The Way It Used To Be - Blake & Ben (Part 11) - Sex Stories

The Way It Used To Be - Blake & Ben (Part 11)

... can't say no to him. I reply: "You just had to hit me with that low blow, didn't you? ;) You know I'll do anything for you. What time?" Blake replies: "Be here at sex... I mean six. ;)" I smile at the obvious "typo" and reply: "I'll be there... with bells on. Or should I just show up like this..." I then take a picture of myself in the mirror of my dresser. I'm standing there, in my boxer-briefs. My hair still a little damp from the shower, tasseled to the left, messy. With my free hand, I'm grabbing my crotch. I attach the picture to the text and hit send. Blake replies: "Damn it. You can't do that to me. Fuck..." I send back a winky emoji with a tongue hanging out. I continue to stare at the phone, expecting him to reply again. After 30 seconds go by, it's apparent that he's done texting for the moment. I toss the phone back on my bed and turn my attention back to my dresser drawers. Well, if I'm going to his house to have dinner with his family, I should at least attempt to dress accordingly. I pull out a pair of dark tan khaki pants and a dark blue Ralph Lauren polo shirt. I toss them at the bed and stare down at my selection. "Oh, the things I do for my sweet boy..." I say on an exhale. Blake Abel Foster The smell of mom’s delicious lasagna begins to waft into the living room just as I come down the stairs and plop down onto the couch. I decided to change into a pair of dark tan khaki cargo shorts for the quote, “occasion.” That - and the fact that it’s easier to hide ...

... an erection if and when Ben does something to get me aroused. That dickhead. Always giving me awkward boners, no matter where we are. But, I still love him. I check the time on my phone to see the time switch from 5:59 to 6:00. As it switches, the doorbell rings. My attention shoots to the door. I start to get up; but, dad is halfway through the living room, making a b-line to the door. Let the awkwardness begin in 3... 2... Dad opens the door. Ben is standing there in a dark blue polo shirt and khaki pants, holding a… bouquet of flowers? The fuck? My father greets him, I’m unable to make out what is said, due to the volume of the TV. I don’t see Ben’s mouth move, he only nods. Dad motions for him to come inside. Ben walks through the threshold and awkwardly fast walks over to me on the couch, apparently trying to get away from my father. He stands in front of me. My eyes, instinctively, find his crotch. I shake the thought from my head and tell myself to calm the fuck down. I then divert my attention to the bouquet of flowers Ben is still holding. My right eyebrow raises, quizzically… “Um, you shouldn’t have?” I say, reaching for the flowers. Ben jerks them back away from me. “They’re for your mom, douche nozzle,” he says, smirking at me. Just then, my mother walks into the living room. “Oh, I thought I heard the doorbell,” she says. “Well, Ben! Don’t you look handsome!” He walks towards my mother and hands her the flowers, again, awkwardly. Come on, babe. Pull it together. ...