tables.  Her green apron with the tell tale mermaid logo fit perfectly around her small, curvy body.  It moved in conjunction with her, bending as she bent to pick up trash, stretching as she stretched to reach across the table.  When she leaned in just the right way, her white button down shirt open up just enough to show her cleavage.  Two perfectly sized breasts peeked back at me, her skin unblemished by age or stress.  What I wouldn’t given to be running my hand down her blouse right now, cupping those two mounds of flesh, squeezing them gently as I stood behind her.  My arms wrapped around her to hold her close to my own body, my lips moving down past her ears to her neck, planting gentle kisses as I massaged her tits, my cock growing hard against the crack of her ass, anticipating the fun we were about to have.

 

“Hah yes, she’s hot,” Jacob regarded, though clearly he was not interested.  He never was and never would be.  I’ve known Jacob my whole life, since we were kids.  Best friends the entire time.  Women just aren’t his thing, never were, never would be.  No big deal in my book, less competition for the hotties when your best friend was gay.  And as far as wing men are concerned, you couldn’t get a better one than a man who’s not interested in the prize.  Women flocked to him because of his good looks, what with the short cropped sandy hair, bright blue eyes, and crooked smile.  He had a decent body that women appreciated for its casual effortlessness.  He not into gyms, but enjoys outdoor activities like running, biking, swimming, and rock climbing.  It showed where it needed to and I could appreciate that.  I played soccer my entire life, so I was not unfamiliar with the gym.  It’s given me these huge calves that everyone notices (including myself in the mirror), giant quads that stretch my pants to the limits, and frankly, a great ass.  I am not ashamed to say that my ass is one of my best features.  I can fill a pair of pants like none other and I made sure others knew it.  No oversized shirts for me, I wore clothes that complimented my body and highlighted it for the world.  Jacob knows this and I know that he knows it.  I’ve caught him staring.  I can’t really blame him.  Besides, I’m comfortable in my sexuality.  There’s no reason to be insulted by a guy checking me out.  Fact is, I’ve been checking out this hot chick for the past hour while I’ve been waiting.  

 

Jacob will help.  He’ll saunter on up to the waitress and invite her to sit at our table.  She might hedge at first, but Jacob will compliment her nails or earrings, something gay guys notice but straight men could care less about.  He might make a small joke and she’ll start to giggle.  She’ll recognize him for the gay man he is and assume we’re a couple.  That’s happened so many times, I’ve stopped counting.  Whatever works though because she’ll come over and sit down.  We’ll start talking about anything random, like the weather or weekend plans or how pretentious Starbucks patrons are and just how unaware of that fact they seem to be.  She’ll laugh, I’ll laugh, Jacob’ll laugh.  Then Jacob will mention, every so slightly, how he needs to go meet his boyfriend and leave the table.  She’ll look at me confused, “are you guys in a threesome or something?”

 

“Oh no,” I’ll brush off.  “He’s my brother for life but I’m straight.”

 

“You’d be so cute together though!”  I’ve heard this so many times too and yes, of course we would be.  I just enjoy the company of ladies and he’s not one.

 

That’s when she’ll realize how fortunate it is that I am straight.  She was disarmed when she thought I was gay.  She allowed herself to enjoy the sights.  She’s roamed her eyes all over me and imagined all the things she would do to my body.  At first she thought I was hands off and how disappointing that was because she liked what she saw.  But now... now she has an opportunity and that’s when I’ll strike.

 

“Wanna go back to my place?”

 

“Huh, what?”  Jacob brought me out of my day dream just now.  The waitress had moved on.  More than moved on, she left the building.  Her shift must be over because out the door she went while I was staring, unable to take my eyes away.  Here I was, in my own little world and she’s off to anything but my place.  Man, I was definitely loopy.  I feel like I keep coming in and out of my own head.

 

“Do you want to go to my place?  I picked up some fresh weed.  We can smoke a bowl and relax.”  Straight guys smoke in junior high and high school.  We do it because our friends are doing it, and we do it stupidly.  We take whatever is offered without the care for quality or quantity.  Smoke to get high, smoke to get higher, smoke to keep going up… up… up…  We don’t have the secret of being gay on our shoulders to keep us down and out, constantly aware of our bodies and actions for fear of being outed.  Gay guys wait until after they come out to smoke.  Once their secret is set free, then they start to enjoy the finer things in life.  No garbage weed for them.  With their disposable incomes, it’s only the finest.  I can trust Jacob to make sure I have a good time with whatever he’s picked up.

 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

 

 

 


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