I Tried It, I Liked It, Now I’m Gay

The long, slick slide of lips over cock, greedy and confident. Jaw slack. Throat open. Eli sucked him down with the kind of practiced ease that made grown men whimper. That long, rigid cock twitched adorably against his tongue–a little helpless, a little overwhelmed.
*****
The music thundered through the house, rattling the windows and vibrating the soles of Fred’s sneakers. The air was thick with the scent of spilled beer, sweat, and too much cheap body spray. Bodies moved in a tangled mass under flashing neon lights–limbs entwined, hips grinding shamelessly, laughter rising and falling against the heavy bass line.
Fred took it all in without real interest, letting his eyes drift over the room. He stood leaning against the wall furthest from the dance floor, idly swirling the half-empty beer in his hand. He took a sip–and grimaced. It had long since gone tepid. The taste did nothing to help his brooding thoughts.
Parties were Trent’s scene, not his. The forced laughter, the exaggerated bravado, the constant pressure to fit in–it always made him feel isolated, even amidst the crush of bodies. I should be engaging more, he thought distantly. But it always seemed so daunting–what if he did or said something wrong? He tugged at his collar, feeling stiff and awkward. He wondered briefly if anyone would notice him slipping out the back door.
An elbow dug into his rib suddenly, making him gasp. Scowling, he turned. Trent stood nearby, loosely clutching a bottle, a too-wide grin on his face. Already shitfaced.
“Dude, you look like you’re at a funeral. Loosen up!” Trent shouted above the pounding beat, sloshing a bit of beer onto Fred’s shirt.
Fred sighed, brushing away the droplets. “And you look like you’re ten minutes away from being transported.”
Trent laughed, unfazed, wobbling in place as he play-punched Fred on the...