My [m30] best friend & former bull [m29] teases me [cuck’s perspective]

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I splashed some water on my face and tried to get the image out of my mind.

Text here. Visuals inside.
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I couldn't, though. His cock had looked like a thick German sausage with the fabric of the wet swimsuit clinging to it.

He just stood there with his hands on his hips, displaying it like he wanted me to say something.

Suddenly the bathroom door slammed open. I jumped. Joey stood in the doorway, still wet, his long blond hair and shaggy beard still dripping onto his belly. His eyes were on his phone — he was texting — but he looked at me when I yelped.

"Oh damn, dude," he said. "Sorry." He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, cutting off the sounds of his girlfriend and mine splashing and laughing in the pool. His eyes went back to the phone, which he held in both hands. His thumbs tap-tap-tapped the screen.

"It's cool," I muttered. I looked back at my reflection in the mirror.

He couldn't wait for one minute until I was done?

Then Joey said, "Dude — help me out."

I turned. He was standing in front of the toilet, still tapping away on his phone, eyes glued to the screen.

"Help you out with what?"

He nodded vaguely downward. "Take it out."

"What?" I felt my cheeks flush. "No."

He lifted his eyes and fixed them on me.

"I'm texting my friend," he said, wiggling the phone. "It's not easy finding weed in the suburbs."

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. He smirked and looked back at the screen.

"Hurry up," he said. "I really need to piss."

I took a deep breath and stepped toward Joey, who was wholly absorbed in his phone again. As I approached, the large roll of flesh next to his leg seemed to swell even larger.

I put one hand on his belly. His flesh was white and very pale up close, and felt rubbery after spending so much time in chlorinated water. I took the waistband of his swimsuit, pulled it back, and immediately saw the root of his dick.

Fuck. That dick. He hadn't let me touch it in over a year. Even the root was thick, like a cucumber. I had fucked myself with a cucumber twice, thinking of Joey both times. Now they always remind me of him.

I slid my hand down his wet belly until I grabbed his dick by its base. As usual, I noted my fingers did not quite touch. He was semi-hard, which made my cheeks burn even hotter.

"That's it," he murmured, still engrossed in his phone.

In my other hand I took his waistband and pulled down as the hand with the cock pulled up. It burst out of the wet suit, thick and veiny, haloed by a thatch of damp, buckwheat-colored pubes. I had forgotten how it felt to look at it. The harsh florescent light in the bathroom made it seem dangerous.

And it was. It was the dick that fucked my first real girlfriend, Lisa, and my second, Rachel. I can't forget the guttural sounds they made when he fucked them, how alive I felt as I watched, even as I burned with shame. Things escalated. I started cleaning his dick off after he fucked Rachel; soon he was demanding I drop to my knees whether she was there or not. I could still feel the huge thing invading my mouth, beating its way down my throat, before flooding it…

I let out a small moan. Joey laughed.

"Easy," he said.

I nodded, even more ashamed, then lifted up the toilet seat, pointed his cock at the bowl, and said, "Okay."

He grunted, and a moment later piss spurted out of the tip of his cock and hit the center of the bowl with a loud splash. I was pleased. Joey kept typing.

The hard pressure of Joey's piss lasted for thirty seconds or more. When it stopped, I shook his cock a couple of times, then just held it.

"Anything else?" I said.

Joey gave me a cool look, removed my hand from his dick, and pulled up his swimsuit.

"I'm good," he said. He turned to go, but as he stood in the open doorway, he turned back.

"No weed," he said. "Sorry."

He turned, left, and closed the door behind him.