We talked about kids we knew and which courses we were taking. She thanked me for the ride, told Sid it was nice meeting him, and got out of the car.On the way home, we wondered how Marie was planning to get home if we hadn't stopped by the pond. Did she make a habit of asking guys she barely knew for rides home? Danny had described her as hot. Why had he stopped seeing her?That was Friday night. I waited until the following Wednesday to call her. She accepted my offer for a date, without asking what we would be doing, which was a good thing because I hadn't thought that far ahead. She made sure I remembered where she lived, and agreed to be ready at seven-thirty.Now to take care of a couple of loose ends:First, I went to see Danny. This wasn't something you trusted to a telephone conversation; I needed to look him in the eye to get his reaction. I told him about meeting Marie at the pond and taking her home. I didn't tell him that I'd been unable to get her out of my mind, or that I. He didn’t need much encouragement. It only started to really freak me out when I could feel him hard through his boxers. I pushed him back, panting slightly, and walked away from him to the other side of the room with my hand on my forehead. “What the fuck,” I moaned. It was embarrassingly close to a whimper. “That turned you on?” He didn’t answer and instead collapsed onto the bed on his back. Turning his head to look at me upside down he gestured towards me and said, “Oh like I’m the only one.” I looked down at my waist and noticed I was probably harder than he was. “Ha!” I shouted, throwing my head back. “I’m a fag! I’m a fucking fag.” “I guess we fucked,” he sighed, throwing a bit of the blanket over his face. The way he was stretched out across the bed, arms over his head, gave me a perfect view of him. He had more muscle mass than I did without looking beefy at all, which was nice. The longer I was exposed to his abdomen, the more fascinated it made me. As my eyes washed.
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