Roughing It: Straight to Gay First Time
Randy Wood
My best friend forgot his sleeping bag. Now we're sharing a tent, and I can't stop staring.
Our annual camping trip was supposed to be four guys and a long weekend of beer. When our friends bail, it's just me and Brody at a remote lake with zero cell signal and one sleeping bag between us.
Brody's always been touchy. Bear hugs, arm around my shoulders, playful wrestling. I've always written it off as normal guy stuff. But Brody's six-two of solid muscle, and when he pins me against a rock in the lake, chest to chest, I feel things I definitely shouldn't.
I'm straight. I shouldn't want his hands on me. I shouldn't like the way he looks at me when we're alone. And I definitely shouldn't be thinking about what happens when he puts his hand on my thigh and asks if I want him to stop.
I say no.
