Good Buddy, Lasting Friend
At school and at my part-time jobs, I met many guys of my own age. I became friendly with many, but close friends with few. One of my most compatible buddies was a transplanted Londoner named George. George and I shared many interests and had similar temperaments. We soon became close friends and were together a great deal. We participated in lots of the kidding around and sextalk at school, but we both were rather restrained compared to the average college man. We often double-dated with coeds from school, and both maintained an appearance of heterosexual interest. I observed, however, that George had an interest in homosexuality. I noticed a few books on the topic in George's room, and my friend also seemed to become alert whenever the topic was under general discussion.
As college years passed, nothing overt happened between us. But one night, after a long day of studying together for a final exam, George and I crashed on my bed to get some rest. The heat and closeness of George's body was distracting and exciting for me. I couldn't fall asleep. After an hour or so of tossing and turning, and feeling vibes of sexual interest coming across the bed at me, I placed a tentative hand on George's asscheek. I stroked the gentle curve, covered only with jockey briefs. George stirred and moved away. I made no further advance, but rolled over and finally toward morning drifted off to sleep.
No full discussion of the event occurred. In the morning, I made a comment about being confused in bed the night before and forgetting that I wasn't alone, until I accidentally touched a strange body. The confession-explanation-apology was dismissed with a laugh by George. We remained close friends for years and stayed in touch after we both had married and settled in different parts of the country. I think that George is at least as gay as I, but able to maintain a strict control over his feelings and behavior. British reserve, you know. Or maybe it's just my wishful thinking.