We’re Not Gay (Erotica)

The shame, the paranoia, the guilt, I’d experienced it all in high school. I’d watch the other guys in the shower out of the corner of my eye, terrified I’d get an erection and be discovered. After that you’d think I’d grow up and come out of the closet, but I pretended to myself as much as anyone else that I wasn’t gay. I dated, I had sex, I got my first apartment, and still I looked at other guys out of the corner of my eye.
My friend Hunter wasn’t gay. Slim, tall and attractive, women draped themselves over him, and though he was too much of a gentleman to boast, I knew he’d had all the sex they could throw at him. Being slim and short, I’d had fewer adventures, but enough to know something was missing for me. I was surprised one night to discover that Hunter wasn’t entirely satisfied with his sex life either.
We’d crashed at my place after too many beers, as we often did since he still lived with his parents. I only had a bachelor apartment, so I opened my bed and he crashed on the couch nearby as usual. I loved this arrangement because in the dark I’d feel myself get hard in the secrecy of my sheets, even if we just talked about work or chicks or whatever. Knowing he lay a few feet away in his boxers made me tremble quietly. I was only twenty after all.
“It’s all about adventure, I guess,” he said that night. “I mean, there’s no challenge. You undo their bra and they pull it off. You’re in bed before you know it. Wham bam!”
“I think you date a different type of woman from the ones I know,” I said, knowing I sounded jealous but not caring.
“I…I...