It was a year after my best friend from college, Zach, moved East, and a year before I got engaged to Emily. We’d going on a million hiking and camping trips in the Northwest but had always wanted to do a backpacking trip around Europe. I was between jobs, and Zach had accumulated some vacation time, so we said fuck it, why not? We were now in our early 30s, not our heavy-drinking college years, but it would be a blast, staying in hostels, taking night trains, couchsurfing, the whole lot.
Only getting laid wasn’t as easy as we thought it would be. I think we had in our head that all we had to do was show up and magically hot Eastern European women would want to jump in bed with us. Not the case.
It wasn’t even our second night train before Zach and I started moaning about how horned up we were. I was wearing a T-shirt and briefs, Zach just his boxers and it was evident that we were sporting full erections. The amazing thing was we weren’t embarrassed or apologetic. It just felt natural.
Zach broke the spell a little by speaking up. “Glad we could do this trip, bro,” he said softly. Already I was leaning in. Just like I did with a chick on the first date. First a gentlemanly peck, then a full French kiss. Zach kissed back, but between his bristle and the force I knew I wasn’t kissing a girl. It felt new, intense, and great.
I was the first and to my knowledge only dick to penetrate my buddy’s asshole, and for the whole trip I was the one who did the fucking. It seemed to work for both of us, and weirdly for the next three weeks we had an experience I could only describe as romantic. After the trip, we went back to our normal lives, and that was OK too, but I’m glad I could bond with him and discover a new part of me. Of us.
Zach was the best man at my wedding of course, and after the bachelor party I rolled over on my stomach and let him fuck me. I wanted to see what the fuss was about. He kept whimpering and thanking me the whole time he pounded me and as he ejaculated, he grunted my name and told me he loved me.