Carl Be Mine, My Special Valentine

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This is a Valentine’s Day contest story. Please vote.


A man asks his best friend to be his Valentine

I poured myself a glass of wine and sat nervously on the couch to survey all that I had done. Nearly up all night, I had all the Valentine’s Day gifts on the coffee table staged, as if they were ready to wrap. Suddenly, knowing he’d be home any minute, I was feeling sick to my stomach with dread, anticipation, and excitement.

I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I couldn’t. I tossed and turned all night long with worry wondering if I should I go through with this or not. I was a nervous wreck with all the what ifs. The wine helped to relax me some, but the alcohol went right to my head and making me feel a bit too relaxed, sleepy, actually. I couldn’t stop yawning.

I knew it was a bold move on my part, but I needed to know one way or the other, if my best friend, Carl, would ever be my lover. I chickened out telling him how I really felt about him over the holidays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve, especially New Year’s Eve. When they dropped the ball at midnight, I so wanted to kiss him. I so wanted to stick my tongue in his mouth. Only, I wasn’t drunk enough to do that. Had I been, I could have used my drunkenness as my excuse, should he be angry with me for kissing him. Then, caught up in the festive mood of love and romance on Valentine’s Day, with feelings that it was now or never, what was a good idea at the time, suddenly soured with my stomach.

I had fun at the card store picking him out a special Valentine’s card. Going to the liquor store to buy him a case of his favorite beer was my treat that I would have done, even if it wasn’t Valentine’s Day. Now that I think more about it, buying him a dozen, red roses at the florist, may have been a bit over the top but, certainly, going to the sports arena to pickup two tickets left there for me for the basketball game was something he’d enjoy. At the very least, I hope he’d take me to the game with him.

Now, that I spent all this money, went through all this trouble, and lost an night’s sleeping worrying, I felt foolish. If I didn’t expect him home so soon, I’d take a nap. The wine was making me sleepy. Only, I’m so tired and wired wondering about his reaction that I can’t sleep, not now anyway. Maybe later, after he comes home.

Then, wide awake again with panicked worry, I thought, what if he’s not gay? Chances are and with my luck, he’s not. I suspect he’s gay, but what if he’s not? What if he is gay but isn’t ready to come out of the closet? What if he is gay but not interested in me enough to have a romantic relationship? Friends and roommates with him for three years, I should know if he’s gay or not, but I don’t. Sometimes, my gay radar goes off and other times it doesn’t. He always leaves me scratching my head and wondering. Always, I find myself looking at him sideways over one thing he did or another thing he said. Is he or isn’t he gay? It’s about time that I know.

I noticed that the florist gave me 13 roses instead of twelve. That’s weird. I wondered if he just miscounted or if that’s something new they do for Valentine’s Day to justify their doubling the price of roses for the holiday. It would be funny if the florist was putting the make on me but, too preoccupied over Carl, I didn’t even notice. He was kind of cute, that is, for an older man. Notwithstanding the florist giving me an extra rose, whether or not he was putting the make on me, Carl is the man that I want.

I pulled the extra rose from the vase and slowly peeled off the petals, one at a time. If for no other reason, I figured, it would look romantic if there were rose petals all over the coffee table.

“He loves me. He loves me not. He hates me. He is not gay. He loves me. He loves me not. I’m an idiot. I’m a fool. I’m a moron. He loves me. He loves me not. He hates me. He is not gay.”

I don’t know which is worse, him not being gay, or him being gay and in love with another, or me making a complete fool of myself. I think him not being gay would hurt less, that is, so long as he doesn’t beat the crap out of me for hoping he’d be my Valentine. Only, instead of wasting any more of my hopes for a sexual relationship and emotions on him as a potential boyfriend, I needed to know, at the very least, for once and for all, if he was gay. Then, if he’s gay, is he interested in me, as a boyfriend and a lover. There was no better day than Valentine’s Day to finally learn the truth about him.

He knows I’m gay. My sexual orientation has never been in doubt and has never been a secret. Matter of fact, he takes pleasure in always teasing me about being gay, which is another reason why I believe he may be gay, too, but still hiding in the closet. He’s hard to read. Sometimes he acts so gay and other times, he doesn’t.

I’ve never been in the closet about being gay. I’m proud to be a gay man. I like being gay. Being gay suits me. What he doesn’t know, at least I don’t think he Anadolu Yakası Escort knows, is that I’ve been in love with him, since the seventh grade.

I know he likes women but the fact that he doesn’t have a woman in his life now and the fact that he’s never maintained a relationship longer than just a few dates makes me wonder if he’s still hiding in the closet. Maybe he doesn’t want to be gay and just hides the fact that he is gay. I’ve seen some signs of him being gay. Without doubt, one gay man can always tell another gay man. Only with him, maybe because I’m biased and too hopeful, maybe because, I’m too close to him and have known him nearly all my life, I’m still not sure. Maybe it’s my imagination, maybe it’s just wishful desire on my part, but he looks at me funny sometimes, as if he wants to kiss me. Without doubt, I want to kiss him and I would if I could, that is, if I thought he wouldn’t punch me in the nose.

He loves watching chick flicks and, sometimes, he cries. He doesn’t want me to see him crying, so he leans away from me with his hand over his face. Another thing that makes me suspect that he may be gay is that he loves Cher. Okay, I know that’s not really a sign of being gay. A lot of people like Cher, but most guys don’t love Cher enough to buy tickets to see her and he did twice, not to mention that he has all her CD’s, listens to them all the time, and knows a lot of the words. When he doesn’t know I can hear, he sings along with her. C’mon, seriously. That’s gay. Oh and he loves watching all those home shows on HGTV. He has a talent for interior design and an eye for color.

I don’t know, maybe just the fantasy of him being in love with me is enough for me to take away to imagine a sexual fantasy, which is what I end up doing all the time anyway. Looking at all the Valentine’s gifts on the coffee table, there’s really nothing that I bought him for Valentine’s Day that’s really out of line. Okay, maybe the flowers and the Valentine’s Day card could be considered crossing the line of our man friendship, but surely not the beer and the basketball tickets. There’s no sexual conflict in buying him those. Actually, I got the basketball tickets for free. Then, again, it may be a little awkward if he didn’t buy me anything, which he probably didn’t. Suddenly, feeling a little like Felix and with him acting so much like an insensitive Oscar, it was torture not knowing if he was gay or straight and if he was interested in me as a boyfriend or not.

Yet, even though I can justify me wanting to reveal my feelings for him in my mind, even though I’m hoping to pull him out of his self-imposed closet, I still can’t help feeling foolish. I know, just as he’s not gay, he’s not going to have a gift for me, not even a Valentine’s Day card, which would have been nice. I can’t help but already feel slighted and hurt. Yet, it’s always better to give than to receive. I just hope I don’t ruin our friendship with all that I’m giving him.

“Stop! Just stop,” I said out loud.

I’m driving myself crazy with all this back and forth speculation. Is he gay? Is he straight? Does he like me in a sexual way? Would he ever be my boyfriend? Enough. I just needed to close my eyes and relax. Calm yourself. Think good thoughts. It is what it is. Whatever will be will be. Just relax. Breathe. I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself with some deep breathing.

Then, I heard his car. He’s home. Shit. Oh, my God. This is it. It’s now or never. Feeling as if I had done something dreadfully wrong, suddenly, I was sick to my stomach, all over again.

“Anthony! Anthony! Guess what?” He opened the door talking to me, as if I was out there in the hall. He sounded so excited, until he looked at all the stuff on the coffee table. “What’s all this?”

“It’s your Valentine’s Day surprise, silly.”

Okay, maybe in hindsight I shouldn’t have said silly. That just sounded so gay, too gay, and with me trying to ease him out of the closet into a homosexual relationship, I didn’t want to scare him off in him thinking that he must act as effeminate as I am to be a gay man and to be my boyfriend. He doesn’t need to be as gay as me. One woman in the relationship is enough. Besides I like the fact that he’s so butch and so macho. I prefer him playing more the male role, which is what I love about him. He’s such a man’s man.

“Alright! Way to go! You bought me my favorite beer. Thanks, Anthony. You’re a real pal,” he said ignoring the card and the flowers with his eyes focusing just on the beer. Then, he saw the tickets. “Tickets to see the Celtics play Miami Heat and LeBron James. Are these for me, too?”

“Everything here is for you, Carl,” including me, I so wanted to say but I bit my tongue.

“Are you kidding me? Wow! Way to go! Way to go! Holy shit! Floor seats? Are you kidding me? How’d you score these? The only seats I ever get are in the nose bleed section.”

“I didn’t want to tell you this, but the owner Acıbadem Escort of the Celtics, Stephen Pagliuca, is a distant cousin on my Mom’s side.”

“No way! I didn’t know that? You never told me that. If I knew you had an in with the Boston Celtics, I’d be hitting you up for tickets all the time.”

“Which is why I didn’t tell you, Carl,” I said with a laugh.

“Roses? What gay guy gave you roses?” He looked from the flowers to me.

“The roses are for you,” I said picking the Valentine’s Day card off the table and handing it to him. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” I said standing up and giving him a peck on the lips.

“Hey, easy there, Anthony. Eww,” he said pushing me away with his big hand against my chest. “Thanks for the beer and the Celtic tickets, but I’m not gay.”

“I know,” I said, “but a guy can hope, can’t he? It would be great if you were gay,” I said, as if saying it to myself.

“What did you say?”

“I said Sunday will be a great day to watch the Celtics play, that is, if you’re taking me with you to see the game.”

Why am I afraid to just come out with it? Why can’t I just ask him if he’s gay. Judging by the kiss that I just gave him and that he wiped away, he’s not gay. Now I really feel dumb.

“Of course, I’m taking you,” he said. “You’re my best bud, especially now that you have an in with the Celtics,” he said with a laugh. “Wanna beer?”

“Those aren’t cold,” I said.

“I know, I have some in the fridge,” he said grabbing a couple out of the fridge and opening one, he set the other down on the table in front of him.

“Nah, I’m drinking my wine,” I said reaching down to pick up my glass and take a sip, while remembering what it felt like to kiss him on the lips.

Even though he didn’t, I wanted to think that he kissed me back. Yet, he didn’t turn away when I kissed him, a good sign. And he didn’t wipe his lips with the back of his hand, another good sign. Maybe, just maybe, I don’t know. What if I got him drunk? That’s easy enough to do. I could take advantage of him. Only, I’d have Hell to pay if I pissed him off. He’d beat the crap out of me and I’d ruin our friendship. I’d have to give more thought on how to seduce him.

“Thanks for buying me all these Valentine gifts,” he said.

“It would have been nice if you remembered me with a Valentine’s Day card,” I said nervously guzzling my wine.

I couldn’t believe I said that and had I not had two glasses of wine, I wouldn’t have said that.

“Sorry,” he said. “What if, as my Valentine’s Day gift to you, I had you blow me.”

The wine that I had in my mouth exploded all over my shirt and pants and I looked at him, as if I had imagined him saying that.

“Sorry, Carl, but did you just say that as your Valentine’s Day gift to me is for me to blow you?”

“I did,” he said unbuttoning his top button, unbuckling his belt, and unzipping his pants. Then, he pulled out his cock. He already had a partial erection.

It bothered me that he’d think that I’d just blow him, with no strings attached. Certainly, I’m not that easy. I have more respect for myself than that. I have more pride than that to be used like that. I’m not a toy to be taken out, as a woman would take a vibrator or a dildo out of her nightstand table drawer and pleasure herself.

I’m a proud gay man. I think more of myself than just to fall to my knees and suck my best friend’s cock, just because he’s making light of the fact that I’m gay and teasing me by telling me that I can blow him, as my special gift for Valentine’s Day. Yeah, well, you can blow me, as my special gift for Valentine’s Day. How about that? Huh?

He made me feel bad. He made me feel cheap. Emotionally drained after all the consternation that I had about wondering if he was gay or not, I felt so used.

“Okay,” I said.

I fell to my knees in front him and started stroking his cock, before putting it in m mouth. Even though we’ve lived together for three years, even though I’ve known him nearly all my life, this was the first I’ve been so close to his cock. Immediately I made him hard with my hand.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, Anthony. Just because I’m allowing you to blow me doesn’t mean that I’m gay. I just felt bad that, after you bought me all those gifts, I didn’t buy you anything.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I know you’re not gay.”

I stayed like that on my knees, while stroking him and looking up at him.


“It’s just that I’ve never blown anyone without kissing them, French kissing them, first. I need that to get me in the mood and excited enough to blow you.”

“Okay, but I swear, if you tell anyone I kissed you, I’ll beat the crap out of you.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

I got up and sat beside him. Still holding onto his cock and slowly stroking him, I kissed him. It was a little kiss at first, until he allowed me to part his lips with my tongue. Finally, I was kissing Carl. The first Ataşehir Escort kiss was just an exploratory one, to see how far he’d let me go, but the second one was a big, wet kiss.

“You know, when I close my eyes,” he said, “I could have been kissing a woman. Do it again. I just want to see.” I kissed him again and again and just as I was getting ready to make out with him, he put a hand to my chest. “Okay, that’s enough kissing. You can blow me now.”

“Do you mind?” I unbuckled, unbuttoned, unzipped, and removed my pants and underwear. “I need to play with myself, while blowing you.”

“So long as you don’t touch me with that thing, I don’t mind,” he said staring at my erection.

I couldn’t believe he was staring at my cock. Tell me that’s not a sign he’s gay. I couldn’t believe he was allowing me to blow him. Definitely, he’s gay, but still in the closet. After the kiss he gave me, I knew he was gay but just refusing to leave the closet. I needed to slowly pull him from out of his hiding spot.

I was determined to give him the best blowjob that I’ve ever given anyone and it was easy for me to do that, since I was so in love with him. I took him in my mouth and started sucking his big cock, while stroking him. Oh, my God, I was blowing Carl. I was really sucking his cock. Finally, after all these years, I was blowing Carl. Now, if only he’d fuck me up the ass. One step at a time, baby steps. Maybe, since I already have my cock out and ready, after I blow him, something just between friends, he’ll agree to giving me a hand job.

I watched him open another beer. That’s right Carl, have another beer and maybe you’ll be drunk enough to blow me and to fuck me, after I finish blowing you. I continued sucking his cock. He was growing harder in my mouth and I knew he was enjoying me giving him a suck job, as much as I was enjoying blowing him. God, he’s got such a big prick, much bigger than mine. I can’t wait until he sticks that monster up my ass.

Faster and faster, I stroked his cock while sucking him and cupping his balls. I so wanted him to cum in my mouth. Hoping he’d kiss me again, as my thanks for blowing him, I couldn’t wait to sit next to him on the couch again. I’d give anything if he just put his big hand on my cock. Just touch me, that’s all. That’s all that I need to masturbate over all of this later.

I could feel him getting ready to cum. His cock was pulsating. Then, I felt his big hand lightly touch the back of my head. That’s right, Carl, fuck my face. I opened my eyes and watching his hips humping my mouth. He wanted to cum. He was so ready to cum. I was really blowing him now.

“Oh, my God, Anthony. Blow me, baby. That’s right. Suck my cock. Suck it,” he said while pushing my head down against his prick with more force and making his cock penetrate my mouth deeper.

Then, he exploded. He had so much cum and I swallowed ever drop. Quickly, while he was still dazed in the afterglow of just having sex, his first blowjob from a man, no doubt, I joined him on the couch.

“How was that?” I leaned into him and kissed him. My cock was resting against his hand and knowing that he could taste himself on my tongue, he surprised me by returning my kiss. We French kissed again and again and I felt his fingers lightly touching my cock, until I felt him gently take my cock in his hand and hold it ever so loosely. Then, he grabbed it more firmly, before he slowly started stroking me. Carl was giving me a hand job. I couldn’t believe it.

I didn’t dare say a word. I didn’t want spook him. I just watched him stroking my prick. His eyes were closed, as if he was about to fall asleep, but when he opened them, he never removed his eyes from my cock. He was staring at my dick.

“What’s it feel like?”

“What? What does what feel like?”

“To suck a cock.”

I so wanted to say, try it, but I didn’t.

“I love it,” I said. “I loved sucking you off.”

“I mean, does it get you excited to blow me.”


“Yeah, of course, only it makes me want to be blown, too,” I said, hinting that I wished to God he’d blow me.

“Sorry, but I’m not gay, Anthony.”

Not gay my ass. After kissing me the way you did, allowing me to blow you, and now sitting here stroking my cock, you’re gay. There’s no ands, ifs, or maybes, you are a gay man.

“You don’t have to be gay to have sucked a cock, Carl.”

“You don’t?”

“Nah, straight guys suck cocks all the time, especially in prison and when away at sea for a long time, before they had women onboard. They’re not gay and just sucking one cock doesn’t make them gay.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to Jerry Springer. He said if you suck a cock you’re gay.”

“You can’t go by Jerry Springer, Carl. He just says things, stupid things, for ratings.”

“I don’t know, I’m curious to know what a cock feels like in my mouth. I’d like to try sucking a cock and if I’d do it with anyone, I’d do it with you,” he said leaning over and kissing me again.

This kiss was different. He blanked my mind. Oh, my God, what a kiss he just gave me. Instead of me kissing him, he actually kissed me, really kissed me. This was my first kiss, really, received from Carl.

“I don’t mind if you blow me, Carl.”

“Seriously? Are you sure?”

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