I met Jake in college, and the guy never shut up about how much he hated fags. Every party, every bar, he'd throw out slurs like it was comedy gold. "No homo," he'd say after every hug, every drunk slap on the ass. I played along because we were tightgym buddies, drinking buddies, the kind who crashed on each other's couches after long nights. But I knew the truth. Jake was all talk, all armor, and the way his eyes lingered on me sometimes when he thought I wasn't looking told a different story.
One Friday we got hammered at my place. Beers turned to whiskey, and Jake started ranting again about some guy at the gym who was "too friendly." I laughed it off at first, but the more he drank, the more his voice got thick and defensive. "I'd never let a dude touch me," he slurred, leaning back on my couch with his legs spread wide. His shorts rode up, showing thick thighs and the outline of his dick. "Fucking gross."
I was hard already from the tension, from years of wanting him.
"Yeah? What if I grabbed your cock right now?" I said it raw, testing him. Jake's face went red, but he didn't move away. He just stared at me, breathing heavy.
"Fuck you," he muttered, but it sounded weak. I reached over and palmed the bulge in his shorts. It was rock hard, twitching under my hand. Jake groaned, a low dirty sound, and didn't push me off. "This is fucked up, man."
"Shut up and take it," I told him, yanking his shorts down. His cock sprang out, thick and veined, already leaking. I wrapped my fist around it and stroked slow, watching his homophobic mouth drop open. "Look at you, getting off on a guy's hand. All that shit you talk and you're dripping for it."
Jake's hips bucked. "Don't… don't tell anyone," he gasped, but his hand came down to cover mine, making me grip tighter. I leaned in and licked the head of his dick, tasting salt and precum. He tasted like every straight guy who secretly craves it. I sucked him down deep, throat working, while he cursed and grabbed my hair. "Shit, that's… fuck, your mouth is so wet."
I pulled off long enough to spit on his cock and stroke it fast. "You hate fags but you're about to nut down my throat. Admit it, Jake. You want dick."
He didn't answer with words. He shoved my head back down and fucked my mouth like he'd been waiting years. I gagged on him, drool running down his balls, but I took every inch. When he got close I pulled back and stood up, stripping fast. "Get on your knees."
Jake hesitated, but the fight was gone. He dropped down, eyes glassy with booze and lust, and sucked my cock like a man starved. No technique, just raw hungersloppy, wet, his tongue everywhere. I held his head and thrust, making him choke. "That's it, bigot. Suck the cock you pretend to hate."
He moaned around me, hand jerking himself. I pulled him up, bent him over the couch, and spread his ass. His hole was tight, pink, clenching. I spit on it and rubbed my cockhead against him. "You want this? Say it."
"Fuck… just do it," he growled, pushing back. I pressed in slow, feeling him stretch around me. Jake yelled, half pain, half relief, as I bottomed out. "Oh god, it's so bigfuck me, man, fuck me hard."
I gave him what he asked for. Raw, deep strokes that slapped my balls against him. I reached around and stroked his cock in time, dirty talk pouring out. "Your homophobic ass is taking every inch. Look at you, hole stretched on my dick. You gonna cum like this? Like a bitch who needed it all along?"
Jake was babbling now, pushing back to meet every thrust. "Harderfuck, don't stopI'm not gay but this feels so good." I pounded him until he shot all over the couch, ass clamping down on me. I followed right after, flooding his guts with cum, grinding deep as I emptied.
We collapsed, breathing hard. Jake didn't run. He just lay there, my cum leaking out of him, and muttered, "We can't tell anyone." But the next morning he was hard again, and this time he asked for it on his back, legs spread, looking me in the eye while I fucked another load into him. The slurs stopped after that. He still talked shit in public sometimes, but in private he begged for my cock like the secret slut he always was.
We kept it going for monthsraw sessions in my apartment, his car, anywhere we could get away. Jake never stopped being the loud straight guy around our friends, but every time he dropped to his knees or bent over for me, the truth was obvious. He hated the idea of it until he had it, and then he couldn't get enough. The Reddit post I wrote about it later got thousands of upvotes, but the real story was always better: my homophobic friend, turned out and loving every filthy second.
